First Love, Lost.
 
by Erin Elisabeth Baker

 

                    Once you think about it, you can never take it back. You can never not think about it. It's always there, in the back of your mind. Don't try to get rid of the thought because it doesn't work. Believe me.  I've tried
 
                    The only light in my room is from the flickering flame of the candles I had lit. The air is still as I sit and stare at the candles, remembering.  Because I've always loved candles and the soothing effect of the scents and flame, I have almost every size, color, shape and scented candle imaginable. My favorite, is the light-blue candle that smells like an ocean breeze and has three wicks.  I melted the wax on the sides of the candle and placed sea shells from my trip to Florida the summer before into the candle. Scott gave me the candle on our one-month  anniversary.  He said the color reminded him of my eyes.
 
    Baby blue with the thickest eye lashes possible, just like my mother's. Everyone says I look like my mother even though I have more of my father's features. His small, button-like nose, his wavy brown hair, and his tall stature. Besides my eyes, I inherited my mother's mouth, my lips are full,  pouty and a bright shade of vermillion, and her cheek bones, high with  sharp angles.  Most people would think this combination would make me look beautiful. But all it did, is make my face look "thrown together" like God didn't have a pattern when made up my face. The full lips on my narrow face make my mouth appear two sizes too big for my face.  My eye lashes hide  my pretty eyes and make me look like I am wearing far too much mascara. I never thought anyone, who didn't have to by law or family obligation, could bring themselves to be seen with me, much less love me. All that changed when I met Scott.
 
                    I was in the school office,  photocopying some worksheets that Mr. Bell, one of my teachers, had wanted. I was his aide that period, which meant I photocopied things he wanted, graded papers, entered grades into the computer, and such, when he didn't have time to do it himself, when a boy and his mother walked in and asked to speak with the principal.
 
                    "Mr. Fergus? There are some people here to see you." I shouted through the open door to his office.
 
                    Leaving Mr. Fergus, the boy, and his mother alone, I went back to photocopying. Although I normally try not to listen in on conversations,  there was something about this boy's eyes that made me want to hear what he was going to say. I learned that the boy, whose name was Scott Davenport, had just transferred from Kingsford University, a very high profile private school for boys. He was to be enrolled that day, and start class the next day.
 
    Scott was very attractive. He had the greenest eyes I have ever seen, and not that brownish-green color, more like Jade colored. Tall, but not too tall, and muscular. You could tell he worked out but he wasn't overly concerned with how "buff" he was. Although he was attractive, I wasn't thrilled with the idea of another one of "Kingsford's" transfers coming here. At that time I had met three other transfers from there and they were all very rude, conceited, and obnoxious. They all seemed to think, just because I had never been to a private school I wasn't good enough to talk to. Once, in Mr. Bell's class, I was assigned a project to work on with Preston, one of the guys who had been transferred from Kingsford. As soon as he heard who he was partnered up with, Preston begged the teacher for a new partner, claiming he "just couldn't work with someone like" me. I just shrugged and proceeded to brainstorm ideas for our paper. Preston didn't get a new partner, but he didn't help with the paper either.
 
                    The next day I sat in Study Hall finishing up an essay for my next class, when Scott and Mr. Fergus walked in. Mr. Fergus left Scott standing in the middle of the foyer and stopped to speak to Ms. Rose, I figured he was explaining who the new boy was.  When Mr. Fergus left, Ms. Rose introduced Scott to the class, told us he had transferred from Kingsford, he was a senior, and she wanted us all to help him feel welcome to Jefferson High School. Scott blushed at all the attention and sat at the end of my table by himself, oblivious to all the whispers and snickers coming from some of the less hospitable kids in my class. I wanted to talk to him, but I wasn't sure what to say. Finally I asked him what classes he was taking.
 "Wow, we have the same schedule," I exclaimed.
 "Really?" He questioned.
 "Yep, my name is Samantha by the way. Do you know how to get to all the classes or do you want me to show you around?"
 "No, I don't know my way to any of the classes.  My name is Scott, nice to meet you"
 "All right, well class just started, so you have about 40 minutes to do anything you want. I have to finish this essay for our next class. I don't really think you'll have to do it though."
 Scott just sat there and smiled as I rattled off the list of assignments from our other classes and explained how I thought he wouldn't have to do any of it considering he was new. When I realized I had been talking for 20 minutes and hadn't worked on my essay I stopped talking and focused.
 On the way to our next class, I asked Scott questions about himself, his family, and why he had transferred.
 "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I quizzed.
 "I have a sister, but she doesn't live with my family and me anymore, she lives with her boyfriend in California. My parents and I moved from there a few weeks ago."
 "Why did you transfer from Kingsford? I thought they had a great sports team and a good teaching staff."
 He smiled. "Well, they do have a good teaching staff, and the sports teams are ok, but the students there aren't the friendliest people in the world. If you know what I mean."
 "Yeah I know what you mean, there are a few other guys who go to school here, that have transferred over. Most of them are jerks."
 We sat down at one of the tables and continued to talk until Mrs. Hunter, the English teacher, told everyone to settle down and turn in their essays. I learned so much about Scott but he hadn't asked me any questions, I wasn't sure what to make of this.
 "Is there any thing you want to know about me? I mean I have been asking you all these questions and you haven't asked me a single one."
 "Yeah I have one question, when's lunch?"
 I laughed, maybe a little louder and harder than I should have, but that was a question I hadn't been expecting. "Well, lunch is in about 45 minutes" I replied "think you can make it until then?"
 He laughed. "Yeah, I think I can make it. We can talk more and I can ask my questions about you all right? Lets work on this vocabulary worksheet."
 "All right."
 
                    At lunch we found Scott's locker so he could put his bag away and then headed down to the cafeteria to grab a piece of pizza and talk.
 "All right Scott, what do you want to know about me?" I asked.
 "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
 "Nope, I'm an only child. I've always wanted a sister though."
 Scott laughed.
 "I'm serious," I continued, "I've always wanted someone I could talk "girl talk" with, my mom and I aren't really close and I certainly can't talk to my dad about guys or anything like that."
 "Yeah, I guess being a girl and having a sister is different from being a guy and having one. She always seemed to be in my way, always talking on the phone when I needed it, or always in the bathroom when I needed to take a shower."  I smiled atwhat he said because it was something my dad always said to me. That I was always where he needed to be.

* * * *
 
                    Over the next few weeks, Scott and I had become close. I found out that he lived only a few blocks away from me, so we spent a lot of time at each other's house. Studying, talking, and just hanging out. Needless to say, I found myself liking him more and more. The only thing was, I didn't think he felt the same way, and besides, if he did like me, wouldn't  being together ruin our friendship? Sure, if we did get together, it would make us closer for a while, but what would happen if we broke up? We probably wouldn't be friends anymore. I stayed up late one night, just thinking about Scott and how I felt about him. Did I want to talk to him and find out how he felt? Did I want to let things flow naturally and see what happened?
 The next day I decided to talk to Scott. I was so nervous. How was I going to bring up the subject? I decided just to be abrupt about it. I passed him a note in History class telling him I needed to talk to him after school.
 We met in our usual spot, the willow tree outside of the school.

 "Ok, what do you need to talk to me about Sammi?" Scott asked.
 "All right, I don't know how to say this, so I'll just come out with it. I really like you Scott, and not that ‘just as friends' like." I blurted out.
 "Oh wow..."
 "I know...I know you don't feel the same way, I just thought it would be best if I was honest with you. Please don't let this change anything all right?"
 Scott smiled and leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Who says I don't feel the same? You were the only one who talked to me on my first day and by the way, how could I not feel the same way? Look at you.  You're beautiful."
 I blushed and looked away. We continued to talk under the willow tree until the fire flies came out. He walked me home, holding my hand the whole way.
 We started going out a few days later and my days were soon full of questions from people who, under normal circumstances, would never have talked to me.
 "Are you and Scott...you know?" One girl asked me on the way to English.
 "It depends, what do you mean by ‘You know'?"
 "Well, I see you two together all the time, holding hands, eating lunch together. People who aren't going out, normally don't do that stuff."
 "A guy and a girl can hold hands and just be friends you know, and I see you and Phil eating lunch together all the time, are you going out with him?" I countered.
 "Well no, but I..."
 "If you are asking if Scott and I are together, yes, we are going out. If it's any of your business." I quipped.
 "Well, I...I was just wondering."

* * * *
                     A few months passed, I couldn't have been happier. Scott and I were in love! Only, I didn't know what was really going on in Scott's life. I got a call one night, a call that would change my life forever. It was from Scott's hysterical mom. I couldn't quite understand what she was saying through her sobs.
 "Scott....Scott...killed himself." She sobbed into the phone.
 
                    I don't quite remember what happened after that. I remember dropping the phone and crying, asking myself, why? Why would he do that? Why would he leave me? It took me a few days for everything to really sink in. The funeral, the memorial at school, all the questions. I didn't want to talk to anyone.  I wouldn't eat...I couldn't eat. I just sat up in my room and cried, day after day, night after night. I don't think I ever turned on the lights, just lit my candles and cried.
 It was on one of those nights that I first had the thought. What if I killed myself? I could be with Scott again. I planned it all out. I kept a knife in my desk drawer, one of those Swiss Army things, the ones with the little screwdriver, a tooth pick, and scissors. After writing a note in the form of a poem, describing my pain, I walked over to the drawer, lifted the knife out and sat on my bed. Could I really do this? I placed the blade against the skin on my wrist, pressing down. When I started to feel pain I took the blade away. I can't do this, I thought to myself. My heart and my brain competed with each other. My heart said, "Do it, you and Scott will be together again." My brain said, "Don't do it, you'll be leaving your family behind and what about all those plans you had for college?"
* * * *
                     It's been three years since I sat in that dark room with the blade against my wrist. I couldn't do it. Scott and I are together. He is in my heart, but not a day goes by that I don't miss his green eyes staring into mine, his warm arms around me. Not a day goes by that I don't thank God I didn't take my life that night. I would never have gotten into Berkley, my dream college, I would never have met my little sister, (Vivian was born seven months after Scott died.) I still get the feeling, the urge that I want to be with Scott more than anything. More that life itself.
 
                    I never really found out why Scott did what he did. From the note he left his mom and me, it sounded like he didn't know either.  Someone once told me,  "people kill themselves to get away from the pain. They want. . .they  need, an escape."  I guess that's what Scott needed. Something to ease whatever pain he was feeling. After all, that's why I almost took my life, to get away from the pain his death had caused me.
 I've moved on, but like I said, Scott will always be in my heart. And although I have found someone else, he will never take Scott's place, because  he will always be my first love, lost.


Home