The Boy Next Door, part 1

Boy lived next door for as long as I can remember. He is a few years older than I am. He was my very first crush. He was tall and muscular, with dark hair. His eyes felt like could bore holes into you. Boy always looked at everything with a deep intensity. Always sent shivers down my spine.

At first, I never bothered with him. He was a boy and boys had cooties. Hey! I was only 10! Boy had two younger brothers also. I didn’t give much thought to the whole scene. Girls weren’t supposed to play with boys but there was no one else on my block to play with.

Boy’s cousin was always over. I would sit on the porch, secretly watching them from behind a book as they tossed a football back and forth. I thought Boy was the most amazing guy I had ever met. His cousin was a jerk. Cousin would make prank calls to our house. My mother almost always answered.

“Hello?” She answered.
“I want to feel your boobs.” A low, throaty sounding voice would come across the line.
“What? Who is this?” was her reply. It was almost like a game.
“I will pay you to feel your boobs.” The voice responded back.

She simply hung up the phone. By the second time the call happened, she knew who it was and told his mother. The calls kept coming anyways. One night, she decided to play his game.

“Hello.”
“I want to feel your boobs.” He said
“Oh really now?” She laughed.
“I will pay you twenty thousand dollars to feel your boobs.”
“Ok, come on over!” She emphatically answered.

My mother held the phone for just a moment, listening for the confirming click that Cousin hung up the phone. She finally told me who it was and we both had a good laugh.

But Cousin never interested me. I had moon-eyes for Boy. I still do but I’ll get to that.

Boy and I never went to school together despite living next door to each other. That’s fine. I didn’t exist to him. Once I got to high school, all of that changed. Of course I wasn’t this fat, awkward and clumsy little girl anymore. Boy had filled out just as nicely. Our social circles never crossed paths as he was a couple of grades higher than I was. But I was still gaga for him.

On nice days, Boy could be found tossing a football outside, with Cousin, in front of my house. I would park my mother’s car on the lawn and wash it. I would wear a bikini just to get his attention. No such luck. He didn’t look at me twice. That is how I spent my teenage years, pining for him. After he graduated from high school, I only saw him on rare occasions when he would come to visit his mom.

I came home for my brother’s high school graduation. Boy’s family had moved to another city about an hour away. Anyhow, I ran into Boy’s mother and chatted with her for a bit over coffee. Of course we’re going to talk about Boy! I never let on that I liked him so much. I didn’t feel it was right to tell her something like that. Instead, she told me about the things that happened with all of her boys. I was only interested in Boy.

His mom talked. I listened. I was surprised to hear some things about Boy. Some things didn’t surprise me. Still, I was glad to hear that he was doing well overall. She told me how to get in touch with him before we parted. I went home with his phone number in my wallet.

I taped the piece of paper to my laptop screen and stared at it for 3 days.