The Fifteenth Year

February: Part 2

Wednesday, February 2, 2005

Dear Friend,

My parents were out this evening to take Jeremy to a car show he'd been wanting to go to (they agreed it was a good idea since his grades kept up), and I opted to stay hoe and make myself dinner. I had an essay to write for history. I finished quicker than I expected and decided I'd proofread it in the morning before I turned it in on Friday. All I could think about was calling Jason. After staring at the phone for five minutes, I finally lost my nerve and dialed the Conners'. 

Fortunately, he answered so I didn't have to ask for him.

"Hey," I said breathlessly. "Whatcha up to?"

"Just set down my calculus book for the night. Why?"

I smiled, 11-year-old me making her appearance as I asked innocently, "You want to come over and play?"

Ten minutes later he came to the door and said exuberantly, "Happy Groundhog Day!"

I laughed. "In California, where six weeks of winter doesn't exist!"

"It doesn't mean we can't pretend," he insisted. "Bill Murray can fix that." He held up his copy of the classic movie we watched countless times together as kids anytime this holiday rolled around. We knew almost every word by heart.

"Really? You wanna?" I asked.

"Yeah. I figured your parents would appreciate the nostalgia," he said as he made his way through the doorway.

"They aren't home," I answered, oddly shy.

"Oh," he said, then he took a step back. "Are you sure this is a good idea then?"

"Yeah. We watch movies in the living room all the time growing up."

"Good point. Your popcorn in the cupboard?" he asked.

I smiled. He hadn't made popcorn at our house in a couple of years, and he still remembered little things about us. I was wrong all along. High school didn't change him all that much. I got the DVD in the player while he pressed buttons on the microwave and the smell of salt and butter filled the kitchen.

We held hands during the movie. We laughed at all the great parts, doing our own imitations of the hokey characters. But by the time Bill and Andie MacDowell are dancing in the gazebo with snowflakes intermingling with the romance of the moment, I melted. This part always struck a chord with me every time.

Jason squeezed my hand. "We'll have to go there together."

I smirked. "Punxsutawney?"

"No. Pennsylvania. We can go to the Hershey factory. I'll buy you an actual winter coat and some mittens, we can drink cocoa and sit by a fire somewhere after we build a snowman. We'll even find a gazebo to dance in."

My smile faded. "You're serious?"

"Mhm." He moved a piece of hair from my face. "Someday."

I  wish I could say it didn't get complicated after that, but it did. Don't get me wrong. He was a complete gentleman. We were kissing, the movie a silhouette in the room. It was sweet and not too heated thankfully, because right at that moment I hear a woman's voice say, "Oh my God."

Immediately we pulled away and turned in the direction of the voice. There stood my parents and my brother. Jeremy looked stunned, but not horrified. However, my mom did look horrified, and my dad's jaw was clenched. I'm not sure who he wanted to kill more; me or Jason.

"Jeremy," my mom said, keeping her voice measured. "I would like you to go upstairs, please."

My brother slunk away, understanding for once that this wasn't the time for his quips.