In Hopes Of A New First Impression

Frankie walked home from school everyday. He could take the bus, it would have been faster. But when you’re a kid forced to live in isolation, sometimes it’s what you crave. The walk home shed any misconceptions he had of the city. If he started to get drawn in by the television ads and the youth group posters hung in his school hallways, a walk past the alleys and the beach quickly reminded him that this city only cared about itself. So he strolled, keeping his own ego in check by comparison. It wasn’t a long walk, so it wasnt a long time until he found himself at home. His palace, yes. His home base, of course. His sanctuary, hardly. It wasn’t long before his father, strong yet silent Chuck, and mother (strong and loud) Cynthia found their way home, each going about the little nuances of their own lives. While Chuck watched some Tv, Cynthia worked on unpacking groceries. While Chuck set the table, Cynthia talked on the phone. The only thing they did together as a couple, or as a family, was eat. And even the dinner table had taken on its own choreographed routine: Yes, he had a good day at school. Of course, he had homework. Indeed he WOULD get started on it after dinner.

He crawled his way up to his room, closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief: peace, at last. Waking up his computer he finally woke up himself, sleepwalking and sleeptalking through the last half hour at the table, rather then waste any brain function comprehending either his father’s work in issuing building permits or his mothers newest yoga experience (or their need to share it.) He strolled around his favorite websites, counting down the next release of his favorite comic and keeping tabs on his forum posts. These people were probably the only ones who understood what he sees in comics. His parents thought it was nothing more than an after school job, and his peers figured it was nothing more than his usual nerdiness made apparent. But in comics Frankie saw hope, he saw people working to improve and protect the world against injustice. In his mind it was the world in which he belonged. However, instead of cruising the skies saving innocents he was forced instead to defend against the injustice of another nights math homework. Just the even numbers this time, how pleasant.

In an attempt to distract himself for just a few more seconds, Frankie signed into his e-mail expecting nothing. What he ended up with was a reply from the new kid, Jesse. Embarrassment flooded his mind as he made sense of the first few lines…Jesse was also a girls name. Statistically speaking, it was probably a 50-50 shot. Frankie had guessed wrong, and guessing wrong had not only cost him his shot at a good first impression, but his shot at a good first impression with a girl. On top of that, she was due at school in not time and Frankie had no idea what to do. Overall he liked this person, boy or girl, and he had absolutely no idea how to entertain. Taking a deep breath and a large gulp of soda Frankie became more determined now than ever to win this persons affection, or at least to not lose it two e-mails in.

Sensing it was time for a little damage control and definitely not time for math, he replied:

Jesse-

I’m sorry to hear you’re not into watching the team. I guess I’m not either, that is unless they are due for some new additions. And as much fun as a surf team would be to the other 80% of the school population, I would be a fan for a different reason: more exposure to sharks. Gonna go ahead and apologize for the assumption that you’re a guy; this whole chaperone to a new student thing is new to me.

I’m still contractually obligated to show you around school, and the city. I’m sure it is the least I could do for the earlier faux pas. But I’ll have to show you some comics too. In fact, that will be easy because I work at a comic shop. If you’re planning on getting a job, I could probably help you look around for that too. The shop has pretty horrible pay but it lets me mix business with pleasure. I wouldn’t say that they’re super popular here in California, so your comic lessons will have to be pro bono. At least you’re familiar with Batman and Superman, they’re teammates for the Green Lantern! Either way I’m sorry to hear that you haven’t come across more comic stores.

I put a period in front of my name because it looks better than “sincerely” or anything fake like that. It switches things up, puts the ending at the start of my name. Maybe it could be a symbol for beginning where other things end, new beginnings even?

.Frankie

Wondering if it was too much, or too open, or too short Frankie hit send either way. It was well past his personal deadlines, and Frankie still had math to do.

Re: About Our Fair School

Jesse returned to the cold, sparsely decorated apartment with arms dragging with grocery bags. The handles of the plastic dug deep red lines across her arms from the short walk from the corner store to their second-story apartment. Though it was getting very dark outside, no lights had been turned on. She dropped the bags on the kitchen counter where she found a note from her father. Out with the guys. Be home late. She crumpled the note in her fist and threw it across the room at a pile of disassembled cardboard boxes. Her father was great at disassembling things; boxes, furniture, relationships…

But perhaps out of the simple notion of being “used to” something, the fact that her father wouldn’t be there to share their first night together in their new settlement (nothing is a home when it’s always foreign) didn’t bother her for more than a minute. The few nights they spent at the hotel she was mostly alone. He made up for his frequent absences in his own way.

Jesse began pulling the groceries from the bags and put them in their rightful place. Ketchup, mustard, pickles, bologna, bread, milk, eggs. As she did so, her mind drifted over the last conversation she with the Sarg. at breakfast. It wasn’t really a conversation even, just a volley of useless trivia. It was the happy medium John discovered years ago when he learned that, no matter how smooth he could be with the ladies, he had absolutely no clue how to talk to his own daughter. So instead of asking questions about her friends (and then certainly any love interests) or discussing her interests (which he knew would be barbies dolls and fashion), they kept their relationship on a don’t ask, don’t tell basis and filled the silences with did-you-knows.

“Did you know,” her father said as he sliced his pancakes, “that playing cards were issued to British pilots in WWII. If they were captured, the cards could be soaked in water and unfolded to reveal a map for escape. How about that for smarts?”

“Hm.” Leave it to her father to bust out another military trivia fact. She smiled anyway. “Well did you know that Leonardo da Vinci could write with one hand and draw with the other at the same time?”

“No, I didn’t.” He smiled. They each filled their mouths with another fork-full of restaurant pancakes, and then said nothing until the other could come up with another interesting fact.

Even though she had purchased all the groceries she could carry, the fridge and cabinets still looking empty. Jesse poured herself a bowl of cereal and called it dinner. Then she retreated to her room and to the one thing with the power to make her feel connected to the world; her computer. She logged on to the instant messenger, but no one was on. At least, no one whom she really wanted to talk to or would even remember her at this point. She had a collection of screen names from people she’d temporarily called friends from Oklahoma, Nevada, New York, Florida, Washington, North Dakota, Texas, Arizona…As a kid she used to keep a map on her wall to put pins in, marking the places she had been. By the age of ten, the time to stick in another pin became more of an aggravation than an excitement, so she threw the map away.

The next thing to do was check her email. Her inbox only had two new messages, a letter from her last “best friend” in Arizona, and a new letter from the kid from her new high school. Anxious to hear about the swim team, she read his letter first. The beginning of Frankie’s email was odd. Jesse couldn’t understand why he thought she just wanted to watch the swim team practice, or why she would care about cheerleaders at a football game. Then it dawned on her. He thinks I’m a guy! Sure enough, he called her just that in his post script.

She had a good laugh about it, debated about messing around with him, but then decided that that probably wouldn’t go over so well in the end. On paper (or at least, on cyber paper), it was difficult to get a sense of the kind of person Frankie was. Jesse usually had a good idea about a person from an email, getting context clues from grammar or internet lingo to substitute for the hand gestures and facial expressions. But Frankie wrote as if the English language continued unscathed from IMs and text messaging. He seemed innocently naive and very observant at the same time. All in all, a nice guy. Which, she mused, was probably a description he loathed to hear.

Hey Frankie,

I ought to tell you, I’m not who you think I am. [she left it ominous on purpose.] I wasn’t asking about the girls swim team because I get high watching girls in bikinis, I want to join the team. Catch my drift? I know, the name leaves it ambiguous. You’re not the first person to make that mistake. Anyway, I’m not really into football games, or cheerleaders, for that matter : ) but if you’re a guy with team spirit, that could be fun. I’ll have to check out that surf shop soon. Do you surf? Does the school have a surf team, for participation and/or observation? ~.^

Forgot to tell you, we actually made it out here a little earlier than we thought we would. All moved in and everything. I’ll probably start school Wednesday, rather than next Monday. But don’t worry, you’re not obligated to show me around and be my pal like the school probably expects. My dad is in the army so I’m used to new schools and after a dozen, they’re all pretty much the same.

Before continuing, Jesse read over what she had written. She didn’t like the monotony in her voice, the self-proclaimed wisdom of adaptation that others often perceived as rude or snooty. Ironic how frequent change made everything feel the same. And even though she had been through a dozen schools, why did she always assume she knew what to expect up front? Decidedly, she deleted the entire last paragraph she had written and started again.

Forgot to tell you, we arrived a bit earlier than anticipated so I’ll probably start class Wednesday, rather than next Monday. Hope that’s ok with you since you’re supposed to show me around as my guide or whatever. But if you’re too busy, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can find my way around. : )

To answer your question, we’re moving here because of my dad. Our last home was in Arizona and I can’t tell you how happy I am to be out of the heat and near a beach. And no, I’ve never heard of the Green Lantern. Comics? Like Superman and Batman? Seriously? Are comics big here in California? If so, I’m in trouble. You’ll have to give me a crash course or something.

Oh yeah, another question for you. Why do you put a period before your name at the end of your emails?

-Jesse