"Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!!!"

“Ryan is so sweet and totally different than other boys. He’s mature and well, more like a man. It’s really serious Amelia. I sent you a picture of us. You’ll see what I mean,” she says in a voice that is all dreamy and faraway (like her mind!). I don’t get how seeing a picture of Mr. Someone helps explain him, but there is no point is saying this to a practically panting Deidra Spires.



“Aw girl, I’m so happy for ya,” I lie. If our friendship were in a boat we’d be drowning. My southern accent almost sounds forced. It is a lifeline for us, my own way of reminding her that I’m still onboard.


“Thank you,” she gushes. “Amelia, I think we’re gonna do it,” she squeals.


I am thinking of how I never even kissed a boy. I refuse to count Rob Rubenstein: a boy with more braces than teeth who gave me a quick peck on the lips during his post bar-mitzvah game of spin-the-bottle. I am thinking that I am closer to being a linebacker for Sayview’s football team than experiencing my first French kiss. I am thinking of how easy it must be to make love to someone in Deidra’s big house with no parental figure in sight and how she will probably take her dad’s credit card and ring up as much Victoria’s Secret lingerie as her sweet heart desires. I am thinking of how she is no longer a beautiful girl but a beautiful woman and I am still a plain girl with a transvestite’s body: big hips, big boobs, wide shoulders and tree-trunk, long legs. All this thinking and all I say is “wow.”


“He’s the one Amelia. I know he’s the one,” she swoons.


I want to catch what she is feeling and put it in my own heart, for my own Someone. “How do you know?” I am only the scientist, a mere observer of the real stuff of life.


There is a knock on the door and Mr. McGee pops his Ronald McDonald face in the room. “Five minutes,” he says, slicing a hand across his neck. He is much less annoying than my mother and I mouth a ‘thank you’ to let him know this. He winks and closes the door quietly.


“Oh, Ryan’s here. I gotta go girl,” Deidra says but the sad truth is she’s already left.


It is a school night and no doubt Mr. Spires is still at work. It is no big deal for Ryan to be home alone with Deidra. I can hear it in Deidra’s voice how she takes her freedom for granted. I am hungry for that freedom and December suddenly seems a lifetime away. “Why don’t you come here, Deidra?” The question is out and it takes me a second to realize I’ve asked it. Suddenly, the tiny rooms of Meadowview don’t seem to matter. The Someone in Deidra’s life has made me desperate.


“Hey baby,” I hear a soft male voice murmur. There is a swoosh and ruffle over the phone, followed by several giggles and protesting whispers of “wait” and “stop” on Deidra’s part.


“Um, I don’t think so. Come here, okay?” There is the sound of wet puckers. I am no longer in this conversation.


“Yeah, I guess you can’t leave Ryan,” I say, wishing I had a voodoo doll of Mr. Maturity.


A cat purrs in the background, but Deidra doesn’t have a cat. It is Ryan, meowing for his red-haired ‘baby’ to get off the phone. “No.” There is a gush of giggles and then “Please come.”


“I miss you,” I say but it is to no one. Deidra is too busy at tonsil-hockey to feel anything but Ryan. A dial tone confirms this, grazing my ears along with my heart.


I trudge to the bathroom. The last time I spoke with Deidra was two weeks ago. There wasn’t any Ryan in mid-August. Did love really sneak up on a person like it did my best friend? Did it make a girl want to open her legs and announce to the world that this one human being out of billions on the planet is the one? I brush my teeth and stare at my reflection: wide shoulders and long boobs squeezed in a sports bra like two Jack-in-the-boxes ready to flop out. Love would have to be pretty strong to want to hold Big Bird me.