Past Love Lives Installment IX: The Answering Machine

The Sports Fan saga is not quite over. But, since we decided to take a break, I thought now would be a good time for a break from the story. Besides, it's time for more past love lives!


Age: 11
Where: School and The Babysitter

Growing up, my brother and I were what used to be called "latchkey children." That term never made any sense to me because we just called them keys, or sometimes door keys. But, I later found out that the term "latchkey" came from England, where they refer to them as latches rather than doors or locks. (Obviously, as hard as the Americans tried to get out of England, we seem to have had quite a bit of trouble getting England out of us. Why, 230 years later, are we still using terms and phrases like 'latchkey' that have no real meaning to us?) Anyway, all I was originally trying to say is that our parents both had jobs.

So, until we were in middle school and allowed to be home by ourselves for a couple hours, we went to a babysitter before and after school every day. And, it just so happened that the back line of our babysitter's backyard fence connected at the corner with the fence line of a woman one street over who also ran a before & after school babysitting gig. The kids who went there were kids that my brother and I both knew from school. Sometimes we'd all meet up at the corner where the fence lines touched and talk. Most times we ignored each other.

As it happened, there was a boy over there named Steven who was in my grade, and was even in my class at school at the time. Sometimes we'd talk in class, but for the most part I considered him "too cool" for me, and I had never spoken to him at the fence. At some point during the year, for some reason, things changed, and Steven started paying attention to me and treating me like I was one of the 'cool kids.' (My brother was always a cool kid, but I never was.)

In class one day, we were walking in from recess when Steven pulled me aside and asked me if I liked him. I told him I wasn't sure, and he said he thought he liked me, but before we could talk more about it, we were ushered back into class and we didn't get to finish the conversation. Later that afternoon, I was passed a note that said, "Meet me at the fence at 4:30. -Steven"

I was really excited about the possibility of becoming Steven's girlfriend, which of course is what I thought was inevitable because after two people admit to liking each other, that is the next logical step! Of course, I hadn't fully admitted yet to liking him because I still wasn't sure. Steven wasn't 'hot' at all. I think the only reason he was considered cool is that he was a class clown. And, since he was cool, I considered him to be out of my league, so I really wasn't certain whether it was even okay for me to entertain thoughts of liking someone who was so far above me socially. (Let's get one thing straight: I was never a total loser, but I was more interested in academics and less interested in fashion and mockery of others than was required for initiation into the cool crowd.)

Nevertheless, I had been invited to a fence meeting by Steven. A cool kid. And it was going to be just the 2 of us and by tomorrow, I would probably be his girlfriend. At least, those were the thoughts that ran through my mind over the course of the rest of the day. At 3:00, school got out, and I impatiently walked to the babysitter's house as quickly as I could, even though getting there sooner would not make 4:30 come any sooner!

When I got to the babysitter's house, I went straight to the kitchen where I could have a clear view of the backyard, so I could watch the fence to make sure I wasn't making Steven wait. I sat by the back door until 4:23, when, unable to be patient any longer, I got up and nonchalantly went out to the backyard. I tried to pretend like I was out there to play with the other kids, but the glances I kept stealing at that back corner gave me away. At 4:30, I went straight to the corner and stood there to wait for Steven. At this point I had given up all pretense and was ready to answer truthfully if anyone decided to ask what I was doing just standing in the corner all by myself.

Luckily, no one did ask, even though I stood there waiting, by myself, for fifteen minutes. At 4:45 I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that he must have forgotten. I was disappointed, but not heartbroken. On my way back inside the house, a plan formed in my head. I was sure Steven must have forgotten to come to the corner, or maybe he hadn't been at his babysitter's at all that afternoon, so I decided that when I got home, I would just call him, and we could still have our talk, and I could still become his girlfriend, assuming I had decided that I actually wanted that.

So, I waited impatiently for 5:45 to come, which was when my brother and I were usually picked up. When I did finally get home, I was forced to sit politely and calmly through the family dinner before I was free to do what I wanted. As soon as it was feasible for me to ask to be excused from the table, I jumped up and grabbed the school directory from the kitchen drawer where we kept it, then I yanked the telephone off its cradle and raced back to my bedroom for some privacy. (Thank goodness for cordless phones!)

Once I located Steven's home number in the directory, I took a couple of minutes to collect my thoughts, catch my breath, and decide exactly what I was going to say. Then, I dialed. I became increasingly nervous with each ring, wondering who was going to answer, and if I was going to have to get past a parent before I could talk to Steven. At the third ring, I anxiously glanced at the clock, afraid that our dinner had gone long and it was too late to be calling, and perhaps I was waking everyone! (It was only 7:00 p.m. though.) On the fourth ring a machine picked up.

Uh-oh. Answering machine. I hate leaving messages because I never know what to say! (To this day I hate leaving messages!) I used the 20 seconds I had before the beep to condense my planned speech into a short, polite message for Steven. (My parents had taught me always to leave a message so that my call could be returned. Since I was only 11, I was still strictly adhering to most of their rules.)

*Beeeeep* I took a deep breath and plunged into the message. "Uh, hey Steven this is Emmeline, you know, from class, and I was just calling because, well, you weren't at the fence today so I was just seeing if you forgot. Okay bye!"

Disappointed that I hadn't been able to talk to him, but satisfied with my message, I hung up and took the phone and directory back to the kitchen and went on with my evening. In fact, I think I even managed to forget about it. Until the next day, that is, when I saw Steven at school.

I was sitting quietly at my desk before the bell rang when Steven walked purposefully up to me. He leaned down and, with a red face, said "Don't ever call my house again. Ever!" I tried to hold back a laugh as he walked away and took his seat. The logical reaction from me would have been embarrassment, or hurt feelings, but for some reason I instead found the situation funny. I guess the idea that he was embarrassed about getting a message from a girl (that his parents probably grilled him about) made me smile because it took away some of his 'coolness.'

Amazingly, Steven still treated me like his friend after that, if only on occasion, but that only lasted until the year was up. After that, I lost mostly all of my friends (as did everyone) and replaced them with new ones, as we all had moved on to junior high school.