The Eyes Have It

 

For any of you in my eighth grade class, I think it’s past time for me to apologize to every one of y’all. Because if you have ever looked at our class photo, like I just finished doing, you will be reminded of what an idiotic thing I did. 

Let me elaborate. In the 8th grade, I was a chunky little kid with a backpack full of insecurities - especially when it came to the opposite sex. And like a lot of guys in my class, the focus of my attention was on Regina. She was everything a 13 year old boy could ask for. Not only was she cute - she had a great personality, and was so engaging. 

Back then, I was an awkward kid with a mouth quicker than my brain. Since I figured  looks were out of the question - I’d have to rely on my wit to get noticed by this girl. So, I did what any clever boy with a hopeless crush might do: I tried to make her laugh. I spared nothing out of my fledgling repertoire: bad puns, worse impressions, and comedic commentary directed toward our teachers. I’m sure I even stole some jokes from Laugh-In.  It worked. For so much of that 8th grade year, we laughed together. Even her giggle was cute. 

And like so many Hallmark movies, my attempt to get the girl lead to some bad judgment; in my case it was the day of the class photo. This was not like taking a quick picture with an iPhone and doing some fast editing. Oh no, this was a big deal. Most of us wore our best school clothes. Every guy used an extra dab of Brylcream, and all the girls brought their Mom’s can of Aqua Net to get their hair just so. When the photographer walked in the room, he  positioned his camera like he was photographing Elvis, and then carefully moved everyone around until he had the best angle to make the best photo - after all, it was one and done. Film was expensive back then. 

I saw an opportunity, so I turned to Regina and said, “I’m going to do something funny when he takes our picture.”

“Like what?” 

As usual, I tried to think of something that would impress her. So, I blurted out the first thing I thought of. “I’m going to make a face.”

“No, you aren’t.”

It was too late to back out now. “Yes, I am.” I answered confidently. At this point, I began to believe this was a good idea. However, that was probably just to work up the courage to do something I know I shouldn’t do. But, maybe, just maybe, this would be the thing that won her heart. 

The photographer said, “Ok everyone. We are going to take one picture, so when I say three, you say cheese.”

My heart was in my throat, but I was committed.  Looking back, this is probably the same feeling I had the first time I stepped on stage to try comedy.  

 

“One, two….. three.”  At that instant, I smiled, and rolled my eyes like I was staring at the ceiling. It was done. When we got back in our desks, I looked at Regina, gave her a Barney Fife smirk, and said,”I did it.”

She smiled and said, “You really did it?”

“You’ll see.” 

A couple of weeks passed and I forgot about my photo - that is, until the developed pictures were handed out in class. Everyone pulled them out of the envelope and saw me rolling my eyes. A couple of girls gasped. Quite a few of my buddies rightfully called me an idiot for messing up the class photo. A few just looked at me and shook their head. However, the worst I got was from my mother.  She normally didn’t give me the third degree, but genuinely couldn’t understand why I did something like that. And I certainly wasn’t going to tell her it was to impress a girl. 

Even after this escapade, I never had the courage to Regina how I felt.  I kept my affection tucked behind jokes and smart alec remarks. She was out of my league. That was just the truth of it.

In the following four years of high school, we weren’t as close because we hung out with different friends. But that never kept us from talking in the halls or the occasional class we had together. Even then, I could never muster the courage to ask her out.  I felt like Richard Dreyfus’s character on American Grafitti who never got together with the blonde in the T Bird. 

Time passed and life moved us like chess pieces -  different colleges, new cities, marriages, careers, kids. The schoolboy crush became a fond chapter in a book I figured was closed.

And then, just a few years ago, we reconnected on Facebook with a friend request and a message. We picked back up right where we left off like old friends often do. 

Finally, the time had come. I mustered the courage to tell her I’d had a schoolboy crush on her all those years ago. That I’d thought she was untouchable, a star orbiting far beyond my dorky gravitational pull.

She was surprised. “You really thought that?” she wrote back. “I always thought you were too cool for me. I wished you had asked.”

We both laughed. It’s funny how time plays tricks, how we rarely see ourselves the way others do.

Sadly, we just lost her. To me, she will always be the cute girl with the infectious giggle. Her daughter let me know that Regina had told her about some of the funny things we did. That I’d been one of the people she remembered with fondness, that our friendship had stayed with her.  

Maybe my class photo prank worked after all.