Summer 03'

I was on my way to a punk rock show the summer right after I graduated high school; I was young, single, and swimming in heat and hormones. I coursed my way from the depths of Scarborough on the Rapid Transit system, the only one on the car at 10pm on a Saturday night. I was headed Downtown towards the 360 (when that still existed as a venue) Another passenger got on at Midland, a tall, cute redhead with (GASP!) baggy jeans, 1 inch pins, and a news boy cap. I immediately couldn’t tear my eyes away, all the confidence I had walked onto that car with was quickly fleeing from within. Then, the glances. The nervous glances that make your belly swirl with possibility. Finally the half hand wave and I was his. He was headed the same way as me on the subway and we sat together, talking about music and anything else we could grasp at. I told him where I was headed and he was thrilled to find someone in Scarborough who went to live music shows. I told him about the band (my favorite one at the time) and the show and just when we were leaning in, enthralled with every word we heard from each other he realized he was at his stop and in a panic rushed away with a quick goodbye. I was so disappointed, I was sure it would end up on some “missed connection” page.Cut to the end of the night, I had just watched my favorite band put on one of the best shows I had ever seen. I felt so good, I was 18 and there alone because I was figuring out my freedom, realizing I didn’t need anything or anyone else to do the things I wanted to do, go downtown, see a band, make new friends. And as we filtered out of the now closing Legionnaires Hall there he was again. I was so confused to why or how he was there, He had got off the train 15 stops ago and I hadn’t mentioned where the show was. He told me he had got off the train and immediately regretted it, he stayed in the station leafing through a NOW magazine trying to find a show listing for the band I was talking about because he had to see me again and figured he wouldn’t get another chance otherwise.It was 2am, already past my curfew (especially since my parents didn’t know I had a fake ID, but it was summer and I didn’t care anyway) I took his outstretched hand and we walked east along Queen Street until we found a park. We lay in the grass and talked with the haze of alcohol and marijuana , we talked about music, politics, spirituality, and all the things you talk about when you have all night with one person and you think you need to know everything about them. And then when we ran out of things to say, that’s when the kissing came. It was the kind of urgent kissing only teenagers and people who shouldn’t be kissing can understand, when touching knees is explosive, when the stars are your only audience. My phone was ringing off the hook, my terrified mother at 5 am, I knew I had to leave, the sun would be up so soon. He came with me, all the way back into Scarborough on the empty blue-light, even though he lived somewhere in the beaches. We knew, like every teenager that has a surreal night that we had found something in each other, something to hang onto, our heads where in the clouds. My stop surprised us what seemed like hours after we decided to head home and this time I was the one rushing off, reality was starting to sink in, the sun was up, it was almost 7 am and I needed a story for my parents! I skipped towards the door barely able to pull my face from his, my heart smeared all over my sleeve and face. I gave him the coy “call me” line, one foot already out the door and as my other foot touched pavement I heard him call back “Wait! I don’t have your number!” That was it, I never saw him again. I was really upset for a sometime afterwards but soon I was 19, summer was over and I was meeting new people, playing in my own band and like so many other things about high school and being a teenager he was forgotten. I’ll always have a great summer fling story and I’ll always remember what it’s like to be 18, impulsive, and totally in love for 12 hours.