September 19, 2005

• Happy Womb Evacuation Day!
  (I’m glad you made it out unscathed).
  © The Author, 2005

  I was so young when I first met him that my mom had to drive me to his birthday party. I had never been to his house before, although I could approximate the vicinity from watching him part our group of friends, gathered after school on the lawn to chat, eat Snickers bars, and pile into each other’s cars if we didn’t have a play practice or choir rehearsal to be at. Although he owned a car, Shaun never drove to school–he always walked. While I was always sad to see him go, I liked letting my eyes follow him zigzagging the parking lot, cutting through the baseball field, and bounding across the street. Those orange afternoons made his brown mop of hair shine like a glass of brandy held to light. He always dipped out of sight after crossing the street our campus was settled on and ducking into a little dirt road.

  “Did you just expect me to drive around forever and have the house jump out at us?” My mom scolded me as we circled where I figured he must live. Luckily, I identified a friend’s car and I knew we we’d found the right spot. “Bye! Love you!” I said as I bounded out of the car.

  It was Shaun’s 18th surprise birthday party, and it was arranged by a mutual friend that, secretly or not so secretly, no body really liked all that much. Despite whatever feelings nearly everyone in school had about the party’s organizer, everyone invited was excited to show for Shaun’s party. Shaun was always the kind of person to show up first for parties, always a few minutes early. Even though his quietness made him an unlikely candidate to get the party started, he had a way of putting everyone at ease. Plus, he made nervous hosts feel special by showing that not only did people want to show up to their party, but people wanted to come early. Shaun was always considerate enough to bring chips and cd’s. He was the kind of guy who brought everyone a weird, cheap Christmas present before school was out for winter break, without a thought as to weather he would get a gift in return. One year, before we were dating, I got a Chia-head. He was–and still is–giving and nice to preactically everyone he meets. Everyone agreed that this sweetness made him someone who definitely deserved a surprise party.

  For his 18th birthday present, I made Shaun a funny collage that I made, complete with images of everything he did not want for his birthday: locusts, sumo wrestlers, cocktail wieners, wigs, fatty ham slices and the like.

  The other people at the party were juniors and seniors–as a sophomore I was the youngest in our group. I didn’t know the kids there too well, although I so desperately wanted them to like me–especially Shaun. I was consumed with plans to get him to notice me. I wore my button fly jeans, midnight blue doc martins, a powder blue baby-t and a metal choker with blue beads. An arm cuff made of metal shaped like curly-cues kept sliding off my skinny arm, but when it stayed up it added what I thought to be an artsy, exotic flair to the ensemble. I hoped he would like it.

  I’m not sure where he was prior to the party, but I have a blurred picture in my head of shouting “Surprise!” at him when he flicked the light on to the basement, on his was to grab a Snapple from the pop fridge most likely. He wore a Nirvana t-shirt and jeans. I imagine him clapping his hands to his eyes and laughing; he has always been quiet and shy, although in those days I was so obsessed I misinterpreted that as “mysterious.” My man of mystery was a gracious host, ensuring everyone had their say in which Cure or Nirvana song was played next. I remember nervously crunching peanut M&M’s as Shaun moved his hand to my collage in the gift pile. I was relived when he burst out laughing and then moved across the room to give me a thank you hug. He passed my crazy art around for everyone to see.

  Shaun’s friend Tom saw a lot of action that night as the bulk of Shaun’s friends who were girls were happy to meet fresh meat from another school (he went to private school and we went to public). While they piled atop him in hormone-laden mock wrestling matches, I stayed by Shaun’s periphery as he talked about bands I faked like I knew to his guy friends. Later that night, we went out into Shaun’s back yard and tried to do cartwheels in the dewy grass.

  By that January we were dating and we’ve celebrated every birthday together since–each year better than the last. Today that shy, kind-faced boy I surprised into his 18th year turns 26. And I love him more than ever.

  Happy Birthday, Shaun-san! And many more…

  
  *While I can’t find any pictures taken from that party, here is a picture taken that year of us in a gift unwrapping sort of situation. Pretend it is Shaun-san’s birthday party. Notice the creepy, Mae West look I am giving him for no apperent reason? Yikes. Teenage hormones are scary!

  
  On the other hand, how can you not want to make out with someone this funny, easy going, and smart? Just look at him! What a catch! ::smile::

  • 8:09 am
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