Writing about these events, and my life and family and friends, three and a half decades, I can definitively say that the North Star of my life has been the Catholic Church. By that, I don't mean that I always followed the teachings of the Church. What I mean is that no matter how off track my life got, I could return to the Church, and it had barely changed. And cumulatively, over three and a half decades, it still hasn't changed much, despite half my lifetime having passed me by. Contrary to the consensus of today's secular society, there's value in that. It brings real actual comfort to real, actual, damaged people. No matter how much longer I have to live and breathe and write, I'll continue to speak those words. Because I believe them to be true.
But, back to my story. What HAS changed since 1987? In 1987, there was no texting, no internet to speak of, no wifi, no social media, no Xbox or PlayStation. When it was the two to six weeks of Winter Break, depending on where you were in your education journey, you couldn't just post on your Instagram where you were hanging out for the duration, if you were amused or bored, if you were looking to hook up, if you were looking to fight an old rival or enemy.
So, a perverse reverse logic kicked in--if you "lay low", everyone would just assume you were one of the cool kids with rich parents with access to a beachside condo in Florida, and were escaping the cold and ice and drear of the New England winter, so don't even bother calling your number (on a freakin' land line!). So your voluntary laying low would morph into involuntary solitude, and missing out on every party, for 6 weeks.
No, no, no ...... if you were around, you needed to "get out there", show your face. Like Lorraine and I were doing, driving around aimlessly ('cruising'). Or like Maureen was doing, sitting on lawn furniture in her front yard.
The free-floating electron found the ionized atom, and attracted each other.
And we both felt like fighting.
We both liked it. And were good at it.
Although it was seasonally mild, it was still chilly out in absolute terms. So Maureen and I left our sweatshirts on. Which made us less vulnerable to scratching. And gave a layer of protection from fists and knees. Those would need to come at the endgame of the fight. When we could aim directly for the nose and mouth.
The opening and middle game would have to resort to the chickfight classic tactic ..... hairpulling.
And Maureen's was long and thick. And was wearing it down.
I grabbed two handfuls and twisted and pulled and yanked with all my might. Because I was fucking angry.
And I wanted Lorraine to see me win.
> Fuck you, bitch, let go of my hair.
> When you let go of mine.
> That ain't happenin', Maureen.
> I should have fucking reported you after our high school fight, gotten you expelled.
> [I wonder if she's heard that I managed to get myself expelled from my career path anyways.] Because you're a rat narc, Maureen, you fucking loser bitch.
Whether she heard MY story or not, I've managed to stumble into HERS. All the fight comes out of her at my insult.
Maybe it was 'loser'? Does she think of herself as a loser?
I mount her. Earlier than I expect, I can start aiming my fists direct at her mouth. She's bleeding after less than 20 hits. She can taste it and gives.
> Anytime you want a rematch, bitch, just ask.
> Fuck you, Lisa.
> You want more, Maureen.
Lorraine grabs me and drives me home.
We have the best sex since I get back from Winter Break.
I fall asleep for 2 days.
My Mom shakes me out of bed.
> Happy New Year, Lisa. It's 1988!
To be continued....
