What are you doing with yours?
Three days of NO work.
This place is crazy.
Sometimes I want to freak out.
And yell and people.
But I won't because
it won't do any good and
it's not nice to yell.
I met Doug when I was sophomore in high school. Angela was driving herself, me and Jenn B. from the library on a school night. We stopped at the McDonald’s on Saviers Rd. This cute blond boy and his big friend got out of a white sedan and he stopped to talk to me. Me! Not Jenn B., by the way. He gave me his number on a piece of McDonald’s bag. I still have it somewhere.
We used to talk on the phone all the time. He was a couple years older than me, and I was young. Like fourteen. I was too young to date, but we were just pals, anyway. That didn’t stop me from having the most giant crush on him ever.
Throughout high school, we always talked and hung out. He would date other people and I would, too. He used to come over to my house and kick it with my mom and sister and me. Then we’d go to the mall, or cruise around Oxnard together. Smoke.
I finally got old enough to date and we did that a little, but really we were mainly pals. I loved him. He didn’t have much of anything, really. He was funny as hell, though. Poor, too. No parents to speak of. He used to live with this guy Junior’s Grama. He often had a job, but not always. Probably had a GED, but definitely didn’t graduate high school. He was irresponsible and probably not the best influence. But he and his pals made high school really fun for me and Randi and Krystee.
He took me to my prom. Then we finally started “going out.” If you could call it that. Whatever, I just knew I finally had what I wanted. That summer, the summer of 1995, his luck finally ran out and he had to move to his Dad’s place in Samoa. I was getting ready to go off to college at Berkeley. We drove him to LAX and I said good-bye to him there. I never saw him again.
I went home and listened to Pearl Jam Ten for days. I had never cried that hard in my life, and never have since. When I went to school, we used to write to each other. God, he was an illiterate motherfucker. He couldn’t spell for shit. Misused quotations everywhere. “Your” hommie, Doug” was how he would sign those letters.
In college, I got a boyfriend who was kind of mean and broke my heart. Then, I met the love of my life, Babe. Doug and I stopped writing each other, but Doug was happy for me. I thought about him over the years, and heard occasional updates from Randi and Kryst. He didn’t do well with his life, but that wasn’t a surprise.
He died of a drug overdose a couple of weeks ago and left behind a little daughter. What a dummy, huh? I never knew I would care if he died, but I do. He was so funny and so nice to me and I wish he would have had a wonderful life, like I have.