Lasting Impressions. John Schlarbaum
THREE
Fifteen-year old Olivia Baker was staring out her bedroom window when Jeremy rode by, causing her heart to skip a beat. Her mind raced through several hopelessly impossible situations concerning Jeremy and herself. With a rush of energy pulsating within her, she ran to the kitchen where her mother, Anna Baker, was drying the final lot of freshly washed breakfast dishes.
"Mom, did you see Jeremy Atkins go by on his motorcycle?" Olivia asked as she opened the fridge door.
"Didn't see it, but sure could hear the fool thing."
"It's not a fool thing," Olivia retorted. "It's a cool thing."
Olivia's mother shook her head. "Fool, cool. Same thing, different generations."
Olivia poured herself a glass of apple juice. "You wouldn't know a cool thing if it kissed you on the lips."
Anna shrugged. "I've always believed that you should be judged by who you are, not what you own."
"That may have worked in the good old days, unfortunately fashion and style are everything today. Look at me." Olivia appraised her worn jeans and plaid blouse. "I won't ever be cool. I'll be an outcast forever."
Her mother turned in disgust. "I've told you a thousand times I can only afford so much for you. I try my best and you should be grateful for what you have."
As her mother began to put the dishes away, Olivia exited the room. On the way upstairs, she felt a bit remorseful. She hadn't meant to get on her mom's case. Sometimes things slipped out.
To fight off this mild bout of depression, Olivia decided to make a quick entry in her diary. She opened the closet door in her bedroom and, perching on her desk chair, stretched her arms upwards, pushing aside a ceiling panel. Reaching into the space, she retrieved her most secret thoughts - all written in a small red book. Grabbing a pen, she flopped down on her bed and began to write.
Dear Diary,
Jeremy drove by today on his new motorcycle. He looked so cool. I was hoping he'd see me in the window and ask if I'd like to go to the beach to spend the day together. At sunset we could walk barefoot in the sand . . . hand in hand. And when we got to a secluded area, he'd lovingly look into my eyes and say I was the only one he's ever really cared for. He'd then kiss me on the lips. If I didn't die right there in his arms, I don't know what I'd do!!! But who am I kidding? Jeremy Atkins doesn't know I'm alive, let alone totally in love with him. Someday I'll get the nerve to talk to him. If only I had the courage!
I really should get going. Until next time, wish me luck.
She reread the passage and closed the diary with an audible sigh. It sounded like all the other entries she'd written during the past six months. She quickly replaced the book in its hiding spot and collapsed onto her bed.
"I don't know how or when," she addressed the ceiling, "but I'm going to get Jeremy Atkins, if it kills me."
***
Susan Parker had all her household chores finished by the time her mother came home for lunch. Marion Parker enjoyed being able to spend some quality time with her daughter each day during the summer months. She assumed this was one reason they got along so famously, to the chagrin of her recently divorced husband. To say Ted and Susan were complete opposites would be an understatement. So when the lawyers inquired about custody, it quickly became a redundant question.
"From the looks of all the work you've done, I'm guessing you have important plans today," Marion said as she sat at the kitchen table. "Anyone special?"
"Oh, you know . . . the same goof I've been with for three years," Susan quipped, taking two salads from the fridge and placing them on the table. Sitting down, she looked at her mother. "Do you think he'll ever get around to proposing to me?"
Her mother began to cough. "Marriage? Haven't you learned anything from your parents' divorce?"
"Yeah, that if two people don't get along they should split up."
An expression of mild rage swept over Marion's face, only to slowly turn into one of mischief. "How much is he paying you, Susan? I'll double it."
"He who?"
"Your father," Marion said, pointing her fork in Susan's direction. "I can tell by the glint in your blue-green eyes he's secretly paying you to make my life miserable."
"I wish!" Susan said with a mock look of outrage. "I'm doing this for free."
No further words were exchanged as they finished their small salads.
Susan broke the silence by asking, "Do you really think he'd pay me?"
"On his income, the paperboy is lucky to get paid every other week, dear."
Both laughed out loud.
"I must admit, Mom, since the divorce your sense of humour has come back as wicked as ever," Susan said, grabbing the dirty dishes. "So . . . you didn't answer my first question. Do you think Jeremy will ever pop the question?"
"Where you two are concerned, it's probably the only thing that he hasn't popped."
"Marion, how dare you talk about your daughter that way! You should be ashamed of yourself," Susan said in a condescending tone.
"I've always had an open relationship with my daughter and if she wants to ruin her life with the town's most eligible bachelor, that's her decision. If he's handsome and rich, then what's a poor mother like me to do?" Marion raised her hand to her forehead.
"Oh Mom, will you please get a life," Susan said, echoing one of Jeremy's favourite phrases.
"I have one, honey, and need to get back to it in a few minutes." Marion walked to Susan and kissed her on the cheek. "The work of a realtor is never done. Thanks for lunch."
Susan followed her mother to the back room where Marion slipped her shoes back on. "As far as your question, Susan, why don't we talk more about it later, okay?"
"Sure. It's not like I've seen him at the jewellery store or anything."
"If you do," Marion began, walking out the door, "make sure he also buys the mother-of-the-bride a nice gift."
"Deal." Susan closed the screen door and returned her mother's wave. "See you tonight."
Susan headed upstairs to her bedroom, where she opened her closet.
"Now, what does one wear to the christening of a new motorcycle?"
***
Olivia couldn't believe her luck. After numerous requests and three months of waiting, the Lasting Department Store had finally received a shipment of mauve lipstick and matching eye shadow. For the majority of Lasting residents this wasn't an earth shattering event, but for Olivia it was an omen of better things to come.
Nearing the end of the school year, Olivia overheard a conversation between Jeremy and his tramp girlfriend Susan Parker. At the time, Olivia was minding her business, casually walking to her next class. Really. Maybe she was kind of following Jeremy - very discreetly, mind you. The last thing she needed was for her true love to turn and say, "Hi." What would I do? Most likely something very juvenile. To have Jeremy discover her stalking him would also be a disaster. It might call into attention her motives for such an act.
Life without Jeremy would be no life at all . . . or so this was her thinking.
Olivia had been pursuing Jeremy in the halls when she showed up, all goody two shoes and sunshine. What an act! Who was she trying to dupe? Everyone knew she was a slut. Slut slut slut! Tragically, Susan still had Jeremy wrapped around her little finger like thread on a spool.
"Hi, handsome," she had cooed. "Do you have some time for me?"
It was sickening the way she acted with him. Repulsive was a better word!
"For you I've got all the time in the world," Jeremy replied, as she dragged him into a stairway alcove. Infuriated,