Wednesday, September 22, 2004
hey lady, 16 years old
We’d just watched a bootleg of some documentary about the underground punk moment in Australia. Soon, everyone else had left. Jeremy and I watched a Night Court rerun. It was the episode where Roz’s ex-boyfriend escaped prison and pretended he’d been released early for good behavior. She found out the truth only after they’d rekindled their romance. And as Judge was giving Roz a little heart to heart on the courthouse roof, Jeremy – who’d been lounging on the floor in front of me, quietly watching TV – rolled over and kissed me.
My heart was racing somewhere not far beneath my 32AA, and I swore he could hear it. After a pause to breathe, he laughed a little and he smelled like a boy. And I know now that I had never recognized that singularly male smell before. Even with two brothers, even with shenanagins and tickle fights on the bus in middle school – there wasn’t this smell. This was different. It was soft and dusty and a little frightening. But very exciting.