In the Shadow of Fundamentalism

Chapter 3, part 11

Love Covers All Things

I learned from this experience that love and hate are equally intimate. As much as I thought I loved Melissa, I hated my perceived competition for her attention. As much time as I spent fantasizing about our imaginary romance, I spent equal time fantasizing about combat with this other boy. In truth, we had become intimate in ways that made me uncomfortable.

Even though I had ceased to hate Adam, I still felt a strong sense of competition with him. He had still taken the only girl I thought I had a chance with, and I was at least partly convinced there was a way to win her back.

As members of a small Christian school, separated from normal school experiences by a great divide of culture and belief, we were clueless about certain experiences like formal dances and proms. One opportunity for all of us to feel a certain normalcy came in the form of the local teen formal held by a Christian radio station. Though I would normally have avoided the experience at all costs, my friends managed to convince me that it would be fun to dress up and go to a formal event. At the last minute I parted with my hard earned cash for a pair of tickets. I chose a ridiculous outfit of black slacks, laced poet shirt, suede vest, and chuck taylor sneakers for my formal attire… and I began to search for someone to ask.

All the girls I knew were already claimed, and Adam and Melissa were obviously going together. My options were so severely limited that I began to wonder if I might as well forget the whole idea. At the last moment, someone suggested that I ask the oldest of the McKay sisters to be my “date.”

I knew very little about Amanda, and I was slightly resentful of being stuck with someone as if we were both luggage. I think she wanted to go even less than I did, and I’m certain that going to a formal event with someone as fashion-ignorant as myself was a grim prospect. For some reason, perhaps because her mom wanted her to keep an eye on her sister, she agreed to accompany me.

Adam drove us in his family’s Chevy Suburban, and the quartet of us rode in idle conversation to the large hall where the teen formal was held. I remember wondering, as we sat in awkward silence at our table, if that night would EVER end. I was uncomfortable. I was out of place. I knew I would regret having agreed to this whole idea before the night was through.

As the event wound down, Amanda and I were equally disgusted with the entire experience and looking for our ride and our chance to escape and forget the awkwardness of the evening. We suddenly realized that her sister and my rival were nowhere in sight, and we became increasingly frustrated as we searched for the two teens so smitten with one another that they would be rude to all outsiders.

The moment of realization came when we strode into the parking lot to see if they had already left, and found Adam and Melissa alone in the darkened truck his parents had loaned us for the evening. I will never forget their perfect silhouettes created by the orange light from the street lamps in the parking lot. Like a scene from a romantic movie, their heads tilted and leaned as Adam and Melissa shared an intense kiss, oblivious to our observation.

Grabbing my stunned arm, Amanda dragged me inside the building and attempted to collect herself. Cautioning me to tell no one, probably in defense of her sister’s honor, Amanda left me standing alone to plot while she went to the truck to break up whatever romantic activities were proceeding in the dark.

I knew that this was possibly Adam’s greatest physical demonstration of his feelings, but it also represented his greatest lack of caution and tact. His moment of weakness was apparent, and I was determined to engineer his downfall.

After we left the formal, we stopped as a group at McDonalds for a diversion. I’m sure those romantically inclined wished the night would not end, but for me it was a mere continuance of pain and grief that I wished to be through with.

As I sat and fumed at my inconvenience, I struck up an idle conversation with Amanda.

“I will not,” I ordered myself silently, “like another girl for a long time.” I was quite through with pain and frustration, and even passive rejection was becoming a constant source of emotional distress.

But a new seed was planted even as the old flower withered and died.

posted by NY Monk @ 11:19 PM