My mom was working on passing the Colorado Bar Exam. She was a Board Certified lawyer in Texas, but after my dad and her married they moved to Colorado for his job and she became a housewife. She loved it. She never thought of working, she had me and six years later my brother.

She would take us to school and watch us do homework. She was a member of country clubs where she had status and was friends with all the other Mrs. Doctors. She was the high status clique and her kids and that life was everything.

Then after fifteen years of marriage, her world crashed down around her. Her and my dad were getting divorced, he had found the newer model that every woman fears. So, she needed to go back to work. Well, she didn’t really need to financially, but she liked to spend money, remain in her status and travel, so she needed to work. Working would give her the extra income to save, keep our wonderful custom made for our family house, and allow her to keep the finer things in life.

Unfortunately, the first time she took the Colorado Bar, she failed. She had been self studying, which really meant she kept telling us she was studying and to leave her alone while we distracted her with TV, questions, and requests. Plus, my mom doesn’t like to wait for things, so instead of waiting and giving herself plenty of time to study she gave herself a couple months. Two weeks before the test, my brother’s lab puppy ran away and suddenly our job became searching for the puppy and making sure my brother stayed happy. So, since she failed, she had to retake the exam. This time, she did it right, she scheduled it and she signed up for a course to study. The course was an hour and a half away and the time was not made around her kids schedule, so she wasn’t home when we got home from school, my brother and I would get rides with friends and then I would babysit for a couple hours until she was home. I secretly loved it. I ran the house.

The last day of school meant I got out of school early, so I was able to have a couple hours at the house to myself before my brother would be dropped off. Perfect time for sweatpants, ice cream out of the pint, and Lizzie McGuire. So that is exactly what I did. 

I put on my favorite sweatpants that had yellow ducks on them and said “Chicks Rule” all over them, which were high-watered on me because I shrunk them in the dryer, but they were comfortable and funny. Then, I put on my biggest baggiest shirt and sat down with a pint of chocolate ice cream in front of the TV ready to binge watch some Disney Channel. As the ice cream melted it dripped down my shirt and onto hands, but my sweatpants made the perfect napkin. I was in gross teenage heaven. Then my phone buzzed,  a text message from a number that I didn’t have saved. 

The pajama bottoms that I loved, they stopped ABOVE my ankle, and were at this point in the story covered in chocolate ice cream. However, they were and remain awesome and you can find them here. (No, I am not paid for any of this).

Hey it’s Jake. 

My heart pounded. No, way. How could this day get any better? Summer, ice cream, house to myself, and a cute boy texts me? It couldn’t get better, that’s the answer.

I responded cool, and casual with a simple:

Hey, what’s up? 

Not much. What are you doing? 

There was no way I was going to admit that I was watching Disney Channel and eating ice cream from the pint. I might be in heaven, but I knew that most of the kids my age were out with friends and had a life outside the house. So, what is cooler than friends when you are 13 but a house to yourself?

Just at home. My mom is in Boulder and my brother isn’t here, so I have the house to myself. 

Cool. Where do you live? 

I gave him my address, because giving your address to person who texts you and whose name you didn’t know only a couple hours earlier is nothing if not brilliant. 

My friend and I are biking and right by your house. Can we come over? 

No. Of course not. My mom would kill me and I look like chocolate ice cream with patches of comfortable clothes. However, he is a cute upperclassman, so I’m not going to say no. 

Yeah, sure. 

… to be continued…

2 thoughts on “To My First Real Kiss (Part One)…

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