Slushies

Books, movies, and television all teach us that true love exists. I've always been fond of romantic stories. Not the trashy romance novel type stories, but the pure ones, with real, believable love. Unfortunately, these stories have some drawbacks. Take Titanic for example. It was the supposedly the greatest love story on film, at least recently. But the guy dies in the end. They build up a beautiful romance, and he dies. It happens in a lot of the stories I read, too. It's true love, and somebody dies. It makes me so sad. Another thing that depresses me is the fact that only beautiful people seem to fall in love. It's a product of media, really. Magazines, TV, movies, written stories, most of them show or describe good-looking people falling in love. I've never been able to consider myself good-looking. I'm not ugly, but I just don't fall into the beautiful category. My face is a little bit too long, my nose is a little bit too big, my hair is a bit too flat, my upper lip is a bit too small, and sometimes (God forbid) I get pimples. I guess I could be considered your average, boring teenager. I certainly wouldn't be the type of person that gets to experience television quality true love.

So at the beginning of my senior year in High School, I didn't expect things to be any different than they had been before. I was still the plain seventeen year old girl that more or less kept to herself, never went out with any of the boys. Seventeen, and I still hadn't even had my first kiss. For a seventeen year old, that's borderline pathetic. It seemed like most girls in my school were out having sex on weekends. I was much less inexperienced than the rest of my kind. I'd just about given up on the male species at that point, too. If I didn't have a boyfriend then, I might as well give up on ever finding one. It was a pointless endeavor, looking for love in High School. Maybe I'd have better luck in College.

In the second week of October, our school was hosting a soccer game between our team, the Lions, and the team from our rival school, the Hawks. I'd stayed after school with a bunch of friends to watch the game. Normally I wouldn't bother, I'm not big on sports, but I was bored and decided to stay. We sat on the grass near the field, as close as possible, a few of my friends wanted to ogle the male soccer players despite the fact that their boyfriends were with them. The game itself was alright, as far as soccer games go. I began to get frustrated about halfway through, when my female friends cuddled into their boyfriends, and began flirting. I was the only one there without a boyfriend or girlfriend to cuddle with, and I felt a lot like the third wheel. I told everyone I was leaving and got up to go. I wasn't surprised that nobody really noticed or cared. I sighed to myself and headed away from the field, fuming to myself about how unfair it was that I had to suffer and be single, while everyone else got to be in love, or at least lust with somebody. I was so immersed in my thoughts of misery that I ran right into a guy. He must not have been paying attention to where he was going either. It was a hard collision too, I knocked off his glasses, and nearly fell over. I grabbed his arm for support, just as a reflex, but let go quickly once I could stand on my own. He bent down and picked up his glasses, then stood up to look at me.

In most romance stories, this would be where our eyes met, I saw how gorgeous he was, it was love at first sight, and we proceeded into a romantic fantasy life. I can tell you with much sincerity, it wasn't like that at all. It was incredibly awkward.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," I managed to spit out. "I wasn't watching where I was going, that was my fault."

"Nahhh," he grinned. "If I'd been watching where I was going, you wouldn't have hit me, so I'll take at least some of the blame for it. You okay?"

I took a few seconds to look at him now. He certainly wasn't Brad Pitt, but he wasn't ugly. His dirty blond hair was shaggy and came just past his ears, which was somewhat strange, when most guys our age had adopted the bleach blond spiky look. His brown eyes were hidden behind his glasses, which were a bit too big for his face, giving him a rather dorky appearance. Overall, he was a bit scrawny looking, but that wasn't too abnormal for teenage guys, who are never quite fully developed.

"I'm fine, I think." I told him. "You're okay, right?"

"Yeah," he chuckled.

An uncomfortable silence hung over us then, which he eventually broke.

"So uh, where were you going?" he asked me. "The game's not over yet."

"I have to go home and baby-sit my sister," I lied to him. I didn't feel like explaining that I hated watching everyone else act all mushy while I was left out.

"Oh, okay" he said. "I won't hold you up then."

"Yeah, sorry again for hitting you." I told him as I started to walk away.

"Wait a sec," he stopped me. "What's your name?"

"Emily," I answered. "You?"

"Jon," he grinned again, and I left then to go home.

After that, I almost forgot about Jon. He didn't go to my school, or I would have seen him before, so I assumed he was here cheering on our rival team. A few weeks later, I was at the mall with my sister Andrea when someone tapped me on the shoulder in the lineup for slushies at the Food Court. I turned around, and there was Jon.

"Oh, hi," I said, surprised to see him again.

"Hi," he said, almost shyly. "Didn't expect to see you again."

I smiled. "Yeah, I'm just here with my sister." I pointed to Andrea.

"Is that the one you had to go baby-sit after the game?" he asked, grinning.

I blushed. "Um, actually, yes."

Andrea turned around and glared at me. "I'm fourteen, you dimwit. What are you talking about?"

I coughed and looked at the ground, wishing desperately that something would interrupt my embarrassment. Unfortunately for me, that wasn't going to happen. Andrea suddenly spotted some friends across the Food Court and ran off to see them.

"I'll meet you back here in an hour," she called out, and left me alone with this guy I barely knew.

"Umm…" I tried to think of something to say, but I was saved then when I reached the front of the line. I ordered a cherry flavored slushie, and Jon behind me ordered lime.

"Want to go sit down somewhere?" he asked casually.

"Uhh, sure," I said, still feeling bad about having lied to him weeks before.

We found a table and sat down to drink our slushies.

"Sorry about lying to you at the game," I apologized. "I was just having a bad day, I guess, and wanted to get home."

"Don't worry about it," he laughed. "If you hadn't been leaving early, we probably wouldn't have met."

He had a point there. Jon ended up being very easy to talk to. We talked for a whole hour until Andrea came back, wanting to leave. It turned out we had a lot in common, and we spent most of the time laughing, he was a funny person. Just the way he said things made me laugh, I was having a good time with him. I found out he did go to the rival school, he was a senior too. We were both dog people, liked books, and loved slushies. He was intelligent, too, and I appreciate that quality, especially in a teenage guy. When I had to leave to go with Andrea, I decided to be uncharacteristically bold and give him my phone number. It couldn't hurt, he seemed like a fun person.

The next day, Jon called me, and we made plans to meet at the mall again in a few days. We did, and I had a great time with him. We started hanging out more frequently over the next month, until I saw him almost every day. We were really good friends, and after awhile, I couldn't help feeling that I liked him as more than that.

One night in early December, we drove to a corner store, got two orange slushies, and then drove to a nearby lake. We sat on the grass by the lake and slurped at the slushies, all the while talking about whatever came up, and laughing. The view at the lake was great, the stars were out and the water was very calm. There wasn't any snow yet, but we were both shivering from the cold air and our slushies.

"You know," I told him matter-of-factly. "You're the only person I know other than me who'll drink a slushie outside in December."

"Likewise," said Jon, grinning at me.

We slurped a bit more.

"This seems like something out of a romance story," I mused.

"You never told me you read romance stories, Emily!" he said, surprised.

"Why," I asked him. "Do you?"

"Well," he blushed. "Sometimes!"

"I can't help it," I told him, giggling. "They're so sweet. I've always wanted to be in a relationship like the people in the stories. But those people are always like, gorgeous and perfect. We can't all be that way, it's not fair!"

Jon laughed at me. "You know what, though?" he asked. "Nobody is perfect. When you love somebody like they do in the stories, that's when they become perfect to you. Maybe that's why stories are full of perfect people. They're in love, so the person who loves them is seeing them as perfect."

"Ah, the whole 'love is blind' thing," I chuckled.

"Exactly!" he nodded.

"What about movies? Those people look pretty damn perfect to me, and I don't love them," I said.

"Well, they're speaking from scripts, and have professional hair and makeup people," he explained with a smile.

"I wish I were so lucky," I whined.

"I don't know, Em," Jon said, shy all of a sudden. "I happen to think you're cute."

I stared at him, surprised.

"Really?" I asked nervously. That was kind of a stupid question, but I was all of a sudden at a loss for something better to say. I had a funny fluttery feeling in my stomach.

"Yeah, really," he smiled sincerely.

I was so flattered, I couldn't remember a guy ever telling me I was cute before. I hadn't even had many guy friends before Jon. It was then, with me feeling nervous yet fluttery, that I realized I had quite the crush on Jon. I decided to be brave. I was going to kiss Jon. It wouldn't be that hard. Sure, I had never kissed anybody before, but I was comfortable with this guy, and he liked me. He just said I was cute, anyway. I was really going to do this, I was going to kiss him. But sadly, my lips didn't seem to be reacting to what my brain told them to do. Even though I wanted to, I couldn't work up enough nerve to go for it. I kept looking at Jon, and he was looking at me. I was so nervous, I kept looking away from him, then looking at him again, and smiling, then looking away. I think he figured out that I was nervous, because when I turned to look at him again, he reached up and placed one hand on the side of my cheek, gently holding my head so I wouldn't turn away again. I held his gaze this time, and he slowly moved his face closer to mine.

"I have to tell you right now," I whispered, embarrassed. "I don't really know what to do..."

"You said you read romance stories, Em" Jon whispered back with a slight grin. "You'll be able to figure it out."

He leaned in all the way then, and I closed my eyes as I felt his lips touch mine. I've always read in stories about a jolt of electricity going through you. I wouldn't call it electricity, exactly. It felt more like a very tingly, warm sensation running through me. Despite the cold air and my slushie, I was feeling warm all over. My heart was definitely beating hard, and I forgot about not knowing what to do. Jon pulled away a little bit then, and I opened my eyes to look at him.

"There, was that so bad?" he asked, teasing me.

I shook my head, smiling. Then, my initial shyness gone, I leaned closer to Jon and kissed him again. This time I let my mouth open a tiny bit, and Jon, who seemed to know what I was doing, did the same. He was probably more experienced than I was at this, which I was actually thankful for. After what seemed like a few minutes, I opened my mouth a bit more, and I felt Jon lightly poke his tongue inside my mouth. It felt sort of strange at first, but I liked the feeling. I followed his lead, and we were soon involved in a gentle but passionate french kiss. I still don't know about electricity, but at that moment, I felt like I was melting. I have to say, I really liked that feeling.

The next day, Jon picked me up after school, with a slushie ready and waiting for me, and asked me out. I accepted, of course, and the next few months were the best times I'd ever had. Jon was the sweetest boyfriend he could have been. Even my friends, who had boyfriends themselves, were jealous of Jon. Their boyfriends might have been better looking, and more muscular, but there was something romantic and adorable about Jon that made everyone envious of how lucky I was.

On the 15th of February, Jon showed up at my house with flowers and two cherry slushies. I was so surprised, I could have cried. Both of us had had to work on Valentine's Day, so we agreed to skip the holiday, and celebrate some other time. I was thrilled that Jon showed up, though, and we ended up driving out to the lake where we had first kissed. There was snow on the ground, and we couldn't sit on the grass, so we sat down on the front hood of his car, snuggled up together and slurped. The stars were out again, and it reminded me of our first night there, making me feel all tingly inside again.

"What were you doing when I showed up tonight?" Jon asked. "I hope I didn't drag you away from something important."

"I was reading romance stories on the Internet," I grinned, blushing a bit.

"Still reading about the perfect people, hmm?" he smiled at me, his brown eyes twinkling from behind his glasses.

"Yeah..." I answered thoughtfully. Jon had beautiful eyes. I knew that already, but hadn't really thought about it much until now. I set my slushie down on the hood of the car, reached up and took his glasses off. I pushed his messy hair out of his face and looked into those eyes.

"I think," I said, kissing him lightly, "I have a romantic story of my own, and the ones on the Internet don't even compare."

Jon smiled then, and pulled me in even closer to him. He kissed my forehead, and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"Jon?" I asked suddenly, remembering something.

"Yeah?" he answered. He wrapped one of his hands around mine now, stroking it with his thumb.

"In the best romance stories, someone always dies at the end."

Jon didn't answer, but kept stroking my hand.

"For some reason, romance always ends in tragedy." I pondered.

"Well, the worst thing that could happen to someone in love is losing that person they're in love with." Jon said, musing. "Maybe people die in stories because the author wants to show you that the character's love was strong enough to endure even a death."

"You're deep," I said, grinning.

Jon laughed. "I try," he said.

We sat quietly for a few more minutes, before I spoke again.

"Jon," I said pensively. "I don't want my story to end like that."

"I don't want your story to end like that, either," he said honestly. "I'll try not to die."

I couldn't see his face, because of how I was leaning on his shoulder, but I could tell from his tone of voice that he was half smiling.

"I hope it's that easy," I said truthfully. "I'm being silly though, I'm being paranoid. I watch too many movies, and I spend too much time on the Internet."

"I won't argue with that," Jon said, tickling me.

I giggled and squirmed in his arms.

"Okay," I said, trying to be serious. "Promise you won't ruin the end of my story by being tragic?"

He looked at me and tried to sound serious too, but smiled anyway.

"Emily, I solemnly swear that I won't ruin your romantic story!" Jon promised.

At that point, he started to tickle me again, and I forgot about our discussion. He made me feel so incredibly happy, I didn't believe before that someone like me, someone so imperfect as me could feel this way, but I did.

The rest of the school year was pure joy for both of us. We went all kinds of places, and tried so many new things together. We went to the beach, to parties, or just hung out somewhere random with a couple of slushies. Ultimately, it didn't matter where we were, if we were together, it was a good time. One place we were very excited about going though, was Prom. Undoubtedly the highlight of senior year, it would be extra special with Jon there. Originally, since we both went to different schools, we had planned on going to both Proms, but in a strange twist of good luck, the two schools (who both had relatively small graduating classes) decided to merge their Proms into one, and nobody objected.

I spent the afternoon before the Prom getting reading with a few of my female friends. I was wearing more makeup than I would ever normally wear and I had my hair done up in a mass of twists and swirls on my head. My dress was long and a light silky blue color. It matched my eyes, which I liked. The limousine with our dates arrived finally, and we rushed outside to have our pictures taken. As Jon stepped out of that limousine, I suddenly realized why people in romance stories are so beautiful. Jon walked up to me, grinning as he usually did, but there was something different about him. His normally messy hair was perfectly in place, he had gotten new glasses, ones that fit his face better and gave him a very intellectual look, and the black tuxedo looked great on him. I suppose he didn't look that different than before, but to me, he looked absolutely perfect.

"Emily," he said to me. "You look gorgeous."

"You are so perfect," I replied, and kissed him softly.

We smiled at each other. I think we were thinking the same thing at that same time, and I've never forgotten it. It was sort of a moment of revelation for me.

The Prom itself was incredible. The whole thing was dream-like. The Prom committee had voted on an "Evening Under the Stars" theme, which reminded me again of our nights by the lake. When Jon and I danced, it felt like nobody else was there but us. I closed my eyes and held him tightly, moving to whatever music was playing with my head on his shoulder. The Prom lasted until midnight, then there was an after party at the school. We had a great time at the party too, talking to all our friends. It was a mixture of happiness and sadness, knowing that everyone would be graduating soon, and I might not see everyone again for awhile, depending on where people were going, and what they were doing after High School. At one point, Jon left the party and drove to a convenience store, coming back with a big lime slushie for us to share. I laughed, but thoroughly enjoyed our slushie. Around 9am the next morning, we all had a quick breakfast, and the party disbanded. Jon dropped me off at home, and kissed me good-bye so I could get some sleep, I was completely exhausted after such an exciting night.

"Thank you, Jon," I told him. "I had so much fun there."

"I know," he agreed, "so did I. Get some sleep hun, and I'll see you soon."

We had one more long, lingering kiss on my doorstep before Jon left to go home, and I went upstairs to bed.

I slept deeply and peacefully, happier than anyone in a romance story. All my dreams were good ones, but none of them compared to how I felt when I was awake and with Jon. When the phone rang, I was so sleepy that I didn't manage to pick it up until the seventh or eighth ring. The clock only said 11:30am, I hadn't gotten to sleep for more than two hours. I became wide awake when I heard who was calling. Jon's mother was calling me from the hospital. She was crying into the phone, I could barely make out what she was saying. She said Jon had been badly beaten up, and I should get to the hospital right away.

I'm not entirely sure how I got to the hospital. I couldn't have driven in my state of panic, but I managed it anyhow. I rushed through the lobby to the front desk, found out where Jon was, and practically flew up to his room. His mother was outside, speaking to a doctor. She was sobbing quietly. I was too stunned to cry.

"How is Jon?" I demanded to know. "Is he alright?"

His mother hugged me, but didn't speak.

"Well, is he?" I nearly yelled.

"He's not going to make it through the night, honey," Jon's mother said gently, shaking her head.

I pulled out of her hug and looked at her angrily.

"What are you talking about, of course he will!" I shouted. "What happened to him?!"

"We weren't home when he got there," she whispered, trembling. "We were out. There was a burglar in the house..."

"What do you mean, a burglar?" I asked, alarmed.

"Jon tried to stop him, I guess, or maybe the burglar just didn't want Jon to identify him," his mother said, trying to find an explanation for that had happened to her son. "The man beat up Jon. Very badly."

She began to cry again. I was completely shocked. I should have said something comforting to her, but instead I pushed past her and into Jon's room. Behind me I could hear the doctor about to stop me, but Jon's mother told him to let me go. At the sight of Jon lying on the bed, I began to weep. His face was purple and brown from bruises, and his cheek was sunken in on one side, like the cheekbone had been broken. One eye was obviously swelled shut, and the other was closed as if he were sleeping. The rest of him was covered by a sheet, but I could only imagine what he looked like. Even with all the bruises, he was still perfect to me. I figured it out completely right then. Beauty didn't make perfection. Love did. And I definitely loved Jon. Taking his hand delicately, I began to sob. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I didn't brush them away.

"Jon," I whimpered.

Miraculously, he opened his one good eye and looked at me. He tried to smile, but he couldn't. I saw the pain in his eye when he did. I should have reassured him, but I was too upset.

"Jon!" I said forcefully, still crying. "Jon, you are ruining my story. You're ruining the end of my story! You promised, Jon! You promised not to do that."

Jon's breathing got slower. I think he tried to speak, but he couldn't do it.

"Don't do this, Jon." I said angrily. "Don't try to make excuses, and don't ruin my romance story. It's been perfect so far, I don't want you screwing it up!"

Jon's eye struggled to stay open, but fluttered shut, looking at me apologetically before closing.

"Jon!" I screamed at him. "Jon, I love you. Jon, you're ruining my story Jon, you promised you wouldn't... Jon..."

I fell to the floor in hysterics. Jon's Mom helped me sit up, and they took me out of the room. But in a fortunate turn of events, Jon didn't die. Strangely, Jon's condition started to improve that evening, and over the next few weeks, he rapidly got better. I stayed with him every day, talking to him. Once he could eat, the doctors let me bring him slushies. I guess this doesn't end like the great movies do, with beautiful people and tragedy, but I'm pretty sure I like this way better. When Jon was well enough to talk again, I asked him a question.

"Jon," I said, in all seriousness. "Why didn't you die that day?"

He managed a tiny smile, which was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

"Because I love you, Emily," Jon said softly. "And I sure as hell didn't want to be responsible for giving your story an unhappy ending."

Those words made me happy. Happier than stories and happier than slushies. Jon was going to be alright, and that was the happiest ending I needed.

THE END