A Lesson in History

         “Hannah Groler?” the substitute called out.
         “It’s pronounced hah-nah,” I responded from my seat in the back left corner making eye contact with the man standing in the front of the room. “I’m here.” He was young and wearing a new blue suit which complimented his messy hair. I went back to discretely pressing my thumbs against the number pad of my cell phone.
“Eve Groy?...Markus Hue?” I worked harder to tune him out, pretending to hear Jeff’s voice reading me the message I had just received.
u shud b here. la tonight. sound check in a few. ctn. call me l8r.
I remembered back to the days when Oliver Can’t Keep was nothing more than a joke, an escape from the drama of high school. But ever since Cody had posted the band’s demos on Purevolume, well, I’m sure you know what happened next. The band was signed, released their debut album, and is now touring constantly. Off go my friends Jeff, Cody, and Andrew, and even Manny as their tour manager and Jessica to help sell tee shirts with them. There goes my whole clique. I’m happy for them, following their dream and all. It’s just that they left to do something so exhilarating while I’m stuck here, in my AP United States History class.
The paper floated down toward my desk and I glanced at it. Bold at the top it read: The Cold War (pages 534-67). Great, I thought as I pushed the page aside. Jeff ditched me and now I’m stuck actually taking notes. What can history teach me anyways?

I counted the stairs as I ran up, my phone buzzing from its shelf in my room. It was Jeff; I knew it was him. He always calls at this time. Panting, I reached my room. “Hey you,” I started but the phone already read one missed call: Jeffrey Cell. I pressed the green button twice and he answered before the phone even finished the first ring. “Hey you,” I said for the second time in a row. I loved the sound of his voice and every time he called I reveled in it. The call lasted its usual length, about an hour and half, before I told him I needed to get to bed. After all I still had school in the morning. “See you tomorrow,” he cooed and my heart jumped again. I miss that boy.

During history class the next day I couldn’t sit still. My teacher, Mr. Olivando was back. “Groups of two,” he said. “We will be writing document based question essays in pairs to prepare for next week’s test”
“Partners?” Zac attacked me as soon as Mr. Olivando stopped addressing the class. Think, I told myself.
“Um…” Clever now or he’ll know that I’m pulling bull shit out of nowhere. After a couple more seconds I replied, “My head hurts. I think I was going to go to the nurse anyways. Thanks for the offer.”
“That’s too bad. Oliver Can’t Keep is playing a show tonight at Millingham’s Place and I’m sure you had wanted to go.” Shit, I thought, he knows I’m lying. This is getting too awkward. I knew Zac still liked me, even after our on again off again relationship finally went off again for the last time two years ago. I grabbed my bag and made a beeline for Mr. Olivando’s desk.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” he said, “Make sure you grab a copy of the weekend’s homework from the desk next to the door on your way out.”

After I was sent home for a headache I didn’t have, I changed clothes and headed over to the venue for tonight’s show. Before the show I helped Jessica set up the merchandise while Jeff warmed up with the rest of the band. I couldn’t believe he had been in town for an hour and we hadn’t so much as hugged. The walls in Millingham’s Place were close together and the room which was already half full. I wanted to watch the show from the crowd, so I walked into straight the monster mob of people, becoming part of it, all of us waiting with anticipation for OCK to take the stage.
Finally, they did. And the performance was better than anybody could have hoped for. Cody’s voice melted the hearts of the thirteen year old girls in the front and Andrew’s harsh drums accented the band wonderfully. Jeff was amazing as well, but I might have a bias. The whole show all I could think was, He’s right there. We have the rest of the night. The group tore through I Wish I Were Blind and the crowd seemed to know the words to Nothing Rhymes with Silence better than Cody himself.
With my VIP sticker covering the pocket of my jeans I felt like I belonged back in my old group of friends. I walked back stage after the show. “Hey Cody, nice job,” I congratulated.
“Hey Groler! Its been so long! How are you?”
“Great. A little stressed out about all this college stuff going on, but you know.”
“Not so much. I’m not going to college. I’ve got the dream right here,” he smiled as he gestured with his hands to show that “here” was the band.
“Hah, you guys sure do,” I said with a twinge of sarcasm. I really hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. I moved on quickly before he could catch on, “Hey, have you seen Jeff?”
“No sorry. I know his phone died. I’ll let him know you’re looking for him if I see him.”
“Thanks buddy.”

Jeff had been in town all night and I hadn’t seen him at all. It hadn’t crossed my mind to be upset, I was only worried. I tried calling his phone, in case it had miraculously revived, but never got through. I returned to my old sleeping patterns, waking up on the hour drenched in sweat. It just like old times, just like after Zac and I had our second and third “offs”. That was when the depression had hit me hard, lake the crashing of a wave. It wasn’t until I hadn’t slept or eaten for three weeks that I realized there was a problem. I don’t blame Zac for being depressed, I blame myself. Nobody deserves that many second chances, especially third or fourth chances.

The next night I still hadn’t heard from Jeff. I knew he should have called by now, at least on a payphone or something. I sat down with a pen and paper and wrote across the top CALLING MANNY and drew a line down the middle. I labeled one column PROS and wrote under it talk to Jeff, make sure he is okay. I labeled the other side CONS and trembled as I wrote he might not want to talk to me.
Either way I knew we would have to talk sooner or later. Even though I hated confrontation with every fiber of my being, I picked up the phone. It rang, rang, rang. “Hi this is Manny. You know what to do! Beeeep”
“Hey Manny, it’s me. Call me back.”

The next morning I woke up, grabbed my phone, bag, and a piece of toast and ran out the door. Working at my Sunday School was easy money and was fun, it just meant early Sunday mornings, which can obviously be problematic. As I was stopped at a red light on my way to temple, I looked down at my phone. One missed call: Mannnnnny. Even though talking on the phone while driving is illegal, I thought this constituted enough of an emergency to make the call. “Hey Manny!”
“Oh hey! I’m so glad you called. Why didn’t we hang out on Friday?”
“I spent most of the night looking for Jeff.”
“Oh, I’m sure you two wanted oodles of fun alone time,” she sang and I heard her giggle.          
“Actually,” I could hear my voice breaking and I begged myself not to cry, “I couldn’t find him and I heard his phone was dead and I haven’t talked to him and I was wondering…” I said it all in one breath but stopped short when I heard his muffled voice in the background.
“Yeah, he’s right here.” I pulled over to the side of the road, this would be emotional, I could tell. I breathed in deeply and waited to exhale.
“Hannah?” He asked once he received the phone. Breathe out.
“Jeff. Yeah, hi.” Sometimes I wish I weren’t so awkward. I held my breath again.
“Okay, so I’ve been meaning to call you and talk to you.” Oh god. “I’m not so sure I really want to do this anymore. I mean I never see you anymore.” I remembered I needed to exhale. There was a pause and I knew I was supposed to say something but I didn’t want to cry. “I still really like you, but I think if we just break up now it will be easier later. We can just get over each other and move on to dating people we can actually be with. You know?”
More silence.
“Hannah, please say something. Please don’t cry.”
“Well,” I tried to piece myself together just enough for this one sentence, “maybe we would see more of each other if you hadn’t ditched me when you were in town.”
I was losing it. I knew I was, and the only solution was to hang up. I looked down at my watch wiped my eyes and sped the rest of the way towards Congregation Israel.

I’m over it. I made the decision I was over it. Now what? I opened up my history folder to find the assignment Mr. Olivando had me grab on the way out the door. “Write an essay to agree, disagree, or contextualize the following idea.  There are many parallels between America’s roles in the two world wars. Is it inevitable that history repeats itself?”
         Of course, I thought. History repeats itself. Things don’t become cliché if they are false because nobody would continue to say them. Now all I have to do is write this essay, but nothing came to mind. It wasn’t that I was too dejected after my recent break up. I just genuinely didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t write the essay and decided to play the I-forgot-to-pick-it-up-because-I-was-sick card. I had an A in the class and had never failed to turn anything in on time before this so I was pretty sure my plan would work wonderfully.
And it did. The next afternoon as I explained to Mr. Olivando that I didn’t have the essay, he told me that it was a rough draft due today and I could turn mine in by next Monday.

         The week flew by and I focused on my school work just to keep myself busy. Every time I took a break, Jeff’s face or voice or smell popped into my head like spam mail that wont delete. I just wanted to forget it, to move on, just like he had suggested. Which is why, that Friday when Zac asked me if I was free for dinner, as he has done numerous times in the past year, I actually accepted. “Really?” he asked obviously confused by his success this time.
         “Yeah, really. Now that Jeff and I are over, I think its time to move on.”
         “You and Jeff are over?” He questioned, but knew me well enough to move on quickly. “That’s too bad. How about Italian? I’ll pick you up at eight.”


         Dinner that night was perfect. We sat across from each other in an empty small Italian restaurant and caught up with each other on everything that had happened in the past two years. Zac had grown more and more interested in theater, with leads in most of our school’s plays. Nothing was awkward, which made the night almost awkward because I knew it should have been extremely awkward. On the way home I reflected on the whole situation as the radio blared in the background, conveniently on loud enough to prohibit further conversation. How can I let myself get into this again? I told myself, never on again with Zac. It’s something I owe myself. I need to end this before it gets out of hand. The car came to a stop in the driveway and both our doors opened. There it was, the awkwardness I had been expecting all night finally set in. When we got to the door, Zac closed his eyes and leaned in. “I’m so sorry Zac.” I whispered and ran scrambled with my keys to get through the door.

         I knew what I had to do. I had tried to ignore it, but there it was again, popping up. As much as I didn’t want to think of Jeff, he was the only person in my life I really cared about. But no, I can’t. I won’t give Zac anymore chances and I won’t give Jeff anymore either I repeated over and over again in my head as I bent over to press the power button on my computer. I wanted to let this go, forget he ever happened. Once the screen had loaded, the background image sat there taunting me and I felt my dinner coming back up.

         I was under the covers, once again sitting waiting to sleep when I heard the ringing of my phone again. Mannnnnny Calling. “Hello?”
         “Hey, I just heard. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I can’t believe he would do that to you.”
         “Er, yeah. This is kind of weird, but is he near by? Can you hand him your phone?”
         “Han, do you really want to talk to him?”
         “Yes. I really do. I made up my mind.”
         “Hi. It’s me.” That voice. Okay, here goes nothing.
         “I miss you. I know I shouldn’t and I know you don’t care, but I do. And I’m really upset that things are over. And I don’t want you to be just another failed relationship. I don’t care if I only get to see you a couple times a year, I only care that those couple of times are spent together. And I don’t care that you don’t want me anymore. I’m over it but I needed to tell you this before it was too late…”
         “For what?” he asked during my one pause.
         “I don’t really know. I just wanted you to know how I feel. You can go now. I just needed to get it all off my chest. After all, you were the one who said we should take steps to get over each other.” I was ranting again.
         “Whoa, Hannah, I’m glad you called.”
         “What?”
         “Yes. I wanted to call you as soon as I realized what a dick I was being. I don’t know what it was. I guess I just miss you so much some times. And I was being stubborn and didn’t call and I’m sorry for that. Really, I am.”
         “So what does this mean?” It was as though I was experiencing every side effect, shaking and smiling. Jeff was my new drug.
         “I hope it means we’ve worked everything out.” I thought of everything that happened with Zac. Thoughts from two years ago echoed in my mind: I should never have given him that second chance, that third chance. People never change.
         “It does,” I said before hanging up. Maybe this could work now that we know that we are both in it for the long haul. No more second guessing the long distance thing, I though full of hope and enthusiasm. And without further a due, I pulled out the prompt Mr. Olivando had given us a week ago and began to form my thesis: Although it seems as though history is doomed to repeat itself, though awareness and a common goal of not letting this happen America is able to refrain from letting such things happen.