The one that got away

Thursday, 25 July 2002

There was this girl who lived in the same college dorm I did. It was Hokona. She was on the girls’ side, as you might have guessed.

The girls’ side was the origin of Hokona’s nickname, “Whore-corner.” I worked in all the dorms though and I can assure you that the Santa Clara girls were the ones that were keeping college STD stats solid for the state. Hokona girls were the ones worth blowing midterms for because you’d get to bomb your finals for them too.

This girl was raven haired. Maybe a year or two younger than I was. I think she was Chicana but she was one of those girls who wasn’t mestizo enough to tell for sure.

I might have known her name once. If I did it was from asking around. She was so pretty, I never quite managed to ask her; her name and many things. We talked once. Once was all I could manage. She was so pretty and my crush made me boylike and foolish. It was difficult to understand her when we did talk.

Her smile was arresting. Her beautiful hair was longish and often up but sometimes loose on the back edge of her wheelchair. Her wheelchair was completely automatic because she needed it to be. She had some crude motor control over her arms and neck. Just enough to spur the chair to action with the joystick and to raise her head and smile and look away to the side. Christ! Had that smile been shown upon the Devil he might well have reconciled with his cousins in a daze of optimism.

She had a crush on me too I think but I didn’t know what to do about it then. I wonder if she still can smile that way.

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