Secrets of a crush

 

Somebody was telling me about her crush from fifteen years ago. Recently, she'd been dreaming about him. Of course, he was still fifteen and so was she. Of course, I thought about my own crush (well, I've had more than one. Yes..what can I say..I crush easily.) 

There had been crushes before Dean. But at the ripe age of eleven, there he was. The smartest boy in sixth grade who never said anything. I did my best not to be an idiot around him. I played it cool, but couldn't help to just sit there and daydream about him in class. Of course, he always knew the answers in math. He was well-read and the king of grammar. I was none of those things.

Years later somebody special to me found an empty diary in my undie drawer as I was packing to move in with him. He opened it up and in the middle of little pink diary was inscribed, "I Love Dean".

I remember it like yesterday the first time I was awestruck watching him walk down the sidewalk..tall, lean and smart mouthed looking. I was coming out of the grocery store and I was biting into an apple, yet was completely intoxicated by his presences and fell on top of him. He pushed me back up, gave me a stern look, and went on his way. I almost choked on the apple. 

It was best not to question him because he wasn't going to give me any answers about what he liked, or what he wanted to talk about. I had studied one boy years before and asked his sisters what he liked to talk about and that was sort of a success in one of those he's the big brother I never had scenerios. 

So I started with Dean's little brother. We really hit it off. Daryl was just the opposite of Dean. We played on the seesaw, the merry-go-round. Truly, he was so understanding. Full of stories about all sorts of boy things, like snakes and UFOs. Too bad, he was only in third grade. He seriously didn't think I was older than him.

Dean's teenage brothers were rather holsum farm boys. They were all from Iowa and sounded to me as if they might as well have been Canadians in Texas(these days its hard to find a mid-western accent). Finally, I got my mom involved. I don't know how I did it. We ended up going to dinner at Dean's. Naturally, he didn't say a word. That's when I learned from his mom that he didn't start talking until he was three.

"I was worried," she said. "But he told me later he just never had much to talk about." He also liked Zane Grey books, so from then on I always gave him a Zane Grey book for Christmas. But of course, he never acknowledged I even gave him a gift, that didn't stop me.

Meanwhile, I hung out with his little brother all the time. We would even ride the bus together. Of course, Dean was always aggravated with his brother. We were too loud. Silly us we were laughing all the way home. 

Then one day somebody was bullying his little brother and Dean stepped in and put a stop to it. I was in shock. I was also shocked to find out that he loved reading my Geography essays out loud. He seemed to think they were the funniest answers he'd ever heard. Especially, when I started each answer with "Well..." Yes, any other girl would have been horrified, but there I was with a goofy grin on my face. Dean was finally reading something I had written.

I did my best not to be too intoxicated around him. Although, I don't think I ever said much to him, and the questions I did ask, he seldom answered. But there was that one time in middle school when I heard someone using some extreme profinities in the broom closet next to the science room. Guess who it was? He wasn't perfect, but he was Dean, and always a brain. I think he might teach history now.