This is the first of the sequel and prequel installments related to my "A Strange Arrangement" series. You don't need to read A Strange Arrangement to follow this short series (though I encourage you to read it!), but fans of Gina and Andrew's story will note a lot of crossovers. This is Ian's story.
*****
My name is Odessa, which my mom says was to remind her of a beautiful city she visited when she was a little girl. Except for my mom, who insists on using my full name, I've always gone by Dessi. You wouldn't know it looking at me now, but I used to be the very definition of 'petite.' Time and child-bearing haven't been kind to my body, but I wouldn't trade the joys of the past 20 years just to get my old figure back.
But listen to me- rambling on about myself when you want to hear about Ian. I haven't even told my husband all of this story, though I'm sure he would handle it fine. I've been very blessed with a patient and understanding man. But something about my time with Ian feels too personal- to me and to him- for me to share it with just anyone. I don't think I've even decided yet if I'm going to tell
you
everything.
When I met Ian, it was love at first sight- for me at least. I had just transferred into the same high school as him when my family moved into town. Moving while in high school can be hard on a teenager. I lost all my friends, the groups I was in, the activities I was a part of- all my social capital was gone. The thought of starting all over and climbing that ladder again was...exhausting.
My mom wisely suggested that this might be a good time to reinvent myself. So I tried something I'd always wanted to do but had never done for fear of being branded a loser at my old school. I signed up to try out for a school play that fall. And that was where I met Ian.
"You're new here," he said to me during our first practice.
"My family just moved here. Any words of wisdom?" I tried to play it cool.
"You're asking the wrong guy. I'm still trying to figure this all out."
"I wonder if that's how everyone feels, but some people are better at faking it than others."
"I bet you're right. I'd love to find some people who didn't feel like they had to pretend. We could just...be ourselves." Of course my adolescent brain was thinking,
Oooh, he's so deeeep.
But he could have said just about anything and I would have loved to listen to him. I was predisposed to love him.
"Well, I'll make you a deal. If I find anyone like that, I'll let you know and we can start a club."
He laughed a little and looked at me with a curious expression. "It's a deal. I'm Ian, by the way. This is my last year, but if you find anyone for your club, let me know."
"Sure thing, Ian. I'm Dessi, and I can be the president of our very own Authenticity Club."
"Just make sure the dues aren't too steep, and I'd be happy to sign up."
I gave my best flirty smile and said, "I'm sure I can figure out
something
you have that I'd want!"
Ian didn't really flirt back, but he didn't shut me out, either. And so we spent the next few months of twice-weekly rehearsals getting to know each other. Neither of us was in a lead role or anything. We were just background characters with a few lines here and there. Looking back, I'm so glad it worked out that way. If either of us had gotten a major part, we would have been very busy during the rehearsals. But being in the crowd, we sat around a lot, helped move scenery, etc. And it was during those times that we talked.
Ian was handsome- looking at pictures of those days, I would still say the same. At the time, it almost seemed like he shined. I know that sounds silly, but it's how I remember it. I'd look at a crowd of people, and they seemed like they were in black and white, and he alone was in full color. I thought it was lust at first. But after I had the chance to talk to him, I decided, with all the exuberance and foolishness of youth, that he was to be the love of my life.
I didn't understand at first why Ian wasn't surrounded by girls. He was
so
handsome. His smile was warm and engaging, his voice smooth and deep after having changed a few years before. He made eye contact when talking, looking at my eyes, not my chest. But I started to see that, as handsome as he was, Ian didn't have the charming, charismatic personality of the popular boys. That suited me just fine. He was like a hidden treasure- a special treat that I had found.
I asked around, trying to find out if there was some secret about him. Was there something wrong that everyone knew but me? But I couldn't get anything out of anyone. Most people just said, "Who?" I guess Ian was one of those guys who swim through the sea of students, not making waves. In my old school, I was a wave maker. Not trouble or anything (well, not once I got to high school), but just in the middle of things. My name came up in the gossip circles, I had my group of loyal girlfriends, I cycled through a few popular boyfriends- you know the type.
But here it was different, and I started to find it refreshing. I was no stranger to sex- you couldn't be if you wanted to stay in the right crowds at my old school, but since I wasn't trying to retain that image here, I didn't feel the pressure to hook up. As far as Ian went, though, I started wanting to be with him because I wanted to be closer to
him
. Does that make sense? The idea of sex with him wasn't as a means to an end- like for popularity or status or even securing a relationship. It was just...wanting closeness.
But Ian didn't make any moves. By the end of that semester, we were friends. We didn't have any classes together, being a year apart, so after we performed the play that winter, I was looking for a reason to still hang out. At the cast party after closing night, I slipped him a piece of paper. It read:
You are invited to the inaugural meeting of the Redstone High School Authenticity Club, this Thursday after school at the flagpole.
Ian took the paper and slipped it into his pocket without reading it. My eyes followed him all evening to see his reaction when he finally read it. But I lost him when I got engrossed in a story the drama teacher was telling about a catastrophic staging of
The Glass Menagerie
that she had been a part of years ago. After the story ended, I was startled by Ian's voice behind me.
"Are there any dues I need to be worried about?"
I spun around and almost fell into his arms. Almost on purpose.
"Dues? Yeah! They are..." I should have been ready for that, but I think I came up with a pretty good answer. "You have to be ready to share one secret- something you've never told anyone before."
He looked up, thoughtful. Then he smiled and looked back down at me. "OK. I can do that. As long as the club president has to pay the same dues. Fair's fair, you know."
"Well, of
course
. Everyone gets the same treatment." My heart was beating faster, knowing my plan was working.
"Everyone? How many are in the club?"
"So far...just the two of us. If you're OK with that..."
He did that looking up and thinking thing again, then looked in my eyes and said, "I think that will be OK."
At that point we were interrupted by another extra who was trying to get a group of us together for a photo. Ian got shuffled to the back, and I was in the front, as always. After the photo, there was a speech and some announcements and more photos and by the time it was finished, Ian had already slipped out. No matter- I would be seeing him again, and my heart skipped at the thought.
*******
By Tuesday, I was regretting having chosen Thursday as our day to meet- I was antsy the whole week. I played through several scenarios in my head that week, and most of them involved Ian falling madly in love with me. The more I had gotten to know him, the more I realized what a special guy he was. I was nervous that I didn't know how to handle such a nice guy- he seemed almost fragile. I was used to guys who were using me just as much as I was using them. We were objects to each other, and everyone was fine with that.
But Ian was different. Ian was a person.
Thursday after school, I hurried through my locker ritual- throwing books into my backpack for the evening. I made my way to the flagpole and was happy to see Ian already there waiting- I stopped and watched him for a few minutes from a distance. He would occasionally wave or say high to someone passing buy- guys and girls alike. He would later tell me that, though a lot of those people would call him a friend, he couldn't think of them in those terms. Most of them were 'acquaintances.' The title 'friend' was special and was not something to be casually tossed around. I felt privileged when he later called me his friend.
But that's jumping ahead- listen to me, all over the place!
I walked up to Ian and said, "So, where to?"
He smiled and said, "You don't have a plan?
You
invited
me
, remember?"
"To The Noggin Shop, then," I declared, pointing my finger authoritatively in the air. I don't know if it's still around, but The Noggin Shop was one of those used bookstore/coffee shop places that weren't as common 20 years ago as they are now. It wasn't a popular hang out among the high schoolers, but it always had a small crowd of college kids studying and talking softly. And it was close to our school.
Ian drove us there, and we got settled in at a corner table. On an early December day, tucked inside a warm shop with a hot chocolate and a handsome man, it was cozy. It was one of those moments where you feel like life is such a good thing and you feel like it might just go on and on this way until the world just turns into heaven.
We sat down and Ian said, "Alright, madam president, would you like to open our inaugural meeting by sharing
your
deep, dark secret?"
I sipped my chocolate, wiped the cream off my lip, and smiled. "OK, here goes: I'm 19. I'm 2 years behind my class because I got held back a few times in middle school. My home life sucked and I wasn't handling it well, so I started failing classes and acting like a royal bitch. I even got arrested. I've dealt with all that now, and I'm back on track, and being at a new school has even helped me straighten out some more."
Ian's eyes were locked on mine while I talked- I wasn't used to that. His eyes widened in surprise when I told him how old I was. Then they winced in sympathy when I mentioned my home life. Then they opened in surprise again when I told him I'd been arrested. He was easy to read and easy to talk to.
"I would never have guessed 19," he said. "You look..." he hesitated.
"Like a 14 year-old?" I suggested.
