The Kris Story, Part I
4.2.8
It's been 3 and a half years since I began chronicling my life in this journal. It was October 14th, 2004, when I sat down to type my first entry. At the time, I was hoping only to find a way to fill the days. I talked about Kris then, as well as the pain she had caused me, but it occurs to me that I've never really told the full story...only bits and pieces here and there. This led to the inevitable questions about exactly why she had captured my attention so strongly all those years ago, as well as what happened between us. Quite frankly, I'd even begun forgetting pieces and losing track of the sequence of events.
So...I've been mulling everything over in my head for the past week or so, and I think I remember enough to tell everything from the beginning now. Therefore, in honor of my 100th journal entry, I'm going to do just that. This will certainly span several journal entries, but here is part one of "The Kris Story."
I met Kris when I was 17 years old. Our introduction was purely circumstantial. We hung out with the same crowd, and otherwise probably wouldn't have ever met. She was an awkward 15 year old girl. She had long straight hair, braces, and an almost gangly figure, which was due only to her thin structure. She was the shortest girl in our group of friends, which had earned her the nickname "Little Kris." Overall, she was a funny looking girl...but she did have a nice smile and sparkling eyes.
She was dating a guy named Doug Desroches, who had a habit of telling lies and exaggerations. They were known for being a "cute couple," the kind of high-school reputation that demanded public displays of affection whenever possible. It always seemed to me that she was too much of a free spirit for him, though. I would find myself lamenting that same quality of hers one day, but at the time I felt like she belonged with someone more like me.
Around October of 1998, only a couple of months into my senior year, I began to discover just how much I loved the road. I had only 3 classes each morning, which left me with the rest of the day to hang out with friends. This led to the invention of something I called, "The 3rd Period Road Trip." I would regularly ditch my third period class and leave for the rest of the day, bringing with me as many slacker friends as I could fit in the car. We went to Winter Park, The Garden of The Gods, Nebraska...anywhere we could get to and from before 4:00. Kris, who had recently cut her hair and was beginning to grow into her looks, came on every trip she could.
On one of those early trips, Doug also attended. That day we all drove up to a fireworks shop in Wyoming...only to discover that it was closed for the season. However, there was a strange little man outside the store who claimed that his tent had been vandalized just that morning. As he kicked at the tattered remains of his shoddy yellow tent, he explained to us that in exchange for a $20 contribution to his "tent fund," he could offer us a (probably illegal) free shopping spree. We accepted, and gleefully waited for him to unlock the doors. As we filled a shopping cart with various items, the man gathered up a bouquet of bottle rockets, which he then offered to Kris. We ended up with about $400 worth of fireworks, and soon we were on our way back to Colorado with a trunk full of incendiary devices. We were in good spirits, but somewhat worried about the risk of explosion.
Somewhere near Loveland, though, we stopped for lunch at some diner. It was there that Doug invited me into the bathroom for his version of a man-to-man talk. Inside, he pulled out a small gold ring and showed it to me. He told me how much he had spent on it and announced his intentions to ask for Kris' hand in marriage. I played along and gave him a series of solemn nods, but in my head I was screaming, "Are you fucking kidding me?" Deep down inside, I think I must have believed that she would go along with it.
That feeling didn't last, though.
As soon as I could, I asked her about it. I was stunned by what she told me. "That's my grandmother's ring. He's just holding on to it for me. It's not even a real diamond! He actually said that?" My inquisitive look turned instantly to one of relief, and she proceeded to confide in me about the many other untruths this pathological liar had told.
Like a trunk full of pyrotechnics, their relationship had apparently been on the verge of meltdown at all times, and my meddling had been just the spark required to push it over the edge. As soon as they had broken up, she and I started spending even more time together. She started going on every road trip I planned. Eventually our friends started asking us if we were dating. This always led to a knowing look between us as we categorically denied the rumor. Even though we were telling the truth, we were by no means very convincing.
Inevitably, the allegations led to "the conversation." We were two people who had become quite comfortable with eachother, but as we sat on the floor of the cafeteria that morning, we spoke in frightened, stuttered sentence fragments. Eventually, I made my move by informing her that it was impossible for us to go out, because she was grounded at the time. She agreed.
"We could go in, though," I asserted.
This was how our first relationship began. It was November of 1998.
To be continued...
