Don't Worry Baby

Big Girls Don't Cry

September 1962

Carol knew she could easily go to Dee Dee or another friend to talk about her problem, but they were girls and would just tell her what she wanted to hear. She wanted a boy’s point of view—well, more like a guy’s point of view, which is why she finds herself walking up to the garage where John Milner works.  Since the night he drove her around, she would see him and was surprised the first time he waved back to her.  From that point on, she took it a step further.  First a wave, then a ‘Hi John!’, and soon she would initiate conversation.

Judy would tease her about being friends with him and how he was just some guy who didn’t know how to grow up.  But Carol didn’t care about what he did or didn’t do with his life. He was her friend and the first person to act like she wasn’t a pest.  It was no secret that Judy wasn’t keen on having a younger sister, and she overheard a conversation between her parents once when they thought she was asleep in her room about how they had made it work even though they hadn’t planned for Carol.  At first, it upset her, but now it doesn’t bother her as much as it used to.

Walking into the garage, the smell of oil and car fumes was strong, and the sounds of drills and metal clanking echoed loudly while Dion’s “Ruby Baby” played on the radio. It was a small garage, so finding John didn’t take long. He was working under the hood of a white car, and she could hear him cursing at himself as he dropped his wrench.  Carol couldn’t help but giggle to herself. Something about him getting flustered just kind of amused her.  As John bent down to grab the wrench, she quickly snuck up to the side of the car right before he stood back up.

“Howdy, partner,”  she greeted him with a grin, startling him.

“Shit, kid, where did you come from?  You can’t go around scarin’ people like that.”  He clutched his chest, scowling at her before focusing on what he was doing before.  “Don’t you have school or somethin’?”

“It’s almost 4 o’clock. We’ve been out nearly an hour.”  She rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t you have homework?”

“And here I thought you would be happy to see me,” she chirped while John looked at her unamusedly. “Okay, fine,”  she gave in. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Me? Why?”  He asked with a bit of confusion and annoyance.

“Because I can’t ask my sister, she’ll make fun of me, and my friends don’t have this problem.”  She picked her nails nervously.  John noticed the change in her mood and exhaled deeply before responding.

“Fine, but you have until I’m done working on this, which isn’t much longer.  So chop, chop, kid.” Carol sighed, unsure how to ask what she wanted to ask him. It seemed like a good idea before, but now it seemed kind of intimidating. John was a good-looking guy who probably kissed a bunch of girls.

“Well,” she began, “there is this guy at school and his name is Tommy and we’ve been friends for a little while and the other day when we were walking home from school, he kissed me,”  Carol said it in one breath and so fast that John barely had time to register what she was talking about.  “Anyways, that was a week and a half ago, and now he won’t talk or even look at me!  Why’d he kiss me if he didn’t want to talk to me anymore?  I mean, we were friends, and I thought…”

“You thought what?” he asks, his eyes purposely kept on his work at hand. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about boy trouble with a 15-year-old girl. Yet something in her voice made him stop his smart remarks from coming out.

“Well, I guess I thought he liked me.”  He could hear the tremble in her voice, and finally, he put the wrench down and looked at her.  Her eyes were red-rimmed, and he could tell she was trying her best not to show how bothered she was by this.  “Is it because I’m not as pretty as Judy?  Or because I don’t dress as nice as the other girls?”

“No, no, kid, that’s not it.”  He tried to comfort her but didn’t know what to say.

“Then why?  Why don’t guys like me?”  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and John felt underprepared for this.  He grabbed a clean rag from the shelf and handed it to her.

“C’mon, don’t cry,”  he awkwardly patted his arm in what he hoped was a comforting way.  “Look, kid, sometimes guys are just dumb.  Now, there could be a few reasons. Maybe he’s scared he’ll lose you as a friend or thinks you don’t like him.”

“But I do like him!”  She exclaimed.

“Well, he sounds like an ass.”  He shrugged.  “You have a couple of options.  You can ask him immediately what his problem is or ignore him.”

“Wow, thanks. That's the best advice ever.”  Carol rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

“Hey now,”  he wagged his finger at her, “you came to me, kid.  Do I look like some dating expert?”.

“No, you look like you would rob my house.” She sniffled John, shooting her a pointed look.

“Whatever, my point is that you’re young, and there are going to be plenty of guys in your life,” he tells her. Don’t get hung up on someone loser 15-year-old; he probably still calls his mom mommy.”  This made Carol laugh, which, in turn, made John smile.

“Okay.”

“Great, now go. I have work to do,” he says, smearing a streak of oil on her cheek with his thumb, which she tries to bat away unsuccessfully.

Later that night, Carol lies in bed feeling a little better than she did when she woke up and a little less alone.