Once When You Were Mine

Chapter One

                                                              "We never did too much talking anyway..."

                                                                                      - Bob Dylan

Fall, 1991

"I can't believe you guys broke up!" Austin's voice was incredulous.

"What's not to believe? We only dated for three weeks." I shifted the phone receiver to my other ear. I was getting a shoulder cramp. Crossing the room, I perched precariously on the kitchen stool. "It was a typical, crappy high school relationship. It's not like we were married or anything."

"Of course not, but-"

"Look, it was beginning to be weird. Whenever we talked on the phone, we'd have these really long, uncomfortable pauses where neither of us could think of anything to say. I had to start making a list of conversation topics before I called him."

Austin laughed. "We've certainly never had that problem."

"That's what you think! I just haven't shown you my list!"

"Ooh, right through the heart!" He pretended to be mortally wounded. "One more crack like that and I'll hang up on you!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

Click.

"Hello?" All I got was a dial tone. Hurriedly, I dialed Austin's number.

"Hello?" He was all innocence.

I slammed the phone down as hard as I could and waited. Ten seconds later the phone rang. I picked it up and heard laughter and then a slam. After two more hang-ups, I heard my Mom call from down the hall, "Meghan, whatever you're up to, cut it out!"

I called Austin back and when he picked up, I quickly said, "Don't hang up! My mom is getting mad!"

"Mine too. Did you look at the physics homework yet?"

"Actually, I guess that's what I originally called about, but then we started talking about Rob and I breaking up..."

"Oh yeah. So, are you okay with it?"

"The physics or the breakup? Because I have to tell you, this vector stuff is killing me!"

He laughed. "The breakup, dummy."

"Considering it was my first break-up, I think I'm doing rather well. I locked myself in my room, listened to an old Peter, Paul & Mary song a bunch of times, and I was fine."

"Which song?" Austin was a connoisseur of 60s music.

"Don't Think Twice, It's All Right."

"Ah." I could tell he was nodding approvingly. "Originally by Bob Dylan, but I like Peter, Paul & Mary's version. Do you think you wasted your "precious time" on him?"

I considered that for a minute, discarding a few possible answers, and finally went for comedy. "Well, I don't know... he was a pretty good kisser..."

"Really, Meg!" Austin mocked the disapproving tone of a parent.

"What? It's the truth. He's definitely the best kisser I've ever dated."

"Meg, he's the only one you've ever dated." Austin's tone was dry.

"Yeah, well, look who's talking," I grumbled.

"Maybe I just haven't found somebody I want to date yet."

"Obviously I haven't found anyone worth dating either, or I'd still be going out with Rob."

There was silence from the other end of the line and then, "I can't believe you guys broke up!"

I sighed. Once Austin grabbed on to something, he worried it to death, like a terrier with a bone.

"Look, I'll give you all the gory details tomorrow, okay? We'd better start on the physics before my mom makes me get off the phone."

"Okay, what's the first problem?"

"That one's pretty easy - it's just vector addition and subtraction. I'm more worried about the third one."

Austin read it in silence and then let out a big sigh. "When are these due again?"

"Wednesday."

"Let's work on them tomorrow at lunch, then if we have questions, we can talk to Mr. Thomas after school. We can finish them tomorrow night."

I thought for a minute. "I have a trumpet lesson after school, but I can come over after dinner and we can finish them then."

"Sounds good."

When we hung up, my mom materialized from my parents' bedroom. "Was that Austin?"

"Who else?"

Austin Avakian was, after all, my best friend. We had met four years ago during a jazz program we both participated in during the summer before 8th grade. We didn't talk very much at the time, even though we played the same instrument, the trumpet. We had been at that age when male-female relationships were uncomfortable at best. After the summer was over, we returned to our respective junior high schools (our town had two of them) and didn't meet again until high school. At the end of our freshman year, we nearly collided into each other in front of the Student Center. When he tried to pass me, I inadvertently moved in the same direction as him, so that I was still blocking him. After two unsuccessful tries at getting past each other, he had finally grinned at me and we'd struck up a conversation. We've been friends ever since.

While my mom was grilling me, I loaded my physics notebooks and text into my backpack so I wouldn't forget them tomorrow.

"He's a nice boy - and attractive," Mom said carefully.

Austin was Armenian, had thick black hair, dark eyes, and he ran track. There was no doubt he was attractive, but he was my buddy. We knew each other too well for it to be any other way.

"Oh, Mom, don't start," I groaned. "He's just a friend."

"All right, I won't start. It's just that you guys get along so well."

"Right. That's why we're friends." I explained, emphasizing the word "friends".

"I guess that's hard for me to relate to. When I was your age, girls and boys weren't friends. At least not like today." She smiled, "And we most certainly wouldn't call a boy on the phone."

I must have looked shocked, because she said thoughtfully, "You know, I think in the bookshelves downstairs, I still have the dating ettiquette book my mother gave me."

"Etiquette?" I said dubiously. I couldn't think of anything less interesting.

She swatted in my general direction. "I'll have to dig it up for you. You might find it an interesting relic of the 60s, if nothing else."

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I found a book with a pink cover sitting on my nightstand. The title read "The Keys to Life and Love." I thumbed through it and found a chapter on telephone calls. I skimmed it and then jumped out of bed and raced downstairs with the book, hooting, "Mom, you gotta hear this!"

"You're going to miss your bus," she warned.

I ignored her and read, "Never initiate conversation with a boy. It will embarrass him in front of his friends. Boys prefer demure girls." I let out a loud and decidely unlady-like whoop.

"You see now, how I was raised to view boy-girl relationships," my mother said grimly.

"Poor Mom!"

"Well, poor Mom's not going to give you a ride to school if you miss your bus. You'd better get ready."

I decided that, should I miss the bus, making fun of her upbringing would not put me in the best position to beg for a ride. I took her advice and ran upstairs to get ready for school.