Hot Rod Guy

People remarked that Siesta looked like a giant rat. She was supposed to be a full bred Chihuahua when we bought her at a local pet shop but my parents speculated later that she was most likely a terrier mix. Whatever she was, that small grey dog with dark brown soulful eyes looked like she stepped in white paint then used the tips of her feet to brush streaks on her tail and chest.

I told her how much fun it was to hold Charlie’s hand when we came in from recess. She looked at me with those big brown eyes and understood what I was talking about when I gushed over how cute I thought he was, with his dimples and that smile. He was fast too, just that morning coming in first place in our classroom’s race around the track. But he seemed to win at every athletic contest. He also won my heart.

In my teenage years, I found myself attracted to other boys just like Charlie. They were exciting, forbidden and drove my parents crazy. At 15, I dated a guy who was 20 and drove a hot rod. His long, curly hair was always in his eyes. That didn't last long, which made my Mother very happy. But what did last was my terrible judgement regarding the opposite sex. In high school, I ran after the biggest pot head on campus, even though I had never tried smoking it myself. All the while, the clean-cut basketball champ tried to get my attention but I never gave him a chance.