My Sister's Principle: The Ten Firsts

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

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When I first met you, I told you that I would never hold back. There would be no lying, no sparing feelings for the sake of our relationship. We had no relationship, but, I knew you were looking for one.

You were following me around the library with that broken expression on your face, asking me questions. "Do you have a boyfriend?" Was what you decided to finish with.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and froze behind the mystery shelf. "Look," I said sharply, resting one hand on your chest. "I just met you, and I won't lie, I do like you." I watched your eyes light up at the sound of those words strung together. "But, I don't sugar coat shit, honey." You loved the way I called you honey.

"I'm not one for a sweet tooth," you told me, smirking nervously. You were trying to impress me with your wit, I could tell.

I laughed and rested my palm on your cheek. "See? You're cute. I can tell that you're into me, too. But I'm the kind of girl who likes to drink and smoke, who forgets to put her glasses on in the morning."

"I don't need glasses. I don't need my liver," you pleaded.

I smiled at you and I know you sensed the pity in my voice when I continued. "Frank, that's the name, is it?" You nodded, so excited. "Well, Frank, today is your lucky day. I'm about to let you take me out to lunch today. I'm free around one. Don't be late."

I continued walking up and down the shelves, and you kept on following me.

"It's only noon, little boy. Come back another time." I laughed, watching you scurry out of the library, through the doors and into the sun while I was cramped in the air conditioned air and the bookshelves.

Since that day, since that egg salad sandwich you bought me, and within every moment between, you've been loving me constantly, insistently. I told you I wouldn't sugarcoat things, and now it breaks my heart that I can't. Every honest word I speak snaps you into smaller pieces.

My sister told me that there are ten important firsts to every lasting relationship: the first time you meet, your first date, your first kiss, the first gifts you exchange, the first time you say 'I love you', the first time you have sex, the first time you meet each other's parents, the first time you fight, when he first proposes, and the first pregnancy test you buy. Not necessarily in that order, she told me. But, her theory is that, in order to be lasting, every couple must experience these things together.

We met in that library.

We dated at the cafe down the street.

We kissed on the stoop outside my apartment building.

You bought me reading glasses at the library, so I bought you a new case for your trusty Costellos.

You told me you loved me at midnight at my favorite bar over a bowl of mixed nuts, my empty glass, and your full one.

We had sex at your place amidst your comic books and novellas in your living room.

Your parents lived in a small town in eastern Illionois; my parents lived in a big city in New York. Your mom liked my "spunk" and my dad appreciated your sensibility.

The first fight didn't take long, you know. I found my ways to make my biting remarks and you were always so passive agressive.

The proposal came last. After everything. After the drugstore.

The lights were harsh and almost blinding. I felt like sheilding my eyes as I picked up box after box and tried to translate all of the gibberish into something I could understand. "They're just plastic sticks you piss on, dammit. What's with all this scientific mumbo jumbo?" I snapped.

You rubbed my shoulders in that way you had that always made me smile. Even there, even amidst all the shit we were in. "All you have to do it pick one," you whispered soothingly.

I couldn't, though. My head was spinning. I could read, I could breathe, of course I couldn't decide. I picked up every little box and tried to say to myself Yes, this is the one but there was no way.

Before I could decide, you got down on one knee and grabbed my hand. "Whatever happens after you take a piss on that plastic stick," you whispered to me. "I want you to know that I want to marry you, Pen."

My throat seized up and I collapsed onto the floor of that stupid, little CVS. "I'd marry you, too, Frankie. But, not right now. Not while my nails are black and my stockings are still fishnets. I'm no mother and I'm no wife, and I don't want your paracite growing inside me."

You wrapped your arms around me and kissed the top of my head. "Penelope," you laughed.

You weren't one to have a sweet tooth, and you had adjusted to my savory or sour language. Still, I wasn't laughing. I was shaking, I was shallow, and I was full.

I was so sick of your broken looks and the fact that you'd put up with me when I treated you like shit. But, I'd never dated a guy willing to propose in the Family Planning aisle.

We got checked out and I took a short trip to the bathroom, unleashing a storm of the Arizona teas I had chugged in the car ride to the store. You waited outside, sweating and on the verge of tears. When I returned, it only took me shaking my head to send both of us back onto the floor in a pile of formerly human puddles of relief.

"No family planning then, huh?" You asked, stroking my hair and kissing my forehead again and again.

"Hopefully not for a long time," I shot back, though I could tell your hopes had gone up for just a second. You blinked, and it was gone, but, I had seen it there when you looked at me.

You nodded and cleared your throat. "Hopefully not for a long time."

So, if my sister is right, we have a long time left for family planning. We are one of the couples that survived. We made it through the date, the kiss, and the gift exchange, 'I love you', the sex, and the parents, the fights, the propsal, and the pregnancy test. We've arrived, Frankie. Maybe someday I'll walk down a different aisle and find myself happy to be in your arms.

Until then, I'm happy being Ms. Penelope Schaffer with a job at a library, a geeky boyfriend, and a home in Los Angeles that most girls would kill for. I'm happy being sour instead of sweet and remembering all of those bitter memories with you.