The Path from Destruction

So I'm "here," parked in Joe Pye Weed Field on a warm October night, with Kenny, Nate, and Mark, three friends I've known since childhood. We're all in our early twenties. It's 1988. There's plenty of Budweiser and cheap vodka going around.

I came "here" because I knew it was dark and private and it was unlikely we'd be bothered. I knew it was private because, across the street, is Kate's house.

The road between Kate's house and the field was quiet and dark. Kate's house was the last house on the road.

I used to date Kate. Until she dumped me, right on her front porch. I remember that night. It was a few months ago.

It was 10:15 at night. I was supposed to be there at 7:15, but I was "delayed" by those same childhood friends who had "just-one-mored" me into being three hours late.

I knocked on Kate's door, oblivious to the lateness of the hour. Kate opened the door, but only enough to put her head out.

"It's after ten o'clock. You ruined my Friday night." Taken aback slightly, I went to my go-to charming smile with a slight tilt of the head.

"Sorry. You forgive me?" This had actually worked well for me before. Back then, I was a decent-looking guy. I had down-home good looks and boy-next-door charm. As a wrestler, I was also muscular. None of that was working for me tonight.

"No, I don't." Kate answered.

Undeterred, I pressed on.

"Oh come on Kate. Let's...."

"Call me when you grow up."

Then she closed the door.

After three or four seconds of stunned surprise, I shrugged my shoulders and walked back to my car.

"Fine. Back to the party."

This was not my first questionable decision of the relationship. Three weeks before the "porch dumping," I met Kate at Boosties, a bar near the college Kate and I attended - Kenny, Nate, and Mark in tow.

I spent much of the evening with my friends, checking in with Kate in between beers and shots. Fortunately, Kate saw some of her friends and spent most of the evening with them.

Unbeknownst to me, their conversation revolved around the fact that I possessed exactly zero redeeming qualities and that I should be dumped.

As the lights came up after last call, I returned to Kate, fully expecting her to come back to my place, her place, or any place.

My intentions were not honorable. I wove my way back over to her and in a voice that sounded very suave to me, I asked, "You ready to go?"

Kate wasn't having it. Her friends weren't having it emphatically.

Before Kate could get a word out, Allison, a tall brunette whose hair had enough product in it to add another foot to her already prodigious height, responded.

"Go?" Go? How about...

you...

go to...

hell?"

I looked at Kate.

"Come on Kate." I nodded toward the wall, but the implication of the nod was toward the door. I held out my hand.

Kate looked at my hand, then looked up at me. In my haze, I completely missed the hurt in her soft, green eyes.

"No, Allison is giving me a ride home."

I didn't say anything. No attempt to right my wrong or win back the girl. I just turned around and walked back to my friends, thinking to myself.

"Fine."

"Back to the party." Redux.

The party. Ah, yes. Earlier that summer, about a month and a half before the Boosties incident, I picked Kate up and we went to Alan DeLorenzo's house for a huge party.

I was in top form, leading rounds of drinking games and still finding time to hang around with Kate. I was working the room like a pro. Kate was enjoying herself and she was enjoying me.

What's not to enjoy? I was entertaining, funny, a regular life-of-the-party. Around one in the morning, I sought the bathroom and accidentally entered Alan's parents' bedroom.

To my delight, Alan's father had a tuxedo hanging on a hook on his closet door. On a table next to the closet was a box...with a top hat in it.

Of course, I'm wearing the top hat. I put it on and went to the stairs. I announced myself as I slowly descended each step.

"Four score and seven years ago..." I shouted, then revealed my new prop to the partygoers with a flourish, leaping the last several steps and nailing my landing on, well, the landing.

Everyone cheered. I doffed the hat and made a deep bow. I was a hit. I worked my way through the crowd, receiving several pats and some rather aggressive slaps on the back.

Alan found me and he wasn't upset about the hat. He just leaned in and whispered.

"Don't mess that hat up. It's my Dad's." I smiled reassuringly.

"No problem." After a few more hearty laughs, I found Kate's green eyes. She was smiling and laughing. I made my way over to her.

"You're crazy!" She said, and hugged me.

Kate was a shy person. Sometimes a painfully shy person. She was amazed at how outgoing and charismatic I could be.

The night went on. More shenanigans and hijinx. Hat returned, undamaged to its box. All good.

Until we got back to my car. I could see Kate was into me and we started kissing. I moved quickly and assertively.

Kate tried to slow me down, but my experience was that persistence was often rewarded and pressed on.

"Stop!" Kate raised her voice. I did stop. For a few seconds, then sought her neck.

She pulled back, shaking her head.

"Take me home." She said, and I heard the disappointment in her voice. It pierced me through.

"Kate..." I pleaded.

"I'm fine. Just take me home." I nodded and started the car. The drive to Kate's house was quiet. I started to explain a few times, but couldn't seem to finish any sentence worth uttering.

Kate didn't say anything else until we got to her house. She opened the door. I started to open mine.

"Stay here. Just call me tomorrow." She was hurt. I felt hurt because she hurt.

It wasn't always me, behaving badly. In fact, just the weekend before, we went on an amazing date.

I picked Kate up about an hour before sunset. She looked incredible. Her short blonde hair spiked and punky. She had on a bright green top and black capris pants. Black Converse shoes. Cute and cool - that's Kate's style.

I took her to Lake Charlton. We parked on the road and I got the picnic basket from the trunk of my car and we walked down to the small dock. I had rented a boat.

"What is this?" Kate asked, smiling.

"A picnic." I said, holding her hand as we walked along the dock to the boat.

"On a lake." I held her hand as she stepped down into the boat. I got in after her.

"In a boat."

The weather was idyllic. An early summer breeze flowed over us as the small, electric motor of the boat whirred, propelling us to a small, secluded cove.

The sun hung low in the cloudless sky, gently kissing the top of the treeline in the same way that Kate kissed me on that boat. Her lips were soft when they pressed into mine.

We drank Sprite. That was Kate's favorite, and ate cocktail crackers with thin slices of cheddar or gouda cheese, cut from their neat rectangular blocks.

The way the setting sun bathed Kate's face and hair, in a soft, golden glow against the backdrop of the woods surrounding the lake, will stay for me forever; an enduring image of Kate in my memory.

Another image of Kate that I'll never forget came from the night I met Kate, two months earlier, at Dan Mitchell's party.

This was a much smaller affair than the "top hat" party at Alan's. There were probably twenty people there. I had the regular crew; Kenny, Nate, and Mark.

We had already been to another party, decided it was the lamer of the two options for that evening, and headed to Dan's. I was carefully adorned in jeans, a ripped tank top, and no shoes.

I was also rocking my mullet and a bitchin' moustache. Look out ladies. We entered and Nate recognized Chance Mason. While me and my crew were more rock and roll, chance and his friends were more new wave and punk. Not full-on punk, but Chance had his hair shaved close on his temples and longer on top, dyed blonde.

My crew weren't big fans of the punk looks on guys, but I thought it was cool. All of us, however, enjoyed the punk aesthetic on cute girls.

After a short conversation with Chance, I caught a glimpse of that very same punk aesthetic. Rosaline approached Chance. Her hair was wild, it was similar to Chance's, but her hair on top was longer than his and it was spiked straight up.

She saw me and gave me a look that piqued my interest. It wasn't necessarily amorous, but it was curious. I didn't look like the crowd she and Chance hung with.

I was also more muscular than that group. Rosaline seemed to appreciate that.

We spent some time talking, flirting, figuring each other out. It was going well.

I got Rosaline's phone number. It was going very well.

We stood in Dan's living room. Rosaline was facing the door. We were talking about some bands, The Cult, Big Audio Dynamite. Rosaline knew far more about them than I did.

Just as we were about to move onto the topic of rock bands, Rosaline looked over my shoulder at the door.

"Kate!" She squealed, and pushed past me, rushing to the door. I turned, and saw Kate put her head on Rosaline's shoulder as they hugged. A soft smile creased her lips.

"Cute." I thought to myself. Some of Chance's friends came over and greeted the new arrival. Then the welcoming committee parted and I saw Kate.

Her hair wasn't as wild as Rosaline's; it was shorter, but it was definitely edgy and sexy. Her green eyes met mine as Rosaline led her over to me.

I tried and failed to be discrete as my eyes roamed down her body. She had on a black and white striped top with frills on her short sleeves. She was wearing a short black skirt, with frills on the hem and black tights.

Then I saw them and they sealed the deal for me.

Kate was wearing white wrestling shoes.

I was a wrestler. My concept of wrestling shoes centered on functionality.

When I thought about other people wearing wrestling shoes, the images were of my teammates and my opponents, thickly muscled young men who smelled horrible and occasionally, if they were successful, with a cauliflower ear or two.

But never, absolutely never, had I associated wrestling shoes with cuteness.

Until I saw Kate wearing them. I remember my exact thought when I saw them.

"Holy shit that's hot."

After the introductions, I talked with Rosaline again, but couldn't stop sneaking glances at Kate. Eventually, Rosaline and I mingled with other people and then started talking again. I made an excuse to go to the bathroom and on my way, I asked Nate to talk to Rosaline.

When I came out of the bathroom, I saw Nate dutifully chatting up Rosaline and I went straight to Kate. We started talking and very quickly, I realized she was smart, funny, and absurdly sweet.

After about twenty minutes, I asked Kate for her number. She smirked and pursed her lips.

"You already got Rosaline's number. Not going to happen."

Kate and I talked a lot that night. We mingled with the group, then came back together. I asked for her number again. She shook her head and smiled.

"Again. Not going to happen."

I didn't get Kate's number that night, but we continued to cross paths because I went out with Rosaline a few times to parties or bars and Kate was usually in that crowd.

Not surprisingly, it didn't work out between me and Rosaline, but we stayed friends. One Saturday night, Nate and I went to a frat party on campus and Kate was there.

White dress with navy polka dots, white slouch socks and Adidas Superstars. I exhaled in admiration and walked over to her.

"So how about that number now?" Kate blushed, smiled, and lowered her head. That's when we started.

Now I'm here - Joe Pye Weed Field. Memories of Kate, memories of my stupidity, woven between discussions about whether or not the four of us, me, Nate, Kenny, and Mark, could beat up a bear, or a gorilla (maybe a bear, but definitely not a gorilla).

I stared at Kate's house. The memory of that sunset on the lake bathing her warm, soft skin in gold appearing in my mind.

"Who's Joe Pyeweed anyway?" Kenny asked.

"Some politician?"

I chuckled.

"It's a flower, you idiot." I shook my head.

"You guys up for some nachos and chili dogs from 7-11?" The guys were, indeed, up for nachos and chili dogs. I turned the key in the 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass and turned on the stereo.

I pulled onto the road between Kate's house and the field. I eased the car forward, my eyes locked on the porch....there.

I knew what I had to do.