Romantic Russ

When it comes to affairs of the heart, my mind often wanders back to where it all began, fifth-grade at Wellsville Elementary School. My friend Russ was the pioneer among us to actually land his first girlfriend. None of us really wanted one very much, but now that we saw the transformation in Russ, such as a bit more bounce in his step going down the hallway, we figured we might want to jump on the bandwagon.
This initial conquest sort of fell into Russ's lap and her name was Lori Manners. Russ's discombobulated web of romance all began when Mrs. Coburn assigned the new girl, Lori, a desk next to Russ in the last row of our classroom. Lori had just moved to Wellsville from the big city, and proved it by wearing lipstick and fancier clothes than the other girls. While she wasn't gaining any popularity points with the other girls, her rating was soaring through the roof on Russ's love meter.
In fifth-grade, we had something of a routine that allowed for interaction and communication without attracting the unwanted attention of the elderly Mrs. "Cobags".  The surreptitious exchanges included passing notes, throwing small paper balls, tapping pencils in Morse code, making faces at each other, passing football and baseball cards along a trade route, inserting your pencil into various orifices, kicking an eraser back and forth on the floor, trading penny candy, holding your eyelids to make zombie eyes and a host of other wholesome ways to interact quietly. Cobags could hear well, but her vision wasn't what it used to be. There were times when a ray of sunlight somehow managed to filter through the window and, if it hit her glasses with just the right refraction, one of her eyeballs would enlarge to grotesque portions, frightening the hell out of those sentenced to a year in the first row.
Another horrifying feature about Mrs. Cobags was her breath. The front row got the worst of it, but when she walked the aisle and leaned in for one on one instruction, it was like a garbage breathing dragon. The mixture of cigarettes, coffee, tar, onions topped with a hint of fish at the end was just too much to bear for some of us. Scotty Phillips couldn't take it. One December morning as she leaned in to explain direct objects, he uttered "Okay, I surrender," while pinching his nose, "I'll just take an 'F' please. Don't explain it to me anymore. Please, for the love of God." All of us were speechless, tension filled the air. Mrs. Cobags was puzzled, but also respected the firmness of his decision and made the changes in her grade book accordingly.
One Tuesday, September morning, early in the school year, Russ was struck by Cupid's arrow. An arrow made sharper by Lori Manners lifting her skirt up above the mid-thigh range. Lori had only arrived at our school two days earlier and already the back row was turned into a seedy bordello of the red light district, even worse, I was losing my note passing buddy. I sat in the same row as Russ, but two desks ahead. The link in our chain of communication for note passing was a girl named Lynda. Not only was Lynda a great sport at passing notes along, but she had the skill and dexterity of a sleight-of-hand artist. When the steadfast gaze of Cobags would turn in our direction, Lynda had the ability to make any notes, football cards, hot wheels cars or anything else quickly dematerialize. She was a natural magician and Russ and I trusted her skill to the point of passing along our deepest secrets and most treasured possessions into her crafty, reliable hands.
On this particular Tuesday, I slyly passed Lynda my Walter Payton football card, along with a small note asking if Russ wanted to trade it for a Curtis Jackson. When five minutes passed with no gentle tap on the back from Lynda, I knew something was very wrong. I discreetly turned my head back to see just what the hold-up was. Russ was not even paying attention. Walter Payton and my folded note were sitting in plain view on his desk top. It was then that I saw who and what had his attention absorbed. Following the invisible dotted lines of his gaze, it ended on the bare thigh of Lori Manners.
It was hopeless; he was completely hypnotized. The expression on his face was nearly the same as when we witnessed Billy Lavendar break his arm after an unsuccessful attempt to jump a burn barrel with his bicycle, using the sliding board from Tommy Smith's swingset as his ramp. Russ looked more scared than excited. His mouth formed a shocked open "O" shape and there were a few beads of perspiration on his forehead. The spell over him grew stronger when she moved her knee outwards, allowing him an unobstructed view into the inner-confines of her secret place. Russ was now turning pale and his breathing was becoming shallow. Whether it was the fear of being caught, or concern for Russ's well-being, Lori mercifully moved her knee forward again, somewhat ending the spell.
Thoughts raced through my mind- what planet did this new girl come from? How much was Russ able to see? How did he get so lucky to have an empty desk next to him? What would Cobags do if she knew about the orgy going on in the back row of her classroom?
Five minutes later, my note came back from Lynda. Scribbled sloppily below my original question was: "dude, quit bothering me." I read it twice, getting angrier. This called for serious action. Who did he think he was, after all? Some prostitute shows him her legs and now he's too cool for school? I'll show him; I'll get a girlfriend of my own. I looked around the room, the aroma of mothballs wafting from Cobags ancient body as she droned on endlessly about dangling participles. Becky Terka caught my eye, until I noticed she was actually listening to Cobags and paying attention. We didn't seem to have much in common. Two seats behind her Sharon Stone sat daydreaming while looking out the window, one of my favorite things to do! I watched her for a good minute, until she jammed her index finger up her nostril and began digging for gold. It was a definite turn-off.
Then it dawned on me, Lynda! Sweet, reliable, talented and nimble-fingered Lynda; she was prettier than Lori Manners, perfect. I began putting the pencil to paper:
"Hey, you've been sitting behind me these past two months and when I turn around, your face always brightens my day. My notes are always safe in your pretty hands and I would like to hold your hand when we walk home from school. I've dreamed about you for a long time but was always too shy to tell you. Do you like me?"  Not bad for an off the cuff effort with Cobags still giving us our sermon on grammar. I drew a smiley heart at the bottom, my coupe de grace and carefully folded the romantic masterpiece into a hidden parcel. I turned and passed it to Lynda, as Cobags began ambling up our row. Her close proximity required me to hold my breath to avoid ingesting the thick scent of mothballs and musk. It also made it impossible to inform Lynda that the note was for her, but it was too late. She had already slipped it to Russ.
I waited until Cobags did an about-face and began waddling back to the chalkboard and turned to see Russ still reading the note with a puzzled expression, scratching his head. He began writing on the note, but Cobags decided to begin calling on people to answer questions and this segment of her seminar always required us to pretend to be paying attention. She always called on the daydreamers and sleepers first. I felt a gentle tap on my back. It was Lynda returning my note. She didn't know it was supposed to go to her. I turned and whispered, "Read it" to Lynda.
A minute later she whispered close behind me, "I didn't know you liked boys. It's okay, but Russ isn't your type." Then she returned the note. I opened it to see Russ's angry scrawled reply, "I didn't know you were homo. Hell no I don't like you, freakin' queer!"
Then below Russ's message, Lynda had written, "I didn't know you were gay. Maybe you should try Richard. He's kind of cute and helps me braid my hair at recess. Talk to him!" I turned around to see her wink at me and nod her head towards Richard. Panic filled my brain. Things spiraled out of control so quickly; I wasn't sure where to even begin defending my heterosexual reputation.
Cobags, not to be outdone, chose this moment to ask me a question, "Thomas," she began, moving closer to breathe mothball dust in my face and make concentration even more difficult, "The boy went to the beach. Now if the boy is your subject, what part of speech is the beach?" The room seemed to move in slow motion. My nerves were on edge. The light made one of her eyeballs grow huge through her glasses. Grammar questions were not much of a priority for me right now. I needed to defend myself.
"I'm not gay!" I shouted. The classroom erupted in laughter. Even old Cobags was caught off guard and chuckled for the first time since Halley's comet.  My stomach was turning and my nerves were on edge.
"Thank you for informing us of that, Thomas. Now, what part of speech is beach?" she persisted.
"I don't know." I conceded. Finally, she moved on to other victims. I turned to Lynda and quickly whispered, "The note wasn't for Russ. It was for someone else."
"Who?" she asked.
It was too embarrassing. "Don't worry about it." I answered.
"You're weird" she shot back.
Russ's initial plunge into the world of romance lasted only three more passion filled, lusty weeks. Lori Manners moved again, as quickly as she arrived. This came as great news, since I thought I would have my friend back again. But, as life often surprises us, this prediction was not to be the case. Lori may have been gone physically, but her memory had staying power with poor Russ. He was heartbroken and blue. He could be heard singing songs from his dad's George Jones records all during school.  Only Russ didn't have George's golden vocal chords. Russ sounded more like a monkey trapped in a clothes dryer with a bicycle chain.
A typical morning hallway exchange went like this, Hi Russ, what's up?"
He would stare vacantly, slightly above your head, eyes drawn to some phantom vision of Lori in the distance.  Just singing, "What a good year for the roses, many blooms still linger there….," continuing the pained garble until he shuffled past, not even acknowledging anyone and eventually breaking down to tears further into the song.
It was also difficult to have a conversation with him because all he wanted to talk about was Lori, even when she had nothing to do with the original topic of the conversation.
"Russ, Croppy and Jones are meeting after school to play some fastpitch. Are you in?" I asked him.
"I used to walk Lori home past the fastpitch wall. I sure do miss her. She used to say how those guys threw that ball too fast. I sure do miss her."
"Look, dude, she's gone. Get over it. You want to play fastpitch or not?" I continued.
"I used to play Monopoly with Lori. She always wanted to be the car."
"Aright, sad-sack, see you around."
Russ spent the next four weeks walking around more looking more dejected than the character of the saddest country song. Finally, an angel of desolation appeared on the horizon. An unlikely angel by the name of Sally Confer broke through his blue cloud of despair early one morning at the bus stop.
Sally had quite a reputation and, while she wasn't the prettiest girl at our school, she was certainly the toughest. The only boy who could keep up with her for more than two rounds in a fist fight was her older brother Brian. Sally could cuss better than us, hit a baseball further than us and spit tobacco with greater accuracy than any of us. When she, for some reason, decided that she wanted Russ to be her boyfriend, he really didn't stand a chance.
During recess, Russ was just beginning to get over his broken heart and join in with the rest of us for kickball games. It was a relief to see him slowly rejoining civilization and the companionship of his peers. When, suddenly, three days later, he was once again off by himself in the far corner of the playground, in complete isolation and looking ashamed and violated somehow.
"What's wrong man, you back to missing Lori again?" I asked, "Enough is enough. You really need to move on."
"I wish it was just that. I have way bigger girlfriend problems than Lori." He whined, looking at the ground, deep in thought.
"Like what?"
"Sally Confer," Those mere two words had the instant ability to invoke fear in the heart and mind of nearly every elementary school student. The mental contradiction of the words "girlfriend" and "Sally Confer" appearing in one conversation was enough to boggle the mind. It was hard to hold both images in mind at the same time, as if they were mutually mentally exclusive.
"How the hell do you go from liking Lori Manners to liking Sally Confer?" I asked.
"I hate my life," Answered Russ, solemnly.
"Well, why did you ask her to be your girlfriend? She looks like your dad."
"I didn't ask her; are you nuts? She's making me!"
"What?" I asked; he now had my complete attention.
"Yeah, she said she'll beat the crap out of me if I don't be her boyfriend." He suddenly crouched down in front of me, "Don't move, she's coming near."
"When did this happen?"
"Monday, at the bus stop, she made me kiss her."
"What! For real?"
"Then I had to sit next to her on the bus and she moved my hand to her leg. It was gross!"
"Why didn't you tell her no?"
"I don't have any choice. She'll beat my head to biscuits. I just try to think of other, happy things. Oh crap; here she comes!"
Sally, shoved me sideways with one arm and stood in front of Russ, who maintained a noble cowering position, with her hands at her hips.
"You were supposed to meet me!" she barked.
"I, uh, was on my way, dear," pleaded Russ.
"Kiss me" she ordered.
Russ turned pale, glancing around to see how many of his peers were watching. It came as no relief when he saw that it nearly every kid on the entire playground stopped whatever they were doing just to watch him. A circle of gossiping teachers also watched on and he even had the full attention of a retiree who just happened to be walking his dog past the school at the right time.
He took a deep breath, puckered his lips, closed his eyes and leaned in towards her.  Sally curled her paw around the back of his head, not allowing him to pull away. Then pulled him towards herself for the nightmarish lip-lock.
After recess, Russ sat in the class with an expressionless face. A sad whimper could be heard from him every ten minutes or so. Even Cobags showed sympathy by not calling on him. He looked abused, ashamed, violated and victimized. The little classroom pleasures like spitballs, animal sounds and note passing no longer interested him. In fact, any notes sent his way remained unopened and unreturned.
I approached him after school, since he no longer rode the bus and walked the six miles each way just to avoid Sally.
"Dang, Russ, you walk to and from school every day now?" I asked.
"I don't want to talk about it" he mumbled, eyes downcast to the ground in front of him.
"Hey, why you think she chose you to be her boyfriend?" I pressed.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I got an idea that might make her not want to kiss you anymore."
"I don't want to talk about it." He continued walking, eyes straight ahead, splashing through a deep mud puddle.
"Listen, just start eating onions. Have an onion sandwich in the morning, then keep an onion handy in your pocket and take a bite every once in awhile at school. Girls hate onion breath!" I advised, not that I knew for sure, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
"I don't want to talk about it" was his only response.
Apparently, what I said sunk in overnight. On the way to school the next morning, Russ looked like he had renewed hope.
"Hey, I took your advice and had two onions this morning, just ate them like apples. I hope this works because these onion burps are killing me," he stated, before pounding his chest with a clenched fist and wincing his face. "I brought some extras to take a bite every fifteen minutes and keep my breath oniony fresh."
While his breath was nowhere near the level of Mrs. Cobags, I did detect a certain unpleasant fragrance when he was talking. Maybe this plan would succeed after all.
"How do they taste?" I asked.
"Horrible, but not as horrible as having to kiss Sally all during recess," he replied.
Russ's social life was already suffering enough from being with Sally. No girl in the entire school would so much as say "hi" to him and the boys only made fun of him, if Sally was not around. He was now a social outcast with onion breath. Our classroom bouquet of nastiness was now at a whole new level. Between Cobags up front and Russ in the back, we were all caught in the middle of cruel halitosis crossfire in stereo.
As we lined up to go to recess, Russ fumbled around in his pocket and extracted a half-eaten onion covered in lint. He winced as he took a large chomp. Sharon Stone stood in line behind him, watching him in shock and amazement. Russ slowly chewed, then made a pained face as he swallowed hard. Small tears could be seen welling up in the corners of his eyes.
"Russ, you want some of my lunch?" she asked.
"No thank you," he replied, before burping and causing her back away while waving one hand in front of her face.
"Gross" she exclaimed, before turning away and quickly filing out to the playground.
Out on the playground, operation onion-breath was put to the litmus test. Sally beckoned for Russ with one finger and he obediently complied, shuffling towards her with his head down and shoulders slumped forward.
"Kiss me" she ordered.
It looked as though the onions had the opposite effect on Sally. Not only did the kiss last longer than usual, but there also appeared to be some tongue involved. When Russ pulled away, gasping for air, she pulled him right back for another round. "Not so fast, my little funyan onion boy," she teased. Operation onion-breath was a miserable failure.  
It was time to go back to the drawing board. On the way home from school, I ran a new scheme by my downcast friend. "Hey, I got an idea," I began.
"I don't want to talk about it. Your ideas suck as bad as onions."
"Just hear me out. Do you remember how you thought I was gay when Lynda gave you the note that was supposed to be for her?"
"No," responded Russ, "I am not acting like I'm gay."
"Okay, suit yourself. You might as well be gay though if you're with Sally. She looks like your dad, but don't tell her or him I said that."
"Alright, screw it, I'll try anything. How am I supposed to make her think I'm gay?"
"I don't know, maybe bring some of your mom's magazines to school with you and kind of walk and talk like a homo. Hang around with Richard and the girls at recess, since Lynda says that he's gay."
"Richard's gay? I didn't know that."
"Hey, didn't you used to sleep over at his house?"
"I don't want to talk about it. Besides, he never did anything gay with me and we slept right next to each other" stated Russ. I didn't have the heart to even tease him about this last revelation. He had enough shame from Sally to last him months without being teased.
The following morning, Russ waltzed into class walking on his tippy-toes. He looked more weird than gay, but it was a start. The Cosmopolitan magazine prominently displayed under his arm helped a little. Once class began, he wasted little time making operation homo evident to the entire class. When Cobags finished reviewing the boring lesson from the day before, making it even more stale, she asked if anyone had a question. Russ shot his hand in the air.
"Yes Russ" she stated.
"I'm gay" he announced. The class showed a mix of shock and muffled laughter. Cobags didn't miss a beat.
"Thank you for sharing that. Does anyone have a question related to the lesson?" There were no takers, but plenty of us had questions about Russ.
Once again, it was during recess that really put operation homo to the test. Russ tagged along with Richard, Sharon and Lynda to the swings. Sharon and Richard each held the end of a long jump rope and made large circles while Lynda jumped. Russ, being new to these gay activities, stood watching and trying to learn. Lots of kids were curious to know why Russ was with the girls, including Sally. She marched over and stood right next to Russ with her arms crossed at her chest, watching him watching the jump rope game.
"Why are you over here today?" she queried.
"Uh, because I'm gay," Russ stated, matter-of-factly, but with a nervous twitch.
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am" responded Russ, holding his ground like a trooper.
"Okay, then prove it; kiss Richard. " Russ suddenly began to turn a whiter shade of pale. He swallowed hard. His mouth revealed a nervous twitch. Richard, oh the other hand, suddenly became less interested in the game of jump rope and began flashing a creeper smile at Russ.
"Wouldn't it make you mad to see me kiss someone else? I don't want you to be jealous," explained Russ, with a last ditch effort to end this awkward situation.
"No, two boys kissing; I think that's hot! Richard, get your scrawny gay butt over here and kiss Russ!" ordered Sally.
Russ, now wide-eyed, began slowly walking backwards as Richard dropped the jump rope and began prancing towards him.
"You're not really my type, but she's making me do it," claimed Richard, with a slight lisp on the word type.
Russ did an about-face and began sprinting away, as Sally shouted after him, "I knew you were lying; I'm going to pound you later, boyfriend!"
The following morning, I met up with Russ as he sadly shuffled his way towards the school. He had a slight purple shiner below his left eye. I knew better than to ask him about it. He stared straight ahead, shoulders hunched and eyes locked directly on the ground in front of him.
"Hey buddy, I guess operation homo didn't work out too well, huh?" I asked.
"I don't want to talk about it" he mumbled.
I felt sorry for him. I mean, it was one thing to get bullied once in awhile by older kids, but having one of the ugliest girls in the school jamming her tongue in your mouth every day was something altogether different. Russ just wasn't the same. He was losing all hope. I didn't know how to console him.
"Well, if you can't beat them, join them, I guess" I offered, not quite sure how it would comfort him, if at all. I realized after it came out that maybe it was insensitive to his plight.
"I got it!" he shouted, his eyes suddenly wide and beaming.
"Got what?" I asked.
"If you can't beat them, join them!" he yelled, before suddenly walking at a faster pace towards the school. I was getting worried that my friend was now losing what little sanity he may have had left.
When we arrived to the school, Russ did not go directly towards his usual hiding place behind the tree at the far edge of the playground. Instead, he walked directly towards Sally. It appeared he really did lose his mind. He put his arms around her, embraced her tightly and began kissing until the bell rang. Even Sally looked a bit shocked. Even after the bell, Russ walked her to class.
"Goodbye Sally, my pretty pumpkin; I can't wait to see you again during recess!" he cooed, at the entrance to Mr. Nimrod's room. Sally brushed him away with her hand, now looking slightly embarrassed.
"Dude, you really like her now?" I asked, as he made his way down the hall back to Cobags's lair.
"I'm trying reverse psychology. Don't worry about it."
When recess finally rolled around, Russ made a beeline straight for Sally and began hugging her tightly. When she pushed him away, he became even more encouraged. Sally, I love you with all of my heart! I want to marry you! I can't live without you!" he screamed, then came in for another kiss. Sally shoved him away even harder.
"I need you to be the mother of my children!" he shouted, gaining the attention of every kid on the playground. All games temporarily ceased. A circle of teachers even stopped gossiping and one elderly man walking his dog even watched on from the street.
As he leaned towards Sally with his lips puckered, she reared back a mighty fist and clocked him on the chin. Russ's knees buckled as he collapsed to the ground. It appeared that operation reverse psychology was a smashing, albeit painful, success.
When he regained consciousness, he got back to his knees in front of her. "Sally, please don't play hard to get!" he yelled.
She reared her foot back and kicked him squarely in the crotch. Then she shouted the words that Russ had been dying to hear for weeks. "Don't you come near me again or I'll really hurt you next time!"
Even curled up on the ground, writhing and contorting in pain, a satisfied smile glowed on Russ's face as he groaned in the fetal position. Sally turned and walked away, never to show any interest in Russ all the way up to seventh-grade, when she was kicked out of school for beating up the principal.
Sometimes victory first has the appearance of defeat. This crash course in different kinds of relationships gave Russ a solid foundation to work from and build upon in the future. Sally helped him get over the heartbreak of losing Lori. An ice-pack helped him get over the joy of losing Sally. It was a learning experience in the art of love and Russ was learning the hard way.