L'il Blue Eyed Boy

Phillip was gorgeous. His eyes were so blue you couldn't help but stare. He was kind. He was free. He was different. He was an artist. We were friends senior year. I was pregnant. Yes, pregnant. He would carry my books and walk me to class. He would rub my shoulders and feed me snacks. He called me when I had my baby. My mother was shocked. "There's a white boy on the phone for you", she announced through the house. Months passed and we remained friends. One day he leaned against my locker and asked me out. I had never seen this look in his eyes before. Well, not directed at me. My response, "on a date Phil!" This reaction told me then I was afraid. My girl friends had told me he liked me. But he was white! Twenty-one years ago we did not do that. But he was cute! So, I said, "yes, sure Phil, call me." He never did. He probably was just as afraid as I was. We did live in Arkansas. It snowed one day and classes were dismissed early. He offered me a ride home instead of waiting in the cold for the bus. I accepted. We drove down Franklin Street. The distance seemed greater than ever before. For once I was ashamed and acutely aware of where I lived. He pulled on Sawyer to the front of my house. It looked older and more ragged than I remembered. He leaned in and tried to kiss me. Fear, intimidation and uncertainty came down like the snow. I had always been confident when it came to boys, but that day I wasn't. I thought to myself, my lips are too big for his. I pulled away. I justified my fear by saying I didn't want to be his experiment. I think about Phillip from time to time. I think about the honest blue in his eyes.