Big Girl in Falls in Love

FreeFalling by Tom Petty

I was in love with a boy. Not just any boy, but that boy, perfect teeth, sandy brown hair. He played football, her knew about politics, he had an opinion and shared it appropriately in class, not too much to be labeled a jerk, but just enough so we all knew he was smart and could hold his own.

And he may have loved me. In that 15-16 year old way, where everything is going to get better once you have your license, once you have your own car, and once you too can go out and get an after school job that will allow you to go to the mall and buy music without Christmas money, without washing cars on the weekend and without your parents saying no.

Most people didn’t like him. He could be arrogant, he could be a loud mouth, he wasn’t the best on the team, and he had a beautiful girlfriend who had moved that summer. So in the confines of high school, his ratings had climbed as high as they could be, and now he was on the downswing.

In our junior year, the administration tried out a policy of allowing walkmans in class during reading or study periods. It only lasted about 3 months, just into the New Year, and all the kids who begged their parents for walkmans for Christmas then had to hide them for before and after school use only.

Those three months were delicious.

One rainy-ish November, after establishing our hand off period between History and Math, he gave me the walkman.

“I cued it up to a great song, I hope you like it.”

In the first 10 seconds of the guitar, I knew. “She’s a good girl, she loves her momma, loves Jesus, and America too...” He was telling me that I was his girl. And this cued up tape spoke to me. With its ache, with its tinny vocals, with the whine that only Mr. Petty can master. It said ‘I love you, Kim Simpson, and I want you to be my girlfriend.'.

“And I’m Free. I’m Freefallin…”

Things never work out quite like they are supposed to. He went back to see the beautiful girlfriend that Christmas, and on his return, I waited for his proclamation of his undying affection for me. It took me another year to see that I wasn’t going to get it, that I was just a girl that he could share his music, homework and hopes for the future with. We met up again after college, and then again at the 10 year, politely asking about each other and what we were up to in our lives.

However, those chords at the start of that song always bring me back to acid washed jeans that are a little too tight, blue mascara, and a hall pass to heaven. With my not-really, kind-of boyfriend. Jeff Klaus.