Sugar Mountain High VI

Bobby was an excitable sort of person. You wouldn’t say so from his normally passive disposition. He was inclined to explode, I suppose because he kept things bottled up inside him. Being a woman, I learned how to draw out of him whatever it was that was bothering him. But sometimes I couldn’t be bothered.

Bobby was the first boy I kissed. Four years passed before I kissed another boy. Does that tell you something about Bobby, or about me? Pedro was very different. There was passion with Pedro, whereas Bobby was more of an experiment. He didn’t mind. We were friends, after all. So it was surprising to see Bobby become jealous when he saw me and Pedro together. I suppose that since Elmo had brought Pedro to our group, and I had accepted him, Bobby felt left out. Jealous. I learned then that there was nothing profound about Bobby, he was a common man. His soul lacked lustre. I say this not so that you think that I judge Bobby harshly, but to hold him up to the light, as one would an object of mystery. Then only to find that its sparkle fades into the background, because the light comes from a place even more mysterious, magical, even.

Elmo, on the other hand, had possibilities. In a different place and time, he would have been famous. Not movie star fame, or political fame, but something else. Perhaps he would have been a great writer. Or an astronaut, or inventor. He had a will that was overwhelming. He had the will to dream. To dream us other than we were, and to realise that dream. To dream himself awake.

But he was not a dreamer. He was a willer. One does not meet that sort of person often in one’s life. Perhaps as often as you experience a great loss that shatters your being. I was lucky enough to know two people like that in my life: Elmo and Pedro. And I do not expect, or even want, to meet their equal again.


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