CASE # 71: JOANNE + MAUREEN

SUBMITTED BY: Joanne (female)
WHO ENDED IT: Maureen (female)
LENGTH OF RELATIONSHIP: 4 months, 16 days

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In every story about love and tragedy, the beginning is never the worst part. Let me illuminate: the time was my freshman year in high school, her sophomore year. We played together in the string orchestra and wrote poetry at a writer' workshop. She could paint a beautiful scene with flawless imagery, however my skills were something out of a rejected script for Scream. Though I did not know it at the start, she was a close friend of my sister. Upon finding out about my relationship with her the following year, she talked to me more and more-- even asking for my Yahoo screen name and talking to me there. We became really good friends and began talking about things we wouldn't dare talk about with anyone else: we wrote stories about each other and talked to each other in the flowery language only read in Shakespeare. New Year's Eve, on the midnight bell, we officially confessed how we felt about each other and left it at that. I cried myself to sleep, for I was the first girl Maureen ever had a relationship with. She had been teased all her life because she was always very boyish. I told her that it would all be okay, but I myself was unsure about my own sexuality. Unrequited, half-hearted crushes on boys do not a lesbian make.

The first day back in school, she greeted me with a warm hug. The following night I had auditions for our school play, which was Les Miserables. I was trying out for Eponine and she wished me well, surprising me that night by showing up to support me. I remember going up on stage and spotting her in the back row. My nerves eased and I sang "On My Own" as I had never sang it before. I almost stopped when her head tilted backward-- she was crying. I received callbacks the next day. My first callback ever. She came again that night, but I was not on top of my game; I let the audition stress break me down. I left the auditorium in a slump, greeted by her sympathetic smile and a bouquet of roses. "I thought you did great Joanne," she said as I took the roses and thanked her. As I left, she ran after me and caught me in another embrace, telling me she loved me. This was all at the door, where my father could see. I got home that night, having to explain whom I got the roses from and if Maureen and I were gay.

Over the course of the first month, Maureen got to meet my mother and my father and became well acquainted with my family throughout the duration of our relationship. I invited her over my house several times and we watched movies with my parents. At the end of the month, while watching Wedding Crashers, we shared our first kiss. It felt natural, as if we had been kissing for ages. To this day, I believe it's the nicest kiss you could ever receive.

Months came and went, and Maureen and I were inseparable. We wrote love letters and poems to each other, one of which I have saved:

Prisms land upon the floor; an afternoon bright
And she waltzes in, carrying the box.
Resonating, the slow chimes off the regulator clock
Ring with the feet pattering elegantly against the floorboard.
Cheeks as rosy as the skin of an apple,
She sits with me beneath the fluttering flag.
A marvelous display of Easter delight, this flag,
Withheld by the boy in the afternoon bright.
His spacious teeth tear apart a succulent apple
As he looms over me, the girl, and the box.
"What's in it?" he queries, tiptoeing across the deck board.
It's 12:15 on the face of the clock.
Two minutes fly upon the golden clock
And roll upon the curling of the flag.
The boy's feet shift upon the loose board,
The sequins reflect an awesome bright
As she begins to open the box.
The boy sinks teeth back into the apple.
As curious eyes peer over the apple,
Another two minutes drip off the clock
And land in pools within the box.
The past resurfaces underneath the shadow of the flag
And parts way with the sun, becoming vivid and bright.
Letters spill out upon the wooden board.
Papers upon papers lay strewn across the board,
Now littered with entrails of apple.
The sun refracts off their shine, bright
As it does in circles around the clock.
It falls in waves off the flag
And plunges down like daggers upon the empty box.
Withheld inside this box
Were secrets, now scattered across the board,
Hidden beneath the roll of the flag.
Love left in ruin and scented in apple.
Half an hour, courthes the clock,
And the children flee into the afternoon bright.
As they run back to the bright, I gather the box,
And leave those letters for the clock to read upon the board.
I wipe apple from the first letter and smile beneath the Easter flag.

We talked often of marriage and children; that's what made us too mature for our ages. We talked about having two sons by the names Deacon and Colby and a daughter named Madison. Our Yahoo IMs consisted of such talk:

Joanne:Funny.
Joanne: I didn't see any pretty girls anywhere.
Maureen: yeah
Maureen: I did
Joanne: You LIAR! xD
Maureen: she hid under the couch
Joanne: But... I was under the couch.
Joanne: I missed her!
Maureen: well
Maureen: she was about five two or so
Maureen: brownish dark hair
Maureen: and glowing green eyes that sparkle
Joanne: Freckles?
Joanne: A ring on her left hand?
Maureen: I thought she took that off
Joanne: She had it on tonight.
Maureen: and there are freckles here and there
Maureen: really
Maureen: did she
Joanne: And tomorrow it will remain.
Joanne: She's engaged, you know.
Maureen: wow
Maureen: really
Maureen: lucky guy
Joanne: Indeed.
Joanne: Very handsome, he is.
Maureen: yeah
Maureen: wonder if he deserves her
Joanne: Brown hair a shade lighter than hers, covers his eye...
Joanne: Eyes a winter green.
Joanne: He's a handsome devil.
Joanne: And she's madly in love with him.
Joanne: Thinks he deserves everything.
Maureen: She's the only one
Joanne: Everything good.
Maureen: this fellow sounds to suit her
Joanne: Oh, they're crazy about each other.
Joanne: They're eyes meet and that's it!
Maureen: Really?
Maureen: Sounds like quite the love tale
Joanne: Mm-hmm.
Joanne:The best part is...
Maureen: You'll have to tell me
Joanne: it's all ours.
Maureen: That is the best part
Maureen: now, if they can keep it a secret, the Montagues and the Capulets won't start war?
Joanne: Oh, but that is a story that we will save for another day.
Joanne: Now it's time for bed, Maddie.
Maureen: :)
Maureen: "But Mom, Daddy is still at work, don't you have a few more minutes"
Maureen: *as a car pulls into the driveway in the snowstorm*
Joanne: Oh, I think I have time for one more little bit.
Maureen: "yay"
Maureen: *she jumps up and down on her bed*
Maureen: *you hear the door open and close downstairs*
Maureen: A voice is home from work
Maureen: the winter green eyes of love in your heart

It was sometime toward the end of April when things slowly started coming to screeching halt. A week before Les Miserables went on stage, Maureen, who was underage at the time, decided to drive her friend's car to pick up her check at MickeyD's and drop her other friend off at home. She took my sister, her, and me other friend with her. She drove like a maniac! And it wasn't until we were a few feet from her house that she lost control of the car and slammed into the guardrail on my side. Instead of hitting the breaks, her foot hit the gas and drove us into a tree. We tumbled out of the wreckage, the only serious injuries were the burns on Maureen's face and our bruised sternums. Being underage, we were admitted into the hospital and treated with drowsy painkillers. Our parents had fits-- especially Maureen's --when my mom, her other friend's mom, and my sister's parents all tried to help pay for the accident. Maureen's folks said that it was "a family matter and it was none of their business." Maureen told me her parents weren't worth meeting. That bugged me for a while and was perhaps one of the first [ignored] signs that this relationship wouldn't work out as I had hoped.

Maureen always said she almost killed my sister that day. Not once did she mention how she almost killed me with an inclination of guilt. I dismissed this at the time.

Since then, I always played third wheel to her and her friends, which included my sister and her best friend. She moved into my house because her stepfather was still angry about the whole incident. The saying too much of a good thing played theme during this time. April passed and May came along. Our relationship was on the rocks-- one of her friends (we will call her Sue) took her girlfriend (Mary) and us out to lunch one day. We all had a great time and bonded well. When they dropped us off, Maureen turned to me with a shrug and said: "I think Mary has a crush on me." The same thing's happened before: one of my best friends had a crush on Maureen for a while and didn't say anything until we were dating. Though Maureen didn't return the feelings for my friend, I didn't think she'd return them for Mary. She went everywhere with Mary without my or Sue's knowing. They would sit in Mary's car out in my driveway in the dark, doing god knows what up until midnight. That's when I decided I would break up with Maureen. But when I tried, she told me how my mother didn't like her and how she was driving a wedge between us. Sad to say, I was put against my family-- the family I've known to trust for fifteen years! So I didn't break up with her. Finally on May 17th, her birthday, she broke up with me. Her excuse? "My brother needs me back at home." Which may or may not have been a lie. She left later that evening.

Next day in school I couldn't make it to my locker without blubbering. One of my male friends consoled me after I told him Maureen and I were done, and it helped for a while until orchestra. She came up to me and told me that she was sorry. I replied with "Well, you got what you f-ing wanted," as I was still bitter about it. She grabbed my arm and nearly punched me in the face. "You think this is what I wanted?" she asked me, "Huh?" I didn't answer.

A few days later I went on Mary's myspace and found a love poem, written by Maureen, in her comments. I was outraged and upset; it was posted a few days after the break-up. My sister and my mom both tried to console me, but not one other cry could have matched my grief. I vented on my own blog, which was unwise of me to have done, for people got the wrong idea. Rumors spread around that she had raped me, among other tall-tales. My own reputation was trashed for my immature slander. I realize now that I had over-reacted.

Afterward we tried to make up. I guess now that I look back on it, I did do a lot of immature things. But every time I talked to her after our break-up, I was never happy. I was trying to start over again when she was trying to run away, despite the fact that she really wanted to stay close friends with me and wanted to make amends with my family. Eventually I stopped talking to her altogether.

Maureen was a clever girl who was awful good at weaving stories, but terrible at hiding her cowardice when all of her stories were discredited. She was definitely considering breaking up with me long before we actually did. She told my sister and her best friend how much she loved Mary, without ever mentioning what consequence it would bring upon me. I was never Maureen's girlfriend; I was her "opportunity" out of a bad home situation.

I hear now she has another "opportunity" that she won over after writing her a letter about how her boyfriend (who was nothing but good to her) was abusing her. Apparently they're getting married with the money Maureen won in the lawsuit from the car accident. She claims how she is so taken with her and all her new friends and that both their parents are thrilled. I think she's full of shit, but all the same I'm happy for her. I learned from my experience with her a lot of things: mentally I was never ready for any relationship and even now I doubt I ever will be. My sexuality is still variating. My aunt told me that love knows no boundaries; once you've loved someone of either gender it doesn't have to stay at that. I no longer go by ludacris labels such as straight, lesbian, or bi. I love whomever I love and it doesn't matter if they're male or female.

As for Maureen and I now... it's almost like we never happened. Like we were just fiction.