Penelope Lion

        

When someone says to me, “[that] just came full circle” I often think of karma. You know, that mysterious force that seems to bounce back like a medicine ball and calculatingly reprimands that inner asshole. (Oh, I also think of that Radiohead song and how it was on repeat for about a year when I first heard it. My poor vehicular passengers) It so happens that we live in a world where superstition and the facts of life clash head on, like a serpent eating it’s tail. Whether it is how you treated that girl back in high school or perhaps you lied to a friend about what you “didn't do”, most likely there is that friend or stranger close by to say these fabled words “what goes around comes around”. Being slightly superstitious and religious I often picture myself being mutilated by a meteorite, it breaks through the clouds and pierces some random gas vein by my car, causing it explode. Or maybe I accidently knock down a can of spray paint off the top shelf seconds before a big a date. The aerosol explosion swarms my suit and I become a newly colored man. But these are all just in my imagination and hopefully will never happen (fingers crossed). As of recently though, I experienced a full circle, or a “happening” -- so to speak. There was no space stone or exploding can of gold paint though. This time “karma” involved a box of cereal that was almost a decade old.

            Back in 2004 I met a young lady, like most boys do in high school (it’s often hard to escape them). I fell for her abrasive sense of humor and also the fact that she talked to me. Ladies and gentlemen may I introduce you to one of my few high school crushes, Penelope Lion. If I were to paint a picture of Penelope I’d say that she was the typical girl next door. She had shoulder length dirty blonde hair, a healthy amount of freckles and a boisterous personality that harbored a flamboyant laugh. She liked to joke around the guys and even rolled with the punches. Penelope was a year below me and was infectious the second she made fun of me.

Here are the things that matter about Penelope and I, number one: I took her to my senior prom. I can't remember when I asked her but I do recall the inner back flips I did when she said, “sure”. I'm fairly certain that she said yes because I'm awkwardly charming and promised not to dress up as Darth Vader, again... Junior prom was real interesting. Number two; I had once prevented her from touching a car handle laced with human piss. Yes, I was once the defender of evil and perversion, the pale white nerdy Batman. A boy named Juan, to whom I later found out she had a crush on had urinated all over her car. I saw the hedonist in action and instantly felt conflicted. Juan was one of the cool kids and I was well, just one of those bizarre forces of nature. Penelope had come over the hill that overlooked the student parking lot and before I could rationally think about it I blurted out in a shriek, 

“Oh my god! Don't touch your car handle because Juan peed allllllllll over it.” 

Somehow, according to high school logic, she got mad at me for interfering with her crushes idea of a well-placed gag. Go figure. 

            Number three: One time I was trying to woe her over through witty conversation and she told me (in a private confessional sort of way, obviously) about her favorite kind of cereal. It was an off brand marshmallow cereal that could only be found at the hole-in-the-wall discount grocery store on the opposite side of town. The “grocery store” was built like a warehouse and the clerk could pass for a cave troll; either gender of course. I think most cave trolls are gender blind anyways, but that's not relevant. There was no question in my mind at the time that I would retrieve the cereal for Penelope. So I got in the Batmobile, or aka my 1994 Chevy "P.O.S" and sped off into the night. I fought through the shady market, cleared the cave troll’s gaze and successfully found my ladies treat. Once I returned from Mordor and got back to school the next day I had decided to make this a stealth mission of saccharine pasion. I believed that being sneaky and sweet about presenting her with the box of cereal was a good idea, I mean don't most girls love surprises? And isn't that whole point of getting engaged to, catching them off their guard like a ninja? I decided to put the cereal in her locker and waited from a distance. In retrospect I was no ninja and performed two very creepy tasks: One, technically I broke into her locker, which in most places in America is a "No-No". Secondly I waited for her like a creeper in a van outside of an elementary school. I’ve definitely taken mental notes since then. Trust me. 

The bell rang and Penelope walked up to her locker accompanied by another dude in my class, Sean Watkins. Sean played baseball, was tall and wore colored bro-polos, even his name was cool; I was no competition. Penelope popped open her locker and squealed instantly. The joy on her face was perfect. I could see it in her whole body. She threw her books down, grabbed the cardboard box and crinkled it an excited tremble. Penelope turned to Sean and howled, “Did you get this for me?!” Sean looked confused. My mouth dropped. He straightened out, broadened his shoulders and said, “Yes.”

Defeated. I imagine that if there was a soundtrack to this movie moment Sam Cooke would be crooning to Summertime. 

"so hush, little baby, don't you cry

don't you cry, no no, don't cry..."

I don't recall ever trying to correct the wrong. Prom didn't go as planned either. By the end of the night I realized that I would have gotten more action if I had actually dressed up as Vader... again. After I graduated Penelope became a distant memory.

            Queue the montage of the years passing, snow falling, the sun rising and setting, my beard growing and my contact list of women multiplying. By 2014 I had almost completely forgotten Penelope Lion. There was no reason to remember her. I never had to go back to the cave trolls shopping den, and we never kept in contact. Penelope, like many other women in life by now had become a ghost story. But like all ghost stories, something weird happens. 

Several months ago I went out with my little sister Kelly and her friends. I have been doing that more recently since I've been living back at home. Most of the time I'd just want to sit quietly and drink a PBR but since they are four to five years younger than me all they want to do is go to annoyingly loud clubs and gay bars. This night in particular was Kelly’s friend Molly’s birthday. Kelly begged me to come out and party with them and I reluctantly agreed. Surprisingly we didn't go to any super loud joints or gay bars and stuck with what I liked, a few quiet pints. But since we didn't get “turnt up” Kelly begged me to come over to Molly’s apartment to play beer pong. Beer pong is one of my favorite past times and I had to show these kids up.

            When I arrived at the apartment Kelly, Molly and her roommate Jenna set up the beer pong table and something was immediately amiss. First of all the cups weren't in a triangle, they were just spread out across the table. Secondly, they were filling the cups up with water from a coffee pot. They were playing with water! Without delay I voiced my grievance but was told to calm down. Their rules were that whenever the ball landed in a cup you would have to take a sip of beer. Ridiculous. These girls did not know how to properly participate in an offical game of pong. I was upset, so upset in fact that instead of calling Jenna by her real name I just referred to her as Pete for the remainder of the evening (and now also this blog post). I just walked around that dirty, cat-infested apartment drinking their left over PBRs and making fun of Pete. At one point we all stepped outside to smoke a cigarette and Molly said, “Oh Jenna, Brady went to school with your older sister.” 

“Oh you went to CSAS?” said Pete.

“Yeah, well who’s your sister?” I retorted

With smoke billowing from her mouth Pete softly replied,  “Penelope.”

I about choked on my own spit and caught my self. Instead of blurting out “What?!” I delicately said, “Wait, you're fucking Penelope Lion’s sister?” The beer had taken its toll. Pete nodded. I asked Pete, “Well... Where is she now?” Pete told me that “Uh, well Penelope is living in Ireland...” which was followed up by her explaining to me that she was doing really well for herself and loving life abroad. A flood of memories came back to me and I immediately started complaining to Pete and who ever else would listen about her sister. I told Pete all about the cereal, the pee and prom. I can only imagine that these poor girls were witnessing a man having one of his quarter life crises’; it wasn't pretty. Finding out that Penelope was doing well upset me even more than that poor game of pong. I think at one point the word “bitch” had even left my mouth. I studied in England and ever since then I've wanted to go back. I wanted to be there and not here! I wanted to be living abroad and enjoying life, not be a 25-year-old failure living at his parent’s house. (I wonder if Sean is better off too!?) 

Before I left Molly told me that Pete was going to see Penelope in Ireland soon. The thought didn't occur to me then, nor had it occurred to me since then that girls talk.  Side note: I often say that I'm a story-teller, but after this experience I've come to the conclusion that it’s just a less gloomy way of saying, “I live in the past”. Since then I've learned not to have quarter life breakdown in front of younger girls.

            Fast forward to today. Earlier this upon waking up from a nice slumber I checked my phone to find that I had one new friend request.

“Penelope Lion would like to be your friend!

Click Yes to accept.”

It took me a moment to gather my thoughts. I rubbed my eyes several times and rechecked my phone. Yes, it was she. Penelope Lion, living in Ireland and looking like... well an older and hotter Penelope Lion. I accepted the friend request. Moments later the speakers on my computer emitted a little “ding” to alert me that I had one new notification, Penelope had written on my wall. She said, “Hello friend”. I sat on my bed looking at my screen, do I respond right now? Should I wait a couple hours? I don’t want to sound weird, but what I’m doing right now is weird. Just write something. I responded with, “Well hello there... It’s been what, 8 years?” I thought I was being coy and smart. Maybe perhaps my use of ellipsis would reveal that a brooding response was waiting for her in the dark recesses of the universe.

            An hour passed, which felt like an eternity but then, finally my computer “dinged” again. It was a paragraph. I gulped. Penelope’s response began with, “Yessir it has. I hear you’ve seen my little sister kinda recently!” I swallowed hard and whispered, “dammmmmn it.” I had to keep on reading, she continued, 

“She updated me on the Amazing Brady’s life :) I just want you to know I’m sending you love and positive vibes.

And thanks for the cereal :)”

I sat on my bed and laughed. I also felt slightly guilty, but for the most part I laughed. I had been redeemed. She thanked me for the cereal and that was all I could ask for; it had come full circle. Now this isn't your typical story about karma. I mean, a gas vein didn't explode and I technically didn't get caught with my hands in the cookie jar but I did see and feel the aftermath of an interesting life story. She finally knew that it was me!!! I no longer have “high schooly” feelings for Penelope (you'd think that I'd lose interest after a decade, right?) but what she gave me with that one short sentence, “and thanks for cereal” was just as fun and meaningful as a pop kiss. It was random, quick and sobered me up.

Its moments like that make me believe that there is something incredible for me, for all of us. Those interactions, these memories, I have so many and they are all precious. Even though months, maybe even years might have passed me by there will always be a moment waiting to come full circle. I feel like a rubber band ball these days, constantly bouncing and losing layers. With each layer that slingshots off I learn more about what has kept me together all these years. These people, they come back like a long lost Frisbee and I can't say it doesn't feel incredible to hear from them again. I don’t know why she decided to contact me. Maybe she was looking for friends from the past, or perhaps what her sister said moved her or maybe it was just random, but I don't think that really matters. What matters to me is that those who I have interacted with in my past have been affected by me and that is a humbling feeling. You just never know who or what is around the corner, and the surprise of life is very enjoyable. And before I end this, Penelope, if you read this I do apologize for my drunken rant, I was having a bad night. We all have one shot in life and I'm fortunate to have spent it with some incredible people.

I have no idea what is in store for me, but I’m curious to see what else happens. Who else will come out the woodwork and remind me that I’m not dead, not yet.

Oh, yeah. I still hate being bald.