Isosceles Love Triangles Chapter 1 “Time Gone By”

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Warning: I haven’t touched this story since...maybe...2006 and there may be some issues with spelling (more so than most) and some scene shifts. I’m just trying to see if the story can be completed. It’s about two love triangles (or perhaps parallelograms?) that may end happily ever for one couple or for opposite members. I’m not too sure yet.

I originally wrote it 1993 as an incomplete story with the long title of ‘In Geometric Isosceles Love Triangles”. It was typed out on an Apple IIc system and I had to print out thirty pages of straight text on an ImageWriter II dot matrix printer and then scan the file to get it onto a PC.
In the “old days” at school, I would have brought a floppy disk to school, convert it to 3.5 on a IIgs and then load it into Claisworks on my McIntosh....but I now do not have a IIgs around nor a Mac with a floppy drive (thank you, Steve Jobs) so I have had to manually edit the text into some semblance of English.
This is what I have so far:

Isosceles Love Triangles
I. Time Gone By

It was that night when things become different ...different than any type of break up that I could ever imagine.
Dave was sweet ...and maybe that was half his problem and a quarter of mine. He never raised his voice and that was a paradox to me. For some odd reason I could not relate to him very well. Insults and cruelty I could give back blow by blow, but kindness? You'd think, since I was raised by my parents to see both sides of the fence, that I could; but at that time I guess I had not yet mastered the art.

Alexis Anne McKinney; born November 26th, 1977 to Kyle M. and Kristine L. McKinney. Your typical American teenager who is approaching the latter days of her teenage year and having a breakdown of all systems while trying. Breakdowns in mental, menstrual; if you named it then I believed that I was suffering from it. Of course there are ways to eliminate such feelings, such as Midol or an extra strength dose of Advil ...unless you have bigger problems that need to be addressed, and to that, I say good luck and Godspeed to you!

That would be me. I first though t I was going mad when I couldn't decide how to hold my brush my hand and then I have to brush my hair upon which way one could label this as a bad hair day on someone's calendar but for me it was meant to be a sign. An Omen if you will of what would eventually come true. So, for the sake of clarity, I need to give a greater foreground
Each weekday morning get up at 6; do other things that was the morning and most of it is not your business get dressed eat breakfast gallery boxing at school by 8:20 in the morning. As a sophomore I was in the band: played flute and played bass guitar with the jazz band and I was going to choir, Spanish II, Biology English II, and geometry.... geometry is what everything seems to mirror.

And I hate math.

I was fifteen and, as stated earlier, my sophomore year and I drove to school on that day with my best friend since fourth grader, Kathleen "Kat" Anderson. Never Katie, Caitlyn or Katrina, just "Kat". We were very close and even shared lockers so we could easily access our books for classes. Mine was name is 176 on the second floor; hers, 99; on the first.

I could always count on her to bring me out of any funk I put myself or someone put me into. We were always in some sort of mild trouble…like climbing on the uprights on the football field; running through the woods at the crack of dawn; or having slumber parties that included two guys…forcing our parents to invest in heavy amounts of espresso shots to keep awake through the night.

As much as she was my friend, I hated when nature decided to give everything to her. In the sixth grade Kat began to develop faster than yours truly; She had brighter hair, which she would braid and everyday make a slight change to the style. She also (grrr) developed a greater…how to say it without sounding like a total brat…an awesome body with flawless skin and shape. Between us, you had the “before” and “after” shots.
I dropped my books off on my desk for Spanish II class and then just wandered around the school for ten minutes before then bell rang. While Kat talked with everyone around her, I spent most of my time watching and listening, not wanting to make a bid deal about anything, not complaining about my parents, school or why I still had baby fat on face…I could probably write a book on that alone…no, the key was to observe, and there was one person I observed a lot on that day.

I didn’t know his name but I knew he was a junior. I didn’t know his name but I knew he played basketball…I didn’t know his name but…man, was he cute! We sometimes made eye contact and spoke through our eyes:
“Hello”
“Hi,”
“How you doin?”
“Waiting for you to stop and say something to me.”
“I’ll do that…but first I have to get to class and so do you, cuz there’s the bell.”
Or something to that effect.
This had gone on for several days. Kat had attempted to use her connections (mainly, asking another junior) to find out who he was, which she had finally found out on that day.

“His name is David Lowery,” Kat stated as we sat on the gym floor doing stretch exercises.
“Who is?”
“The guy you keep looking at in the hall.”
A part of me was devastated to learn his name; that was actually part of the mystique of our “relationship”: the mystery man. It was time to actually meet him, I guess: “What do you know about him?”
“I know as much about him as I know about every guy in the world.”
“All he knows is sex?”
“And football…possibly Super Mario Bros too…but yeah, what you said.”

I had forgotten to mention the reason behind Kat’s universal theory about guys: she was pregnant at the time.
Allow me to back it up a little to around…September of our sophomore year Kathleen had met up with a guy named Ryan Kinsley, who claimed to be from Seattle and would soon be attending the University of Washington—he was in Spokane to visit a cousin “Everyone has a cousin in Eastern Washington,” he had said to her as they made small talk. She had met him—out of all places—a Christian youth rally that she had been invited to go to through someone at our school. That person in question being me. I didn’t introduce them. I never really got to know him…but Kat did and I mean that in the “King James version” sort of way.

“I don’t think he’s like that.”
“Seriously?”
“He doesn’t seem that way. He seems nice.”
“Of course he’s nice…that’s the bait and switch…well, maybe not bait and switch…but it’s more like strings attached.”
“So, I should go into this having him tried, convicted, and hung before he even utters an ‘um’ to me?”
“No, but have a lawyer’s business card ready.” Kat groaned as she stood up. “I want this to be over.”
“You still have a few more weeks.”
“Yeah…and that’s the problem.”
“But you still have that…that ‘glow’”
“Oh to hell with ‘the glow’. What I wouldn’t give to have that spineless, sniveling, not qualified to be called a man…thing…to be here so I could kick his sorry—“
Through the months, Kat had attempted to track Ryan down, but to no avail. She continued to state that one day she would steal a car and drive to Seattle to meet up with him. Never mind the fact that she had no idea on how to drive anything other than her mother crazy.



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