I heard a Billy Bragg interview on the radio tonight.
One saturday afternoon, having a post-brunch cigarette in the smoking room, Lynn turned to me and asked me if I liked wine. When I said I did, she invited me over to her room to drink some. I'd always liked Lynn. She seemed like a quiet observer type, and I could relate to that behavior, especially at 17. I found her beautiful in many ways, but neither of us was single, so I just saw it as an innocent saturday afternoon with a pal.
She had her own room at the girls dorm, on the first floor, a few doors down from my constantly insecure and jealous girlfriend. It was a warm, comfortable room with a refrigerator, and waterbed. Those two items, as well as the gigantic bottle of white wine she possessed, were all forbidden at school. The fridge was easy enough to sneak in, but a water bed? I didn't ask how she did it, but imagined a hose run from the bathroom in the middle of the night to fill it up. Pretty risky, but some people have a greater threshold of risk-taking then others.
So we sat and talked and listened to Billy Bragg tapes and caught up. It was the beginning of our senior year at this Pennsylvania boarding school, and a lot had happened in the previous year. We got to know each other a little better by telling our own point of view of events that we were still sorting out. We drank, we talked, we smoked cigarettes, we listened to cassettes and our friend sitting on the floor a foot away. Eventually, long after the sun had passed, my evil girlfriend figured out where I was, and wasn't happy. I'd love to blame her for causing me to keep my distance from Lynn from then on, but more than enough years have passed for me to have learned that I can only blame myself.
Lynn eventually got expelled for some combination of offenses (risky behavior), and I never even got to say goodbye. Lynn Ambielli, if we came across each other now, so much time has passed that we might as well be total strangers. But just so you know, this damn memory of mine won't let me forget those hours, and right now, you haven't changed a bit.
She had her own room at the girls dorm, on the first floor, a few doors down from my constantly insecure and jealous girlfriend. It was a warm, comfortable room with a refrigerator, and waterbed. Those two items, as well as the gigantic bottle of white wine she possessed, were all forbidden at school. The fridge was easy enough to sneak in, but a water bed? I didn't ask how she did it, but imagined a hose run from the bathroom in the middle of the night to fill it up. Pretty risky, but some people have a greater threshold of risk-taking then others.
So we sat and talked and listened to Billy Bragg tapes and caught up. It was the beginning of our senior year at this Pennsylvania boarding school, and a lot had happened in the previous year. We got to know each other a little better by telling our own point of view of events that we were still sorting out. We drank, we talked, we smoked cigarettes, we listened to cassettes and our friend sitting on the floor a foot away. Eventually, long after the sun had passed, my evil girlfriend figured out where I was, and wasn't happy. I'd love to blame her for causing me to keep my distance from Lynn from then on, but more than enough years have passed for me to have learned that I can only blame myself.
Lynn eventually got expelled for some combination of offenses (risky behavior), and I never even got to say goodbye. Lynn Ambielli, if we came across each other now, so much time has passed that we might as well be total strangers. But just so you know, this damn memory of mine won't let me forget those hours, and right now, you haven't changed a bit.
1 Comments:
Josh,
Great little story, you captured Lynn wonderfully. She's married now and has grown-up but so much of who she was, who all of us were back at Solebury, still exists. I have link to Lynn's restaurant on my blog, feel free to check it out. She was an amazing girl and has become a remarkable woman.
Staying friends with Lynn all these years is one of the great joys in my life.
Thanks for the glimpse back.
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