THE NARRATIVE ARC
I Wished on Weeds While He Manipulated Me
Thank God wishes don’t always come true
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“What did you wish for?” Nikki asked as I plucked at the dandelion seeds that clung to my bubblegum-flavored lipgloss. Fluffy clouds danced around us as we cut through the field behind the school on our walk home.
The field was more weeds than grass and I was superstitious — never missing a chance to scatter dandelion seeds for a free wish.
I shrugged off Nikki’s question. Even though we were best friends, there was no way I could tell her what I’d been wishing for my entire senior year of high school. She’d never understand.
“Is it that you and Patrick get married?” I forced a smile and nodded. Yes, let’s go with that.
Nikki didn’t know about Eric. Nor did my high school sweetheart or anyone else. For the entire year, I’d been emotionally cheating on Patrick with Eric Russell and my wish was always that Eric and I would end up together.
As Nikki rambled on about trivial high school drama, I grew dizzy sprinkling wishes across the sky.
Oh, what precious breath I wasted.
“You look beautiful in this picture. You really should be a model,” he said, gripping the plastic keychain on my backpack. It was a junior prom picture of me and Patrick with his arm awkwardly resting around the waist of my vintage 80s dress. My face burned as I studied my white platform shoes, exhilarated by the compliment.
“How’s your boyfriend, by the way?”
I stepped back enough for the keychain to fall from his hand. I hated that he asked me that question every day.
“He’s ok.” I purposely injected a hint of disappointment into my voice even though my relationship was almost perfect. Why did I always do that around him?
The way we subtly flirted made me want to appear more available than I actually was. I knew I wasn’t being fair to Patrick but being around Eric made me question everything about my relationship.
Eric thought I was special and unique. Those words felt like such big accomplishments coming from him.
I spent the better part of my senior year stuck between two worlds. The one where my loving boyfriend carried my books to class and took me to the movies on Friday nights and the hidden one with Eric. In my secret world, I snuck out of study hall twice a week and went into the classroom where Eric was to hang out with him. I’d stay long enough for him to compliment me and pick imaginary lint off the front of my sweater, then sneak back to study hall to finish my homework.
The homework Eric had assigned me.
Because he was my teacher.
Eric or “Mr. Russell” as I was forced to call him during class, always found ways for us to spend time together. My grades in his class were decent but when I got a B- on a pop quiz, he suggested I start staying after for some private tutoring. I contemplated failing his class altogether just to get more attention from him.
Alone in his room after school, he made his move. That was the first time he told me I should be a model and then waited to gauge my reaction. A grin spread across his face when I giggled and thanked him for the compliment. I’d passed his test.
It’s a laughable idea. Even back then, I knew a chubby 5’3 girl with frizzy hair and a pointy nose wouldn’t ever become a model. I received his message loud and clear though: Eric thought I was prettier than the other girls in my school. He chose me. I was the lucky winner of his attention.
When he suggested I pop into his room for a visit during my free period, I jumped at the chance and it quickly became my favorite part of my weekly routine.
Eric told me just enough about his personal life to get me to open up about mine. I wanted him to like me so much that I told him I was having second thoughts about Patrick, even though I was head over heels for him when Eric wasn’t around planting seeds of doubt.
He explained that high school boys weren’t mature enough for committed relationships and that I shouldn’t get hung up on a silly young romance.
Eric found ways to communicate his interest in me throughout the day. His hand would brush against my fingers when he passed back my homework. During our private study sessions, he’d stand behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder while he reviewed my work. I’d drink in the smell of his aftershave, relishing our time together.
When I sang in the school talent show, Eric surprised me by showing up to wish me good luck. At the end of the night, he pulled me aside and whispered that my voice was beautiful.
Thankfully, things never went any further between us than the inappropriate flirting, although, at the time, I incessantly wished on a field of weeds that they would.
It all started to crumble when I left his classroom to sneak back to study hall one day. I ran into Patrick in the hall and he innocently asked why I was in Mr. Russell’s room. I lied and said I’d forgotten my textbook. I hated myself for being dishonest with Patrick.
Patrick remarked that he thought Mr. Russell was creepy and didn’t like the way he looked at me. The comment terrified me into thinking he knew about us.
After that, I felt like I had to protect Eric from Patrick’s suspicions. He didn’t understand our special bond and I feared he might try to get Eric into trouble.
Almost against my will, I stopped visiting Eric during study hall and after school. My grades didn’t suffer — we talked more than I studied during that time anyway. My heart, on the other hand, suffered immensely.
I dreamt of ways Eric and I could be together without anyone knowing. I found myself constantly missing him and craving his attention even more.
After I stopped visiting him, Eric quickly lost interest in me. He turned cold and distant. The compliments disappeared and he threatened to write me up when Patrick kissed me in the hallway.
My secret world shattered. All the wishes on all the dandelions led to emptiness, yet I couldn’t tell anyone about my heartache.
As an adult, I’m extremely disturbed that a man in his 40s was telling 17-year-old me how beautiful I was. When I look back at my junior prom photos, I see an insecure girl who still had baby fat on her face. With nothing in my life figured out, Eric’s attention was everything.
Mr. Russell must be retired by now. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I didn’t push him away. Would things have escalated? Was I his practice round before he took things further with another student? I can’t let my mind go there.
While trying to process the events that occurred between my teacher and me, I asked my husband if I was being irrational. Nothing physical happened between us, so it couldn’t have been that inappropriate.
My last attempt to defend our twisted relationship was met with a harsh reality when my husband asked, “How would you feel if someone acted that way around our daughters?” And then I could no longer make excuses. I knew it was wrong. I could no longer defend Mr. Russell.
Back then, I had no idea what grooming was. I just knew how important I felt when an older man said he found me “special” and “unique.” Now, shame and embarrassment follow me around as I think of how I thrived on his attention.
The smell of his brand of aftershave puts an instant knot in my stomach.
For a long time, I blamed myself for being so infatuated and easily manipulated. I would have given anything to be with him back then. It’s only in recent years that I’ve allowed myself to accept what really happened and work toward healing.
I spent so many wasted breaths on so many wishes trying to lure in a predator.
Thank God not all wishes come true.
