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Authors: Katherine Tarbox

A Girl's Life Online (8 page)

BOOK: A Girl's Life Online
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I thought about Mark a lot. I dwelled on our conversations, his intelligence and his maturity. It was rare, at thirteen, to know someone who knew how to carry on a real conversation. And more and more, I thought our meeting on-line was destiny.
It was about a week and a half after that first telephone call, the one that took place in the dark before morning, when I swallowed my pride and sent Mark an e-mail asking if he had left the face of the planet. I got nothing back.
Days passed with no word from him. I began to lose interest, and when it got to the point where I just didn't care if there was a reply, I finally got one. It was a little note that explained that after Miami he had gone to New Orleans. He told me a story about partying on Bourbon Street. I was disappointed to hear this, so I told him I would write in the next few days.
ATARBOX:
You may think I'm a prude for saying this, but I think drinking and smoking are disgusting,
I wrote to him.
VALLLEYGUY:
Katie, everything's fine in moderation.
ATARBOX:
All I know is that there were alcoholics in my family and they've done a lot of damage.
VALLLEYGUY:
I'm not like that, Katie, believe me.
When I asked what else he had done in Louisiana, Mark's response surprised me.
VALLLEYGUY:
I spent time with a girl I know down there. She's really great. Fourteen. She's a little like you--smart, mature for her age. She's very sophisticated.
ATARBOX:
Uh-huh
was about all I could write back.
VALLLEYGUY:
Of course she's not as sweet as you are Katie. I have never enjoyed talking to anyone as much as I enjoy talking to you. It's something rare. Something special, this kind of connection. Don't you think so?
ATARBOX:
Yes, I do.
VALLLEYGUY:
I want to ask you something, Katie.
ATARBOX:
Okay.
VALLLEYGUY:
Are you a virgin?
ATARBOX:
I'm thirteen, what do you expect?
VALLLEYGUY:
I really wish there was some way I could get to Connecticut to see you.
After we signed off, I thought about the things in the conversation that seemed peculiar. The fourteen-year-old girl in New Orleans. Him flying there to see her. And why was he so interested in coming to Connecticut to see me? We barely knew each other. Was he serious or just being sweet?
I never said anything to Mark about these issues. Confronting him would have been awkward, unsophisticated. And I wasn't sure I had the right to question him about anything. He never asked me about anything sensitive, either. It was as if we both decided that anything that was too upsetting, anything that broke the positive mood, could simply be boxed up and put away like wool sweaters in the springtime.
After that conversation we began sending e-mails to each other on a regular basis, at least once a day. They weren't lengthy. The main idea was to keep in contact, maintain the relationship. I was very curious about him and his past. But as much as he asked me about my life, he said almost nothing about his own. Nothing about his friends or what he did on weekends. He said he liked sushi and to go to concerts. On a few occasions he discussed movies but never revealed who went with him. He also seemed to take many vacations, but he never told me who accompanied him. I didn't feel I was at liberty to ask, either, because I didn't want to come across as nosy. In the back of my mind, however, I wondered how he spent his free time. The only conclusion that I could arrive at was the possibility that he was a workaholic. I imagined he was brilliant, sensitive, and lonely.
At the moment, we were only friends, but it seemed to me that we were moving toward a deeper relationship, and that one day there might even be an “us” to talk about. Yes, thirteen was much younger than twenty-three. But in ten years that kind of age difference wouldn't mean anything at all. In my mind I went back and forth on this issue, trying to reconcile our age difference with what we shared in our hearts.
ATARBOX:
Don't you think that our age difference is a little weird?
I asked one October night.
VALLLEYGUY:
No, no, Katie. In other countries no one would even care. Americans' views are distorted when it comes to older and younger people and their involvement with each other. I mean, in France this would be perfectly acceptable.
ATARBOX:
But we are not in France, Mark.
VALLLEYGUY:
Well, I am not concerned about it, so you shouldn't be either.
ATARBOX:
I guess you're right.
VALLLEYGUY:
I know I'm right to care about you the way that I do. How could that possibly be wrong?
As a child growing up, I had spent the great majority of my time in the company of adults. When a new nanny arrived, I was expected to take the initiative to show her around New Canaan and teach her the ways of the house. At school and at swimming, teachers and coaches dominated what was going on. Then I would work with my piano teacher and my personal trainer. Time with kids my age had to be arranged in advance so that everyone's schedule could be accommodated. This didn't happen very often.
All my life I had been required to trust adults, even complete strangers, and in the safe confines of New Canaan that trust had never been violated. Mark made it clear he wouldn't say another word on the matter of our age difference. He had no problem. I figured that if I was truly mature, I would be unfazed, too. I never brought it up again.
Any lingering, unspoken doubts I felt about our age difference vanished whenever I talked to him. When we were together, Mark wasn't twenty-something. I wasn't a thirteen-year-old. We were equals who didn't really have ages.
Happy Holidays
C
hristmas is my favorite day of the year because we go all out for the holiday. Every year our family goes out to a farm on the day after Thanksgiving to cut down two large trees, one for the family room, the other for the living room. I always expect it will be very cold, so I put on long underwear, leggings, and jeans. I also wear about five shirts and three jackets. We all pile into the car and ride for an hour to the farm.
On the way, my grandmother usually talks about some weird bugs she has read about, or about her desire to make a car seat that can double as a toilet so that she can ride and not have to stop for the bathroom. Once we get there, picking out the trees is a free-for-all. I run around pointing to any tree that seems halfway decent, jump up and down, and scream, “I've found it!” I'm playing a game with myself and everyone else. Since I point to almost every tree, we always take home two that I discovered.
For a proper New Canaan holiday, the Christmas decorations must be “tasteful.” We put a fresh garland around our light posts with small white lights. Our wreaths would never have bows in any colors other than red, green, and gold. My mother also has this weird obsession with nutcrackers. Not the little cheesy ones, but the noble-looking ones.
Once I asked if I could have one of those little Christmas village displays, but my mom said it was tacky. And another time I wanted to put colored lights on the tree, but you wouldn't do that in New Canaan, either, she said. When we were little, tinsel was allowed, but eventually it was banished, too. Now we put a select number of hand-painted or blown-glass ornaments on the family tree. Little white lights are discreetly placed within the branches of the tree, so the wires can't be seen.
Hidden in the family room, our second tree holds the more homey ornaments that Abby, Carrie, and I made over the years—construction paper wreaths with red scribbles, red Santas with cotton balls, stars made out of Popsicle sticks.
At Christmastime, family comes first, so usually we have lots of company, including David's parents and my mom's parents. My uncle Bob always comes. But on my thirteenth Christmas, for the first time ever, no one came to visit. My parents and sisters were a little depressed by this, but on Christmas Eve I went to sleep with the same feeling of anticipation I always had on that night. I awoke a little after three o'clock and knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.
Since the crowd at our house was smaller than usual, I pulled open the French sliding doors to our living room expecting to be a little disappointed by the pile of presents under the tree. I was shocked to see how many packages were waiting there. I sat down on the hardwood floor. It was cold, but the excitement of Christmas morning—the smell of the tree, the sparkling lights, even the quiet of the night—made me feel warm. The packages waited for us, spread out in a pool of red, gold, and green. I began picking them up, feeling them and shaking them to determine their contents. Books were obvious. Clothes were squishy. But other boxes refused to yield their secrets.
In our stockings the wrapping paper was a bit more fun. For many years we had this Smurf Christmas paper, but that ran out. So we shifted to Barbie paper that came from FAO Schwarz.
Package inspection doesn't take five hours, and I had at least five hours to kill before anyone in my family woke up. I decided to go to the study because I loved the leather chair that we had in that room. It was an executive's kind, perfect for leaning back when you are on the phone. I always felt like sitting in that chair made me an important person.
When I sat down I decided to turn on the computer. It made two loud beeps as it started up, and, as usual, Windows took forever to boot up. The clouds flashed against the background until it finally dissolved into a
Lion King
scene that Carrie had installed for us. It was a picture of Simba.
I moved the cursor and clicked on America Online, which also took a long time to boot up. I think I was using a 24.4 modem, which was the fastest at the time. Even so, it took two minutes to complete the dialing, connecting, talking to AOL, checking password. I waited impatiently to hear “Welcome. . . . You've got mail.”
I hadn't visited the teen chat rooms much since meeting Mark, but I decided they would be my best bet so early in the morning. I was very surprised to find Mr. Vallleyguy himself there in one of the chat rooms.
ATARBOX:
Hey, it's Christmas morning,
I wrote to him.
VALLLEYGUY:
Here too. Merry Christmas.
ATARBOX:
What are you doing on-line?
VALLLEYGUY:
I could ask you the same question, you know.
ATARBOX:
But it's like 4 AM there.
VALLLEYGUY:
I just got back from midnight Mass. I went with some friends.
ATARBOX:
So how come you're not with family?
VALLLEYGUY:
I'm alone for now, but I'm taking some time off to go to Florida to my mother's soon.
ATARBOX:
That's horrible, being alone on Christmas.
VALLLEYGUY:
I can't take your pity, Katie. Believe me, I'm all right. I kind of like the quiet.
ATARBOX:
Well, I'm a big holiday person and I like a lot of people around. I like every holiday and all the stuff that goes with it; trees at Christmas, egg-dyeing for Easter, picnics on the Fourth of July.
VALLLEYGUY:
What's Christmas like at your house?
ATARBOX:
Santa always brings a big family present, and I wouldn't be surprised if it's a new computer this year. There's been a lot of talk about that possibility.
VALLLEYGUY:
What about you?
ATARBOX:
Believe it or not, I still have a Christmas list. This year I asked for a camera, Roller blades, books, CDs and clothes.
VALLLEYGUY:
A friend of mine gave me an electronic dartboard. It's actually pretty cool.
ATARBOX:
Really?
VALLLEYGUY:
I played darts a lot in college. I was pretty good. We even played strip darts. It's like strip poker. The loser has to take off something. It was a riot.
ATARBOX:
That's not exactly a Christmasy-type topic, Mark.
VALLLEYGUY:
True.
ATARBOX:
You went to Mass? That doesn't sound like you.
VALLLEYGUY:
Well, I'm not into the religion thing. But I was raised Catholic and midnight Mass still gets to me. It can be a very beautiful ceremony.
ATARBOX:
My grandmother's an atheist.
VALLLEYGUY:
I can understand that.
ATARBOX:
What are you doing during the holidays?
VALLLEYGUY:
I will work like a dog. Maybe catch a few movies.
ATARBOX:
Yeah, I think I will go see a few myself.
VALLLEYGUY:
I just saw 12 Monkeys, it was horrible.
ATARBOX:
I didn't see it myself. I hate sci-fi films.
VALLLEYGUY:
I don't love them, but occasionally I will see them. I like action films more.
ATARBOX:
I think I will go see Heat, because I love Al Pacino. I hear that it's supposed to be good. I hope I have time. I have to swim all week. It really pisses me off.
VALLLEYGUY:
You have to swim all day every day this week?
ATARBOX:
Yeah, it is so frustrating. I hate it.
VALLLEYGUY:
Why do you do it?
ATARBOX:
I wish I knew that myself.
VALLLEYGUY:
It's hard when you are so good at something, but it also causes you so much trouble. Are you thinking about stopping?
ATARBOX:
Not yet. I'm going to hang on. Maybe it will get better. Maybe I'll get a better attitude.
VALLLEYGUY:
If anyone can handle it, you can, Katie.
ATARBOX:
I appreciate that. I don't think anyone else would even listen to me say anything at all negative about swimming. They'd have a fit!
VALLLEYGUY:
I'm here for you, you know that.
ATARBOX:
I'm going to have to go pretty soon, so I can do the Christmas stuff with my family.
VALLLEYGUY:
That's okay.
ATARBOX:
I'm sorry you can't have a better holiday.
VALLLEYGUY:
Katie, this chat makes this a pretty special Christmas already, and the sun isn't even up yet.
ATARBOX:
I'm glad. Gotta go.
VALLLEYGUY:
Okay. Check you later. Merry Christmas!
BOOK: A Girl's Life Online
8.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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