Cassie May

It all began with a kiss. At least that was what Stephen Mills always said whenever he was asked. In truth however, it had started long before that. Maybe it was the very first time he saw her or maybe the first time he heard her voice. No, even before that if he were honest with himself. He'd fallen in love with her name on the class register, "Sandy DuBarre"; he even got a thrill now as he spoke her name out loud in his head. Hey, let's do this properly, "Ladies and Gentlemen, it gives me very great pleasure to introduce Miss Cassandra Emily DuBarre". How's that for class, huh?

He smiled as he remembered how she'd confided in him as to how the other kids were upsetting her. They had taken to ignoring her parents' middle-class values and sensibilities and were addressing her as "Cassie-May' and seemed to be extracting the maximum pleasure from watching her discomfort. She said it made her feel like one of the Beverly Hillbillies - Cassie-May Clampett or some other social outcast or misfit; a hick from the sticks instead of the prim and polished princess role that her parents had laid out for her. They'd sweated long hours in their ailing catering business with the solitary unstated aim of readying her to live in the style they'd like her to become accustomed to, and now the cruel name games played out by her classmates seemed poised to burst that bubble.

It had been Stephen's idea for her to recreate herself as Sandy; it had that nice ring to it which let it slip off the tongue and it gave her a preppy air which fitted her personality so much better than Cassandra ever had. She instinctively knew that this would be acceptable to her peers and in a moment of child-like exuberation, she threw her arms around him and kissed him. At that moment, he realized that he loved her with a passion that knew no bounds.

At first, he contained himself just to thinking about her, visualizing the two of them in all sorts of situations; watching a movie together, walking arm in arm in the park, sharing a large hamburger and fries together or sitting on her parent's porch watching the sun go down over the river. He'd spend hours imagining her wearing his favorite outfits, her hair done up just the way he liked it. In his head he would keep replaying every scrap of conversation they'd ever had (in truth, not all that many) and he'd embellish it with a few words here or there or maybe add a knowing look or a loving smile aimed in his direction. By the time he'd done, he was convinced that her every action (real or imagined) declared her undying love for him.

It was about that time that he started to make a point of hanging around her classroom at the end of every lesson in hopes of seeing her and catching her eye. She seemed genuinely pleased at his attentions at first, but this seemed to progress to her feeling uncomfortable about his presence and then to her actively trying to avoid him. He figured that this was due to the giggles and sniggers of her friends as he just stood there, gazing at her with that love-struck puppy look in his eyes. That was okay, he decided. He knew it could be difficult to show your true feelings in front of your classmates and he accepted that and could make allowances.

That was when he started phoning her house, just once or twice a day at first, but then it sort of grew from there. He loved to hear her say "hello... hello?" and he really had meant to say something in response; it was just that he found himself tongue-tied, his vocal chords frozen as her voice sent a chill running down his spine. Even when her father would answer the rest of the calls and demand in an irate tone "Who the hell is this?” he was still helpless to stop himself.

When Sandy's parents contacted their telephone company and requested a new unlisted number, it just seemed the natural progression to him to take up surveillance of her house. Whatever the weather, he'd stand around outside, looking up at her window, hoping for just the briefest glimpse of her. Even on the days when he wasn't rewarded with a sighting, he felt better that he was closer to her, for just being there. He'd see the neighbors eyeing him up nervously as they walked their dogs or jogged along, their interest temporarily torn away from their Walkman's. He'd just pretend to be tying his shoelace or studying a street map or something until they'd gone; then, he'd resume his vigil.

It was when he stopped going home at night that Sandy's parents finally called in the police. It was almost a scene out of some old B movie the day that the squad car pulled to a halt alongside the sidewalk and asked him to get into the car and accompany them to the station. Once there, he'd tried to say that it was all a misunderstanding, that they were making a big mistake that they would end up being sorry for. As it turned out, they were more than ready for him as they'd already pulled the phone records, both from his home and from school, which pretty much catalogued his obsession. It was at that point that his life (and him along with it) fell apart, as he realized that he could never hope for a future with Sandy. How could he expect her to be his one day if his means of earning a living were somewhat reduced. After all, his behavior would be viewed very badly by the school principal and he would probably be asked to leave. Without a reference from him, where would he be able to get another job as a teacher anyway?