His name was Alex, and for the life of me, I can't remember what he looked like but for the rest of my years, he will always be tied to my preteen years and my memories of crushes, friendships, puberty and shopping malls. Though I can't see his face, this is what I do remember: Alex worked at the Kirby's Coney Island that was neatly placed next to the Sbarro's and right across the way from the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Coney's are a Michigan tradition and though the National Coney Island is the king of Detroit, Kirby's had the market cornered on the Lakeside Mall.
Every chance we'd get, my friends Kandy, Jason, and myself would try to finagle one of our parents to drop us off at Lakeside and then get someone else to pick us up later. I hardly remember any instances where any of us had any kind of real money to spend but we'd window shop just the same, checking out Contempo Casuals and picking out things in Hudson's that we'd buy if we could. It was a taste of freedom, a moment where we could feel like we were adults doing adult things though all three of us were far from it.
Like any good shopper, we would always make time for lunch and that usually happened at Kirby's. The location was central to all the good stores, the food was good and--even better--it was cheap, and if we were lucky, Alex, the cute waiter would be working. I know we only got lucky two or three times, but let me tell you, those times were worth it. My foggiest recollections of Alex make me think that he was tall, had dark hair, and was probably Greek. All I know is that he was cute and both Kandy and I thought so.
So we'd roll on into Kirby's hoping for Alex, but usually end up with someone else. There was this one time when the stars were lined perfectly and he waited on our table. I am positive that I drooled the whole time, and then, in my pre-teen eyes, I made a complete fool of myself.
Alex dropped off our food and gave us what must have been a winning smile. "Enjoy your food."
Of course, I smiled back and said, "Thanks, you too." And though now that I'm 33 years old it seems like a big nothing, at the time I was mortified that I would say such a thing to someone who wasn't eating. Kandy and Jason just thought it was funny.
The funny thing is that Alex no longer symbolizes a boy to me. He has come to be a part of the magical time in my life when I was learning who I was and how I fit in this world. He is a memory that fits into one of my first strong friendships. The time I spent with Kandy and Jason at that mall has solidified who I am as a person in some ways. It's my silly beginnings, my Beaches moment, and I think one of the reasons that I seem to make friendships that span time. I owe that to Kandy and Jason...and maybe Alex but I don't think so.
In 1990, I left Michigan and I left behind Kandy and Jason. Kandy and I talked on the phone a lot. She was the Maid of Honor in my wedding and we've helped each other through miscarriages, births, deaths, and the trials of growing up. Funny thing is, I think I've seen her once in the last ten years. We still talk by emails and occaisionally on the phone. She lives in North Carolina now and has a wonderful family.
Jason...I could write all kinds of things about him but the truth is that for a long time, we lost contact. He was growing up and I was playing house. People grow apart. That's part of life but coming full circle is also part of who we are. One day I was looking at a webpage for a prominent dance company in New York. His name was on the site and I couldn't help myself. I sent threw out an email. I didn't really expect anything back but when I checked my inbox and saw a note from him, I melted. He and I have both grown up and I think we understand ourselves--and each other so much better than we ever did before though there's this funny ongoing fued about lawnchairs as living room furniture.
Somewhere inside of me is the fourteen year old Margee. And in that place is Alex, the mall, and vegetarian pitas. But also in that place are three kids, trying to grow up and find their ways. It's a part of me I fight not to forget, even though the memories get a little nostalgic and fuzzy around the edges.
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