MY FIRST CRUSH

Wherefore Art Thou, Mindy Kozinski?

The true story of Romeo and Juliet…kind of

My relationships with women were imperiled at a young age because Mindy Kozinski broke my heart in fourth grade.

I'm now sixty-six, but I can still remember the pain of my first love interest.

Saturday, circa 1965. I stuck my hand deep inside my mother's purse and fished out some loose change. Then I snuck past my little sister, who was watching The Jetsons. I was on a mission to get Mindy Kozinski the best gift she ever got from a kid a little over three feet tall.

At the store, I asked the owner, Mr. Kooker, "What would make a girl in high school fall in love with me?"

"Damned if I know," he said in a thick Romanian accent.

"I’m not kidding, Mr. Kooker. I need to get her something now. I’m going to ask her to go steady today."

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Nine and a half."

“How old is the girl in question?”

“Seventeen.”

"You’re too young to have a girlfriend," Mr. Kooker said. "I didn't start dating until I was thirty-six. And older women only like younger men when they’re at least fifty. You’re barking up the wrong tree, kid."

"Please, Mr. Kooker. It's an emergency!"

"How much are you willing to spend?" he asked.

"Forty-seven cents," I said.

He shook his head, thinking I was the most pathetic little runt he had ever seen — but he was old school and believed the customer always comes first.

“And it has to be yellow,” I said. “Everything is yellow about Mindy — her hair, her raincoat, and the sunshine whenever she comes outside. She lives on the same block as me.”

He held up his forefinger, went behind the counter, retrieved a clear plastic container, and handed it to me. There were tons of little gifts inside that looked like Cracker Jack prizes — buttons, fake noses, chattering teeth, and little racing cars.

After a short search, I found it. It was at the bottom of the plastic container. God or somebody must have put it there. It was the perfect gift to celebrate our engagement, a beaded love bracelet— and it was yellow — Mindy’s favorite color!

"I'll take this one, Mr. Kooker. Can you wrap it, please?"

"Wrap it?" asked Mr. Kooker. "What do you think this is, Macy's?"

How could Mindy not be thrilled when she slips it on? She would admire the bracelet forever — show it off to all the world. That would cement our relationship forever!

Butterflies flew around my tummy like Kamikaze pilots as I walked up the street toward her house, squeezing the bracelet in my sweaty palms like I had bought it from a jewelry store. I visualized Mindy being so impressed that she'd kiss me with her dry, cracked lips.

Once I got to Mindy's house, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It was finally the big moment.

Her mother opened the screen door and, when she saw me, gave me a sour look like she had eaten a rotten egg sandwich.

"I'm here for Mindy," I said confidently.

"Mark," the mother said sternly, "Mindy is here, but she’s not coming to the door."

"Why? Is she sick?"

"Mark. She's eight years old than you. Mindy has a boyfriend who’s a Freshman in college — and you’re only nine. Why don’t you find a girl your own age?"

"But I’m mature for my age, Mrs. Kozinski!" I said. "I’m in the mentally gifted class, and I can read Shakespeare — well, kind of."

"I'm sorry, Mark. But she only hangs out with teenagers."

"But I love her, Mrs. Kozinski. We were made to be together — just like Romeo and Juliet."

Mindy's father, who’s about seven-foot-tall, came to the door with an even meaner disposition.

"Stop it already, Mark. Every day you slip a love letter into our mail slot. You put wilted roses on our doorstep that you stole from our garden. I realize that Mindy is beautiful, but you’re too young, and she’s not interested. If you plan on seeing Mindy again, I'll have to talk to your father."

"No, that's alright, Mr. Kozinski. I'll stay away from your daughter. But please, give her this bracelet."

I opened my palm and found the bracelet string broken and all the loose L-O-V-E beads in my hand. I must have squeezed it too hard while walking.

"Never mind," I said and turned dejectedly and shuffled away.

Some fancy bracelet, I muttered. I'm going to Kookers to get my money back.

I'll never forget how heartbroken I felt that day. A boy in jean shorts and P.F. Flyers, thinking how unfair the world was denying two lovers a chance to be together. I imagined Mindy and me running off somewhere, maybe getting on a bus and going to Atlantic City. We'd live on the boardwalk, going on all the rides and selling funnel cakes.

But after I thought about it more, I realized I didn’t have the courage. I never went on public transportation other than a school bus. And I never went anywhere without telling my parents, who would probably have a fit if I eloped with the girl across the street.

There was only one thing left to do — drink some poison and die.

Nah. I didn’t even like to take cough syrup when I had a cold. And besides, Little League Baseball is starting next week, and I want to try out for pitching.

Lucky for me, Mr. Kooker had a kind heart and returned my money from the bracelet. So I bought a Zagnut bar to ease my pain.

© 2022 Mark Tulin

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