Unforeseen Deterioration

I was watching an episode of The Love Boat a few minutes ago. I don’t know why. It was just on and I was barely paying attention. I think it was one of the later episodes of the series, one of the ones where they actually get off the boat and go to various locations and explore. In passing, I overheard that the crew and their guests just so happened to be in Acapulco, Mexico.

I’ve never been to Acapulco and truthfully, I have no intention of going there.

Still, just hearing “Acapulco” brought me back to my middle school years, when I was friends with a girl named Gabriella. Actually, we were more like classmates than actual friends. We weren’t close. We had a few classes together and we spoke to each other, though really only in passing. I can count the number of deep conversations we had on one finger.

I don’t know how we got to talking like that in the first place. I remember that she was a new student who had arrived in the middle of the school year and she seemed interesting enough. Actually, that’s not true. Gabriella was pretty and she caught my eye. Now, at that age, I was pretty dumb when it came to talking to females. I was definitely not as well versed in the skill like I am now.

We were sitting at a table together and somehow, we started talking. I don’t recall who initiated that conversation, but given that I was really shy (before I started referring to myself as introverted) and not one to engage with others, I would give her all of the credit for getting that conversation started.

The one thing I remember, aside from her divulging that she was born in Acapulco, was that she had hoped to one day become a model. I want to say that a lot of girls at that age may have had that very aspiration, but when I heard Gabriella say it, I firmly believed that she could have actually done it and become some kind of model. She had a pretty face. She also had the figure, I suppose. I liked the way she looked, so in my young mind at the time, I had no reason to think that she couldn’t have pulled that off. So not surprisingly, every time I saw her after that, I envisioned her as a runway model.

Then eighth grade came along and we were now a year older. She was still very pretty, at least when that school year started. Then, almost without warning, she got caught up with the wrong crowd. Just like that, her angelic presence was no more and suddenly, she became tainted and polluted by the various miscreants that the school had to offer. She went from wearing all kinds of colorful garb to wearing blacks, whites, and grays exclusively. The loss of color definitely extended beyond just her attire. Even her makeup took a dark and less than attractive turn. She wasn’t quite rocking the goth look, but she wasn’t too far from it.

She had completely changed.

I noticed that we weren’t in the same classes anymore and she would wind up in regular classes. Being that I was still in the advanced curriculum, I didn’t see much of her after that. The only class that we shared was, not surprisingly, Spanish. Even then, we barely spoke.

I’ll tell you that she got dumber as that year progressed. She seemed to want to go the route of chola rather than that of future model. She completely deteriorated.

Before I continue, I want to make it clear that there is nothing wrong with the chola look. In fact, I kind of like it, when done right, of course. But for some reason, it wasn’t her. Gabriella was destined for more, for so much better. I think she could have done it, but I guess she wanted something else.

We definitely didn’t see much of each other in high school even though we would attend the same high school for those four years. Even in passing, she didn’t acknowledge me. I didn’t dwell on it then and rest assured, I don’t dwell on it now. I spent my four years of high school trying to keep my grades high enough so that I could get to a quality university. I don’t know what the hell she was doing with her time in high school. I would take Spanish for all four years of high school, even though I think the minimum foreign language requirement at the time was two years. I never had Gabriella in any of those classes. I found out later that she stopped studying Spanish altogether because she wanted to learn a completely different language. I think Spanish was her first language, so I could see why she had lost interest in studying it formally. As for me, I looked at Spanish as an easy A, so I stuck with it. She thought she’d be doing herself a favor by studying French.

Our time in high school eventually came to an end and we went our separate ways. I mean this time, physically and “for real”. I would go on to continue my education at the University of Southern California. She would become pregnant not long after we graduated from high school. While four years after high school, I was looking to figure out what kind of job I wanted with that degree from USC, she was three years into motherhood.

I don’t know how many kids she would end up having. I don’t know what she ever did, as far as work or even a career. All I ever wonder is what could have been. I want to say that she had a good, solid enough foundation, at least, when I first met her in the seventh grade. Then not even a year later, it all just sort of fell apart.

I guess a part of me still envisions that Gabriella had “made it” and became that model that she once dreamed about becoming. I think she could have been something, I mean, other than a teenage mother.

Tragically, at least from where I’m sitting, it all went awry when we were in the eighth grade. I never saw it coming.