Things we Don’t Tell Our Parents
The First time we met was defined by all of the things that we didn’t discuss. The few
conversations we had up to that point were short, stilted, a question asked and answered, nothing
personal. Our longest communication was maybe five texts long, discussing what we were going to do
about a microwave and refrigerator. I would provide those, she was bringing a dehumidifier, she goes by
AJ. The thing that surprised me most about her when she first entered was the height, all arms and legs
unable to navigate our cell of a room without banging a shin or a head against the nearest object. Then
there were the skateboards, three of them, all different sizes and shapes, I know the types of boards
now, somewhat, but at that moment all I could tell you was that the small one glowed in the dark and
she hadn’t brought a helmet. The last thing that surprised me was when her father walked in and called
her Alissa. My mom and I made eye contact and agreed not to ask. The look on her face when we stayed
silent said thank you. That was probably the first conversation we had. Keeping in tradition we
continued to not discuss the things we were supposed to have already sorted out. We had no ground
rules, only a silent agreement that I would not ask about the name.
I received the answer to the question I didn’t ask that night. There was a crowd in our room, we
were the first dorm on our hall, and everyone was too drunk on independence, adulthood, and the
reality that we were at college, to be by themselves. It turned out that AJ loved to entertain, when the
audience was right. She told us about herself, showed off the tattoos she wasn’t supposed to have and
told us everything we wanted to know. The Alissa from that afternoon was gone, this girl wanted to be a
comedian, to drop out of college, to become addicted to cocaine, to get married and then promptly get
divorced, and she wanted to be called AJ. One of these wishes was more immediately attainable than
the others, though her jokes are hilarious when they’re not just direct quotes from stand-up specials.
She feeds off the energy of others. The first time my sister visited, AJ threw herself onto her lap in lieu of
a greeting. She loves music no one has ever heard of and movies that end in tragedy. I’ve seen her take
apart an engine and put it back together again while giving a detailed analysis of the Eminem song she’s
mumbling along to. She once indulged me in a lengthy argument about the value of modern art and
what constitutes worth. She’s full of excitement for so many different things and a passionate belief that
life is meaningless. She’s the coolest person I know, though she insists that it’s because I’m a nerd and
has little bearing on her own life. She’s wrong.