Eugene and the first kiss

 

 

 

“Eugene!  Go to the principal’s office, and I am calling your Mother.”

 

“Mrs. Hamlin, where is the principal's office?”  Eugene curiously asked.  The kindergartners laughed

 

“Eugene, are you trying to be funny?

 

“No, Mrs. Hamlin,” he said, smiling at the unexpected laugh he got.

 

“I don’t know where to go.”

 

“Oh, go sit down at your table; I will deal with you later.”

 

Eugene took his seat back at his round table for six.  Mary Spano smiled at him from her seat across the room.  She wanted him to come back over, but she knew it would not be a good idea.

 

Eugene and Mary kissed.  It was only the third day of kindergarten.  His classmates barely had time to use their pencil sharpeners, but Eugene already had a mark he couldn't erase.  Eugene didn’t blame Mary, but he did tell Mrs. Hamlin, with the class listening, that she told him to do it, which she had.

 

“Eugene, what is your mother's phone number?” 

 

Eugene, startled, stood up and fumbled to reattach his clip-on tie that came loose as he got up.  His deep blue jacket and white shirt fit well, but did not suit him.  Eugene fidgeted for a moment and said 

 

“I think it is T - E – FIVE – ONE - OH…..FOUR hmm NINE, I think.”

 

Eugene knew he was in trouble for kissing Mary, but no one told him he had to stay in his seat.  He was an antsy child and distracted to a fault.  Today, his fault was kissing Mary.

 

“Class, color in page 5 of the picture book,” Mrs. Hamlin directed the class of about three dozen little people.  Several heads turned to see what page 5 looked like, and a few who were on the wrong page were given peer correction.

 

Mrs. Hamlin went over to the black rotary telephone on the table by a tall, narrow side window.  The hinged window was angled open, and warm, mild breeze aired the place that smelled like crayons and white paste glue.  She turned her back to the class, stuck her short, red nail-polished finger into the TUV # 8 hole, and dialed the exchange and the rest of the numbers Eugene gave her.  

 

“Hello, Mrs. Hendricks.” There was a pause, “This isn’t?  Oh, I am so sorry,   Eugene!”  

 

She snapped as she placed the phone back on its cradle, stronger than usual.

 

“Eugene,” she repeated, “come up to my desk.”

 

Mrs. Hamlin went over to her desk, clinched both her hands shut, pushed them against the heavy oak fortress, and stood there.  She kept this pose as she asked Eugene why he gave her the wrong number, and then folded her arms over her very large, unattractive, and well-protected bosoms.  She tapped her foot to add an intimidating effect, and the class was in a suspenseful wait for his reply. 

 

“That isn’t my phone number?”  Eugene said as the class laughed behind him again.

 

“No, Eugene, that is not your telephone number,” Mrs. Hamlin said with her arms still folded, resting on her floral dress, and gave him an “explain yourself” look. 

 

“Are you sure?  What numbers did I say it was?”  Eugene asked in a genuine and believably surprised tone.

 

“You said it was T E FIVE ONE OH FOUR NINE.” The episode hardened, veteran Kindergarten teacher impatiently parroted.

 

“That’s my number, I think,” He said and shook his head up and down to convince himself, but he looked uncertain and put his hands in his pockets and crossed his fingers.

 

“Eugene, I want you to call your Mother” 

 

Mrs. Hamlin pointed to the telephone waiting in the small alcove next to a small bathroom. 

 

Eugene uncrossed his sticky fingers and went over to the phone.  He noticed he liked this alcove.  The light was pleasant as it bounced off the wall of the bathroom and the slate gray blackboard that confined the cozy space, and it didn’t smell as much from the instruments of kindergarten learning.  He picked up the phone, which was not heavy but bulky for him, and held it awkwardly to his right ear.  

 

Mrs. Hamlin towered over him, ready to watch the numbers he dialed on the big black telephone.  “T “- he said out loud as he dialed the exchange and heard the click click click… of the wholly ring apparatus as it made its return trip.  “E” click, click…– FIVE – ONE – OH - FOUR” and then his voice stopped short.  He looked at the NINE and then the SIX and knew he had told Mrs. Hamlin the wrong number by mistake.  He often got the 9 and the 6 confused.  He turned, looked up at her with a very embarrassed, nervous look, and said 

 

“I think it is this one,” and pointed to the 6.  

 

“I think it is the SIX one, not the NINE one.”  Eugene smiled a helplessly honest smile.

 

She looked at him with some disbelief since her mercy and compassion graduated years ago, and all that remained was the rote child teaching routine.  She said nothing.  He looked at the 6, placed his nail-bitten pointer finger into the hole, and wishfully dialed the SIX and heard the ringing.  

 

“Hello,” the familiar voice of his Mother answered.  Eugene did not know what to say and looked at Mrs. Hamlin.  She looked back at him with a “go ahead and say Hello” look.

 

Eugene said, “Hello,” and his Mother recognizing his voice, said,

 

“Eugene, you are supposed to be in school.”

 

“I am MOM,” he said without giving any indication of the nature of the call.

 

“Are you alright?” his Mother asked in a concerned but not distressed voice. 

 

“Ah, yes,” he said with a trill, give away, an inflection at the end.

 

“Why are you calling? Do you need something?”  His Mother caring asked

 

“No,” he said, trying to postpone the enviable disclosure as long as possible.

 

“Eugene?” his Mother said with a voice-changing tone.

 

“Are you in trouble?”

 

There was silence; a long enough silence that the answer “YES” was not only implied, but guilt came right along for the long ride.

 

“I think so.”

 

“Eugene, what did you do?”  His Mother asked in disbelief, but not bewildered disbelief, as she shook her head at the other end of the line, thinking, “It’s only his third day of kindergarten!”

 

Mrs. Hamlin had heard the whole exchange thus far.  The old phone company issued telephone was quite loud and Eugene held it away from his head like it was, or he was, a dumbbell.  The big, burly matron grabbed the phone away and said, 

 

“Mrs. Hendricks, this is Mrs. Hamlin.  I caught Eugene kissing a girl in class.  I am going to send him home.”  She said in a final verdict, case closed, near gavel slamming, tone

 

“Mrs. Hamlin isn’t that a little…”  Eugene Mother started to say as Mrs. Hamlin cut her off. 

 

“I cannot have that kind of bad behavior in my class, and I won’t; he is going home.”  

 

“But I can’t come to get him; my husband has our car at his work,” Mrs. Hendricks explained in hopes of lessening her involvement in the strict sentence. 

 

“Well, I cannot keep him in my kindergarten class; He will be in the principal's office.”

 

“But Mrs. Hamlin, please…”  

 

Eugene’s Mother was about to come to the aid of her most mischievous son.  Although this was not his first encounter with authority, it was the first episode with the authorities of this new learning institution.  Mrs. Hendricks went into her “Please be understanding” mode.  She could be very convincing, especially since this seemed like an innocent thing.  She had gotten worse, much more serious calls than this.  

 

Mrs. Hamlin knew she would likely not back down, since kissing in class was unacceptable and must be made an example of and punished severely.  However, she was experienced in many disciplinary ways; she decided to give the latest Mother of an unruly child a listen.  

 

Mrs. Hamlin, knowing this might take a while, looked at Eugene and said, 

“Go back to your table while I talk with your Mother.”

 

Eugene knew that if his Mom was giving “that speech,” the worst was over, he thought.  

 

Eugene went back to his seat.  Mrs. Hamlin listened and interjected only occasionally, mostly she quietly looked out the narrow window, taken in the breeze, deciding when to end the one-sided conversation and say - NO!

 

Eugene was back at his seat and about to color when he looked up, and there was Mary Spano with the biggest brown eyes and the prettiest brunette hair.  He smiled.  She was his type.  Even at only 4 and a half, he knew.  She looked him in the eyes and gave him a quick kiss.  The whole class saw the peck and picked a reaction; some laughed, some oooow’d, some giggled, and some made a gasping noise.  No one was silent on the kiss and telling matter.  

 

The sound of the commotion filled the rigid, high-ceiled classroom and shook the strict environment with the unacceptable sounds of excited children.  The two rows of three round tables each stocked with five little laughing students were out of control.  Mrs. Hamlin turned around and moved out of the alcove only to see Mary Spano and Eugene kissing.

 

“Eugene,” she yelled.  “Stop that!”

 

Mary scurried back across the room to her table as though if she ran fast enough, the event would be sucked back in time.  She jumped into her chair, which made a scraping noise as it slid over the recently waxed dark and light beige tiled floor.  The chair, with Mary precariously on board, screeched to a thumping halt. She grabbed a red crayon and started to color outside the lines. 

 

“Eugene!”  Mrs. Hamlin yelled again with greater authority and less surprise.

 

“What did he do?  What did he do?”  Mrs. Hendricks shouted at the other end of the telephone line.  

 

“He kissed her again, that’s what he did,” Mrs. Hamlin pronounced her gavel-smashing sentence into the telephone and continued,

 

“Your Son will be in the principal's office whenever you decide to come for him.”

 

Mrs. Hendricks could tell this Kindergarten teacher would not budge and was not one to respond to motherly begging, parental demands, or grown up reasoning, and she politely asked,

 

“May I please speak to my Son, please?  

 

“Eugene, your Mother wants to talk to you,” Mrs. Hamlin barked, and she stuck the phone out into the stinky white glue and construction paper air, and waited for the cut-up to take the bulky telephone, and face the punishment.  

 

“Hello,” Eugene said with his heart beating from all kinds of things.

 

“Eugene, what did you do?”  His Mom asked as though she didn’t know.  She wanted to hear it from him.

 

“Mary Spano kissed me.” 

 

“Mary Spano kissed YOU.”

 

“Yes on the mouth!”  Eugene said with boyish pride and surprise.

 

“Eugene, if she kissed you, then why is Mrs. Hamlin sending you home”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Mrs. Hamlin grabbed the phone and said 

 

“Mrs. Hendricks, I have a class to run.  Your son will be with Sister Jude; you can speak to him there.”

 

She was about to put the telephone down when Eugene stuck his head near the mouthpiece and yelled 

 

“Bye, Mom.”

 

Mrs. Hamlin dropped the phone from about three inches above the cradle with case-closing finality.

 

“Eugene, go to the Principal's office”

 

“But where is it?” Eugene said with some frustration. 

 

The class laughed, but only a tiny bit.  They sensed that once Eugene left, they were in for a stern lecture and didn’t want to make it any sterner or longer.  Mrs. Hamlin pointed to the door and said,

 

“Eugene, it is the door with the word Principal on it at the end of the hall by the boys’ room.”

 

“Oh yeah, I know that one,” he said. 

 

He had passed the heavy oak and wire mesh glass door across from the boys’ room.  He had wondered if it was the janitor’s closet, since it smelled like Lysol.  He couldn’t read yet and thought the word on the glass might have said Janitor.  

 

“You tell Sister Jude what you did, and wait there for your Mother.”

 

“OK,” Eugene said, seeing no reason to say anything other than that.  He went to the door, opened it, and looked back.  Mary Spano was smiling and waving a cute little wave to him.  He wanted to wave back but thought better of it and left the room.  

 

The hall was quiet and empty, except for him.  Since the Kindergarten had its own entrance, he had only been in the long hall once or twice before.  He marched down the terrazzo-floored hallway with one shoe untied.  The highlight pastel green painted plaster walls echoed his footsteps and loose laces and mixed with the mumble of classroom lessons as he passed the first grade, the second grade, and finally the eighth grade classroom right near the boys’ room.  This was the big boys’ bathroom, and since the kindergarten had its own, he had been inside only a few times.

 

Across from the boys’ room was the heavy white oak and glass door.  He took a deep breath, grabbed the cold doorknob, looked up at the word painted on the wire mesh glass, which he now knew said Principal, and pushed open the door and entered.  The room had a sterile odor, and with the chairs up against the walls, it felt like a doctor's waiting room.  

 

Sister Jude opened her office door and looked at Eugene, who was about to take a seat.

 

“What can I do for you, Mr…?”  She paused, leading him on to tell her his name.

 

“I am Eugene, Eugene Hendricks.  Mrs. Hamlin sent me.”

 

Sister Jude heard her phone ring, but ignored it and asked Eugene

 

“Why did she send you down to me?”

 

The phone was on its third ring, and Sister Jude said 

 

“Come in,” as she walked back to her desk and picked up the ringing telephone.  It was Mrs. Hamlin explaining the circumstances of Eugene's surprise visit.

 

“Yes, he’s here.  OK, I see, thank you.  I will handle it.” Sister Jude gentle place the phone down, folded her hands together, placed them and her elbows on the neatly organized desk, leaned forward, and said 

 

“So, Mr. Hendricks, Mrs. Hamlin said she caught you kissing a girl. Why did you do that?”

 

Eugene thought the question odd.  He didn’t know exactly what to say; it seemed self-explanatory even to a kindergartener.  However, this was a Nun, and this was a Catholic school, and she wanted and demanded answers.   

 

“Mr. Hendricks,” The principled Nun said, using his name to repeat the question.

 

Eugene knew that when his last name was used, it was not a good sign.

 

“Yes, sister,” he said, buying some time.

 

“Why did you kiss her?”  She repeated louder and clearer

 

He thought of telling the truth, saying,

 

“Well, she kissed me first, and I didn’t mind, so I kissed her back, and then she came over and kissed me some more.”  

 

Nevertheless, Eugene felt like that would be tattling, even though it was true, and did not want to get her in trouble.  He just said, 

 

“Cause”

 

Sister Jude was not one to get into the “cause-why” routine.

 

“OK,” she said.  Mrs. Hamlin said she called your Mother

 

“Yes, sister”

 

“When is she picking you up?”  Sister Jude said.  

 

Eugene looked up at the man on the cross hanging on the wall over her head.

 

“I don’t know?”

 

Just then, the phone rang.  Sister Jude picked up and made a gesture to Eugene and said

 

“Hello, Mrs. Hendricks. Yes, yes, he is right here.  Would you like to speak with him?  All right, I will tell him.”

 

The parochial school Principal hung up the telephone gently and looked at Eugene. 

 

“That was your Mother,” she said, revealing the obvious.

 

“She is going to send a Cab for you.” It will be here in about ten minutes.  Now, Eugene, what are you going to do tomorrow?  Sister Jude asked, looking for him to know the correct answer.

 

Tomorrow, do I have to come back to school?

 

“Yes, Eugene, you will,” she said with a mildly exasperated tone, not expecting to have to coach the youth to the right answer

 

“Oh, well then, I will do coloring.”  

 

Sister Jude did not think to be slow, but he was not cooperating she was getting truly exasperated.

 

“What about kissing?  She said in a leading way

 

“Kissing?”  He questioned, not knowing where she was leading him, as he thought what does she mean?

 

“Kissing!  Will you do any kissing?”

 

“Well, if Mary kisses me, I won’t kiss her back,” he shot back proudly, thinking he got the gist of her question, and gave a smile to accompany his seemingly right answer

 

However, Sister Jude did not accept the answer and emphatically demanded, “You will not let her kiss you.  Do you understand that, Mr. Hendricks!”

 

He was seeing where this was going and said in compliance Yes, Sister, Oh Yes,

But he knew he would not stop her.

 

“Alright then, wait in the other room for the cab.  He will honk, I am sure.

 

Eugene went out, closed her office, and waited.  He sat fidgeting for a few minutes, then called out 

 

“Sister”

 

“What is it, Eugene?” 

 

“Can I use the boys’ room?” 

 

“Well, alright, make it fast.”

 

He slid off the hardwood seat onto the terrazzo floor with a small circular rug and went across the hall to the boys’ room.  

 

He took care of business, then looked around.  The big boys’ room had six tall porcelain urinals and three sinks, and the floor looked like a giant checked board with small black and white tiles.  It was a big bathroom.  He went over to the beaded glass and wire mesh window that was just barely opened at the bottom and peeked out.  Outside was the big kids’ playground with the basketball hoops and the running track.  Eugene had never played in this yard since the kindergarten had a playground with a swing set outside the classroom.  

 

Eugene stared out at the empty yard, thinking of being a big kid one day, and heard a horn, but paid no attention.  He rested his chin on the ledge and stared into a future of recesses and lunch breaks.

 

“Eugene!”  Are you still in there?” he heard Sister Jude calling.

 

Without waiting for a reply, the door to the boys’ room swung open, and Sister Jude saw Eugene by the window and said

 

“Eugene, what are you doing?  The taxi driver is waiting for you.”

 

“Yes, Sister, Eugene said, turned, and started to run to the door. 

 

“Slow down, no running,” Sister Jude reminded him.  

 

He knew that rule and stopped running, but he walked as fast as he could.  

 

The school entrance, where the taxi patiently waited, was next to the principal's office.  Eugene walked past the sterile smell, down the short hall, put his outstretched, freshly washed little hands on the bar, and pushed the door open with an echoing clank.  The warm air and sunlight of an early September day hit him in the face like a daytime campfire.  It felt good and reminded him of his sleep-away summer, but he wondered if he would be able to spend any time outside enjoying the afternoon or be punished and just spend his time looking out from the solitary confinement of his bedroom.

 

Just outside, the idling yellow cab was waiting.  The driver, standing by the passenger door, was surprised to see such a small young rider.  When Eugene got to the cab, the driver looked over and smiled at Sister Jude, who was watching from her office window through the slats in her Venetian blinds.  She did not smile back, but parted the white metal slats open enough to show his full face and give a nod that little Eugene was his fare.  The driver retracted his smile and soberly nodded.  And said out loud  

 

 

“Yes, Sister.”

 

The blinds snapped up and twisted shut.

 

Sister Jude was out of the picture now.  Eugene got into the cab on the next leg of his mouth-to-mouth retribution.  The back seat was a firm, shiny vinyl, and bouncy.  He pushed his hand down and up a few time then stopped when the taxi man opened the driver’s door and looked back at him.

 

“Well, young man, do you know where you live.  Your mother called but didn’t tell us where to take you.”

 

Eugene looked at the taxi man in the leather visor cap and leather bow tie and said

 

“Yes, Sir, I think so.”  

 

The regional parochial school was one town over from his house, and he did not know the way very well.  “It’s on Northumberland Road,” he said, hoping that would help.

 

“Northumberland, I know, where that is, nice place.”

 

Eugene did not know what to say.  He did not excel in cordial conversations with strangers.  He always had a difficult time knowing how to answer simple questions like “What do you say?”  His father's friends would always ask him that, and he would mostly just stare back and smile or say  “I don’t know,” which made him feel far dumber than he felt he was.

 

The diver noticed he got no reply, so he tried another question.  

 

“Why are you going home? Are you sick?”

 

“Nope, they sent me home because a girl kissed me.”

 

“A girl kissed YOU,” the driver said as he looked into the rear-view mirror and smiled at the bold young man.  

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, she kissed me and dared me to kiss her back, on the mouth.  So I did, and my teacher saw me at her table kissing her.”

 

“Oh, and you’re being sent home for that.”  The driver said in a “boy, they are strict” tone

 

“Yes, sir,” he said in a guilty, unfairly charged tone.

 

“Why did she kiss you?”

 

“I don’t know.  I guess she likes me.” 

 

“Sounds like it,” The driver affirmed and queried further, “Do you like her?” 

 

“Yeah, she’s pretty.”

 

The driver looked front but smiled and almost laughed.

 

There was a lull in the short conversation as they drove down River Road.  The driver, going exactly the speed limit, drove down a little dip and up.  Eugene's stomach jumped up and gave him a wobbly feeling, and he said 

 

“Woo.” And giggled.

 

The driver looked back quickly over his shoulder and said 

 

“What's the matter, son?”

 

Eugene said as he held his stomach.  “I got a wiggly feeling in my tummy.”

 

The driver knew it must have been the dip in the road and said 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, son, it must have been that dip back there.”

 

Eugene said, “Oh no, that's OK. I like it, it felt funny, can we do it again?”

 

The driver thought for a second.  He didn’t see any reason not to do it again.  This was a flat fare, and he had nothing better to do.  Why not, he decided. 

 

“Sure, we can!” he said  

 

At the next street, he made a rather sharp left turn.  Then another left, he drove for a few blocks, and made two more lefts.  The dip was right up ahead.  He went the same speed, down, and up.

 

Eugene giggled, “WOOOO, that was ever better.”

 

The driver laughed at the genuine delight of a flying stomach and said

 

“Want to do it again?”

 

“SURE,” Eugene replied instantly

 

They followed the same flying stomach pattern two more times until Eugene and the driver were full-out laughing.   

 

“We'd better get you home,” the driver said as he realized Eugene’s Mother might be waiting.

 

“One more time Please.” 

 

“OK, last one.”

 

“OK, thanks.”

 

As they drove around this time, the driver asked Eugene his name 

 

“I’m Eugene Hendricks.”

 

Well, Eugene, I am Kelly Smith.  You can call me Kelly.

 

Eugene only smiled; he was still not familiar with the ways to pick up the conversation.

 

They drove over the dip of delight.  Eugene and Kelly laughed again, and the taxi continued to the fate that awaited him.

 

Kelly realized that he was bringing his new little friend to an unsettling state of affairs, a face-off with a Mother who had to pay to have her son driven home from Catholic school.

 

Kelly asked Eugene, “Are you going to be in much trouble’

 

Eugene had almost forgotten that this cab ride was not for a good time, and his stomach sank to a new low.  He knew his Mom would not be happy

 

“I don’t know,” he said with a big sigh for a small kid.  

 

“I don’t know,” he repeated in abject something.

 

This time, Kelly did not know what to say.  As a taxi driver, he could gab easily and converse on most casual topics, but being tossed out of kindergarten on the third day of school for kissing a girl.  This was worse than a drive to a funeral.  He had never taken anyone to task.  Kelly sensed the abject something and tried to lessen the injustice, but got more details about the sentence, said,

 

“It seems an awfully hard punishment to send you home for kissing a girl. What else did you do?”

 

“Nothing, I didn’t do anything.  I just kissed her back.”

 

“Gee,” Kelly said in a “touch luck” tone as he saw the street sign for Northumberland Road and slowed for the final turn

 

“What happened to the girl?”  He asked.

 

“Mary?” Eugene said with a wondering reply

 

“Nothing!  Mrs. Hamlin didn’t say anything to her.”  

 

“She didn’t,” Kelly said, expressing his feeling about the injustice, as he drove slowly up the block

 

“That’s my house over there.  Ohhh, and there’s my Mom.  Eugene said, and from his reaction, Kelly knew he was in trouble, and Eugene knew his Mom had time to plan his indoor afternoon.

 

The taxi stopped, and Eugene Mom was coming to the taxi. 

 

 “How come nothing happened to her?”  Kelly said in a life is unfair tone, but wanting closure.

 

Eugene looked at him with the look of a martyr and said 

 

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because her name is Mary.  Mary’s a nice name.” 

 

Kelly was confused and looked in the rearview mirror as Eugene opened the door.  

 

Kelly settled up with Mrs. Hendricks as Eugene walked to the front porch and turned around.

 

Kelly smiled a sympathetic smile at the unjustly convicted kindergartener as his Mom walked back.  Eugene smiled back and waved to Kelly and thought about his flying stomach ride; the day wasn’t so bad.  However, the day was not over.

 

“Eugene!  Get inside.”  His Mother said.