By Sinmisola Ogúnyinka
The last time I saw Sean Pierson the tips of his dark blonde hair were dyed a faint purple and he was too thin for his height because of his vegetarian diet. Though those were not the things I remember best about Sean.
We attended Middle School together, if being in his 8th grade class for just that final year could be termed, “attended together.” However, we did graduate the same year.
I had been traveling the world with my missionary parents and was the new kid on the block once every two years. Suffice to say, instead of turning me into a moron, those school experiences toughened me. By the time I got back home to Louisiana to finish Middle School, I was a tanned, beautiful, and confident 14-year-old brunette. I spoke four foreign languages fluently and had a butt girls thought was “African.”
Sean, like all the other boys “salivated” over me. Not that I cared. Once any of them tried to say the wrong words, I shoved them in the face with my shield of “faith.” It frustrated many that the pretty new kid was a fanatic Christian.
My best memory of Sean was the day he’d gotten into the middle of a fight and had experienced the beating of his life. I can still see him, blood dripping off his nose after Dwayne—rightly named after the wrestler, The Rock—had kicked him in the face. Dwayne had then proceeded with several punches, although Sean had already been floored. That thick-set black boy could have made a pulp of the skinny white boy if recess hadn’t been over. Yes, no one tried to stop Dwayne from “killing” Sean.
All morning Sean had been a nuisance. It seemed to be his bad day. He’d said all the wrong things to teacher and classmates alike. When Dwayne had gotten upset with his friend, Jamir—regarding what till today hardly anyone remembered and Sean had unwisely decided to make fun of the friends—he’d gotten what he had coming.
Fifteen years later, and seated in the doctor’s office, I can’t but remember the Sean Pierson I once knew. He had changed tremendously. The physique beneath the cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a nice red tie, pants that called my attention too much despite “my shield of faith”, and deep blue eyes which seemed to only have deepened over the years, made me realize a saying I had once heard on one of our many missionary trips to Africa - the young shall grow - was true.
Sean Pierson had grown.
My best friend, Lara, wanted to have a test-tube baby. It was something she had considered for so long with her husband, since she couldn’t carry a child. Finally, she had asked me to escort her to the new fertility clinic in town to get counseling and then probably receive testing if she qualified.
I knew Sean worked as a doctor at the clinic, but never had a reason to check him out. If at all, he could have tried to find me…we both knew his crush was huge then.
He had been back for nearly three months. I worked at the district court interning after law school since I never left home after middle school. He’d gone on to boarding high school and later his family had moved north.
Lara squeezed my hand. “Wish me luck.”
“I do. And a prayer too.”
She stood and followed a nursing staff. I hadn’t even heard her name called. My focus was on the handsome Sean who had not yet seen me. However, I had been studying him for all of five minutes since he entered an office bordering the reception area with a glass partition.
If he turned, he would see me staring. Suffice to say, I liked everything I saw. I was still very single after a couple failed courtships. Was I ready for this?
A nurse entered the office Sean was in and spoke to him. He raised his left hand in a “hold on a minute” gesture. That’s when I noticed the wedding band on his fourth finger.
I didn’t know I wanted what I saw of Sean Pierson so badly until Lara found me later in the car.
About the Author
Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer, and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics and is a Craftsman of Jerry B. Jenkins’ former Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Philadelphia, PA.
You can read Sinmisola's flash fiction on the 4th Tuesday each month here at Pandora's Box Gazette.