The summer of ’89 was when it all went wrong for her. The adults in her life were making decisions that she wouldn’t understand at 13, at 17, never mind at 38.
The summer was ok though, because she didn’t know what was coming. The summer was spent tanning in the backyard and instructing her innocent, younger sister in the brilliance of the Beatles, Tom Petty, and the Traveling Wilburys. One would think the music coming from her room would have been from a 40’s something yuppie, not a 13 year old girl.
And then it happened, the walls came crashing down. She heard the rumours, of course. It wasn’t hard to not hear them. In the end people were bold enough to come up to her and ask if it was her, if she was the one. She heard other rumours too of course, that it was retaliation, jealousy, that it was all lies.
She tried to find out the truth of course, but who talks to a now 14 year old girl? She wasn’t exactly Sherlock Holmes, you see. She wasn’t even Trixie Belden. She tried to find the newspaper articles, but they seemed to have disappeared from the library. Strange, that.
She didn’t understand until she was much older, and sitting in a similar position herself. Jealousy is such a vicious motivator. History repeating itself yet again.
She tried to solve the mystery many years later, but was unable to make any headway. Too bad the internet was not around back then, she thought. There might have been answers to questions she shouldn’t ask. Especially now.
Maybe she should let sleeping dogs lie.