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A YOUNG MAN’S LONG, AWKWARD, OCCASIONALLY
TRAGIC, AND FREQUENTLY HUMILIATING
EDUCATION IN AFFAIRS OF THE HEART, PART I:
VALENTINE’S DAY
It was my first year at H. A. Jack, the primary school I transferred to after leaving Maryvale.
Valentine’s Day was approaching fast. I was twelve years old, and I’d never done Valentine’s
Day before. We didn’t celebrate it in Catholic school. I understood Valentine’s Day, as a
concept. The naked baby shoots you with an arrow and you fall in love. I got that part. But
this was my first time being introduced to it as an activity. At H. A. Jack, Valentine’s Day was
used as a fundraiser. Pupils were going around selling flowers and cards, and I had to go ask a
friend what was happening.
“What is this?” I said. “What are we doing?”
“Oh, you know,” she said, “it’s Valentine’s Day. You pick a special person and you tell
them that you love them, and they love you back.”
Wow, I thought, that seems intense. But I hadn’t been shot by Cupid’s arrow, and I didn’t
know of anyone getting shot on my behalf. I had no clue what was going on. All week, the
girls in school kept saying, “Who’s your valentine? Who’s your valentine?” I didn’t know
what I was supposed to do. Finally one of the girls, a white girl, said, “You should ask
Maylene.” The other kids agreed. “Yes, Maylene. You should definitely ask Maylene. You have
to ask Maylene. You guys are perfect for each other.”
Maylene was a girl I used to walk home from school with. We lived in the city now, me,
my mom and Abel, who was now my stepfather, and my new baby brother, Andrew. We’d sold
our house in Eden Park to invest in Abel’s new garage. Then that fell apart, and we ended up
moving to a neighborhood called Highlands North, a thirty-minute walk from H. A. Jack. A
group of us would leave school together every afternoon, each kid peeling off and going their
separate way when we reached their house. Maylene and I lived the farthest, so we’d always
be the last two. We’d walk together until we got where we needed to go, and then we’d part
ways.
Maylene was cool. She was good at tennis, smart, cute. I liked her. I didn’t have a crush
on her; I wasn’t even thinking about girls that way yet. I just liked hanging out with her.
Maylene was also the only colored girl in school. I was the only mixed kid in school. We were
the only two people who looked like each other. The white girls were insistent about me
asking Maylene to be my valentine. They were like, “Trevor, you have to ask her. You’re the