Egg Lessons

Egg Lessons

From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

Egg Lessons

We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it.

Mark Twain

Robby Rogers . . . my first love. What a great guy, too. He was kind, honest and smart. In fact, the more I think about him, the more reasons I find for loving him as much as I did. We had been going out for a whole year. As you know, in high school that’s a very long time.

I don’t remember why I was not at Nancy’s party that Saturday night, but Robby and I had agreed we would see each other afterward. He would come over around 10:30. Robby always showed up when he said he would, so at 11:00 I started feeling sick. I knew something wasn’t right.

On Sunday morning he woke me with a phone call. “We need to talk. Can I come over?”

I wanted to say, “No, you cannot come over here and tell me something is wrong.” Instead, I said, “Sure,” and hung up with a knot in my stomach.

I had been right. “I got together with Sue Roth last night,” Robby informed me, “and we’re going out now.” He followed with the usual, “I’m so confused. I would never do anything to hurt you, Kim. I’ll always love you.”

I must have turned white because I felt the blood leave my face. This wasn’t what I expected; my reaction surprised me. I felt such anger that I was unable to complete a sentence. I was so hurt that everything but the pain in my heart seemed to be moving in slow motion.

“Come on, Kim, don’t be like this. We can be friends, can’t we?”

Those are the cruelest words to utter to someone you’re dumping. I had loved him deeply, shared every little weakness and vulnerability with him—not to mention the four hours a day I had spent with him for the last year (not counting the phone time). I wanted to hit him really hard, over and over, until he felt as horrible as I did. Instead, I asked him to leave. I think I said something sarcastic like, “I hear Sue calling you.”

As I sat on my bed and cried for hours, I hurt so bad that nothing could make it stop. I even tried eating an entire gallon of ice cream. I played all of our favorite songs again and again, torturing myself with memories of good times and kind words. After making myself ill with shameless self-indulgence, I made a decision.

I would turn to revenge.

My thinking went like this: Sue Roth is—was—one of my closest friends. Good friends do not throw themselves at your boyfriend when you’re not around. Obviously, she should pay.

That weekend, I bought a few dozen eggs and headed for Sue’s house with a couple of friends. I started out just venting a little anger, but it got worse. So when someone found an open basement window, we threw the remaining eggs inside. But that’s not the worst part. The Roths were out of town for three days!

As I lay in my bed that night, I started to think about what we had done. This is bad, Kim . . . this is really bad.

Soon it was all over school. Robby and Sue were going out and someone had egged her house while she was out of town, and it was so bad that her parents had to hire a professional to get rid of the smell.

As soon as I got home from school, my mom was waiting to talk. “Kim, my phone has been ringing all day, and I don’t know what to say. Please—you have to tell me. Did you do it?”

“No, Mom, I didn’t.” It felt really bad to lie to my mom.

My mother was furious when she got on the phone to call Mrs. Roth. “This is Ellen. I want you to stop accusing my daughter of throwing eggs at your house.” She was yelling at Sue’s mother now, her voice getting louder and louder. “Kim would never do such a thing, and I want you to stop telling people that she did!” She was really going now. “And what’s more, I want you to apologize to me and to my daughter!”

I felt good about the way my mom was sticking up for me, but awful about the reality. The feelings were all sort of twisted inside of me, and I knew that I had to tell her the truth. I signaled for my mom to get off the phone.

She hung up, reached for the table and sat down. She knew. I cried and told her how sorry I was. Then she cried, too. I would have preferred anger, but she’d used all of that up on Mrs. Roth.

I called Mrs. Roth and told her I’d give her every penny of my baby-sitting savings to help pay for the damages. She accepted, but told me not to come over until she was ready to forgive me.

Mom and I stayed up late that night, talking and crying. She told me about the time her boyfriend left her for her sister. I asked her if she’d egged her own house, and she actually laughed. She told me that although I’d done a terrible thing, it made her furious to think about the things Mrs. Roth had said on the phone. “After all,” Mom said, “what about the fact that her daughter steals boyfriends?”

Then she told me how hard it is sometimes being a parent because you want to yell at everyone who causes your child pain, but you can’t. You have to stand back and watch while your children learn hard lessons on their own.

I told my mom how incredible it had felt to hear her defend me like that. And at the end of the night, I told her how special it was to spend this kind of time with her. She gave me a hug and said, “Good. We can spend next Saturday night together, and the one after that. I did tell you, didn’t I, that you’re grounded for two weeks?”

Kimberly Kirberger

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