Mix Tape, Chapter One

Chapter 1

2009 – My Boyfriend’s Back

Should I play it?

Should I destroy it?

These two questions keep running through my mind as I finger the object in my hand. This object could either result in the long awaited ending to an era that seems another lifetime ago, or it could be the far-fetched second coming of a life I am not entirely sure that I want. This object holds my past and possible future. This life-changing object is (drum roll please!) a mix tape.

Well, at least I thought it was a mix tape. In this day and age, we have mixed CDs – but that doesn’t sound as romantic or nostalgic. With a mix CD, how romantic is the idea of making a playlist and hitting the burn button? It’s not, technology is making it too easy to be lazy about love. But a mix tape? Oh, with a mix tape, I can sense the time and energy it took to pick out your songs and put everything on a blank tape – constantly switching cassettes, recording and stopping, then doing it all over again to complete the copying process: record, stop, switch cassettes, record, stop, switch, record, stop, switch, turn to side B, record, stop, switch. Yes, a mix tape is much better.


Yet, this package is actually a clever way to combine the two formats: a mix tape and CD – but I am jumping ahead, because the CD doesn’t exist yet, what does exist is a flash drive. The packaging itself looks like a real mix tape. An old mix tape. There is even writing on the tape that says, “Play me on your computer or burn me onto a CD.” I am confused at first, but when I look closer, I see that the cassette is actually just a holder that opens. Inside the fake cassette tape is a flash drive. I smile at the ingenuity of this flash drive holder. How adorable. I think to myself. This must have been invented by someone from my generation, missing the good ole’ days. I imagine this is what my parents must feel like about their old 45s.


I insert the flash drive into my PC and pull up my media player, hoping a playlist will appear, but it simply lists the songs by track number. He did that on purpose.


Of course, I already know who the cassette flash drive is from by the picture on the cover. It is a black and white picture of my 15-year-old self looking at the most beautiful 17-year-old boy. It is the picture that his mother had taken of us, and it is a picture I know well. I pull out the cassette cover and open it up to see if there is a song list, but it’s blank.


I turn my attention back to the computer and burn the songs onto a CD, noticing that Track 12 is almost six minutes long. Huh, how weird. I wonder if he mixed two songs together. When the CD is done burning, I take the flash drive out and put it back in the fake cassette tape, snap that shut, then put the tape back in its case. I turn it over to look at the cover again and sigh. What a beautiful boy he was. I remember always thinking of myself as a lucky girl to have snagged him.


I turn the case over to examine it more and notice the spine for the first time; I stare at it in awe. This really is a home-made, catered-to-me, bon-a-fide mixed tape. The spine has a simple message – but that simple message is all it takes to put my heart in my throat:

A Mix Tape for Norielle

I still love you, Mason

I read the simple script again, slower. A Mix tape for Norielle. I still love you, Mason. That name had meant so much to me at one point in time. Hell, if I wanted to be honest with myself, it still meant a whole lot. Mason was my first serious relationship. He was my first love and the boy I decided to lose my virginity too – double whammy. We started dating when I was 15 and were together for a little over two years. In high school that was practically like being married; on the same note, when we broke up, it was just like a divorce. Since Mason, I have never been hurt as much as he hurt me. It had been devastating. And now he is back, sending me a mix tape.

Ten minutes pass as I sat there debating on whether or not I should play the CD I burned the songs to. Finally, I decide to save myself the potential stress wrinkle that may appear between my eyebrows and go for it. I open my hard drive and remove the freshly burned CD. My heart is beating hard against my chest. I walk out of my spare bedroom/office and head to my living room. I put the CD in the stereo system and the reader confirms that there are 13 tracks. I fight the urge to skip through all the songs, just to see what is on there. I could do that, but I know – I just know – to wait it out and listen to each minute of every song. I know to savor each moment because what I am about to listen to will probably bring back many memories. Memories I cherished and still live out in my mind, and memories that I have desperately tried to bury. This CD holds secrets shared between two people through poetry in the form of music.

I delay hitting the play button. I am pretty sure that I can figure out a few of the songs that are burned on that CD. I look at my watch – 1:23 p.m. I have a girl’s night out tonight. I am scheduled to be at my best friend, and sister-in-law, Gigi’s house at 5:30 p.m. Everyone else was probably told to be there at 6:00 p.m. but seeing as how I run on a different schedule than everyone else (I am horribly notorious among my circle of friends for being late), I am told an earlier time to ensure proper departure for our destination.

Tonight is our monthly ladies night, where Gigi and I get together with four of our closest girlfriends: Vanessa, my college roommate, Enid and Lily, from high school, and Bianca, Gigi’s roommate from college. Ladies night is something that we all hold very dear and promised each other that even when we were old and gray, even if ladies night changed from bar hopping and wine tasting to sitting around crocheting blankets in rocking chairs, that we would always keep our monthly get-togethers.

What would the girls think when they find out Mason contacted me?

I glance at the clock again and mentally dissect how I would divide the time I have remaining. Gigi lives ten minutes away from my apartment in Seattle, WA. It will take me probably an hour, no, one and a half hours to get ready – ok, ok, fine, realistically it will take me closer to two hours to do my girl’s night out regimen. That leaves me with about two hours to mull over the CD and listen to the songs.


My finger hovers over the play button as I ready myself for the emotions that I am sure will express themselves through tears. I imagine myself clutching the cassette case to my chest as I cry like a movie star in her Oscar winning performance (have I mentioned that I have a flair for the dramatic?). I hesitate a moment longer only to realize that I am acting like someone standing in line to the guillotine. I tell myself that I cannot let my emotions get the best of me, that this really should mean nothing to me. It is just a stupid tape from a stupid boy from an insignificant time in my life.


Insignificant my ass!

Suddenly I find that I am in the middle of a heated conversation with myself:

I will not cry.

Press the button

I will NOT cry.

Press the button already.

I will NOT CRY.

Press the FRIGGIN button already!!!

I WILL NOT CRY!!!

My finger drops away from the play button as tears start welling up in my eyes. I stomp my foot on the ground like a petulant child and abandon the stereo system. I head to the shower deciding to get ready first. If I am all dolled up, surely I won’t cry; I wouldn’t want to ruin my perfect, expensive makeup (let’s face it, the only couture I can afford is my little bottle of Christian Dior mascara, Shu Uemura eyelash curler and any other delectable morsel from Sephora – a.k.a. Heaven on Earth). That’s it. I have made up my mind – I wait.

I am in the bathroom and start to undress. I turn on the water and wait for the temperature to be just right. The bathroom starts to steam up as I stand watching the water pour out of the spout. My eyes immediately dart to the radio/CD player on my bathroom counter. Never had that inanimate object ever mean more to me. No! I will wait! I convince myself.

I hop in the shower and let the warm water run down my face and body. I turn up the heat to nearly scalding, and it feels great. Good job, Nori. Way to stick with a simple decision for once in your life. I reach for the shampoo and start to lather up, the scent of jasmine fills the steamy bathroom as my thoughts start to wander. The CD will be there once I get out of the shower. It will still be there when I am done getting ready. Hell, it will even be there after girl’s night out. Right. Ok.

Suddenly my body has a mind of its own and I rip the shower curtain open. I get out of the shower as fast as I can, boobs and booty free of any concealment. I run, yes run, to the living room on the other side of my apartment, get the CD out of my stereo system as fast as I can, then run back to my warm steaming bathroom. Unfortunately, what happens next teaches me, yet again, that I should have stuck to my first decision.

Since I had decided to run like a bat out of hell, and had not toweled off first, the floor was all wet and soapy. The moment my bare feet touch the wet floor, I slip and my legs come flying out from under me and – SMACK! – I land on my bare ass on the hard linoleum. I pause, ass throbbing and everything. Unbelievable!

I look up and notice that I am holding the CD in my right hand, which is thrust in the air as high as I can reach, holding on for dear life. One thought struck me as I sit in this degrading position: I am such an asshole.

Geeze, this is so typical of me! Once Mason has come near me in any way, I start doing the most embarrassing shit! I become a moronic, clumsy fool.

Getting cold, I decide to hoist myself up, carefully. I look back and am surprised that an imprint of my behind wasn’t left on the floor from the impact of my ungraceful landing. I put the CD in the player, take the remote with me and place it on the ledge next to my shower. I hop in the shower for the second time, head hanging low and a little disgraced this time around as I have just embarrassed myself in front of Jesus and any other paranormal beings that may have witnessed my little incident. I pick up the remote and hit play. I let the water and the music of track one wash over me.

Wow, he is really going to start at the very beginning.