Graphics Boy, We Hardly Knew Ye!

Graphics Boy has come and gone.

When he arrived at Highlights in January, we knew he wouldn’t last long.

For one thing, Graphics Boy didn’t look like the rest of us. Editors and graphic-designers are a desk-bound population. The longer we sit in front of our Hewlett Packards, it seems, the more wizened we become -- it’s as if we’re absorbing the glow of our computer screens. Even after just four months of editorial internship, I felt like a blonde Yoda. “Happy we are to have you here,” I croaked.

Graphics Boy had what Horatio Alger or Nora Roberts might term a “ruddy glow.” He wore old tennis shoes. He smelled vaguely of grass, of one type or another.

He was also young (I guessed around 19 or 20) and good looking, in a Justin Timberlake-meets-Jack Kerouac sort of way. After Graphics Boy’s introduction, Mary and I exchanged several emails with the subject line “fresh meat.” Shameless objectification? Absolutely. But it’s important to put this in context: we were (are) two single 20-somethings, living in Honesdale, committed to 40 hours per week of alliterative animals. Four months of Ricky Rabbit surely justified five minutes of Jessica Rabbit.

Unfortunately, Highlights isolates its graphics department in a separate building. Who knows what would happen if English majors and graphic-design majors worked under the same roof. It would probably be like one of those VH1 “Surreal Life” episodes --- Flava Flav casually chatting with Uncle Joey from Full House. Weird.

Mary and I briefly embarked on a Graphics Boy fact-finding mission, but we never learned more than his real name: Justin (hence the Timberlake aura?). “Graphics Boy” sounded more appealing, so we continued to use this pseudonym until the humor/lust wore off. Then we gave up.

About a month passed until the Information Technology team made things interesting again. I tend to ignore my IT emails, since they generally contain lots of complex acronyms translated to mean “upcoming power outage” or “don’t open any strange attachments.” This time, though, IT presented “I” worth noting: a list containing the names and email addresses of all Highlights employees. As Dr. Burns would say, "Exxxxxxcellent."

Putting on my best Donna Reed, “Welcome to the neighborhood!” face, I typed a message to Graphics Boy (er, Justin): “Glad you’re here! We Honesdale 20-somethings need to stick together!” (Assuming he is a 20-something……please, please, please). “Want to join some of us at the movies on Friday?”

My track record for scoring “movie dates” with attractive strangers is rather poor, but -- that same afternoon -- Graphics Boy responded! Yes, he would like to go to the movies. He’d have to bum a ride, since he didn’t own a car. But he appreciated the invitation, and, what’s more, it was the first activity invitation of any sort he’d received since coming to Honesdale. Jesse the Good Samaritan! Jesse the Seductive Samaritan! Suzy Squirrel the Seductive Samaritan! Huzzah!

Mary and I attempted to sell Movie Night to other co-workers, but nobody else needed a Samaritan. As Friday approached, our “group welcome” of Graphics Boy took the scent of a not-so-cleverly disguised menage a trios. Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson. We decided to put Graphics Boy’s young, impressionable mind at ease by picking the least suggestive film possible: Million Dollar Baby.

On the ride to the theater -- Mary and I seated up front, Graphics Boy crouching in the back with my various car manuals and empty cans of Diet Coke -- Graphics Boy revealed the following:

1. He’s originally from Michigan.
2. He travels a lot.
3. He likes to paint.
4. He has a girlfriend.
5. He has a girlfriend.
6. He has a girlfriend.

As we scooted into our theater seats, Graphics Boy again reminded us that he has a girlfriend. I began to find this insulting. Who did he think Mary and I were, anyway? The Sirens of northeastern Pennsylvania? Did he think we were going to tie him to a rock and serenade him with old “Goofus and Gallant” features? Goofus Intern deflowers Graphics Boy at the Cinema 6. Gallant Intern directs an after-school special condemning such debauchery.

I saw Graphics Boy only two more times after Movie Night. In early April, he tagged along on our trip to hear the Cunning Stunts. The subsequent unveiling of my inner Britney sufficiently scared him off until the end of the month. On one of the last weeks of April, I received an email from him: he wondered if Mary and I wanted to attend a Friday night poetry reading at the Himalayan Yoga Café (the same open mic I wrote about earlier). With Mary vacationing in California, I was hurting for social stimulation. “Sure,” I wrote back. “Sounds good.”

I walked into the Himalayan at 6:30 p.m. sharp. No Graphics Boy. Browsed aromatic eye pillows and vegan cookbooks for ten minutes. Still no Graphics Boy. Just before the first poet took the mic, Graphics Boy sauntered in….with a girl. Not a Highlights girl, either -- this girl had the aloof expression and slight forward-jutting jaw of a former college volleyball star. “You know Jackie who used to work at Highlights?” Graphics Boy asked me. “Hi, Jackie,” I extended my hand. “I’m Jesse. I’m interning at Highlights. The girl smirked. “No, no,” Graphics Boy laughed. “This is Jackie’s sister.”

To quote an acronym used even by English majors: WTF? How had Graphics Boy endeared himself with townies? Graphics Boy was the sole property of Highlights. We took him in. We took pity on him. And now here he stood with this lean, North Face-wearing blonde. North Face and Graphics Boy settled into the back row of folding chairs. I plunked into an aisle seat. North Face and Graphics Boy laughed and whispered to each other. I scowled.

Paul and Joelle arrived about halfway through the reading -- two Good Samaritans to the rescue. After the final poet had taken his final dramatic pause, Joelle, Paul, and I went for rum-and-Cokes at a pub down the street. Graphics Boy and North Face joined us, but they quickly retired to the pool table. I’ve never been a pool player. Capital P that rhymes with T that means Too Bad for me.

I left the pub with Joelle and Paul without saying goodbye to Graphics Boy. Goofus behavior on my part, and it came back to bite me. This past Tuesday, IT circulated another email; this one titled “Justin.” Graphics Boy was leaving. He missed his family in Michigan. I’m sure he missed his girlfriend, too.

Yesterday, Highlights held an hour-long farewell luncheon for Graphics Boy at one of Honesdale’s many two-star pizza places. Yesterday night, Graphics Boy returned to Michigan. I’m not sure how he made his departure, since he never acquired a car -- his goodbye was as mystery-shrouded as his hello. For us, a short, strange trip. For him, maybe, another journey toward some JPEGed destination.