Ricky Fierro died last week. Little Ricky Fierro, my first crush. My first heartbreak, too. I was completely and totally head-over-heels in love with that boy. We were twelve.
When a boy liked a girl back then, the unofficial tradition at my grammar school was for the entire playground of kids to form a circle at recess and ruthlessly shove the couple into the center where there was no escape. At that point, the boy would say something like, "Will you go with me?" to which the girl would reply, "Yes," and then everyone would go off and play on the monkey bars.
As horrifying as it was to be thrust into the center of that circle with everyone staring at you, including the boy you love, it was generally over rather quickly. Not, however, in my case. Ricky hemmed and hawwed and hemmed some more. The boys teased him. The girls giggled. I just stood there not knowing what else to do. Oh how I loved him so. I just wanted him to ask me The Question so I could say "Yes!" and then bask in the wonderfulness of going steady with my one true love.
Ricky was shy and funny and oh so sweet. I used to call him at night and we would talk on the phone for hours. (Yes, I called him. A harlot already at age twelve.) He would always get in trouble for not feeding the dog because he was on the phone. Or maybe he just needed an excuse to get off the phone so he signaled his mom to come and rescue him. I don't think so but, after the Circle of Love incident, I did wonder.
So there I was, trapped in the Circle of Love with Ricky Fierro, waiting for him to ask me to go steady. And he never did. The bell finally rang and we all had to go in from recess. Ricky befuddled, me humiliated, and the rest of the kids from the playground thinking it was the funniest thing ever.
Now I know twelve is too young to really go steady, but that is what we called it. What it amounted to was holding hands every once in a while, walking home from school together (we lived just a few houses apart), and most especially pushing each other down on the playground. Once I pushed him so hard he went flying over a couple of other kids and ended up in a bush. True love, people. True love.
We still talked on the phone after that but when I asked him why he left me high and dry in the circle that day, all he could say was, "I don't know." And so we made new friends in junior high and developed new interests. He built a skate ramp in his backyard and always had a gang of skaters over. The most I saw of him throughout high school was his helmeted, knee- and elbow-padded self flying through the air over the top of his back fence.
We never did get together, not even for one date. He married a lovely girl we both knew in high school and they have two beautiful children together.
I ran into Ricky's wife a few years ago and she said he told her I was the first girl to break his heart. I so wish I had picked up the phone right then and there and said, "Who broke whose heart, buddy?" But I didn't because we had not spoken in twenty years.
And now we never will. I regret that. But I will never regret knowing Ricky and having him in my life oh those many years ago. Even if he never really did own a dog.
Ricardo "Rick" Anthony Fierro
December 16, 1963 ~ November 15, 2006
Rest in peace, Ricky.
I think this is from seventh grade. By then, he had decided 'Ricky' sounded too much like a little kid's name so he dropped the 'y' and became the much manlier 'Rick.'
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I do not know how Rick died. If anyone has that information and does not mind sharing it, please email me.
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