I am, at heart, an optimistic person. I need to know that things are going to get better, or, if they're not, that they serve some higher purpose. From the very worst of times, I am now emerging to see some very good things, indeed. Of course, always mixed with troubles at times.
March, 1972 to August, 1972
I could always tell when Mom was worried. To me, it was as if she had a special scent that she put out, and I sometimes thought I was the only one who could sense it. So, when I got home from school on a Friday night in March, I took one look at her and knew something was very wrong.
She was standing at the stove, cooking flounder filets for dinner, and I just walked over to her, slipped my arm around her and hugged.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said softly. I didn’t say anything; I knew she’d tell me, and soon, she did. “I missed my period.”
I should have known better. There was a reason I was an only child. But I gasped in hopeful anticipation, and she immediately knew what I thought.
“I’m afraid not,” she said with a sad smile. “That was ruled out many years ago, just after you were born. As far as I know, I can’t have any more children.”
“But maybe they were wrong,” I said.
“Wrong about what?” Diane asked as she bounced into the kitchen. I glanced at Mom and gave her my best “Sorry” glance, and she smiled. Then she told Diane what she had just told me, and got exactly the same reaction. By now, Fred had joined us.
“I still say,” he put in, letting us know that he and Mom had already been over this ground, “That we won’t know until we get it checked out.”
Mom rolled her eyes. But both Diane and I were excited at the prospect of a baby sibling. In fact, I was more excited than I would have expected, knowing that Mom would probably want me to take the lead in helping out.
We were all a lot more subdued a few days later. By then, Mom had been to the doctor, he had confirmed that she definitely wasn’t pregnant, she had an abnormal pap smear, and he was urging her to undergo a dilatation and curettage to make sure that she didn’t have the beginnings of cervical or uterine cancer. By the end of the week, she’d had the procedure, and was given a clean bill of health.
It had been the first dark cloud over their marriage, and I was glad it hadn’t lasted very long. Diane and I fussed over Mom when she came home from the hospital, and we chased that dark cloud away. But I also noticed how attentive Fred was to her, and I realized that it must all seem so fragile – having that wonderful sense of fulfillment in a relationship.
“Well,” Diane said to me as we took Heidi for a walk one evening. “It’s not like she was actually in danger. And everything’s fine now.”
“Yes,” I said. “But for a time, they didn’t know that. And it was then that they could see that maybe it wouldn’t last. We try so hard to build things, to build perfect loving relationships, and even if we succeed, something unexpected can just come along and wipe them out.”
She looked at me in alarm, and I felt bad. She was such a cheerful girl; I certainly hadn’t meant to pull her down. But seeing Mom and Fred worried about how their lives were going made me question mine. Diane seemed to sense this.
“Maybe you just need to liven up your own love life,” she said with a tentative smile.
“Watch it, little sister!”
We both laughed. Then she asked about Todd.
I had gone out with him a few times, and we’d had fun, enjoyed each other’s company. We’d even made out a few times, and I hadn’t discouraged him when he began to caress me; in fact, I found myself welcoming the sense of arousal that had been missing for so long. But while he might want to make love with me – and he did, that was pretty obvious – he didn’t love me, and I didn’t love him.
I was starting to wonder if maybe it would be enough to pretend, to at least begin to experience physical intimacy. There were times I felt so empty I wanted to scream, and I wondered if maybe was doomed to be one of those heartless sluts who would give herself to any man who’d have her. Lately, I’d even reverted to self-stimulation, late at night in my basement apartment.
“I don’t know if I’m going to go out with him much more,” I told her. “It’s just not going anywhere, and I can’t just mark time.”
“Maybe it would go somewhere if you made it happen,” she suggested.
“It doesn’t work that way. And you also can’t will someone else to feel the way you want them to feel. That’s why matchmaking is such a difficult business – no matter how perfect two people might seem to be, you never really know unless you’re them.”
She looked startled for a moment, and then she giggled. I was glad she hadn’t taken it as a rebuke.
I threw myself into the music and into my reading. It was all I had, and I felt like I was drying up. Just before Easter break, I got a call from Terri. She had joined a sorority that had a place near the beach on Cape Cod.
“You really should come up and see me,” she said. “You have to get out of that environment for a while.”
“I thought I’d see you when you came down for spring break.”
“I’m not staying. I’m spending Easter with my family and then I’m coming right back up. I’ve fallen in love with this place.”
For Terri, who had always been so close to her family, that was extraordinary.
“I have an idea,” she went on. “Why don’t you drive me back up, and then stay a few days?”
I didn’t even hesitate, I just said yes immediately.
We left early in the morning, getting across the Throggs Neck Bridge and well into Connecticut before stopping for breakfast. All the way up, we talked – free ranging conversations like we’d been having since grade school. We could ask each other anything, talk about anything, because nothing was out of bounds.
A major change had come over her. She was majoring in philosophy, and yet she wasn’t completely freaked out the way the few philosophy majors I knew tended to be. Her interests were also ranging further and wider, and she was conversant in topics of all sorts.
“I only have one criticism of you at this point,” she said to me as we crossed into Massachusetts.
“I know,” I groaned. “No boyfriend.”
“Nope. You’ll have a boyfriend when the right guy comes along and pokes through that protective cocoon you’ve built for yourself. No, my criticism of you is that you’ve stopped playing the guitar.”
“Terri, I play lots of other instruments now, including the piano.”
“Bravo. Bravissimo. And so what? The guitar has become a part of you, and has been ever since you started playing it when we were still kids. I mean, you played the bugle and the French Horn, too, but they never meant to you what the guitar meant. You deny part of yourself as long as you ignore it.”
We were on the cape for about ten minutes when I realized why Terri loved it so. In the off-season, it was a quaint and lovely place, quiet and relaxing. And I truly loved the five days I spent there.
We walked along the beach in the early morning mist, and at night when the starlit sky stretched to infinity. We went out one afternoon on a boat to go whale watching, and then let two crew members take us out to dinner that night. A few other girls were in the house, and some had occasional overnight guests of the opposite gender, but Terri didn’t seem to mind so I didn’t let it bother me.
One night, a group of us were sitting on the beach with a fire going. One of the guys had brought a guitar along and was playing some folk songs and singing; he wasn’t bad, but he also wasn’t as good as he thought he was. Terri and I exchange glances, but neither of us said anything.
One of the other guys asked if he could play the guitar a while, and he was a little better. After a while, he went to give it back, but the first guy had already left the circle with one of the girls. I gestured for the instrument.
It was a Martin, with a large soundbox, larger than any I’d played. I picked out a couple of notes, and noticed that it had a lovely tone, but the action was a little challenging. Without giving it much thought, I started playing Dylan’s song, “It Takes A Lot to Laugh, It Takes A Train to Cry”.
“Hey,” said the guy who’d been playing just before me. “You can really play.”
I just smiled and kept singing and playing. When I got to the bridge, I played a lead, with intermittent chords. When I finished, I went right into “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere”.
“You must really like Dylan,” said one of the other guys around the fire. It was an invitation, but I decided I wanted to keep playing, and so I played “Smokestack Lightning”, an old Howlin’ Wolf song that had been done by lots of other artists. And I smiled at Terri, because she’d been so right.
When I got back home, I went to a music store on Hempstead Turnpike and posted an ad for a guitarist looking for a band. I also started asking around school, although I got a lot of strange looks from people who couldn’t understand why a classical musician would be looking for a rock band. I got some calls through the music store.
When Mom realized what was going on, she put her foot down – anyone I wanted to play with for the first time had to come to the house. Since almost every call I got was from a guy, I admitted that made sense. And as I started to weed through the calls, I realized there were lots of things to talk about before we got to where and when we might play.
Twice, I actually had groups of musicians come over to play. It felt good to jam, to play, to stretch. But both times I was disappointed in the result, and both times I declined to join the band in question; as my first year in college ended, I realized that the search for a good band was not going to be easily concluded.
I signed up for a couple of summer courses, one of which was given at Lincoln Center on Wednesdays. On a warm Wednesday in June, I had just missed a train home from Penn Station, so I went into a bookstore on the Long Island Railroad concourse to pass the 45 minutes until the next one. Having embraced, to an extent, Terri’s idea of balance of influences, I was browsing through popular literature.
“Erin?”
I knew who it was before I turned to look, having told myself that maybe I shouldn’t.
“Hi.”
“I thought it was you!” Jeff said with real warmth. “How are you? You look great.”
“Thanks. I’m okay. How about you?”
“I’m doing all right. Are you waiting for a train?” he asked, and I nodded. “Me, too. Hey, you want to get a cup of coffee or something?”
Before I really knew what had happened, we had left the bookstore and were taking the escalator to the upper concourse, where there was a nice coffee shop. We sat down, and a waitress came over and gave us menus.
“Be right back,” she said, curtly.
“Well,” he said, “Shall we make it lunch? I’m kind of hungry anyway.”
In the blink of an eye, a chance encounter had become coffee and then lunch. The waitress came back and we ordered. She dropped cups of coffee and left.
“So, what are you up to these days?” he asked. I told him I had just finished my first year at Fordham, and about my double major.
“Good for you,” he said. “I’m about to start my first year at Fordham Law School.” When I expressed surprise that he would be in law school already, he said, “I went to Manhattan College, and finished in three years.”
“Wow!” I said, genuinely impressed.
“Yeah, well, I…I found I had to throw myself into something,” he said, suddenly subdued. And I felt the pain that I always felt when I thought about that awful day. I nodded my understanding. “So,” he continued more brightly, “How’s your family doing?”
“That’s a complicated question. My father died…”
“Oh, Erin, I’m really sorry. When…?”
“Three years ago,” I said quickly, not wanting to be more specific. To my surprise, he reached over and took my hands in his.
“I’m really sorry to hear that, Erin. How’s your Mom?”
“Well, she’s fine, now. She remarried about a year ago, to an old friend. We live in his house out in Bethpage, and my grandmother lives with us.”
As we ate, I was trying to figure out a way to get away from the talk about my family.
“How is it you’re in the city?” I asked.
“Oh,” he laughed. “I have a job with a law firm in midtown. During the school year, I work as a law librarian, and I go in one or two afternoons a week, as needed. This summer, I’m also working as a paralegal, and I’m getting really good experience.
“This morning, I had a specific job to do, and I finished early, so I got to leave early.”
“Sounds really good,” I said. “Do you think it could lead to something when you get out of law school?”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” he said with a smile.
We finished in time for me to catch my train, and I was surprised when he came down to the track level with me, and even more surprised when he got on the train with me.
“I can get off at Woodside and catch my train there,” he explained. As it happened, my train didn’t stop at Woodside, and he wound up taking it all the way to Jamaica, and had to rush to catch a train back to Woodside.
As we pulled into Jamaica, he said, “I’m really glad I ran into you, Erin. I’d really like to talk to you again, if that would be all right.”
As much as the idea terrified me, I had to admit that it had been good to see him. So much of what had bothered me had been about not knowing what had happened to him all this time. I still felt like some things were unsettled, like some wounds had not yet closed.
“Okay,” I said. He asked me for my new phone number, and I gave it to him. We both had to change trains – he went in one direction and I went in the other. And all the way home, I was thinking about how glad I was that he wasn’t just a question mark in my mind anymore, but at the same time reminded myself that whatever we’d once had was long gone and irretrievably lost.
But maybe, just maybe, we could get to the point of not feeling the loss. That would allow us to move on.
The following night, we were planning on having a barbecue when the rains came. This had already become something of a family joke, as any barbecues Fred planned had a greater than even chance of being rained out. Twice the previous summer, Mom and Fred had held large family barbecues, and both times we wound up eating on a picnic table in the garage.
So, we were now sitting around the kitchen table – or at least, Diane, Grandma and I were, while Mom and Fred fussed over the fixings. Fred had just come inside with the grilled steaks when the phone rang. He was closest to the phone, which was in the hallway leading from the kitchen, past the bathroom and back to Grandma’s room and the stairs down to the basement, so he answered.
We were still laughing about Fred’s bad luck with the weather when he came into the kitchen and said, “Erin, it’s for you. Some fella named Jeff.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mom’s eyebrows arch skyward. I tried to ignore it as I took the phone. I slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi, there. Did I call at a bad time? Sounds like a circus over there.”
“It usually is,” I said with a laugh. “But, yeah, this isn’t a good time. We’re about to have dinner.”
“Sorry about that. But that gives me an idea. I’d like to continue our conversation from yesterday, if that’s okay with you.”
“Um…yeah, that would be fine.”
“Okay, how about dinner Saturday night. You like seafood?”
“Seafood? Uh…yeah, yes I do.”
“Great. I know of a really great place in Port Washington, right on the water. You’ll love it. Pick you up at 7:00?”
“Well…I guess…”
“Great. I just need your address and directions.”
I gave them to him.
“See you then. You’ll love this place, I guarantee it.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you then.”
I hung up and made my way back into the kitchen, where everyone was ready to start in on dinner. I sat down at my place at the table, trying not to look at anyone. No one was saying anything, and I could feel all eyes on me.
“Jeff?!” Mom asked at last. “That Jeff??”
“Yes,” I said, not looking up.
“Yes?” she asked. “That’s it?”
“Uh huh,” I said, still not looking up.
“Uh uh,” she said. “How did he even know to call here?”
“I gave him the number.”
It was obvious I wasn’t going to avoid the inquisition, so I decided to come clean and explained how I had run into him, and the rest.
“And…?” Mom asked. Despite my best efforts, I smiled, but I bit my lip to get it off quickly.
“And we’re going out to dinner on Saturday. Now, don’t get any ideas. We have a few things to talk through so we can get on with our lives and resolve things amicably,” I said.
“Right,” said Mom.
“Right,” said Diane.
“Left,” said Fred, and for once I really appreciated his penchant for corny humor.
I got mad at myself on Saturday because I found myself agonizing over what to wear. Jeff hadn’t really told me much about the restaurant, other than to say that it was a really good place. I didn’t want to ask Mom’s advice because of the questions that would ensue.
I decided that under the circumstances, too nice would be better than not nice enough. I had a really nice ivory see-through blouse, and since we had a cool spell before the really hot weather settled in, I thought it would be a good choice. I had a matching silk camisole and linen skirt, and I wore off-white stockings and high heeled sandals.
“Wow!” said Fred as I came out of the bathroom, having just finished my makeup. I thanked him.
“Nice outfit for a dinner to talk through things,” Mom deadpanned.
“And get on with your lives,” Diane added.
“Think what you like,” I said with a shrug. As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Fred opened the door and let Jeff in.
He introduced himself to Fred, and then turned to my mother.
“Very nice to see you again,” he said. “I was sorry to hear about your loss, but happy to hear of your more recent happy news.”
Then he turned to me.
“You look fabulous!” he said. I thanked him and silently prayed that my makeup hid my natural change of color. Then I introduced him to Grandma and Diane. We left, and I knew we were leaving behind a buzz, but it really didn’t matter.
We kept to small talk in the car. I had almost forgotten how funny he could be, but now he was telling me about the office manager in the law firm, an aging yet tyrannical woman who insisted that things be done her way. She drove the younger associates to distraction with her demands.
She reminded me of Mrs. Bertram, the ancient timekeeper at my department at Macy’s.
“The rule is that you work until 5:00,” I said. “But, you are allowed to go get your coat at five minutes to five. So, at five to five every day, there is a rush to the coat rack. But if any unfortunate soul gets up at six minutes to five, Mrs. Bertram will sing out in this high, reedy voice, ‘Half a day?’”
“And you’ve been there how long?”
“Three years, come September. But most of the time, I only work Saturdays, and Mrs. Bertram isn’t there on Saturdays; it’s a little more relaxed.”
When we arrived at the restaurant, it was, as Jeff had said, right on the water, complete with a dock where yachts tied up delivering diners by the sea route. As we walked in, Jeff was immediately recognized by the hostess who led us to a nice table overlooking the water.
We ordered cocktails – he ordered scotch, I had a White Russian.
“I found a cocktail I like,” I said, and he smiled and nodded.
We ordered dinner. Salads came. He asked me about music, what I was studying and where I wanted to go with it.
“I feel selfish sometimes,” I said, admitting it to myself for the first time. “I’m majoring in music because it’s my one chance to get inside of it and really understand it. I’ve always loved music, but now I feel like I’m truly part of it, like it’s mine.
“A lot of kids in the program are talking about how they want to go on to the Philharmonic or something like that. I don’t have any specific career goals. I just want to get into the music, inside the notes and the staffs and the time signatures and find out what lives inside and how to nurture it.”
“And literature?” he asked.
“Soaks up energy,” I said. “I need to be consumed by something.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, looking me in the eye.
“I also think that it gives me a career option. I might be able to teach.”
“You’d be a terrific teacher,” he said with some feeling. “Because you’d always make sure you connected with your students.
“Do you still play guitar?”
The question surprised me. I told him I had not played for a while, but had resumed recently at Terri’s suggestion.
“Terri!” he said. “How is she?”
I brought him up to date on Terri and the other friends of mine he’d known. He asked about Cookie, and I laughed at that.
“No idea what she wants to study,” I said. “But she’s the life of the party.”
The main course came. He talked about the law, about how much it meant to him, how he thought it was a central pillar of our society, and how he looked forward to being instrumental in shaping it going forward. He also talked about how it galled him when so many lawyers regarded the law as something to play with, as a way to game the system.
He had taken a wide variety of courses in his undergraduate days, but now he looked forward to studying law, as if all that had come before was nothing more than preliminaries.
“It’s almost as if I’m waking up for the first time,” he said. “Does that make any sense at all?”
“Sure,” I said with a laugh. “It’s like when we learned about how and why the eye functions. And you hear all about how light passes through the lens of the eye, is received at the back, is sensed by the optic nerve and then transmitted to the brain, and that all makes sense until you find out that it all happens almost in reverse.”
“Yes,” he said, putting his fork down and staring at me. “Yes, Erin, that’s a great way to put it.”
Desert came. He was telling me how he wanted to make a mark in the law, and so he hadn’t decided yet in what area he would want to practice. In that sense, we were not very different. We knew what we wanted to study, but not what we wanted to do.
At the end of the meal, I felt like I knew him in a way I never had before, and that he now knew me. That awful, painful day seemed very far away, in a way it hadn’t before. And I realized that the purpose of the dinner had been achieved, and that we would both be able to move on with our lives.
Jeff paid the bill, and we walked outside. It was one of those sweet, gentle June nights, and we walked out onto the dock, out by the boats.
“My other passion,” he said, nodding toward one of the yachts. “I rescued an old motorboat that had run aground on an island in the East River and been abandoned. One day, a friend of mine and I fished it out and brought it back to the backyard.
“I started repairing the hull, then sealing it, then working on the inboard motor. When I finally get it working, I’m going to launch it, and if it’s seaworthy, I’ll register it and have myself a boat.”
“That’s really great, Jeff. You must be very proud.”
“I’ll let you know if I ever finish it.”
We walked back up off the dock, and stood at the rail, looking out over the bay.
“You like Tchaikovsky?” he asked me. I told him I did. “Great. The New York Philharmonic is playing in Cunningham Park on Thursday night. They’re going to be playing the ‘1812 Overture’ and a couple of other pieces, with fireworks. I thought we could have a nice picnic supper and enjoy the concert.”
“All right.”
He drove me home. The ride was much more quiet than earlier, with only sporadic conversation. I wondered if he was going to want to kiss me.
We pulled up in front of the house.
“Thank you, Jeff,” I said. “It was a wonderful place.”
“Told you,” he replied with a smile. Then he turned serious. “You had a nice time?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
We got out of the car, and he walked me to the house. He pushed the gate closed as we came inside, and it shut with a clanging sound. Suddenly, we heard Heidi barking her head off in the back yard and getting closer.
Jeff realized it, and turned and sprinted for the gate just as Heidi came tearing around the corner of the house. Jeff got to the gate and hurdled the fence, and Heidi came right to the fence, barking and growling up a storm. Mom, Fred and Grandma came out from the back, saw Jeff, and howled with laughter, as did I.
“Uh…I’ll call you!” he called to me, and quickly retreated to the car before I could stop him.
We laughed about it afterward. He picked me up early the night of the concert in the park, having packed a full picnic supper, including a bottle of wine. It was a nice, light white wine.
It was still very uncrowded when we got there, and we found a nice spot off to the side. As we feasted on cold grilled chicken and some salads, we talked easily.
“You must not be afraid of Heidi,” I said.
“Heidi?!” he said. “That figures.”
“Her bark is much worse than her bite, although she does bite sometimes. Our mistake was in not telling her you were coming. Tonight I told her, and she was much better, as you saw.”
“Cranky mutt,” he growled, and I laughed again.
“Yes, she is. But we can deal with that. It’s just one of those things. Sort of like your mother not liking me.”
It had slipped out, and I regretted it immediately. I hadn’t wanted to make an issue of it. I wasn’t prepared for his response.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking at me blankly.
“Nothing.”
“No, it isn’t ‘nothing’. I remember…that day…you were angry about her not liking you, and I never understood what made you think that.”
I looked at the ground.
“Please, Erin,” he said softly, touching my chin so I’d look at him. “You have to tell me. What did my mother ever do to make you think she didn’t like you? You only met her the once.”
“She just…I don’t know. I just felt like everything I did was wrong. I asked her at one point if I could help, and she seemed almost offended that I would have asked.”
He groaned.
“She’s very particular about guests,” he said. “Especially someone she considers to be a very special guest, which she certainly considered you. She wanted you to feel welcomed and completely carefree.
“And for the record, she was blown away by you. She couldn’t believe that someone who was only 15 could be so mature, and so capable in polite society. She was also thrilled that you were the kind of girl that I was attracted to.
“When you asked her if you could help, she was already so taken with you that that was the last thing in the world she wanted you to do. She wanted you to sit and relax and let her wait on you. When I got back that night after taking you home, she told me that she was proud of me like never before.”
“Oh, my God!” I gasped, softly.
“Erin, when we broke up, she didn’t talk to me for weeks. She was sure I’d done something awful to offend you. She kept telling me, once she decided she was talking to me again, that if I had any character at all, I’d call you and apologize, even if I honestly didn’t think I’d done anything wrong.
“And I tried. I don’t know how many times I picked up the phone and dialed. And then I’d hear the phone ring, and I’d realize I didn’t know what to say, how to counter all that anger I’d seen, and I’d hang up. Finally, after a few months, I decided to call and see the thing through, no matter what, but the number had been disconnected.”
“We’d moved in with my grandmother after my father died,” I said blankly.
We sat in silence for a minute.
“But if she’d known about my father…” I said.
“She does know. I told her…about that day. I told her what I’d seen, and what you’d said about him. And she said that made it even more important for me to give you the support you needed, and that I’d failed.”
“But you didn’t fail!” I protested. “I did. I refused to tell you…”
“Why? Why on earth didn’t you tell me? You knew how I felt about you.”
“I was afraid I’d lose you. I was afraid that you or your family would think I wasn’t good enough for you.”
More people were coming into the park. He slid over next to me and slipped his arm around me.
“Not good enough?” he whispered. “You?”
I realized he was holding me. And I realized I was crying, and he was crying. He held me a very long time; when the light had faded out of the sky and the concert was well underway, he was still holding me.
It was just before they started playing the 1812 Overture that he kissed me. We never saw the fireworks that night. We were too busy kissing and crying and kissing some more.
By the time we pulled out of the parking lot, we had both calmed down, but it was very quiet going home. We were both so drained, and it was really hard to know where we were going from here. We’d been in a state of suspended animation for over three years; who knew if we’d lost that critical thing that we’d had?
“Jeff,” I said softly as we pulled up to the house. “For my birthday, my parents gave me two tickets to the revival of ‘Man of La Mancha’ at Lincoln Center, and the performance is a week from Saturday. Would you like to go with me?”
“I’d love to,” he said.
After we’d said our real goodnights in the car, he walked me to the gate. Then he hesitated. It was after 11:00, and I thought Heidi might be in the house.
“Oh, come on,” I said, and I pulled him inside. As soon as the gate closed, I heard her barking and charging out from the backyard. Then I remembered that Fred was working the 3 to 11 shift and had just gotten home.
“Heidi!” I yelled as she turned the corner into the front yard, and that pulled her up short. “Come over here,” I said sternly. She moped over and curled up against my leg.
I squatted down and put my face right next to hers.
“Heidi,” I said, “This is Jeff. I told you about him. He is a very special friend, and you have to be nice to him always. Understand?”
She licked my nose. I waved at Jeff to come down and join us, and he did. He petted Heidi, and she turned and licked his hand.
“That’s it,” I said. “You’re in.”
Our "Girl Autobiographies"
Moderators: KimberlyS, CathyAnn
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Robyn Katie
- Miss Platinum Goddess
- Posts: 380
- Joined: Thu Oct 02, 2008 5:02 pm
Erin,
I am enthralled by your account of your and Jeff's careful and caring reacquaintance. (Okay, I'm an unabashed romantic.) Can't wait to hear what comes next!
Absaroka,
Your Mountain Girl seems like the very spirit of the trail. You've always been tops at bringing nature to life. I could feel the frost on that grass!
Both of you:
Just a word to tell you both how knocked out I am by the things you write and the stories you tell. Thank you both for every glorious word.
Love, Robyn Katie
I am enthralled by your account of your and Jeff's careful and caring reacquaintance. (Okay, I'm an unabashed romantic.) Can't wait to hear what comes next!
Absaroka,
Your Mountain Girl seems like the very spirit of the trail. You've always been tops at bringing nature to life. I could feel the frost on that grass!
Both of you:
Just a word to tell you both how knocked out I am by the things you write and the stories you tell. Thank you both for every glorious word.
Love, Robyn Katie
-
Absaroka
- Miss Diamond Goddess
- Posts: 3344
- Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2005 8:30 am
Robyn who was Lainie in real life?
Erin, very nice, and I am glad that Jeff is back and that Erin is better able to understand how he felt. Ws Jeff drawn on someone in your life?
It would be nice to see Amelie here again. She used to live in the Bronx, not all that far from Fordham in terms of physical distance.
Keep the good work ladies. This is fun.
Absaroka
Erin, very nice, and I am glad that Jeff is back and that Erin is better able to understand how he felt. Ws Jeff drawn on someone in your life?
It would be nice to see Amelie here again. She used to live in the Bronx, not all that far from Fordham in terms of physical distance.
Keep the good work ladies. This is fun.
Absaroka
Last edited by Absaroka on Mon May 11, 2009 9:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
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Absaroka
- Miss Diamond Goddess
- Posts: 3344
- Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2005 8:30 am
here's some more. And it actually has a little crossdressing in it. It took a fair amount of thinking to get it in there-originally an angry skunk was going to be involved.
I have a very close and old friend named Lee. I post here about her sometimes. Lee is to some extent the model of Mountain Girl, or more accurately the part of Lee that is in me is the model for Mountain Girl. Most of the people who have read this have commented that they feel that Lee's presence permeats the entire story and usually wind up asking is that where Mountain Girl came from. However you can't shut Lee up.......
I also enjoyed having God make an appearance.
They swam around a bit, diving under the water and trying to surprise each other by silently coming to the surface. Swimming was something he could do better than her which was a gratifying discovery. He had begun to think of her as slightly invincible. Then he remembered that although his family was asleep if one of his parents got up they might look in on his brother and him and realize that he was gone. He went back to shore and lay on some rocks to dry. They talked on and off for a while and he realized that he had never really conversed with her before. She'd limited herself to occaisional instructions and questions. She didn't really say that much more now, and seemed slightly bemused at the idea of conversation. But they tried and she seemed to be enjoying their efforts at least as much as Andy. Then he said that he had to get back.
On the way back he remembered that she had said that she thought she knew who their visitor was and asked her about this. “Oh, it’s this old man who gets hungry” she replied. “No, I saw him the first time he came here. He’s just a boy, about our age” Andy told her. She was interested. “What did he look like?” “I don’t really know, it was dark. But he was skinny and ran really fast.” “Oh yeah, him” she replied. “I know who it is but I don’t know his name. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you. He only wants food sometimes when the hunting’s bad.” A minute later she added to her thought: "I know a lot of what goes on around here even though I keep to myself. I like to watch and listen."
It was late. He was suddenly tired and cold from the swim. They approached the campsite openly but quietly. They checked the food-it was still there. “You look cold” she said” “you had better get on dry clothes. Then sneak back and we’ll watch.” With dry jeans and a blanket he slithered out of the tent again. They settled back into the hiding place and began to watch. Mountain Girl immediately seemed to fall sleep with just her arm for a pillow. Two hours more by his watch and she rose “I have to get home” Andy decided that he was just too tired. “Let’s check to be sure” he said. The food was gone! She chuckled. “Who ever it is must be pretty sneaky for me not to hear them even if I was sleeping. Lets try tomorrow night. I’ll be here when everyone goes to sleep. Stay in your tent. I’ll find a better hiding place for us. Maybe we can make friends with him.”
Andy felt crummy in the morning. It was really just a case of not enough sleep but his parents left him behind with his Aunt in the campground that day. He hung around the tent for most of the morning and then went and sat by the lake. He swam for a while, looking at the sign saying no swimming after dark and thinking of the previous night. Whoever she was, she was really growing on him and he found himself thinking that he would probably never see her again after vacation was over and feeling very sad about that.
That night he again slithered out of his bag and lay in wait. Around midnight she appeared and they went off to a better situated place with which to spy. They had no luck however and still the food was gone when they gave up. She gave a sigh and then asked if he could get away from his family tomorrow. Exhausted from two sleepless nights he told her that he would just pretend not to feel well the same as had happened today. “Be at the other end of the pond by those rocks when the sun is in the middle of the notch between those two peaks” she instructed. “I want to show you another secret place.”
The next morning he told his aunt that he was going to go to the lake. He hurried, not wanting to miss her even though he figured he was an hour and a half early. He swam around a little bit and then climbed up onto the rocks to dry off in the sun and fell right asleep. He woke an hour later and was lying on the rock staring up at the trees when her face appeared over his. She sat next to him for a moment without saying anything. Then words seemed to struggle out of her as she asked would he like to see where she lived.
A million thoughts raced through his mind at once. Was it a cave? A little log house of her own? A regular home like anyone else had? A tepee where she and her father lived? Did she have a family at all? He felt a twinge of fear at the prospect. But he felt like she was a friend by now and a friend……….He asked her if she lived by the lake she had taken them too. It was pretty far away, he thought. "No, I don't live anywhere near there" she replied. "I thought maybe because you called it your lake and you wanted to save some of the plant food for later you lived there" Andy responded. ""I just didn't want you to take too much" she said as if that settled something.
After an eternity of thought that in actuality lasted less than a second he asked how far it was to where ever it was that she lived and how would they get there. Would he be home before he was missed? “We’ll be okay as long as you don’t walk too slow” she told him. She looked away and he followed her gaze through the ancient pine trees. And there was just something in the way the sunlight shone down through the trees, something about the warmth in the wind, that let him know that the only thing he wanted to do today was go with her. There was a thrill of joy hiding in her eyes and she grabbed him by the hand. “Come on. It’s not that far if we run some” And off she flew, dragging him behind her through the trees onto a faint trail.
Once they were away from the campground the route angled steeply up the mountainside for a while through the pines. She seemed to think it perfectly normal to run up the mountainside but Andy quickly had to stop. She looked back a moment later and returned. Andy felt himself flush with embarrassment as he asked if they could just walk instead of running at the steep parts but she gave him another of those strange smiles and said walking was fine too. Eventually the path stopped at a stream which cascaded down a series of falls and they sat in a hollow behind one of the falls for a little while. Then she moved to where she could see her reflection and sat staring at it for a bit.
He sat next to her and looked at the reflection of the two of them. After a moment she asked if he liked to look at his ghost. He didn’t understand what she meant and asked her what she had said. “I can see our ghosts in the water. Mine’s always there with me. I guess someday if I don’t see it I’ll know I’m dead” she explained. Andy thought that this was a really strange idea but that perhaps it was best not to question it. He commented that he called it a reflection. “That’s what my dad calls it too” she replied. Andy wondered what she would think if he showed her the pictures they had taken of her at Misty Moon Lake.
He didn’t say anything more about it however and they started on their way again after another minute. There wasn’t really a trail at all on the other side of the stream but the pines were far enough apart to walk comfortably through. She pointed at a huge boulder visible through the trees and led him towards it. There was another stream just beyond it which they followed for a while till it emerged into a grassy meadow. She pointed out a beaver lodge at the end of the meadow in a shallow pond as they skirted the water and then began to climb over a series of ledges. At the top there was a faint trail that they began to follow uphill till it reached a saddle between two peaks. Andy thought that he hoped she was going to come back with him because this was going to be pretty hard to retrace by himself no matter how carefully he looked backwards to see what the way back would look like. Lets see, follow the ledges till the meadow and then climb down into the meadow, crossing on the side away from the beaver lodge to the stream and follow it to the boulder……he hoped the rest of the route was simple.
There was a fairly large but strangely ominous looking trail leading up the mountainside to the saddle and another fainter one leading away from it. The fainter trail also had a disturbing feel to it although he could not figure out why he felt uncomfortable looking at it. Something about the placement of the rocks seemed baleful but why, he wondered? She pointed down the larger trail and told him that it lead directly to the town below. He guessed that this was good to know although they were now on the other side of the ridge above the campground and the town she had just pointed out was probably quite a ways from the campground. They started along the fainter trail and eventually came to another clearing.
The atmosphere of disturbance had disappeared as they entered the clearing and parts of it had a look of being cared for. Beneath some pines at the end stood a small cabin with a front porch and a nearby outhouse. This was her home and as they walked towards it she began to tell him of her life here.
Her fathers name was Zechariah. He had lived on the mountain for as long as anyone except a few old timers could remember and both the abandoned farmhouse which he had slowly rebuilt over the years and the land it occupied had enjoyed an evil reputation for far longer than that. Part of the local legend spoke of how when he first come to live there he had been told of the superstitions regarding his new home. He had simply replied that he would be bringing more than enough of his own ghosts anyway. Gossip and rumors about him had begun that very day and he had done nothing to dispel them. Neither had he ever explained to the few people he conversed with what possessed him to make his home on a mountainside in such isolation. But he had gone at it with dedication and had a life he deemed pleasant even if few others would have.
He did have a little money from somewhere which he used to pay the local taxes on his property and buy things he couldn’t make himself along with some occasional canned food on his infrequent visits to the town at the foot what soon became known as Zechariah’s haunted mountain. And in spite of his love for solitude, like any other man he got lonely sometimes. At one time there had been a reclusive woman in town that he had taken a momentary shine to and thanks to their attentions to each other she had gotten pregnant. She had moved shortly after her discovery of her impending motherhood and Zechariah knew nothing of it till one day a few years later when the sheriff had actually come riding up to his home on the mountainside carrying a very official letter and hoping against hope not to get shot, killed, or worse for his trouble. Zechariah’s one time lady friend had died but had left enough information that someone thought they ought to look him up to see if the frightening idea of Zechariah’s fatherhood might be true.
It was all news to Zechariah but he had lived alone in the wilderness long enough to understand that if it is yours to do and you don’t do it then no one else likely will either. One look at this young child who had just spent a month and a half in a not very pleasant foster home convinced him that she was his and another month of inquiries had made it clear to him that he finally agreed with the state authorities on something; that her mother’s family appeared to be non existent and that there was nobody else that he would care to leave her with. He had gone to the unprecedented step of contacting his own family about the matter but they were incredulous and when they had finally come to the town below to see him and neet his daughter they had taken one look and sworn they would go at least another forty years before they spoke to him again. So Zechariah was a father.
The first few months were terribly disturbing for them both. She would have been a difficult child to raise for any parent, let alone someone who's only experience with raising young was with creatures he intended to eat as soon as they were big enough. Her life with her mother had not gone particularly well since shortly after she had emerged from the womb. Her mom had loved her and had done her very best with what she had but her best could be charitably described as confused. Her one success as a mother, a terribly important one but also the only one, had been to give her daughter a knowledge deep in her soul that there had been one person on this earth who loved her and who she had loved. The foster home had been a nightmare and in fact some months later there would be an investigation due to their treatment of another child, but none of that helped her. Zechariah was at a loss. One night six months into his badly failing experiment with fatherhood he went out to some rocks near his cabin where he liked to go to think and sat and stared at the sky for an hour before beginning to weep at his own inadequacy. And then for the first time since the end of his youth he got down onto his knees and prayed out loud for something, this time for guidance instead of having his will imposed on others as he had done the last time he had tried to pray.
God’s wisdom is said to be mysterious. Others say He just has a wicked sense of humor. What Zechariah didn’t know was that his daughter had snuck out of the house and had watched the whole thing. Zechariah had felt peace after his pleas but she had been astonished. She had never seen anything like this. Zechariah had been big and scary. She had figured out that he wasn’t going to hurt her and that he would feed her if she did the chores that he seemed to fill both their lives with but that was about it. But as she listened to his whispered words she knew something about him, that he wanted her here with him, wanted to love her and be a father, but just didn’t know how.
In the morning she rose before him, which wasn’t that unusual since she was always half afraid of something in the night and never really slept all that well out here in her father's wilderness. What was unusual was that the cabin somehow felt different, as if it had a pleasant familiarity that it had not had before. She listened to the sound of the insects in the almost dawn outside for a bit and thought that they made such a pretty song. Then she thought of how Zechariah made breakfast for them in the morning and decided to show him that she too could do this instead of hiding in her bed. He had slept later than usual, exhausted from his discussion with the Creator the night before. Now he woke to a smell that was almost appetizing and a scared smile.
The following years had gone progressively better. They had come to understand that they did love each other just as she had hoped in the foster home when she had heard that her father had been found. He’d taught her how to care for their home and for herself. He had a seemingly inexhaustible supply of books about any number of subjects and the long winters had been a time for him to teach her to read and write and to use these tools to acquire whatever knowledge the two of them might deem important about the world beyond their home. He’d taught her his beliefs about life, about right and wrong, and all the other things in the universe that people feel the need to wonder about. He had taught her to hunt and fish, and most of all he had taught her how to be a part of the wilderness, to know without thinking about it what was about to happen. What he hadn’t taught her was anything about living with civilization.
The one attempt he had made to allow his daughter to have something to do with the rest of the world had gone about as badly as anyone in a position to have expectations would have predicted. His dislike of civilization not withstanding, he had actually tried to send her to the town school for a few months. But the journey down the mountain to the town was too long to make every day and the questions the school had for him had seemed overly intrusive to Zechariah. These factors had combined with his daughter’s lack of respect for any authority other than his and a prejudice among most of the people at the school to convince him to try something else. The one teacher who had been in a position to oppose this had also been the one who was able to look at the pictures she had drawn during art and see that Zechariah was the only adult she thought she could trust and that she would be safe with him, wildly eccentric as he was. The rest of the school and the town as a whole was thrilled to forget that she existed. After that his trips to town were usually made alone.
Although she was familiar with the route down the mountain to the little town below she had no idea how to find her way around once she got there, how to interact with the people there, or even how buy food in a store. Civilization seemed like a place best avoided in her opinion; a necessary place where her father went to buy occasional food, books, and a variety of other things, but still a place it was probably better not to think about too much. The foster home was there, the school was there, and her mother had died there.
It was several years later that Zechariah had begun to leave her alone overnight, at first camping nearby to assure himself that she was okay and then actually leaving for a few days. Last fall he had been gone for ten days and on his return had decided that she was old enough to care for herself if need be. He was almost right.
Some time ago Zechariah had left for another ten days. He was unworried and she was excited with the confidence he had shown in her. But Zechariah hadn’t counted on a string of events that led him first to the hospital and then a far off county jail. When he had come to realize just how long it would be before he could return home he had sent a letter to the minister of a church in the town near their home, asking him to bring it to his daughter and addressing the letter inside only to “my daughter.” He told her to check at the post office every week for mail and that if things got tough to go see the minister and ask for help. The minister had showed her where the post office was and had offered to help her buy groceries. She knew the minister. Her father had talked about him and had said that he was someone to be trusted. She was sure her father was right, but she wasn’t about to surrender any of her independence yet.
Instead she sent her father weekly letters about how plentiful the small game and fish were, how prolific the fruit trees and berry bushes were and how things were generally fine. The little trip to the post office to mail them wasn’t as bad as she had feared. But the question of weather or not much of anything was in reality fine was a matter of opinion. It would have to be fine. Anything else was unthinkable. Her father would return and she would be here when he arrived.
Now she and Andy had spent an hour at the lake near the cabin. They’d gone there after she had showed him her home and the cool waters of the lake were a welcome relief after the sweat he had worked up on the trip here. She was astonished with herself. She’d spoken more in the last hour than she had in the last month. To her tremendous relief Andy seemed unsurprised by anything she had told him. In fact as they walked back to the cabin, he had told her about another friend he had who he said she reminded him of, and had told her something about this other friend. Her surprise grew even larger, and as she considered all that had happened in the last hour she felt herself coming to some sort of a decision.
It was cooler now, and they were still wet.. She offered him some dry clothes. He hesitated for a moment. They were after all girls clothes even if they were just nondescript pants and a tee shirt. They were old, worn and a little dirty but they looked like they would fit him. She coaxed him a bit, gesturing to the large flannel shirt she had put on. “This is my dad’s shirt” she said. “I’m going to wear it till he gets back home. That way in a way he’s still here with me. If you leave your shirt here I’ll wear that too so part of you will be here with me, and I’ll be with you when you go home.” She went on. “I can hunt better when I wear something of my dad’s. I can shoot better and from farther away and it’s even easier to carry whatever I get home after. If I wear something of yours I’ll be a kinder person, even if there’s no one else here to be kind to.”
Andy thought this sounded sort of strange but not nearly as strange as her thoughts about her reflection, and thought that after all he had given an awful lot of his clothes to Vickie in the time he had known her. He had always just thought it was a question of her not having much to wear but maybe there was more to it than that. He took the proffered clothes and changed, wondering how he would explain the loss of his clothes to his parents. He still had his flannel shirt which was dry, maybe that would be enough to keep them from noticing. She hung the wet clothes on a rope outside and they started back to the campground while he did his best to memorize the trail. The next day when he returned home from his vacation he had a way to write to her, a promise to be some sort of pen pals, and a plan.
I have a very close and old friend named Lee. I post here about her sometimes. Lee is to some extent the model of Mountain Girl, or more accurately the part of Lee that is in me is the model for Mountain Girl. Most of the people who have read this have commented that they feel that Lee's presence permeats the entire story and usually wind up asking is that where Mountain Girl came from. However you can't shut Lee up.......
I also enjoyed having God make an appearance.
They swam around a bit, diving under the water and trying to surprise each other by silently coming to the surface. Swimming was something he could do better than her which was a gratifying discovery. He had begun to think of her as slightly invincible. Then he remembered that although his family was asleep if one of his parents got up they might look in on his brother and him and realize that he was gone. He went back to shore and lay on some rocks to dry. They talked on and off for a while and he realized that he had never really conversed with her before. She'd limited herself to occaisional instructions and questions. She didn't really say that much more now, and seemed slightly bemused at the idea of conversation. But they tried and she seemed to be enjoying their efforts at least as much as Andy. Then he said that he had to get back.
On the way back he remembered that she had said that she thought she knew who their visitor was and asked her about this. “Oh, it’s this old man who gets hungry” she replied. “No, I saw him the first time he came here. He’s just a boy, about our age” Andy told her. She was interested. “What did he look like?” “I don’t really know, it was dark. But he was skinny and ran really fast.” “Oh yeah, him” she replied. “I know who it is but I don’t know his name. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you. He only wants food sometimes when the hunting’s bad.” A minute later she added to her thought: "I know a lot of what goes on around here even though I keep to myself. I like to watch and listen."
It was late. He was suddenly tired and cold from the swim. They approached the campsite openly but quietly. They checked the food-it was still there. “You look cold” she said” “you had better get on dry clothes. Then sneak back and we’ll watch.” With dry jeans and a blanket he slithered out of the tent again. They settled back into the hiding place and began to watch. Mountain Girl immediately seemed to fall sleep with just her arm for a pillow. Two hours more by his watch and she rose “I have to get home” Andy decided that he was just too tired. “Let’s check to be sure” he said. The food was gone! She chuckled. “Who ever it is must be pretty sneaky for me not to hear them even if I was sleeping. Lets try tomorrow night. I’ll be here when everyone goes to sleep. Stay in your tent. I’ll find a better hiding place for us. Maybe we can make friends with him.”
Andy felt crummy in the morning. It was really just a case of not enough sleep but his parents left him behind with his Aunt in the campground that day. He hung around the tent for most of the morning and then went and sat by the lake. He swam for a while, looking at the sign saying no swimming after dark and thinking of the previous night. Whoever she was, she was really growing on him and he found himself thinking that he would probably never see her again after vacation was over and feeling very sad about that.
That night he again slithered out of his bag and lay in wait. Around midnight she appeared and they went off to a better situated place with which to spy. They had no luck however and still the food was gone when they gave up. She gave a sigh and then asked if he could get away from his family tomorrow. Exhausted from two sleepless nights he told her that he would just pretend not to feel well the same as had happened today. “Be at the other end of the pond by those rocks when the sun is in the middle of the notch between those two peaks” she instructed. “I want to show you another secret place.”
The next morning he told his aunt that he was going to go to the lake. He hurried, not wanting to miss her even though he figured he was an hour and a half early. He swam around a little bit and then climbed up onto the rocks to dry off in the sun and fell right asleep. He woke an hour later and was lying on the rock staring up at the trees when her face appeared over his. She sat next to him for a moment without saying anything. Then words seemed to struggle out of her as she asked would he like to see where she lived.
A million thoughts raced through his mind at once. Was it a cave? A little log house of her own? A regular home like anyone else had? A tepee where she and her father lived? Did she have a family at all? He felt a twinge of fear at the prospect. But he felt like she was a friend by now and a friend……….He asked her if she lived by the lake she had taken them too. It was pretty far away, he thought. "No, I don't live anywhere near there" she replied. "I thought maybe because you called it your lake and you wanted to save some of the plant food for later you lived there" Andy responded. ""I just didn't want you to take too much" she said as if that settled something.
After an eternity of thought that in actuality lasted less than a second he asked how far it was to where ever it was that she lived and how would they get there. Would he be home before he was missed? “We’ll be okay as long as you don’t walk too slow” she told him. She looked away and he followed her gaze through the ancient pine trees. And there was just something in the way the sunlight shone down through the trees, something about the warmth in the wind, that let him know that the only thing he wanted to do today was go with her. There was a thrill of joy hiding in her eyes and she grabbed him by the hand. “Come on. It’s not that far if we run some” And off she flew, dragging him behind her through the trees onto a faint trail.
Once they were away from the campground the route angled steeply up the mountainside for a while through the pines. She seemed to think it perfectly normal to run up the mountainside but Andy quickly had to stop. She looked back a moment later and returned. Andy felt himself flush with embarrassment as he asked if they could just walk instead of running at the steep parts but she gave him another of those strange smiles and said walking was fine too. Eventually the path stopped at a stream which cascaded down a series of falls and they sat in a hollow behind one of the falls for a little while. Then she moved to where she could see her reflection and sat staring at it for a bit.
He sat next to her and looked at the reflection of the two of them. After a moment she asked if he liked to look at his ghost. He didn’t understand what she meant and asked her what she had said. “I can see our ghosts in the water. Mine’s always there with me. I guess someday if I don’t see it I’ll know I’m dead” she explained. Andy thought that this was a really strange idea but that perhaps it was best not to question it. He commented that he called it a reflection. “That’s what my dad calls it too” she replied. Andy wondered what she would think if he showed her the pictures they had taken of her at Misty Moon Lake.
He didn’t say anything more about it however and they started on their way again after another minute. There wasn’t really a trail at all on the other side of the stream but the pines were far enough apart to walk comfortably through. She pointed at a huge boulder visible through the trees and led him towards it. There was another stream just beyond it which they followed for a while till it emerged into a grassy meadow. She pointed out a beaver lodge at the end of the meadow in a shallow pond as they skirted the water and then began to climb over a series of ledges. At the top there was a faint trail that they began to follow uphill till it reached a saddle between two peaks. Andy thought that he hoped she was going to come back with him because this was going to be pretty hard to retrace by himself no matter how carefully he looked backwards to see what the way back would look like. Lets see, follow the ledges till the meadow and then climb down into the meadow, crossing on the side away from the beaver lodge to the stream and follow it to the boulder……he hoped the rest of the route was simple.
There was a fairly large but strangely ominous looking trail leading up the mountainside to the saddle and another fainter one leading away from it. The fainter trail also had a disturbing feel to it although he could not figure out why he felt uncomfortable looking at it. Something about the placement of the rocks seemed baleful but why, he wondered? She pointed down the larger trail and told him that it lead directly to the town below. He guessed that this was good to know although they were now on the other side of the ridge above the campground and the town she had just pointed out was probably quite a ways from the campground. They started along the fainter trail and eventually came to another clearing.
The atmosphere of disturbance had disappeared as they entered the clearing and parts of it had a look of being cared for. Beneath some pines at the end stood a small cabin with a front porch and a nearby outhouse. This was her home and as they walked towards it she began to tell him of her life here.
Her fathers name was Zechariah. He had lived on the mountain for as long as anyone except a few old timers could remember and both the abandoned farmhouse which he had slowly rebuilt over the years and the land it occupied had enjoyed an evil reputation for far longer than that. Part of the local legend spoke of how when he first come to live there he had been told of the superstitions regarding his new home. He had simply replied that he would be bringing more than enough of his own ghosts anyway. Gossip and rumors about him had begun that very day and he had done nothing to dispel them. Neither had he ever explained to the few people he conversed with what possessed him to make his home on a mountainside in such isolation. But he had gone at it with dedication and had a life he deemed pleasant even if few others would have.
He did have a little money from somewhere which he used to pay the local taxes on his property and buy things he couldn’t make himself along with some occasional canned food on his infrequent visits to the town at the foot what soon became known as Zechariah’s haunted mountain. And in spite of his love for solitude, like any other man he got lonely sometimes. At one time there had been a reclusive woman in town that he had taken a momentary shine to and thanks to their attentions to each other she had gotten pregnant. She had moved shortly after her discovery of her impending motherhood and Zechariah knew nothing of it till one day a few years later when the sheriff had actually come riding up to his home on the mountainside carrying a very official letter and hoping against hope not to get shot, killed, or worse for his trouble. Zechariah’s one time lady friend had died but had left enough information that someone thought they ought to look him up to see if the frightening idea of Zechariah’s fatherhood might be true.
It was all news to Zechariah but he had lived alone in the wilderness long enough to understand that if it is yours to do and you don’t do it then no one else likely will either. One look at this young child who had just spent a month and a half in a not very pleasant foster home convinced him that she was his and another month of inquiries had made it clear to him that he finally agreed with the state authorities on something; that her mother’s family appeared to be non existent and that there was nobody else that he would care to leave her with. He had gone to the unprecedented step of contacting his own family about the matter but they were incredulous and when they had finally come to the town below to see him and neet his daughter they had taken one look and sworn they would go at least another forty years before they spoke to him again. So Zechariah was a father.
The first few months were terribly disturbing for them both. She would have been a difficult child to raise for any parent, let alone someone who's only experience with raising young was with creatures he intended to eat as soon as they were big enough. Her life with her mother had not gone particularly well since shortly after she had emerged from the womb. Her mom had loved her and had done her very best with what she had but her best could be charitably described as confused. Her one success as a mother, a terribly important one but also the only one, had been to give her daughter a knowledge deep in her soul that there had been one person on this earth who loved her and who she had loved. The foster home had been a nightmare and in fact some months later there would be an investigation due to their treatment of another child, but none of that helped her. Zechariah was at a loss. One night six months into his badly failing experiment with fatherhood he went out to some rocks near his cabin where he liked to go to think and sat and stared at the sky for an hour before beginning to weep at his own inadequacy. And then for the first time since the end of his youth he got down onto his knees and prayed out loud for something, this time for guidance instead of having his will imposed on others as he had done the last time he had tried to pray.
God’s wisdom is said to be mysterious. Others say He just has a wicked sense of humor. What Zechariah didn’t know was that his daughter had snuck out of the house and had watched the whole thing. Zechariah had felt peace after his pleas but she had been astonished. She had never seen anything like this. Zechariah had been big and scary. She had figured out that he wasn’t going to hurt her and that he would feed her if she did the chores that he seemed to fill both their lives with but that was about it. But as she listened to his whispered words she knew something about him, that he wanted her here with him, wanted to love her and be a father, but just didn’t know how.
In the morning she rose before him, which wasn’t that unusual since she was always half afraid of something in the night and never really slept all that well out here in her father's wilderness. What was unusual was that the cabin somehow felt different, as if it had a pleasant familiarity that it had not had before. She listened to the sound of the insects in the almost dawn outside for a bit and thought that they made such a pretty song. Then she thought of how Zechariah made breakfast for them in the morning and decided to show him that she too could do this instead of hiding in her bed. He had slept later than usual, exhausted from his discussion with the Creator the night before. Now he woke to a smell that was almost appetizing and a scared smile.
The following years had gone progressively better. They had come to understand that they did love each other just as she had hoped in the foster home when she had heard that her father had been found. He’d taught her how to care for their home and for herself. He had a seemingly inexhaustible supply of books about any number of subjects and the long winters had been a time for him to teach her to read and write and to use these tools to acquire whatever knowledge the two of them might deem important about the world beyond their home. He’d taught her his beliefs about life, about right and wrong, and all the other things in the universe that people feel the need to wonder about. He had taught her to hunt and fish, and most of all he had taught her how to be a part of the wilderness, to know without thinking about it what was about to happen. What he hadn’t taught her was anything about living with civilization.
The one attempt he had made to allow his daughter to have something to do with the rest of the world had gone about as badly as anyone in a position to have expectations would have predicted. His dislike of civilization not withstanding, he had actually tried to send her to the town school for a few months. But the journey down the mountain to the town was too long to make every day and the questions the school had for him had seemed overly intrusive to Zechariah. These factors had combined with his daughter’s lack of respect for any authority other than his and a prejudice among most of the people at the school to convince him to try something else. The one teacher who had been in a position to oppose this had also been the one who was able to look at the pictures she had drawn during art and see that Zechariah was the only adult she thought she could trust and that she would be safe with him, wildly eccentric as he was. The rest of the school and the town as a whole was thrilled to forget that she existed. After that his trips to town were usually made alone.
Although she was familiar with the route down the mountain to the little town below she had no idea how to find her way around once she got there, how to interact with the people there, or even how buy food in a store. Civilization seemed like a place best avoided in her opinion; a necessary place where her father went to buy occasional food, books, and a variety of other things, but still a place it was probably better not to think about too much. The foster home was there, the school was there, and her mother had died there.
It was several years later that Zechariah had begun to leave her alone overnight, at first camping nearby to assure himself that she was okay and then actually leaving for a few days. Last fall he had been gone for ten days and on his return had decided that she was old enough to care for herself if need be. He was almost right.
Some time ago Zechariah had left for another ten days. He was unworried and she was excited with the confidence he had shown in her. But Zechariah hadn’t counted on a string of events that led him first to the hospital and then a far off county jail. When he had come to realize just how long it would be before he could return home he had sent a letter to the minister of a church in the town near their home, asking him to bring it to his daughter and addressing the letter inside only to “my daughter.” He told her to check at the post office every week for mail and that if things got tough to go see the minister and ask for help. The minister had showed her where the post office was and had offered to help her buy groceries. She knew the minister. Her father had talked about him and had said that he was someone to be trusted. She was sure her father was right, but she wasn’t about to surrender any of her independence yet.
Instead she sent her father weekly letters about how plentiful the small game and fish were, how prolific the fruit trees and berry bushes were and how things were generally fine. The little trip to the post office to mail them wasn’t as bad as she had feared. But the question of weather or not much of anything was in reality fine was a matter of opinion. It would have to be fine. Anything else was unthinkable. Her father would return and she would be here when he arrived.
Now she and Andy had spent an hour at the lake near the cabin. They’d gone there after she had showed him her home and the cool waters of the lake were a welcome relief after the sweat he had worked up on the trip here. She was astonished with herself. She’d spoken more in the last hour than she had in the last month. To her tremendous relief Andy seemed unsurprised by anything she had told him. In fact as they walked back to the cabin, he had told her about another friend he had who he said she reminded him of, and had told her something about this other friend. Her surprise grew even larger, and as she considered all that had happened in the last hour she felt herself coming to some sort of a decision.
It was cooler now, and they were still wet.. She offered him some dry clothes. He hesitated for a moment. They were after all girls clothes even if they were just nondescript pants and a tee shirt. They were old, worn and a little dirty but they looked like they would fit him. She coaxed him a bit, gesturing to the large flannel shirt she had put on. “This is my dad’s shirt” she said. “I’m going to wear it till he gets back home. That way in a way he’s still here with me. If you leave your shirt here I’ll wear that too so part of you will be here with me, and I’ll be with you when you go home.” She went on. “I can hunt better when I wear something of my dad’s. I can shoot better and from farther away and it’s even easier to carry whatever I get home after. If I wear something of yours I’ll be a kinder person, even if there’s no one else here to be kind to.”
Andy thought this sounded sort of strange but not nearly as strange as her thoughts about her reflection, and thought that after all he had given an awful lot of his clothes to Vickie in the time he had known her. He had always just thought it was a question of her not having much to wear but maybe there was more to it than that. He took the proffered clothes and changed, wondering how he would explain the loss of his clothes to his parents. He still had his flannel shirt which was dry, maybe that would be enough to keep them from noticing. She hung the wet clothes on a rope outside and they started back to the campground while he did his best to memorize the trail. The next day when he returned home from his vacation he had a way to write to her, a promise to be some sort of pen pals, and a plan.
everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
-
Robyn Katie
- Miss Platinum Goddess
- Posts: 380
- Joined: Thu Oct 02, 2008 5:02 pm
Hi Absaroka,
Lainie is a combination of two people, one of whom I dated, the other I didn't. Her name comes from a third, unrelated person.
My characters are drawn from life, but "the names have been changed to protect the innocent." Moreover I have mixed up the characteristics of each, so that there's no way anyone could possibly recognize them.
As you can well imagine, I feel I mustn't get more specific than that.
Love, Robyn Katie
Lainie is a combination of two people, one of whom I dated, the other I didn't. Her name comes from a third, unrelated person.
My characters are drawn from life, but "the names have been changed to protect the innocent." Moreover I have mixed up the characteristics of each, so that there's no way anyone could possibly recognize them.
As you can well imagine, I feel I mustn't get more specific than that.
Love, Robyn Katie
-
Robyn Katie
- Miss Platinum Goddess
- Posts: 380
- Joined: Thu Oct 02, 2008 5:02 pm
Hi sisters,
The fateful moment approaches. Can Robyn resist? Well ... when has she ever? ...
Enjoy!
Love, Robyn Katie
***
Bad date: heartache.
Things were going so sweetly to start with. We went out to Seven Acres Road and parked in the woods. Marty handled me like fruit in a market and stretched me out on the back seat like yard goods. I should have minded, but I didn’t. Far from resisting, I was so ready, so receptive—we were on the brink—
But then for some reason we started arguing, he seemed only to want to hurt me. The things he said, I couldn’t believe I was going out with such a person. I yelled at him—me who never yells—and then I said “Let me up, let me go,” and squirmed out from under.
And so it didn’t happen. All that happened was we drove back to his house, he went in, slamming the door, leaving me unkissed, without even a proper goodnight. Mad, I kicked the starter and drove the whole twenty-six miles in tears. Pulling into the turnaround of our driveway they were still spilling out of me, the front of my blouse was wet.
But you can’t walk into our house in tears, not and get any peace. So I sit in my little $100 ’36 Ford that’s older than I am and barely runs. I rebutton my blouse because I discover I did it up crooked, dab at my cheeks, fix my mascara, pat my hair into some sort of order to I won’t look Slept In. I let my lipstick go, though, as it hasn’t even been kissed thin. That’s how awful this evening was. (Did he kiss me at all? Even beforehand? I’m trying to remember.)
Walking in, I saw by the kitchen clock it was only twelve after ten. Deducting driving time, it must all have happened—from dressed to naked to nearly deflowered to argument to dressed, driven back, and deserted at his door—in slightly under forty-five minutes. It felt like hours, I’d no idea.
“Hi, dear. Back so soon?
“Uh huh. We thought we’d make it an early night.” Earning points wherever I can. My eyes zig and zag, Mom has no difficulty working out what they’re wondering.
“Daddy’s asleep on the couch.” And we know what ‘asleep’ means in the local dialect, don’t we.
“Going to take a bath, set my hair, doesn’t matter, I’ll go to bed with it wet.”
“You’ll catch your death.”
“Probably.”
She doesn’t have to tell me to tiptoe. I escape upstairs, run a bath with plentiful Cashmere Bouquet, drop my garments on the stool, and slide a very upset self into the suds. Ohh it does feel good, I need to be pampered after That.
Disturbing that this feels just as devastating as anything that happened with Lainey. It shouldn’t. ‘Cause girls are who I’m serious about, right? But shamefully contrary to my deepest nature, it does feel just as genuine. Then am I “cured” of my yen for girls? For now, possibly. Forever? Don’t know. Can’t think. Blur.
What worries me is I might be in love.
No more thinking please. Luxuriant, or trying to be, I lie still, or almost—still quivering I notice—still aroused, too. Astonished at myself, I soothe the center of it all. My Little Engine That Could, still puffing, even after all that? Ohh, well, if that’s how you feel about it, perhaps the evening’s not a total waste …
Moments pass, how many of them I couldn’t tell you, but I am making myself happy in the only way I can right now when all at once I hear Daddy’s voice downstairs, sullen, mean at the edges, and Mom answering in her placating tone. Then steps on the stairs and Mom saying in her most brittle corrosive voice, “How long will you be, dear? Others need to use the bathroom, so if you wouldn’t mind …”
A long sob just manages to swallow itself. “I won’t be long …”
My nerves are really ready to tear apart I think. Daddy’s on the stairs, I hear him grousing, “That girl …” He’s thumping the door. “Time you got out and let somebody else in.”
I’m crumpling in my middle like always when he uses that tone to me. Like I am his worthless chattel, like he is huge as the sky and I am an insect. “I am, Daddy.”
Struggling out of the steaming suds and water I stare for one second thinking, couldn’t I come back to it after he’s done, but I have no desire to come anywhere near this bathroom after he’s used it. Wrapped in my too-brief towel (did I really forget to bring my wrap?) I march forth, humid, huffy. “It’s all yours, since you insist …”
“Don’t you use that tone to me, young lady. You’re not too big to spank.”
“Sorr-ee …” Disappearing into my room I dress my damp self in PJs and slump on the bedside, staring at my childhood walls, feeling very much the changeling just dumped in the cradle by the Bad Fairies. I no longer belong here, that much is clear. But I’ve no prospect of leaving for at least two years, and anyway the idea of having to be on my own scares me to death, as Daddy very well knows, since he regularly manages to shut me up merely by reminding me. “If you don’t like it, there’s the door, leave.”
Nobody’s happy I’m back. They’d quite comfortably moved on without me. Now they’re stuck with me once more in their midst, a stranger, an intruder, a nuisance, an irritant whose life is mostly not here and bodes nothing but ill. Alice is their real daughter now—maybe she always was. I’m extra. Returning home in June I found my things jumbled, my room stuffed with extra furniture. What had they used it for, a storage barn? My room … is nothing sacred? Guess not.
I cry myself to sleep.
Fall cleanup at school annually turns the whole student body out to rake leaves, sweep the roads, trim trees, do a million chores the school is too cheap to have done professionally. Oh, I know it saves them money they can put toward our education, but I just feel like complaining, so boo to that. I am so annoyed!
How could they be so callous as to split up Marty and me for the whole day, assigning us to different crews—him cutting and raking brush, me washing windows—when with us so shaky and desperate we need to be together? All day, bereft, abandoned, needy, rag and window cleaner in hand, I move about like a raincloud, “speaking to nobody, no, not I, and nobody speaks to me.”
Last night (school night, I was studying) Mavis Stannard phoned me from New York with an invitation to her coming out party. Quite unbelievable. Of course this was possibly meant as a kindness, but who on earth, you may ask, is Mavis Stannard? Vaguely I recollect she is someone I met at the Welches’ last summer, hush-voiced, cripplingly shy, a little crushed violet grown in some special hothouse for flowers that can’t survive elsewhere. At most we spoke two words. Her inviting me now seems so self-indulgent to me, in my real world of grief and difficulty, that I’m afraid I’m quite rude to her on the phone. Afterward I feel ashamed and would apologize if I could, but I have no idea how to reach her, nor the patience even if I did.
Marty and I are all right again. After our big blowup we had an even bigger makeup. Saturday evening his parents were going out dining and dancing till very late. We stayed in, oh my did we ever. I played housewife, cooking us dinner and fending his hands off me enough to finish it only by a miracle. For dessert we spent four solid hours on his living room couch.
During which I lost my virginity.
The turmoil—I didn’t expect it (or maybe I did). The feeling of being invaded—in a second I knew this was wrong. Not morally wrong, far from it; but wrong for me. The hand of love I dreamt of wasn’t this …
I wriggled, squirmed, I told myself this was love’s need pulling from me my strange certainty of female love, replacing it with proper doubt and a sinking heart. My denials overwhelmed me, I climaxed, the final indignity, utterly self-betrayed …
My heart breaking with longing for the girl who should have been mounting me, I kissed him and flopped, eyes closed. Panting, I lay, one great flutter from toes to topknot. Now it was over and “Ick, I’m a mess.” Afterward, dressed, sick, dizzy, I wondered how I would ever survive this. He liked it though I think.
I thought it might become all right through the blunting of time.
No bleeding occurred, because no hymen encountered, as far as I know. Marty, thank heaven, didn’t seem to notice. But being so rudely broached turned my whole metabolism upside down. For one thing it brought on my period (for which I must remember to give thanks, thanks, thanks). For days I was a red drench.
So I have been made a woman of. In the aftermath it hardly hurt at all, in fact it had an effect on me I couldn’t have predicted. I’ve been swiveled into quite the complaisant slut, it seems. Not that I feel momentously different, but goodbye maidenly modesty! Having been “awakened,” as they say in novels, I’m not shy, I want to do it again immediately. So this is why fiction heroines make such a delighted fuss—for now that I have a taste of it, I’m positively a greedy girl, in fact insatiable. So we do it over and over.
There is pregnancy to worry about. Ignorant us, we use no “protection.” Well, it’s not only ignorance, but neither of us is old enough to go to the drugstore and ask for “safes,” as they are called. Only if you’re of age (and brave enough to face down the clerk) can you make this unimaginable purchase. At sixteen we’re barred from getting the one thing that would make us carefree lovers. So Marty restrains himself, and I help him do it. I hold him inside me and we try not to move. And break apart before he “creates life” in me as the novels say. And pay attention to my monthly cycle so we can, very cautiously, use the rhythm method on my safe days. See, I’m having to be good at math after all!
But I’m terrified all the time. For warning stories abound of girls who faithfully practiced the rhythm method and ended up with bouncing babies all over the place. And “had to get married.” Let me tell you, this girl has no intention of taking even the slightest first step on that road. Well, anyway not the next step.
When we came back home his parents had gone to bed. The whole downstairs was dark except for a single lamp in the living room.
“We’ve got the place to ourselves,” I say vaguely.
“Aha, you know what that means.”
“Behave now!”
I tried to divert him by asking if he thinks his parents would mind us having something to eat in the kitchen. Dangerous, of course! The kitchen was lit only by the lamplight shining through the dining room, I tried to keep on the subject of food, but all in vain. He caught me in the middle of the floor and there went all my clothes. Honestly, this didn’t seem right to me, I was terrified to be naked with his parents just upstairs. “What if they come down for something?” I whispered. ”Or hear us and think we’re burglars?” He wouldn’t even answer me. He only put me up against the fridge.
This past Saturday I couldn’t see him, I had things to do. So of course Sunday afternoon I face a tantrum. Marty actually accuses me of probably spending the whole time letting myself be toyed with by some other boy, if you can believe that. (What makes him so jealous! I suppose it’s to be blamed on our not having gone all the way yet? I hope he’ll be better once we do. —If we do, I mean.)
“Do you really, truly suspect the minute I’m out of your sight I’m dropping my panties for anyone and everyone?” I asked him plaintively. “Not very flattering to me, is it!” Earnestly I pleaded with him, “I would never do anything of the kind! And it’s upsetting to me that you don’t know that! To have you imagining I’d spend the day flat on my back doing—”
“That’s not what I said—you said that. See? You do think about it! You probably think about it all the time!—”
“—When in fact I’m tiresomely true to you—”
“’Tiresomely?’”
“Oh, you know what I mean.” Honestly, that boy, sometimes! “Personally I think the idea of me being had by other boys must excite you enormously—”
“The hell it does.”
“—Otherwise why would you bring it up so much?—”
“Listen, Robyn, if I catch you so much as looking at another guy—”
Oh well, you don’t want to listen to us bickering.
Spanish class is rife with rumor: Pepper Murdock is pregnant! Or is she? Carolyn, her best friend, says “Not on your life. Completely made up. Not a bit of truth to it.”
On the other hand Henry, best friend of Pete Turner, Pepper’s steady (Pete ‘n Pepper, the Inseparables), says, “Oh yeah, it’s true, all right.”
Pretty, shingled, neatly dressed Pepper isn’t saying anything right now. Tight-lipped, she goes about her business trying to stay unaware of the wild talk that she missed her second period the first week of January. That she went to the doctor and it’s confirmed: she’s going to have a baby! That now, secretly behind she scenes, she’s frantically trying to arrange for an abortion overseas, but there’s a complication, she can’t afford to let her parents know, Pete and she haven’t money enough between them for a plane ticket and abortion both, time is tight, they’d need to get it done over a weekend so she could cover it with a weekend pass ...
“Completely untrue,” says Carolyn. “The things people get into their heads!”
“Wanta bet?” says Henry. “Pete told me her ticket just came through.”
Prurient interest abounds. Officially, of course, nobody in school has sex or even knows what sex is, except in an abstract scientific sort of way, as taught in Biology. Especially not boarders like Pepper and Pete.
“Where could they even have found the opportunity?” everyone is asking.
In my unthinking way I blurt out, “Oh! There’re any number of places they could’ve.”
Everybody turns like cows in a field and gives me the Big Stare. “Oh, and you know this—how? Not from personal experience, I hope?”
“How would I know? I’m a day student,” I say loftily.
“But you were a boarder your first two years. Weren’t you.”
“Yes, and during that time, didn’t you go with that Karl person, what was his name, Barth?”
“Beck. We didn’t do anything.”
“Oh no? Don’t I remember you two hanging all over each other hot and heavy at the dances—”
On a tenterhook I hang waiting for someone to add, And while you were at it, didn’t you have an unnatural relationship with Lainey Bonnard, too? but the gods smile and no one comes up with that particular conversational gem. Distracted, all of Spanish I class is now electrified to think I might actually have had sex with a boy (which, since I have, is pretty hard to brazen through).
“Look at her, it’s written all over her.”
“You really have Done It, haven’t you,” marvels Carolyn, just as if she hadn’t done equally wicked things herself.
“So, Robyn, where’d your virginity go, care to tell us?”
“Couldn’t be that Marty, could it?”
“There, look at her blush, would you!”
Crossly I stamp my foot, the worst possible thing, saying, “Oh just stop.” Of course then they light into me six times worse.
I half hope Pepper really is pregnant. Wouldn’t that be a sensation! It would certainly erase any and all curiosity about my sex life from the maps of my dimwitted fellow students.
But in the end Pepper doesn’t oblige. She’s still as slim and boyish as ever. Possibly she did fly to France or wherever it is they do abortions for the weekend and turn up Monday looking completely unchanged. Or possibly there never was anything to it in the first place.
Being a girlfriend is awfully new and strange for me. It’s very different from merely being someone’s date! In some under-the-skin way I don’t fully understand, I have become Marty’s partner. His Other Half—just like the cliché says!
This is so unexpected! So subversive … it undermines everything I thought I was. It’s worked a change in my mind, my movements, my metabolism, my whole consciousness of myself. It’s as if I’ve been all realigned like a telescope focused on the sun (and the impossibility of ever quite being able to see him as he is, because I can no longer look straight at him, is similar too).
We rely on each other. Part of this is, yes, an extraordinary change in my physical life: having sex steadily with Marty. My body is adjusting to his, coming to need his, I feel reshaped, excavated, opened like a rose. But it’s not always easy to stay open. For instance, I am to be responsive to him (constantly it seems!) like a guitar being played on. But sometimes I feel shut up in my case and unable to sing to his touch or the sound of his voice.
Yet my impulses toward him are shockingly direct! I have to watch my behavior when we’re around other people. Like at the prom. My mind got all disordered by the music and the excitement, I hungered to offer myself—on the carpet—anything. He could have had me like a piece of meat, I was that aroused. I clung to Marty, kissing him madly.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Want me?”
“Sure.”
“Can we go then?”
“Right now?”
I nodded, afraid to trust myself to say anything.
We got in the car. I flung my arms around Marty’s neck and clung there. I don’t know how he managed to drive us to Seven Acres Road. We parked in our favorite tiny lane that leads a few yards into the woods before it ends. As we got out and in the back I kept whispering, “Take me … hurry.” So if things happened rather rapidly, I suppose I’m to blame. I barely had time for a frantic plea to pull out quickly beforehand, and then I was in a welter myself.
We had just begun to do it a second time when headlights bumped into the little dirt track and stopped right behind us.
“The cops?” he muttered.
“Maybe it’s just some kids trying to scare us?” I panted.
Terrified, we grabbed for our clothing. We got dressed as fast as humanly possible, me skinning back into my prom gown (no easy trick in a car). Only when we were all buttoned and zipped did the headlights slowly recede, the car backing out onto the paved road and moving away.
Which of course put a stop to any further plans for sex that night. He drove us back to his house, we kissed fervently but quickly, and I got in my car and drove the twenty-six miles home.
That distance between us, and our summer jobs, made our dates fewer and farther between than I liked. It was a strain, being apart so much, seeing each other at most once a week and sometimes not that often. Imagine if we were neighbors and could just drop over and see each other! But twenty-six miles? It was like a wall separating us, and my anxiety increased with the square of the distance.
Is this what life is going to be like? I asked myself. Constant worry?
***
Next time: Cross Currents.
The fateful moment approaches. Can Robyn resist? Well ... when has she ever? ...
Enjoy!
Love, Robyn Katie
***
Bad date: heartache.
Things were going so sweetly to start with. We went out to Seven Acres Road and parked in the woods. Marty handled me like fruit in a market and stretched me out on the back seat like yard goods. I should have minded, but I didn’t. Far from resisting, I was so ready, so receptive—we were on the brink—
But then for some reason we started arguing, he seemed only to want to hurt me. The things he said, I couldn’t believe I was going out with such a person. I yelled at him—me who never yells—and then I said “Let me up, let me go,” and squirmed out from under.
And so it didn’t happen. All that happened was we drove back to his house, he went in, slamming the door, leaving me unkissed, without even a proper goodnight. Mad, I kicked the starter and drove the whole twenty-six miles in tears. Pulling into the turnaround of our driveway they were still spilling out of me, the front of my blouse was wet.
But you can’t walk into our house in tears, not and get any peace. So I sit in my little $100 ’36 Ford that’s older than I am and barely runs. I rebutton my blouse because I discover I did it up crooked, dab at my cheeks, fix my mascara, pat my hair into some sort of order to I won’t look Slept In. I let my lipstick go, though, as it hasn’t even been kissed thin. That’s how awful this evening was. (Did he kiss me at all? Even beforehand? I’m trying to remember.)
Walking in, I saw by the kitchen clock it was only twelve after ten. Deducting driving time, it must all have happened—from dressed to naked to nearly deflowered to argument to dressed, driven back, and deserted at his door—in slightly under forty-five minutes. It felt like hours, I’d no idea.
“Hi, dear. Back so soon?
“Uh huh. We thought we’d make it an early night.” Earning points wherever I can. My eyes zig and zag, Mom has no difficulty working out what they’re wondering.
“Daddy’s asleep on the couch.” And we know what ‘asleep’ means in the local dialect, don’t we.
“Going to take a bath, set my hair, doesn’t matter, I’ll go to bed with it wet.”
“You’ll catch your death.”
“Probably.”
She doesn’t have to tell me to tiptoe. I escape upstairs, run a bath with plentiful Cashmere Bouquet, drop my garments on the stool, and slide a very upset self into the suds. Ohh it does feel good, I need to be pampered after That.
Disturbing that this feels just as devastating as anything that happened with Lainey. It shouldn’t. ‘Cause girls are who I’m serious about, right? But shamefully contrary to my deepest nature, it does feel just as genuine. Then am I “cured” of my yen for girls? For now, possibly. Forever? Don’t know. Can’t think. Blur.
What worries me is I might be in love.
No more thinking please. Luxuriant, or trying to be, I lie still, or almost—still quivering I notice—still aroused, too. Astonished at myself, I soothe the center of it all. My Little Engine That Could, still puffing, even after all that? Ohh, well, if that’s how you feel about it, perhaps the evening’s not a total waste …
Moments pass, how many of them I couldn’t tell you, but I am making myself happy in the only way I can right now when all at once I hear Daddy’s voice downstairs, sullen, mean at the edges, and Mom answering in her placating tone. Then steps on the stairs and Mom saying in her most brittle corrosive voice, “How long will you be, dear? Others need to use the bathroom, so if you wouldn’t mind …”
A long sob just manages to swallow itself. “I won’t be long …”
My nerves are really ready to tear apart I think. Daddy’s on the stairs, I hear him grousing, “That girl …” He’s thumping the door. “Time you got out and let somebody else in.”
I’m crumpling in my middle like always when he uses that tone to me. Like I am his worthless chattel, like he is huge as the sky and I am an insect. “I am, Daddy.”
Struggling out of the steaming suds and water I stare for one second thinking, couldn’t I come back to it after he’s done, but I have no desire to come anywhere near this bathroom after he’s used it. Wrapped in my too-brief towel (did I really forget to bring my wrap?) I march forth, humid, huffy. “It’s all yours, since you insist …”
“Don’t you use that tone to me, young lady. You’re not too big to spank.”
“Sorr-ee …” Disappearing into my room I dress my damp self in PJs and slump on the bedside, staring at my childhood walls, feeling very much the changeling just dumped in the cradle by the Bad Fairies. I no longer belong here, that much is clear. But I’ve no prospect of leaving for at least two years, and anyway the idea of having to be on my own scares me to death, as Daddy very well knows, since he regularly manages to shut me up merely by reminding me. “If you don’t like it, there’s the door, leave.”
Nobody’s happy I’m back. They’d quite comfortably moved on without me. Now they’re stuck with me once more in their midst, a stranger, an intruder, a nuisance, an irritant whose life is mostly not here and bodes nothing but ill. Alice is their real daughter now—maybe she always was. I’m extra. Returning home in June I found my things jumbled, my room stuffed with extra furniture. What had they used it for, a storage barn? My room … is nothing sacred? Guess not.
I cry myself to sleep.
Fall cleanup at school annually turns the whole student body out to rake leaves, sweep the roads, trim trees, do a million chores the school is too cheap to have done professionally. Oh, I know it saves them money they can put toward our education, but I just feel like complaining, so boo to that. I am so annoyed!
How could they be so callous as to split up Marty and me for the whole day, assigning us to different crews—him cutting and raking brush, me washing windows—when with us so shaky and desperate we need to be together? All day, bereft, abandoned, needy, rag and window cleaner in hand, I move about like a raincloud, “speaking to nobody, no, not I, and nobody speaks to me.”
Last night (school night, I was studying) Mavis Stannard phoned me from New York with an invitation to her coming out party. Quite unbelievable. Of course this was possibly meant as a kindness, but who on earth, you may ask, is Mavis Stannard? Vaguely I recollect she is someone I met at the Welches’ last summer, hush-voiced, cripplingly shy, a little crushed violet grown in some special hothouse for flowers that can’t survive elsewhere. At most we spoke two words. Her inviting me now seems so self-indulgent to me, in my real world of grief and difficulty, that I’m afraid I’m quite rude to her on the phone. Afterward I feel ashamed and would apologize if I could, but I have no idea how to reach her, nor the patience even if I did.
Marty and I are all right again. After our big blowup we had an even bigger makeup. Saturday evening his parents were going out dining and dancing till very late. We stayed in, oh my did we ever. I played housewife, cooking us dinner and fending his hands off me enough to finish it only by a miracle. For dessert we spent four solid hours on his living room couch.
During which I lost my virginity.
The turmoil—I didn’t expect it (or maybe I did). The feeling of being invaded—in a second I knew this was wrong. Not morally wrong, far from it; but wrong for me. The hand of love I dreamt of wasn’t this …
I wriggled, squirmed, I told myself this was love’s need pulling from me my strange certainty of female love, replacing it with proper doubt and a sinking heart. My denials overwhelmed me, I climaxed, the final indignity, utterly self-betrayed …
My heart breaking with longing for the girl who should have been mounting me, I kissed him and flopped, eyes closed. Panting, I lay, one great flutter from toes to topknot. Now it was over and “Ick, I’m a mess.” Afterward, dressed, sick, dizzy, I wondered how I would ever survive this. He liked it though I think.
I thought it might become all right through the blunting of time.
No bleeding occurred, because no hymen encountered, as far as I know. Marty, thank heaven, didn’t seem to notice. But being so rudely broached turned my whole metabolism upside down. For one thing it brought on my period (for which I must remember to give thanks, thanks, thanks). For days I was a red drench.
So I have been made a woman of. In the aftermath it hardly hurt at all, in fact it had an effect on me I couldn’t have predicted. I’ve been swiveled into quite the complaisant slut, it seems. Not that I feel momentously different, but goodbye maidenly modesty! Having been “awakened,” as they say in novels, I’m not shy, I want to do it again immediately. So this is why fiction heroines make such a delighted fuss—for now that I have a taste of it, I’m positively a greedy girl, in fact insatiable. So we do it over and over.
There is pregnancy to worry about. Ignorant us, we use no “protection.” Well, it’s not only ignorance, but neither of us is old enough to go to the drugstore and ask for “safes,” as they are called. Only if you’re of age (and brave enough to face down the clerk) can you make this unimaginable purchase. At sixteen we’re barred from getting the one thing that would make us carefree lovers. So Marty restrains himself, and I help him do it. I hold him inside me and we try not to move. And break apart before he “creates life” in me as the novels say. And pay attention to my monthly cycle so we can, very cautiously, use the rhythm method on my safe days. See, I’m having to be good at math after all!
But I’m terrified all the time. For warning stories abound of girls who faithfully practiced the rhythm method and ended up with bouncing babies all over the place. And “had to get married.” Let me tell you, this girl has no intention of taking even the slightest first step on that road. Well, anyway not the next step.
When we came back home his parents had gone to bed. The whole downstairs was dark except for a single lamp in the living room.
“We’ve got the place to ourselves,” I say vaguely.
“Aha, you know what that means.”
“Behave now!”
I tried to divert him by asking if he thinks his parents would mind us having something to eat in the kitchen. Dangerous, of course! The kitchen was lit only by the lamplight shining through the dining room, I tried to keep on the subject of food, but all in vain. He caught me in the middle of the floor and there went all my clothes. Honestly, this didn’t seem right to me, I was terrified to be naked with his parents just upstairs. “What if they come down for something?” I whispered. ”Or hear us and think we’re burglars?” He wouldn’t even answer me. He only put me up against the fridge.
This past Saturday I couldn’t see him, I had things to do. So of course Sunday afternoon I face a tantrum. Marty actually accuses me of probably spending the whole time letting myself be toyed with by some other boy, if you can believe that. (What makes him so jealous! I suppose it’s to be blamed on our not having gone all the way yet? I hope he’ll be better once we do. —If we do, I mean.)
“Do you really, truly suspect the minute I’m out of your sight I’m dropping my panties for anyone and everyone?” I asked him plaintively. “Not very flattering to me, is it!” Earnestly I pleaded with him, “I would never do anything of the kind! And it’s upsetting to me that you don’t know that! To have you imagining I’d spend the day flat on my back doing—”
“That’s not what I said—you said that. See? You do think about it! You probably think about it all the time!—”
“—When in fact I’m tiresomely true to you—”
“’Tiresomely?’”
“Oh, you know what I mean.” Honestly, that boy, sometimes! “Personally I think the idea of me being had by other boys must excite you enormously—”
“The hell it does.”
“—Otherwise why would you bring it up so much?—”
“Listen, Robyn, if I catch you so much as looking at another guy—”
Oh well, you don’t want to listen to us bickering.
Spanish class is rife with rumor: Pepper Murdock is pregnant! Or is she? Carolyn, her best friend, says “Not on your life. Completely made up. Not a bit of truth to it.”
On the other hand Henry, best friend of Pete Turner, Pepper’s steady (Pete ‘n Pepper, the Inseparables), says, “Oh yeah, it’s true, all right.”
Pretty, shingled, neatly dressed Pepper isn’t saying anything right now. Tight-lipped, she goes about her business trying to stay unaware of the wild talk that she missed her second period the first week of January. That she went to the doctor and it’s confirmed: she’s going to have a baby! That now, secretly behind she scenes, she’s frantically trying to arrange for an abortion overseas, but there’s a complication, she can’t afford to let her parents know, Pete and she haven’t money enough between them for a plane ticket and abortion both, time is tight, they’d need to get it done over a weekend so she could cover it with a weekend pass ...
“Completely untrue,” says Carolyn. “The things people get into their heads!”
“Wanta bet?” says Henry. “Pete told me her ticket just came through.”
Prurient interest abounds. Officially, of course, nobody in school has sex or even knows what sex is, except in an abstract scientific sort of way, as taught in Biology. Especially not boarders like Pepper and Pete.
“Where could they even have found the opportunity?” everyone is asking.
In my unthinking way I blurt out, “Oh! There’re any number of places they could’ve.”
Everybody turns like cows in a field and gives me the Big Stare. “Oh, and you know this—how? Not from personal experience, I hope?”
“How would I know? I’m a day student,” I say loftily.
“But you were a boarder your first two years. Weren’t you.”
“Yes, and during that time, didn’t you go with that Karl person, what was his name, Barth?”
“Beck. We didn’t do anything.”
“Oh no? Don’t I remember you two hanging all over each other hot and heavy at the dances—”
On a tenterhook I hang waiting for someone to add, And while you were at it, didn’t you have an unnatural relationship with Lainey Bonnard, too? but the gods smile and no one comes up with that particular conversational gem. Distracted, all of Spanish I class is now electrified to think I might actually have had sex with a boy (which, since I have, is pretty hard to brazen through).
“Look at her, it’s written all over her.”
“You really have Done It, haven’t you,” marvels Carolyn, just as if she hadn’t done equally wicked things herself.
“So, Robyn, where’d your virginity go, care to tell us?”
“Couldn’t be that Marty, could it?”
“There, look at her blush, would you!”
Crossly I stamp my foot, the worst possible thing, saying, “Oh just stop.” Of course then they light into me six times worse.
I half hope Pepper really is pregnant. Wouldn’t that be a sensation! It would certainly erase any and all curiosity about my sex life from the maps of my dimwitted fellow students.
But in the end Pepper doesn’t oblige. She’s still as slim and boyish as ever. Possibly she did fly to France or wherever it is they do abortions for the weekend and turn up Monday looking completely unchanged. Or possibly there never was anything to it in the first place.
Being a girlfriend is awfully new and strange for me. It’s very different from merely being someone’s date! In some under-the-skin way I don’t fully understand, I have become Marty’s partner. His Other Half—just like the cliché says!
This is so unexpected! So subversive … it undermines everything I thought I was. It’s worked a change in my mind, my movements, my metabolism, my whole consciousness of myself. It’s as if I’ve been all realigned like a telescope focused on the sun (and the impossibility of ever quite being able to see him as he is, because I can no longer look straight at him, is similar too).
We rely on each other. Part of this is, yes, an extraordinary change in my physical life: having sex steadily with Marty. My body is adjusting to his, coming to need his, I feel reshaped, excavated, opened like a rose. But it’s not always easy to stay open. For instance, I am to be responsive to him (constantly it seems!) like a guitar being played on. But sometimes I feel shut up in my case and unable to sing to his touch or the sound of his voice.
Yet my impulses toward him are shockingly direct! I have to watch my behavior when we’re around other people. Like at the prom. My mind got all disordered by the music and the excitement, I hungered to offer myself—on the carpet—anything. He could have had me like a piece of meat, I was that aroused. I clung to Marty, kissing him madly.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Want me?”
“Sure.”
“Can we go then?”
“Right now?”
I nodded, afraid to trust myself to say anything.
We got in the car. I flung my arms around Marty’s neck and clung there. I don’t know how he managed to drive us to Seven Acres Road. We parked in our favorite tiny lane that leads a few yards into the woods before it ends. As we got out and in the back I kept whispering, “Take me … hurry.” So if things happened rather rapidly, I suppose I’m to blame. I barely had time for a frantic plea to pull out quickly beforehand, and then I was in a welter myself.
We had just begun to do it a second time when headlights bumped into the little dirt track and stopped right behind us.
“The cops?” he muttered.
“Maybe it’s just some kids trying to scare us?” I panted.
Terrified, we grabbed for our clothing. We got dressed as fast as humanly possible, me skinning back into my prom gown (no easy trick in a car). Only when we were all buttoned and zipped did the headlights slowly recede, the car backing out onto the paved road and moving away.
Which of course put a stop to any further plans for sex that night. He drove us back to his house, we kissed fervently but quickly, and I got in my car and drove the twenty-six miles home.
That distance between us, and our summer jobs, made our dates fewer and farther between than I liked. It was a strain, being apart so much, seeing each other at most once a week and sometimes not that often. Imagine if we were neighbors and could just drop over and see each other! But twenty-six miles? It was like a wall separating us, and my anxiety increased with the square of the distance.
Is this what life is going to be like? I asked myself. Constant worry?
***
Next time: Cross Currents.
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Absaroka
- Miss Diamond Goddess
- Posts: 3344
- Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2005 8:30 am
Robyn that is interesting to know and make the story much more fun to read.
I too change all the names including the names I refer to real people as-Lee is not my friends name although I'd be surprised if she read this. When I gave people the book to read they were usually able to find themselves in it however.
Have either of you, Erin or Robyn, shared your story with others in F2F land?
Looking forward to reading your latest chapter later when I have time to read it properly
Absaroka
I too change all the names including the names I refer to real people as-Lee is not my friends name although I'd be surprised if she read this. When I gave people the book to read they were usually able to find themselves in it however.
Have either of you, Erin or Robyn, shared your story with others in F2F land?
Looking forward to reading your latest chapter later when I have time to read it properly
Absaroka
everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
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Erin L
- Miss Emerald Goddess
- Posts: 244
- Joined: Thu Oct 30, 2008 11:38 am
- Location: Queens, NY
Robyn - Thanks so much! I'd been kind of itching to post this section because, I, too, am an incurable romantic (you probably had no idea!).
Absaroka - funny how right Mom had been. Jeff is actually a composite of a few people I've known, both male and female, and with some aspects of my wife and some of me. In the end, I guess he's what Erin's ideal man would have been. And, no, I have never shared this with anyone other than right here.
Absaroka - funny how right Mom had been. Jeff is actually a composite of a few people I've known, both male and female, and with some aspects of my wife and some of me. In the end, I guess he's what Erin's ideal man would have been. And, no, I have never shared this with anyone other than right here.
I'm not that kind of girl.
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Robyn Katie
- Miss Platinum Goddess
- Posts: 380
- Joined: Thu Oct 02, 2008 5:02 pm
No, I haven't shared any of this elsewhere either. And I don't plan to.
It's privately written as a kind of experiment, and when I started I hadn't contemplated anyone seeing it.
But this seemed like kind of a safe place, and I knew Erin had done something similar, and so ... I started this thread.
It just grew and grew!
Love, Robyn Katie
It's privately written as a kind of experiment, and when I started I hadn't contemplated anyone seeing it.
But this seemed like kind of a safe place, and I knew Erin had done something similar, and so ... I started this thread.
It just grew and grew!
Love, Robyn Katie
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Absaroka
- Miss Diamond Goddess
- Posts: 3344
- Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2005 8:30 am
Erin and Robyn, I feel very privileged reading stuff that you two have never shown anyone before. You both write well.
I actually showed my efforts to a friend who is a writer. Then we sat and discussed it for an hour over tea one day. Her first comment was that it was quite readable and that she enjoyed reading it. With that in mind she proceeded to tear it apart with constructive criticisms. It left me feeling quite pleased as her criticisms were of the kind that you would give something that you considered worth taking the time to criticize. Sort of like architecture school where the best projects got torn apart and the bad projects were quickly glossed over.
She talked about the structure and focal points and asked what I was trying to say and why. She encouraged me to give people more dialogue to reveal their characters-you can see dialogue inserted after the fact from Vickie for this. Then she summed it all up by saying eliminate half of it and rewrite the rest to be twice as long. Or as the standard comment is, write more about less. And when I was done, she said, strongly consider publishing it. I was pretty thrilled, but decided to keep on writing without publishing as that sounded like too much work. I have incorporated a lot of her comments into what you are seeing now.
I did show this to a number of people as I have commented. I think the comment that affected me the most was from my wife. Remembering that this is fiction, she said there was nothing in it that she didn't already know about me.
I'll try to give people's reactions to their characters as they are more developed. Dennis and a couple of others in particular.
Robyn I really enjoyed the last post. It is interesting to see your perception of what it might be like to be a teenage girl. So different from what I did as a boy yet in some ways the feelings are so similar.
We had only one bathroom also, which meant that you didn't spend too much time in the bathroom. Baths and showers were planned in advance, but then back in the day you only bathed once or twice a week anyway. I would never have taken a long bath while my dad was drunk-naked and wet is just too vulnerable. I often considered carefully whether or not to even take off my shoes based on his condition.
I never really worried about how far some girl would want me to go but I sure worried about how much she liked me and when could I see her again. I really wanted love, and like many teenage boys subscribed to the idea that if a girl would fool around with me it meant she liked me. Sometimes that made for real disappointments. But reading about your characters confusion put a perspective on it that it is surprising I had not considered in all these years since then.
Keep it up ladies.
Absaroka
I actually showed my efforts to a friend who is a writer. Then we sat and discussed it for an hour over tea one day. Her first comment was that it was quite readable and that she enjoyed reading it. With that in mind she proceeded to tear it apart with constructive criticisms. It left me feeling quite pleased as her criticisms were of the kind that you would give something that you considered worth taking the time to criticize. Sort of like architecture school where the best projects got torn apart and the bad projects were quickly glossed over.
She talked about the structure and focal points and asked what I was trying to say and why. She encouraged me to give people more dialogue to reveal their characters-you can see dialogue inserted after the fact from Vickie for this. Then she summed it all up by saying eliminate half of it and rewrite the rest to be twice as long. Or as the standard comment is, write more about less. And when I was done, she said, strongly consider publishing it. I was pretty thrilled, but decided to keep on writing without publishing as that sounded like too much work. I have incorporated a lot of her comments into what you are seeing now.
I did show this to a number of people as I have commented. I think the comment that affected me the most was from my wife. Remembering that this is fiction, she said there was nothing in it that she didn't already know about me.
I'll try to give people's reactions to their characters as they are more developed. Dennis and a couple of others in particular.
Robyn I really enjoyed the last post. It is interesting to see your perception of what it might be like to be a teenage girl. So different from what I did as a boy yet in some ways the feelings are so similar.
We had only one bathroom also, which meant that you didn't spend too much time in the bathroom. Baths and showers were planned in advance, but then back in the day you only bathed once or twice a week anyway. I would never have taken a long bath while my dad was drunk-naked and wet is just too vulnerable. I often considered carefully whether or not to even take off my shoes based on his condition.
I never really worried about how far some girl would want me to go but I sure worried about how much she liked me and when could I see her again. I really wanted love, and like many teenage boys subscribed to the idea that if a girl would fool around with me it meant she liked me. Sometimes that made for real disappointments. But reading about your characters confusion put a perspective on it that it is surprising I had not considered in all these years since then.
Keep it up ladies.
Absaroka
everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
-
Erin L
- Miss Emerald Goddess
- Posts: 244
- Joined: Thu Oct 30, 2008 11:38 am
- Location: Queens, NY
August, 1972 - March, 1973
The night we went to see “Man of La Mancha”, we met outside Macy’s after I got out of work. We took a cab uptown and had dinner in a trendy little restaurant just across Broadway from Lincoln Center. I was pleased to find that he was really looking forward to seeing the play.
Mom had always been something of an idealist, and her recording of the original cast album of “Man of La Mancha” had been getting lots of play in our house for years. I had read the play on my own in high school, and had come to love it as much as she. When she and Fred had given me tickets to the revival with the original cast, including Richard Kiley, I had been thrilled, even though at that moment I’d had no idea whom I was going to take.
I told him all this over dinner, and he was grinning at me, and I knew why. Little by little, I was filling in the blanks in my history, the tidbits he’d missed in our time apart. He would do the same thing, and, after a while, it would no longer sting even a little to talk about what had taken place in the years in which we had been apart.
Later, we were watching the climactic scene where Don Quixote dies after one last defiant but fatal reprise of “I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha”. There was silence in the theater, and I could hear sniffles all around me, including mine, broken only by Sancho’s mournful cry, “He’s dead!” I looked over at Jeff, and he was wiping his eyes; I linked my arm through his and held on tightly.
“I’m very proud of you,” I said on the way home.
“Why? Because I cried?” he said, sounding a little sheepish.
“Yes. And because you didn’t feel you had to try and hide it from me.”
“Just wanted you to know how tough I am.”
“I knew that. I know it always. And I know how sensitive you are, too, and that’s what counts.”
But it had been more than that. I had found the play touching, inspiring, and altogether wonderful. He, on the other hand, remained mostly silent the rest of the way home.
It was not that he had been touched, or even inspired; something in that play, something in Don Quixote’s spirit had rung true deep within Jeff, and had struck a chord in a way that nothing else ever had. In a way, I was surprised by this, because he was something of a pragmatist, and so tilting at windmills would never have been his way. But at that moment I realized that there was a powerful sense of justice in him, something I’d seen the night he had taken me out to dinner but only truly appreciated at this moment.
I was reminded of one of my favorite lines in “To Kill A Mockingbird”, when Atticus and the children return home after Tom Robinson has been so wrongly convicted, and young Gem is sitting on the front steps of the house, devastated by his father’s failed attempt to defend an obviously innocent man. Their neighbor comes over to Gem and tells him, “Some men are born to do our unpleasant jobs for us; your father is one of them.”
We were on the train to Douglaston, and as we rode in silence, I realized that Jeff was the kind of man who would not flinch from doing the unpleasant job. And I was sure that the more right he thought he was, the more willing he would be to take it on. Once again, I linked my arm through his and held on, and he pulled me closer.
He had left his car at the station, and he drove me home from there. When we pulled up in front of the house, it was late and there was no sign of activity around. I was ready for a pretty heavy makeout session, but instead he just looked into my eyes.
“I love you,” he said softly. “I’ve never stopped loving you, not for a single minute. I dated a few girls here and there, but there was never any interest, never any spark, because I compared every girl I met to you, and they all lost.”
“I never stopped loving you, either,” I told him. “I tried to tell myself I was getting over you, but I never did. My friends told me that I had to forget, had to move on, but I couldn’t do it. I guess,” I added with a shrug, “I compared any guys I met to you, and of course they all lost.”
He kissed me, and I leapt into his arms, pressing myself against him, and then the kiss softened, and we held it as long as we could. When we broke it, he touched my chin and I thought he was going to kiss me yet again – and I so desperately wanted him to. Instead, he looked into my eyes; there were tears in his.
“When the time is right,” he whispered, “Please marry me. Please.”
Mom and Fred were planning another barbecue, this one for Labor Day. I approached Mom after dinner one night, when it was just her and me, and I asked if I could invite Jeff.
“Of course, honey,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“You and he are a regular item, I take it?”
“Let’s just say that I’m glad he and I are back together, and I want to see where this goes, and just let it go at that?”
We agreed.
A few days before Labor Day weekend, Jeff invited me out to dinner. He told me we’d be dining at a small family place on the North Shore. I was in a playful mood, and so I wore a short skirt and a halter, and when he picked me up that night, he looked me over appreciatively.
But as we were driving along, it looked like we were going in the direction of his house, and when we got off the Expressway, I was certain of it. Finally, I asked him.
“Yes, actually,” he said with a laugh. Then he saw the look on my face and quickly added, “But don’t be upset. It’s just the two of us. My family is away this week, and I wanted to make dinner for you.”
“Wait,” I said. “You cooked?”
“Yep.”
And he had. He had made a very nice chicken dish and a salad. He had a bottle of white wine, which we sipped while he heated the dinner, and it all went like clockwork.
After dinner, I helped him clean up. He tried to force me out, but I told him that it would go much more quickly if he let me help, and he decided I was right. It was just before sunset when we finished.
“Come,” he said. “I have something I want to show you.”
He led me out into the backyard. From there we could look past the house and out onto Little Neck Bay, with the East River and the Throggs Neck Bridge beyond, and behind that, the New York skyline. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the sky was aglow with fiery color.
He kissed me, but that wasn’t the reason he had brought me outside. He led me over toward the garage. On the side, there was a boat, mounted on cinder blocks and covered with a tarpaulin, which he pulled off.
“It’s a Chris Craft Sports Express,” he said. “Probably almost as old as I am. She’s 26 feet long, and has a little cabin up forward.”
“The boat you told me about?” I asked.
“Yep.”
I could see that the deck of it had once been beautifully polished wood. There had been a lot of repair work done, but now the deckwood had all been stripped down and was ready for re-finishing. The interior still needed work, but the hull was freshly painted and looked as good as new.
“I figure that I’ll finish the deck and the interior by next summer,” he said. “The engine has already been refurbished and works fine. With a little bit of luck, we’ll get her in the water by next September.”
“She’s beautiful, Jeff,” I said, not quite believing what he had accomplished. I hadn’t seen her to begin with, but he told me how he and some friends had found her half buried in the marsh grass of North Brother Island, one of the tiny islands that dot the East River.
“Well,” he said, “You haven’t even seen the best part.”
We walked around to the stern of the boat, where its new name had recently been painted: Queen Erin.
Back inside, we moved to the living room couch. Our kissing quickly became quite ardent, his caresses as soft and gentle as I could remember, and finally he pulled one end of the bow on my halter and the whole thing came undone and melted away. He kissed me in ways no one else had ever done, and all I wanted was more.
I reached under his shirt and pushed it up over his head. Before long, we were both free of any clothing. Holding Jeff at that moment was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and yet I had to stop it.
“I can’t get pregnant,” I said. “It would ruin everything.”
“I promise you that you won’t.”
I had heard of such things, and now he showed me. At first I was afraid, but then he showed me that what I had thought was gross and unthinkable was actually quite beautiful and wonderful. I heard myself whimper, then moan and finally gasp – what a slut I must seem, I later thought. But I wanted only to be as close to him as possible, to experience what I had never thought possible.
He held me afterward, cuddling me, and giving me occasional gentle kisses. He didn’t ask me to return the favors; I asked him to show me how. I’d always thought it would be repulsive, but I found that I got used to it quickly, and when I heard his moans and gasps, I felt I was giving him something special, an expression of my love that went far beyond what words could say.
Later, after we’d gotten dressed again and he was just holding me on the couch, we talked about the future, about what our family might be like – he couldn’t believe I really wanted three children – and where we might live. And after he’d taken me home, I lay in bed, thinking back over the whole evening, and wondered how I would ever survive until we were actually married.
It didn’t rain on Fred’s Labor Day barbecue. And when Jeff arrived, Heidi, despite being in a fairly nervous state because of all the company, was nevertheless quite friendly with him. He mixed in easily with Fred’s family, including my numerous step-cousins.
Several weeks later, I was invited to Jeff’s house one Sunday for dinner. I was, if anything, more nervous for this one than I had been for the first dinner three and a half years earlier. But I steeled myself, wore a gold sweater dress and heels, and drove over.
As I walked up the front walk, I saw the front door was already open, and that Gloria Maitland was waiting for me. She had a broad smile plastered on her face, and it occurred to me that she was probably as nervous about this as I was. Jeff was standing behind her, grinning, and as I got to the doorway, Gloria took my hands in hers.
“Erin, my dear, you are truly a sight for sore eyes!” she said with emotion.
“Thank you, Mrs. Maitland,” I said, already starting to relax.
“You must call me Gloria,” she said. She let go of one hand but held the other and led me inside. Jeff closed the door.
“All right,” I said with a smile. She led me into the kitchen and again took both of my hands in hers.
“I want you to always feel welcomed in this house, my dear. I know I’m sometimes a little too direct, but I want you to know that it is perfectly all right for you to be just as direct with me. Oh, I have missed you so very much!”
She hugged me, and I could see Jeff, still grinning. Her attention was broken by the sound of another car in the driveway.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Donna and Rob are here.”
I knew that Jeff’s sister was engaged, and I was looking forward to meeting her fiancé. Although she was five years older than me, we had gotten along very well, and she gave me a warm welcome when she came into the house. Rob seemed quite nice, too, and at 27, he was already very well established.
Unlike my previous dinner with Jeff’s family, this one really felt like a family dinner, with Donna and I chatting in the kitchen with Gloria while the guys hung out inside. As the conversation went on, though, I could see that Donna didn’t like this traditional rift, and she seemed relieved when we rejoined the men for cocktails.
A lot of questions were directed my way – what was I studying, what did I want to do with it? What I was studying was easy enough, but what I wanted to do with it, even I couldn’t have guessed at the time. I knew that teaching was available as an option through either major, and I was sure I would wind up there some day, but what steps I would take and how it would all go, I couldn’t possibly have said.
Rob was already established as an attorney, and spent a lot of time offering Jeff a lot of unsolicited advice. Later, Jeff told me that while he liked his future brother-in-law, he had not yet decided exactly what course he wanted his career to take, and he didn’t like the idea of him meddling. So, he had adopted a course of letting him talk and keeping his own counsel.
Alone in his room with him, I gave him a nice wet, sloppy kiss of support, and we both laughed. Then the kissing turned serious, and before I knew it, we were both lying on his bed. Like the night he had made us dinner, I really didn’t want him to stop, but unlike that night, his parents and sister were in the house, and so we reluctantly stopped before things got out of hand.
After I spent some time putting myself back together – much to his amusement – he pulled me down onto his lap and we snuggled for a few moments. And I remembered what Mom had said about wishing Jeff and I had been a few years older when we’d met. Now, we were.
School was an entirely different experience as my sophomore year got under way. No longer something to throw myself into as I tried to escape pain in my personal life, it was now something to be embraced as part of life itself. Whenever I saw or talked to Jeff, I could sense a similar phenomenon in him, and it was all coming together.
I did find a band to join, but the pressures of school made it impossible for me to make time to do gigs in any coherent manner, and so I soon dropped out. Jeff and I maintained a healthy social calendar, and I managed to keep in touch with Terri, Laura and Cookie periodically. Of course, they were all thrilled that Jeff and I were back together.
“No other guy ever fell for you the way he did,” Laura said with authority. Laura was also seeing someone she had met at Villanova, a junior. Cookie seemed to have an unending stream of boyfriends, ever the wild one.
Terri, visiting at Christmas, had decided to stay through New Years. Jeff’s parents had decided to throw a big party for New Years Eve, and told Donna and Jeff they could invite whomever they wanted. Jeff invited some of his friends, and I invited the girls.
Terri arrived on her own, looking a little gaunt but otherwise okay.
“You’re just used to seeing all those zonked out college kids who gouge themselves with Twinkies all day,” she said with a laugh. “You forgot what a healthy girl looks like.”
Laura’s boyfriend had come home with her for Christmas, and so they came together, while Cookie came alone, on the prowl. It was wonderful to see all of them. And, I took one look at Laura and Greg together, and knew she had a keeper.
“We have to do something for Terri,” Cookie said to me at one point that evening. “She’s so into whatever she’s doing up there in Boston that she’s stopped paying attention to other things.”
But as the evening wore on, I saw one of Jeff’s friends from high school, Jim Leyton, paying a lot of attention to Terri. He wasn’t hovering, wasn’t trying to pick her up, but he was attentive in a very gentle way. When midnight struck, they kissed briefly; that was the only physical contact I saw them have all night, yet I never saw them apart.
We didn’t have much time to talk the rest of the night, and two days later, Terri headed back to Boston. “You have to come up for Spring Break,” she said to me on the phone before she left, and I said that I would.
It was just before Spring Break when the doorbell rang one night. I was in the kitchen, and Diane answered.
“Hi,” said a male voice that sounded familiar. “Is Erin at home?”
“Who should I say is asking?” Diane asked, but by then I had come to the door.
“Jim!” I said in surprise. “Come on in.”
He sat down at the kitchen table, looking tired and haggard. I offered him a cup of coffee, which he gratefully accepted.
“I tried to get a hold of Jeff before coming over,” Jim said wearily. “But I couldn’t…”
“He’s in the law library tonight until late,” I said. “He’s got a lot of work to do. But what’s the matter?”
He looked pained.
“It’s about Terri,” he said, and my heart stopped. “She’s in the hospital up in Boston. It looks like she’s got Hodgkin’s Disease.”
I swallowed hard.
“How bad is it?”
“Well, that’s the good news. They think she’s in Stage 2, which is still early enough that they may be able to get it into remission. But she’s reacting strangely – she doesn’t want any of you to know, and she just doesn’t seem to have any fight in her at the moment; she’s being very fatalistic about everything.”
“Have you seen her?” I asked. By now, Mom was standing behind me and had her hand resting gently on my shoulder.
“Yeah, I just left her a few hours ago.”
“You mean you drove here straight from Boston?” Mom asked. Jim nodded, and without another word, she put out a place setting and began heating up some of our leftovers from dinner for a supper.
“When are you going back?” I asked.
“I’d like to head back tomorrow, but…”
“Fine. I’m going with you. Laura’s in Philadelphia, so she won’t be able to join us, but she’ll want to know. But I’ll call Cookie first.”
While Jim was having his supper, I dialed Cookie’s number. I was surprised when she came to the phone.
“I’m playing catch-up on some papers I have due,” she said. I told her about Terri, and that I was going to Boston in the morning. “Can you wait for me?” she asked. “I really want to go with you.”
“What about your papers?” I asked with a chuckle.
“First things first.”
Jim and I discussed it. He really wanted to be on the road by 7:00 in the morning, which meant I had to leave at 6:15 to meet him. That meant that Cookie would have to leave Stonybrook around 5:30 to get to my house.
“Honey,” Mom said to me. “Why not have Cookie drive here tonight and sleep over? Then you can get started at a decent hour tomorrow morning.”
It was agreed, and Cookie said she would leave within 20 minutes. Then I called Jeff and got Gloria. I asked her to have him call me whenever he got in or called in, no matter how late it was. She sounded doubtful until I told her why.
Revived by supper and coffee, Jim apologized for eating and running, but Mom understood. We agreed to meet at his house at 7:00 the next morning. It was after 9:00 by the time Cookie arrived, and I still hadn’t heard from Jeff.
I had gotten through to Laura, though, and she was shocked at the news. She asked me about our plans, and we agreed that it would be impossible for her to join us. I promised to call her after we saw Terri.
I was waiting by the phone when it rang a little after 11:00. Jeff was anxious until he heard what it was, and then he said he would come with us. We could share the driving if need be.
When we met at Jim’s the next morning, he still looked burned out. He was trying to hold on to hope and at the same time trying to prepare for the worst. But he seemed to react well to all of us, and Cookie especially seemed to make him laugh.
My car was in the best shape, and of all the drivers, I was the most awake, so we decided to take my car and I would drive up. As we drove up I-95, I asked Cookie about the paper she’d abandoned in order to come with us. It turned out to be a psychology paper, and in an area that Jim knew well, so he gave her a lot of ideas.
Driving was good for me, because it forced me to focus on something other than Terri. When my mind drifted back to her, all I could think of was that I’d known her for so long, she’d been such a help to me, and now she was gravely ill. So I forced myself to focus on the road, the other cars and trucks, and what turnoffs to look for, with Jeff as navigator.
We made it to Boston in four hours, which was about average, according to Jim. When we got to the hospital, they would only allow two of us up to see Terri at one time. After some discussion, Jeff and I went up first.
“I don’t believe it,” Terri said when we walked in. She looked awful, thin and gaunt, with IV tubes running, but she was smiling. I went over to hug her.
“I don’t believe that you weren’t going to tell us,” I said. Then I told her that Cookie and Jim were downstairs waiting for us.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “You mean you left Jim alone with Cookie?!”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Jeff said. “He drove down from Boston yesterday to bring the three of us back today.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And he told us that you were being way too fatalistic about this whole thing. But you and I know that you are going to come through this thing just fine, because you wouldn’t ever leave me short a bridesmaid.”
Jeff looked a little alarmed. We had agreed that we weren’t going to talk about our plans until we had actually announced our engagement. I reminded him about the special friendship that Terri and I had always had, which had included mutual promises made when we were in grade school about being in each other’s wedding parties.
Terri smiled. “All right,” she said, “I promise to do everything they tell me to do, and to make sure that I am perfectly fine for your wedding – whenever it may be and to whomever it may be.”
She shot a teasing smile at Jeff.
“I think I’ll go back downstairs and give my pass to Jim so he can see his beloved,” Jeff said.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re going to wait downstairs with Cookie?!”
Terri laughed heartily, maybe for the first time in a long time. Jeff went down, and a few minutes later, Jim came into the room. He went right to her and held her for a long time.
“I’ll have to come back,” he said. “Right now, I need to bring Erin downstairs for a minute.”
“Don’t tell me Jeff has run off with Cookie already!” I said, and Terri laughed again.
“I’ll explain downstairs,” he said. Then he turned to Terri and added, “And I’ll explain to you when I come back.”
He whisked me out the door, hustled me down the hall and got an elevator down, all in an instant. When I asked him what this was all about, all he would say is, “You’ll see.”
We got to the lobby, and as we came off the elevator, I saw Jeff and Cookie…and Laura. She had caught a train from Philly and gotten into Boston a little while earlier and had taken a cab right to the hospital. I hugged her tightly.
Meanwhile, Jim went over to the head of security and explained that we were all old friends of Terri’s who had made the trip to Boston to see her that one day. He also told him that Terri was at present the only person in a room meant for two, and asked if we might not be allowed to all go up at once.
“Not five, no,” he said. “But since the room is meant to accommodate four visitors, I’ll let four go up. If I get any complaints, out you all go.”
“You guys go,” Jim said. “I’ll stay with her when you go out to lunch.”
When we all walked in, Terri’s face lit up even more brightly than it had before. She couldn’t believe that Laura had made the trip up from Philadelphia. We had a wonderful visit, and after a while, Jeff went down so that Jim could come up.
A doctor came in while we were there, frowned at the number of us, and we waited outside while he examined her. When he finished, he conferred quietly with Jim and then left.
“He said you’re doing really well,” Jim told Terri. “And he wants Cookie’s phone number.”
We worked in shifts the rest of the day, until Terri looked worn out. Jim promised he’d be back in a day or two, and the rest of us promised to keep in touch by phone. We all gave her warm hugs and kisses and made her promise to get better, and when she thanked us for coming, there were tears in her eyes.
We dropped Laura off at the train station and then started the long trip back home. Cookie slept over again that night, and then left for Stonybrook the next morning at the same time I left for Fordham. It had been a long day.
The night we went to see “Man of La Mancha”, we met outside Macy’s after I got out of work. We took a cab uptown and had dinner in a trendy little restaurant just across Broadway from Lincoln Center. I was pleased to find that he was really looking forward to seeing the play.
Mom had always been something of an idealist, and her recording of the original cast album of “Man of La Mancha” had been getting lots of play in our house for years. I had read the play on my own in high school, and had come to love it as much as she. When she and Fred had given me tickets to the revival with the original cast, including Richard Kiley, I had been thrilled, even though at that moment I’d had no idea whom I was going to take.
I told him all this over dinner, and he was grinning at me, and I knew why. Little by little, I was filling in the blanks in my history, the tidbits he’d missed in our time apart. He would do the same thing, and, after a while, it would no longer sting even a little to talk about what had taken place in the years in which we had been apart.
Later, we were watching the climactic scene where Don Quixote dies after one last defiant but fatal reprise of “I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha”. There was silence in the theater, and I could hear sniffles all around me, including mine, broken only by Sancho’s mournful cry, “He’s dead!” I looked over at Jeff, and he was wiping his eyes; I linked my arm through his and held on tightly.
“I’m very proud of you,” I said on the way home.
“Why? Because I cried?” he said, sounding a little sheepish.
“Yes. And because you didn’t feel you had to try and hide it from me.”
“Just wanted you to know how tough I am.”
“I knew that. I know it always. And I know how sensitive you are, too, and that’s what counts.”
But it had been more than that. I had found the play touching, inspiring, and altogether wonderful. He, on the other hand, remained mostly silent the rest of the way home.
It was not that he had been touched, or even inspired; something in that play, something in Don Quixote’s spirit had rung true deep within Jeff, and had struck a chord in a way that nothing else ever had. In a way, I was surprised by this, because he was something of a pragmatist, and so tilting at windmills would never have been his way. But at that moment I realized that there was a powerful sense of justice in him, something I’d seen the night he had taken me out to dinner but only truly appreciated at this moment.
I was reminded of one of my favorite lines in “To Kill A Mockingbird”, when Atticus and the children return home after Tom Robinson has been so wrongly convicted, and young Gem is sitting on the front steps of the house, devastated by his father’s failed attempt to defend an obviously innocent man. Their neighbor comes over to Gem and tells him, “Some men are born to do our unpleasant jobs for us; your father is one of them.”
We were on the train to Douglaston, and as we rode in silence, I realized that Jeff was the kind of man who would not flinch from doing the unpleasant job. And I was sure that the more right he thought he was, the more willing he would be to take it on. Once again, I linked my arm through his and held on, and he pulled me closer.
He had left his car at the station, and he drove me home from there. When we pulled up in front of the house, it was late and there was no sign of activity around. I was ready for a pretty heavy makeout session, but instead he just looked into my eyes.
“I love you,” he said softly. “I’ve never stopped loving you, not for a single minute. I dated a few girls here and there, but there was never any interest, never any spark, because I compared every girl I met to you, and they all lost.”
“I never stopped loving you, either,” I told him. “I tried to tell myself I was getting over you, but I never did. My friends told me that I had to forget, had to move on, but I couldn’t do it. I guess,” I added with a shrug, “I compared any guys I met to you, and of course they all lost.”
He kissed me, and I leapt into his arms, pressing myself against him, and then the kiss softened, and we held it as long as we could. When we broke it, he touched my chin and I thought he was going to kiss me yet again – and I so desperately wanted him to. Instead, he looked into my eyes; there were tears in his.
“When the time is right,” he whispered, “Please marry me. Please.”
Mom and Fred were planning another barbecue, this one for Labor Day. I approached Mom after dinner one night, when it was just her and me, and I asked if I could invite Jeff.
“Of course, honey,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“You and he are a regular item, I take it?”
“Let’s just say that I’m glad he and I are back together, and I want to see where this goes, and just let it go at that?”
We agreed.
A few days before Labor Day weekend, Jeff invited me out to dinner. He told me we’d be dining at a small family place on the North Shore. I was in a playful mood, and so I wore a short skirt and a halter, and when he picked me up that night, he looked me over appreciatively.
But as we were driving along, it looked like we were going in the direction of his house, and when we got off the Expressway, I was certain of it. Finally, I asked him.
“Yes, actually,” he said with a laugh. Then he saw the look on my face and quickly added, “But don’t be upset. It’s just the two of us. My family is away this week, and I wanted to make dinner for you.”
“Wait,” I said. “You cooked?”
“Yep.”
And he had. He had made a very nice chicken dish and a salad. He had a bottle of white wine, which we sipped while he heated the dinner, and it all went like clockwork.
After dinner, I helped him clean up. He tried to force me out, but I told him that it would go much more quickly if he let me help, and he decided I was right. It was just before sunset when we finished.
“Come,” he said. “I have something I want to show you.”
He led me out into the backyard. From there we could look past the house and out onto Little Neck Bay, with the East River and the Throggs Neck Bridge beyond, and behind that, the New York skyline. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the sky was aglow with fiery color.
He kissed me, but that wasn’t the reason he had brought me outside. He led me over toward the garage. On the side, there was a boat, mounted on cinder blocks and covered with a tarpaulin, which he pulled off.
“It’s a Chris Craft Sports Express,” he said. “Probably almost as old as I am. She’s 26 feet long, and has a little cabin up forward.”
“The boat you told me about?” I asked.
“Yep.”
I could see that the deck of it had once been beautifully polished wood. There had been a lot of repair work done, but now the deckwood had all been stripped down and was ready for re-finishing. The interior still needed work, but the hull was freshly painted and looked as good as new.
“I figure that I’ll finish the deck and the interior by next summer,” he said. “The engine has already been refurbished and works fine. With a little bit of luck, we’ll get her in the water by next September.”
“She’s beautiful, Jeff,” I said, not quite believing what he had accomplished. I hadn’t seen her to begin with, but he told me how he and some friends had found her half buried in the marsh grass of North Brother Island, one of the tiny islands that dot the East River.
“Well,” he said, “You haven’t even seen the best part.”
We walked around to the stern of the boat, where its new name had recently been painted: Queen Erin.
Back inside, we moved to the living room couch. Our kissing quickly became quite ardent, his caresses as soft and gentle as I could remember, and finally he pulled one end of the bow on my halter and the whole thing came undone and melted away. He kissed me in ways no one else had ever done, and all I wanted was more.
I reached under his shirt and pushed it up over his head. Before long, we were both free of any clothing. Holding Jeff at that moment was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and yet I had to stop it.
“I can’t get pregnant,” I said. “It would ruin everything.”
“I promise you that you won’t.”
I had heard of such things, and now he showed me. At first I was afraid, but then he showed me that what I had thought was gross and unthinkable was actually quite beautiful and wonderful. I heard myself whimper, then moan and finally gasp – what a slut I must seem, I later thought. But I wanted only to be as close to him as possible, to experience what I had never thought possible.
He held me afterward, cuddling me, and giving me occasional gentle kisses. He didn’t ask me to return the favors; I asked him to show me how. I’d always thought it would be repulsive, but I found that I got used to it quickly, and when I heard his moans and gasps, I felt I was giving him something special, an expression of my love that went far beyond what words could say.
Later, after we’d gotten dressed again and he was just holding me on the couch, we talked about the future, about what our family might be like – he couldn’t believe I really wanted three children – and where we might live. And after he’d taken me home, I lay in bed, thinking back over the whole evening, and wondered how I would ever survive until we were actually married.
It didn’t rain on Fred’s Labor Day barbecue. And when Jeff arrived, Heidi, despite being in a fairly nervous state because of all the company, was nevertheless quite friendly with him. He mixed in easily with Fred’s family, including my numerous step-cousins.
Several weeks later, I was invited to Jeff’s house one Sunday for dinner. I was, if anything, more nervous for this one than I had been for the first dinner three and a half years earlier. But I steeled myself, wore a gold sweater dress and heels, and drove over.
As I walked up the front walk, I saw the front door was already open, and that Gloria Maitland was waiting for me. She had a broad smile plastered on her face, and it occurred to me that she was probably as nervous about this as I was. Jeff was standing behind her, grinning, and as I got to the doorway, Gloria took my hands in hers.
“Erin, my dear, you are truly a sight for sore eyes!” she said with emotion.
“Thank you, Mrs. Maitland,” I said, already starting to relax.
“You must call me Gloria,” she said. She let go of one hand but held the other and led me inside. Jeff closed the door.
“All right,” I said with a smile. She led me into the kitchen and again took both of my hands in hers.
“I want you to always feel welcomed in this house, my dear. I know I’m sometimes a little too direct, but I want you to know that it is perfectly all right for you to be just as direct with me. Oh, I have missed you so very much!”
She hugged me, and I could see Jeff, still grinning. Her attention was broken by the sound of another car in the driveway.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Donna and Rob are here.”
I knew that Jeff’s sister was engaged, and I was looking forward to meeting her fiancé. Although she was five years older than me, we had gotten along very well, and she gave me a warm welcome when she came into the house. Rob seemed quite nice, too, and at 27, he was already very well established.
Unlike my previous dinner with Jeff’s family, this one really felt like a family dinner, with Donna and I chatting in the kitchen with Gloria while the guys hung out inside. As the conversation went on, though, I could see that Donna didn’t like this traditional rift, and she seemed relieved when we rejoined the men for cocktails.
A lot of questions were directed my way – what was I studying, what did I want to do with it? What I was studying was easy enough, but what I wanted to do with it, even I couldn’t have guessed at the time. I knew that teaching was available as an option through either major, and I was sure I would wind up there some day, but what steps I would take and how it would all go, I couldn’t possibly have said.
Rob was already established as an attorney, and spent a lot of time offering Jeff a lot of unsolicited advice. Later, Jeff told me that while he liked his future brother-in-law, he had not yet decided exactly what course he wanted his career to take, and he didn’t like the idea of him meddling. So, he had adopted a course of letting him talk and keeping his own counsel.
Alone in his room with him, I gave him a nice wet, sloppy kiss of support, and we both laughed. Then the kissing turned serious, and before I knew it, we were both lying on his bed. Like the night he had made us dinner, I really didn’t want him to stop, but unlike that night, his parents and sister were in the house, and so we reluctantly stopped before things got out of hand.
After I spent some time putting myself back together – much to his amusement – he pulled me down onto his lap and we snuggled for a few moments. And I remembered what Mom had said about wishing Jeff and I had been a few years older when we’d met. Now, we were.
School was an entirely different experience as my sophomore year got under way. No longer something to throw myself into as I tried to escape pain in my personal life, it was now something to be embraced as part of life itself. Whenever I saw or talked to Jeff, I could sense a similar phenomenon in him, and it was all coming together.
I did find a band to join, but the pressures of school made it impossible for me to make time to do gigs in any coherent manner, and so I soon dropped out. Jeff and I maintained a healthy social calendar, and I managed to keep in touch with Terri, Laura and Cookie periodically. Of course, they were all thrilled that Jeff and I were back together.
“No other guy ever fell for you the way he did,” Laura said with authority. Laura was also seeing someone she had met at Villanova, a junior. Cookie seemed to have an unending stream of boyfriends, ever the wild one.
Terri, visiting at Christmas, had decided to stay through New Years. Jeff’s parents had decided to throw a big party for New Years Eve, and told Donna and Jeff they could invite whomever they wanted. Jeff invited some of his friends, and I invited the girls.
Terri arrived on her own, looking a little gaunt but otherwise okay.
“You’re just used to seeing all those zonked out college kids who gouge themselves with Twinkies all day,” she said with a laugh. “You forgot what a healthy girl looks like.”
Laura’s boyfriend had come home with her for Christmas, and so they came together, while Cookie came alone, on the prowl. It was wonderful to see all of them. And, I took one look at Laura and Greg together, and knew she had a keeper.
“We have to do something for Terri,” Cookie said to me at one point that evening. “She’s so into whatever she’s doing up there in Boston that she’s stopped paying attention to other things.”
But as the evening wore on, I saw one of Jeff’s friends from high school, Jim Leyton, paying a lot of attention to Terri. He wasn’t hovering, wasn’t trying to pick her up, but he was attentive in a very gentle way. When midnight struck, they kissed briefly; that was the only physical contact I saw them have all night, yet I never saw them apart.
We didn’t have much time to talk the rest of the night, and two days later, Terri headed back to Boston. “You have to come up for Spring Break,” she said to me on the phone before she left, and I said that I would.
It was just before Spring Break when the doorbell rang one night. I was in the kitchen, and Diane answered.
“Hi,” said a male voice that sounded familiar. “Is Erin at home?”
“Who should I say is asking?” Diane asked, but by then I had come to the door.
“Jim!” I said in surprise. “Come on in.”
He sat down at the kitchen table, looking tired and haggard. I offered him a cup of coffee, which he gratefully accepted.
“I tried to get a hold of Jeff before coming over,” Jim said wearily. “But I couldn’t…”
“He’s in the law library tonight until late,” I said. “He’s got a lot of work to do. But what’s the matter?”
He looked pained.
“It’s about Terri,” he said, and my heart stopped. “She’s in the hospital up in Boston. It looks like she’s got Hodgkin’s Disease.”
I swallowed hard.
“How bad is it?”
“Well, that’s the good news. They think she’s in Stage 2, which is still early enough that they may be able to get it into remission. But she’s reacting strangely – she doesn’t want any of you to know, and she just doesn’t seem to have any fight in her at the moment; she’s being very fatalistic about everything.”
“Have you seen her?” I asked. By now, Mom was standing behind me and had her hand resting gently on my shoulder.
“Yeah, I just left her a few hours ago.”
“You mean you drove here straight from Boston?” Mom asked. Jim nodded, and without another word, she put out a place setting and began heating up some of our leftovers from dinner for a supper.
“When are you going back?” I asked.
“I’d like to head back tomorrow, but…”
“Fine. I’m going with you. Laura’s in Philadelphia, so she won’t be able to join us, but she’ll want to know. But I’ll call Cookie first.”
While Jim was having his supper, I dialed Cookie’s number. I was surprised when she came to the phone.
“I’m playing catch-up on some papers I have due,” she said. I told her about Terri, and that I was going to Boston in the morning. “Can you wait for me?” she asked. “I really want to go with you.”
“What about your papers?” I asked with a chuckle.
“First things first.”
Jim and I discussed it. He really wanted to be on the road by 7:00 in the morning, which meant I had to leave at 6:15 to meet him. That meant that Cookie would have to leave Stonybrook around 5:30 to get to my house.
“Honey,” Mom said to me. “Why not have Cookie drive here tonight and sleep over? Then you can get started at a decent hour tomorrow morning.”
It was agreed, and Cookie said she would leave within 20 minutes. Then I called Jeff and got Gloria. I asked her to have him call me whenever he got in or called in, no matter how late it was. She sounded doubtful until I told her why.
Revived by supper and coffee, Jim apologized for eating and running, but Mom understood. We agreed to meet at his house at 7:00 the next morning. It was after 9:00 by the time Cookie arrived, and I still hadn’t heard from Jeff.
I had gotten through to Laura, though, and she was shocked at the news. She asked me about our plans, and we agreed that it would be impossible for her to join us. I promised to call her after we saw Terri.
I was waiting by the phone when it rang a little after 11:00. Jeff was anxious until he heard what it was, and then he said he would come with us. We could share the driving if need be.
When we met at Jim’s the next morning, he still looked burned out. He was trying to hold on to hope and at the same time trying to prepare for the worst. But he seemed to react well to all of us, and Cookie especially seemed to make him laugh.
My car was in the best shape, and of all the drivers, I was the most awake, so we decided to take my car and I would drive up. As we drove up I-95, I asked Cookie about the paper she’d abandoned in order to come with us. It turned out to be a psychology paper, and in an area that Jim knew well, so he gave her a lot of ideas.
Driving was good for me, because it forced me to focus on something other than Terri. When my mind drifted back to her, all I could think of was that I’d known her for so long, she’d been such a help to me, and now she was gravely ill. So I forced myself to focus on the road, the other cars and trucks, and what turnoffs to look for, with Jeff as navigator.
We made it to Boston in four hours, which was about average, according to Jim. When we got to the hospital, they would only allow two of us up to see Terri at one time. After some discussion, Jeff and I went up first.
“I don’t believe it,” Terri said when we walked in. She looked awful, thin and gaunt, with IV tubes running, but she was smiling. I went over to hug her.
“I don’t believe that you weren’t going to tell us,” I said. Then I told her that Cookie and Jim were downstairs waiting for us.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “You mean you left Jim alone with Cookie?!”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Jeff said. “He drove down from Boston yesterday to bring the three of us back today.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And he told us that you were being way too fatalistic about this whole thing. But you and I know that you are going to come through this thing just fine, because you wouldn’t ever leave me short a bridesmaid.”
Jeff looked a little alarmed. We had agreed that we weren’t going to talk about our plans until we had actually announced our engagement. I reminded him about the special friendship that Terri and I had always had, which had included mutual promises made when we were in grade school about being in each other’s wedding parties.
Terri smiled. “All right,” she said, “I promise to do everything they tell me to do, and to make sure that I am perfectly fine for your wedding – whenever it may be and to whomever it may be.”
She shot a teasing smile at Jeff.
“I think I’ll go back downstairs and give my pass to Jim so he can see his beloved,” Jeff said.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re going to wait downstairs with Cookie?!”
Terri laughed heartily, maybe for the first time in a long time. Jeff went down, and a few minutes later, Jim came into the room. He went right to her and held her for a long time.
“I’ll have to come back,” he said. “Right now, I need to bring Erin downstairs for a minute.”
“Don’t tell me Jeff has run off with Cookie already!” I said, and Terri laughed again.
“I’ll explain downstairs,” he said. Then he turned to Terri and added, “And I’ll explain to you when I come back.”
He whisked me out the door, hustled me down the hall and got an elevator down, all in an instant. When I asked him what this was all about, all he would say is, “You’ll see.”
We got to the lobby, and as we came off the elevator, I saw Jeff and Cookie…and Laura. She had caught a train from Philly and gotten into Boston a little while earlier and had taken a cab right to the hospital. I hugged her tightly.
Meanwhile, Jim went over to the head of security and explained that we were all old friends of Terri’s who had made the trip to Boston to see her that one day. He also told him that Terri was at present the only person in a room meant for two, and asked if we might not be allowed to all go up at once.
“Not five, no,” he said. “But since the room is meant to accommodate four visitors, I’ll let four go up. If I get any complaints, out you all go.”
“You guys go,” Jim said. “I’ll stay with her when you go out to lunch.”
When we all walked in, Terri’s face lit up even more brightly than it had before. She couldn’t believe that Laura had made the trip up from Philadelphia. We had a wonderful visit, and after a while, Jeff went down so that Jim could come up.
A doctor came in while we were there, frowned at the number of us, and we waited outside while he examined her. When he finished, he conferred quietly with Jim and then left.
“He said you’re doing really well,” Jim told Terri. “And he wants Cookie’s phone number.”
We worked in shifts the rest of the day, until Terri looked worn out. Jim promised he’d be back in a day or two, and the rest of us promised to keep in touch by phone. We all gave her warm hugs and kisses and made her promise to get better, and when she thanked us for coming, there were tears in her eyes.
We dropped Laura off at the train station and then started the long trip back home. Cookie slept over again that night, and then left for Stonybrook the next morning at the same time I left for Fordham. It had been a long day.
I'm not that kind of girl.
-
Absaroka
- Miss Diamond Goddess
- Posts: 3344
- Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2005 8:30 am
Here it is, the next part. It's mostly stage setting again for what happens next.
Years ago I went through a major depression. As I was coming out of it I had a dream one morning where I was hiking through the mountains (the Wind Rivers to be exact) and as I rounding some cliffs on the trail a fresh breeze welcomed me, called me, into the area beyond. I always thought it was symbolizing life renewing itself within me as the depression ended. I tried to capture some of that in this chapter.
This also was one of the first parts writen and I was experimenting with writing styles, as you can see from the punctuation or lack of it.
The real Michael lived across the street from meand was a close childhood friend although we grew apart a bit in our teens. His parents used to take my younger brother with them on vacations with them, and while they were away I would sneak into their house to drink their booze and try on his sisters clothes. But we won't go there in this story....
The chocolate pudding is a nod to Jack Kerouac and his description of climbing a mountain in Dharma Bums
Three Of Us Now
Andy couldn’t wait to tell Vickie about all this. This was someone who he just knew she would like, but when he told her she was skeptical. Being Andy of course he got the benefit of the doubt from her. But really……..this girl sounded strange even by Vickie’s standards. But Andy knew. It was more than knowing that the two girls would be friends if only they had the chance. Somewhere, in the part of him that he could never explain, he knew that Vickie needed to finally see the mountains and most of all needed to know the girl that lived in them.
It was time to take matters into his own hands. His parents would say the same thing next year if he asked to have Vickie come with them, and besides a year was an impossibly long time. But Stu’s friend Michael was going to the same lake with his family and they had invited Stu to go along. Andy begged and pleaded and promised until it was agreed that he too could go. Now it was just a matter of getting Vickie there also.
It wasn’t that difficult. Vickie managed to talk her parents into thinking that she was going to a relative’s house for a few weeks. Her mom was glad to be rid of her-both her father and a brother were in more trouble than usual and she was at her drunken wits end. Vickie’s sister was supposed to be watching her but she was working and Vickie was home alone anyway, at least the times when she was home. Her mother didn’t see that much of her and didn’t really know where she was, but that was fine with mom, Vickie, and anyone else if they were asked, which they weren’t. Andy bought her a ticket on the train to the little town near the campground and drew a terribly detailed map showing how to get from the train station to the campground along with very specific instructions about where to wait for him when she got there. But she couldn’t wait. Rather than take the afternoon train as they had planned she took the early morning one and wandered around for most of the day just looking at the place that Andy had told her so much about over the last few years. She found the designated meeting place quite a while after the time they had agreed on and he was there, trying to read the book he had brought because he just knew that she would be late, but in reality spending most of his time worrying about what might have gone wrong with their plan.
The rest of their scheme was simple enough. Andy had brought his own tent in what he had pretended was a fit of generosity and had pitched it as far as possible from everyone else so that it would be easy for Vickie to sneak into it at night. The two of them returned to the campsite and he introduced her as a friend he had just met here. Michael’s brothers recognized her but decided that on the admittedly strange possibility that she was here with her family that discretion was in order. Stu was sworn to secrecy with his eager cooperation. She sat by the fire with them till long after dark and then Andy said that he would walk her back to her family’s tent. He returned a few minutes later and said he was tired and going to sleep and a few minutes later retrieved Vickie from her hiding place and snuck her into his tent.
In the morning Andy made a small production of going to the lake just before breakfast and returned with Vickie in tow again. They ate breakfast together and then waited to see how they would manage to get away for the rest of the day. Again it wasn’t very difficult. It was hard to believe they were in the same place that Andy and Stu had spent two adventurous weeks at so recently. Michael’s parents’ idea of a busy day was to sit by the lake sleeping while his two older brothers were nominally in charge. They actually did pay attention to Michael and Stu but were bewildered at the idea that Andy had even wanted to be there. They were intimidated by the presence of Vickie and relieved when Andy and Vickie announced that they were going to do some exploring and disappeared.
They set off on the little path by the rocks at the end of the lake with Andy hoping he had watched carefully enough the last time he was here. Vickie followed him with what he thought was probably far too much trust even if her presence was reassuring. The trail to the cabin was a lot harder to follow by themselves, but after several hours and quite a bit of real worry about being lost they found the saddle where the trail joined the trail leading up from the town below. “This is creepy looking“ Vickie told him, and he remembered feeling the same way. It must be just their imagination, he said as he looked at a series of ledges that seemed to have assembled themselves in a particularly malignant manner. They continued on along the path and as they approached the clearing where the cabin stood they heard a girls voice. “I hoped you’d come back. Hi Vickie.” A moment later the girl that went with the voice appeared.
They followed Mountain Girl through the clearing to her home. She showed what there was to show of it to Vickie and then suggested that they go to the lake for a swim, saying that they looked like they could use one. Andy agreed and they started down a path, Vickie wondering just how far this would be. Andy seemed thrilled about everything that had just happened; she could feel the excitement in his very step as he walked. That was all she really needed to know, but still, she wondered what this girl was going to be like and about just about anything else she could think of to wonder about as well.
Andy was proud of himself that he remembered how to get to the lake and led the way. Just before they got to the lake there was a sharp turn in the path near a fallen tree. As he walked around and then past the tree he stopped in frightened surprise and then began to back up, right into Vickie who had stopped behind him. There in front of them was a huge rattlesnake and it was mad. It’s head wove back and forth as an angry buzz sounded. Andy had the thought that perhaps he was seeing Vickie really frightened for one of the very few times in all the time he had known her. They stepped quietly backwards, out of range, Vickie clutching Andy’s arm and hand. She really was scared. Mountain Girl eased out of the bushes to the side of the snake noiselessly and swung a stick at the snake’s neck. It caught with a solid thump and the snake collapsed. She hit it again directly on the head with the stick and then pinned the head to the ground. Suddenly there was a knife in her hand and she sawed at the snake’s neck for a moment The head separated from the body and she quickly grabbed the body and stepped away. “Stay away from the head” she warned as she pushed it away with the stick. “They can still bite for awhile after they’re dead” Vickie stared at her and the snake’s body. Here was someone who was seriously tough she decided, definitely worthy of respect. She hoped Mountain Girl was going to throw the dead snake away real soon. Instead she started down the trail again, carrying it in one hand like a limp shovel as the blood drained out of it‘s neck. She listened in disbelief as Mountain Girl said happily that this was a good sign, that already their visit had brought her something good and that Andy was just going to love the way she cooked the snake for lunch. She was happy to share with them she said, since after all they were her quests. Vickie thought that she seemed to think that it was important point this out. Well the girl was weird too but that was okay.
It was hot and the swim was great. Vickie was quiet as she listened to Andy and Mountain Girl talk. Her father would be home in a month or two she said, with evident relief. Andy had told her about Mountain Girls family or lack of it but the pleasure in her eyes as she talked of her father was unexpected to Vickie. Independence she understood. Parents like Andy’s who were real parents she also understood. Independence with love and acceptance was something else. And she was frankly worried about lunch.
They went back to the cabin and Andy gathered wood and made a fire. When “lunch” was cooked and Andy and Mountain Girl were enjoying their meal Vickie knew that a challenge had been given her. Andy had given her his sandwich unobtrusively and she knew that whatever she did would be okay with him but she also knew what was expected. She reminded herself that it was dead and cooked and resolutely took a bite. To her surprise it tasted good and the flesh did not attempt to slither down her throat. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all. “It’s pretty good” she spoke with all the bravado and nonchalance she could muster. “Yeah, I love rattlesnake. My dad cooks it a lot better though” replied Mountain Girl and Vickie realized that there was no challenge, that the idea that she might not want to eat this had never even occurred to the other girl.
It was time to be friends. Vickie began to tell the other girl of how excited Andy had been on his return, of how he couldn’t wait to tell her about Mountain Girl although he had sworn her to secrecy and had said nothing at all about her to anyone else except his family. His family of course was cool Vickie assured her. They continued to talk as they helped Mountain Girl with various chores around the cabin and yard and Vickie thought again how it must be nice to want to take care of your own place. No one else was here to either do it or not do it she reflected. After a few hours of work and talk that almost seemed like play to them Mountain Girl suggested another trip to the lake. She had enough food for the next few days but hadn’t had any fish lately and it would be a nice treat especially with a new bunch of mushrooms she had spotted. Vickie thought that it sounded almost mundane after the snake.
The second trip to the lake was uneventful and Vickie felt comfortable enough now to have a little fun. As Andy stood knee deep in the water she charged at him and leapt on his back, knocking him into the water. They wrestled around a bit with Vickie taking it easy on him. Eventually he got to his feet and she charged again. He stepped aside as she knew he probably would but she went with it and let him pick her up and throw her into the deeper part of the lake. He turned around and smiled at Mountain Girl. “Do you want to try also” he asked. “Get him. I’ll help you.” offered Vickie and grabbed Andy from behind. Mountain Girl watched thoughtfully as they struggled some more. “Grab him” yelled Vickie and as Mountain Girl moved hesitantly towards Andy he once more managed to pick Vickie up and throw her still farther into the lake. He whirled and grabbed Mountain Girl and as he did she grabbed his arm and fell backwards, thrusting her feet upwards at him and catching him in the stomach. As she lay back in the water he found himself flying over her and doing a belly flop into the sandy bottom of the shallow water. He was up in a second and as he saw the look of delight in her face he dove towards her knees and tackled her into the water. Vickie grabbed him and pulled him off and they spent the next half hour wrestling and chasing each other in the water. Eventually they collapsed onto the shore laughing but within another minute the two girls had picked him up by his hands and feet and swung him back into the lake. As he ran back towards them Andy felt peace; the two of them were clearly already friends. The idea of fishing was completely forgotten as they spent the next hours endlessly chasing each other about.
The next few days all went the same way. They would say they were going to go exploring after breakfast and disappear. They would spend half the day helping Mountain Girl with her tasks and each day she would make something new for lunch in repayment for their help and companionship. In that time Vickie and Mountain Girl came to realize that the bond they shared with Andy was soon to become equally strong between the two girls. Finally one afternoon as they discussed the evening’s subterfuge with Michael’s family, Mountain Girl, after a long silence, commented in a very quiet voice that Vickie could stay at the cabin. Andy thought that the voice suddenly reminded him of when he had first met Mountain Girl, and of how she had asked them to stay another night at Misty Moon Lake. Hurriedly he interjected that this would be a much better idea than sneaking into his tent yet again and Vickie, tired of the secrecy and always ready to sleep somewhere new, agreed.
Mountain Girl gave a scared smile, surprising after how close they had been the last few days. “We could go on a trip tomorrow too” she offered. We can go up to Cat Ear Rock. It’s by a lake like the one I took you to before” Andy thought it was a great idea but then wondered aloud how far it was. He remembered how difficult it could be to keep up with her. “Just get here early” she answered. Can’t you get away for a night?” Andy wondered. Michael’s family was so clueless. But still, if he didn’t come back they would know. A plan began to form in his mind. “I’ll tell them I met someone and we’re going on an overnight hike“ he said.
It went simply enough. He set up his own small pack the night before, loading extra stuff for Vickie also. He told Stu his plans exactly and even drew out a simple map for how to get to the cabin, although after that he had no idea as to where they would be. He left strict instructions for Stu to use this only in an emergency if he was not home by tomorrow night. Shortly after dawn he woke Michaels brothers and told them something vague about the days plans, saying that it would be an overnight trip and would they please let their parents know when they woke up. They replied that he really needed to talk to their parents about this but Andy said that he knew this would be fine and disappeared moment later. He knew that this probably wasn’t going to be okay at all but decided to hope for the best.
By now he knew the way to the cabin quite well and got there relatively quickly. The girls were ready and they ate a bit while getting ready to leave. Mountain Girl looked at Andy’s pack and commented that Andy still seemed to bring a lot of junk but he just nodded and then they were off.
Andy was a bit worried about Vickie. Andy couldn’t really keep up with Mountain Girl himself, she slipped through the mountains as easily as he walked through the woods behind his house and although Vickie was pretty strong she hadn‘t done this sort of thing before. Struggling to keep up would likely leave her feeling intimidated, which usually translated itself into some kind of unpleasant aggression on her part. The entire day, the entire vacation and friendship between her and Mountain Girl in fact, could possibly be ruined by simply walking too fast. More importantly, although she had spent many nights asleep outdoors, it had never been in the wilderness. He’d just discovered she was afraid of snakes, what else might she suddenly discover she was afraid of? He spent the first hour or so wondering what to do about this, how to fix whatever might happen. But the three of them stayed together easily. He realized that Mountain Girl had adjusted herself to them, and she spoke reassuringly to Vickie about her plans for the next couple of days. Vickie’s pride seemed to be surviving completely intact and with nothing to be afraid of she was unlikely to fly into one of her rages. Most importantly of all, she seemed to have accepted Mountain Girl with the same abandon that she had given Andy. As long as they were together, Vickie would feel safe.
The trail was one of the most idyllic he had ever set foot on. They proceeded along an open valley with a stream gently colored by glacial till from above descending through a collection of small cascades. A fresh breeze fell down the valley with the scent of newness, melting snow and flowers, on it. As they began to work around a curve in the valley Mountain Girl motioned for them to stop and crept ahead. Then she beckoned them to follow. The stream widened to a marsh and they saw several moose on the other side, contentedly browsing. The wind was against them and the sound of the stream covered the noise of their passing and a minute later they were uphill and paused to watch.
They worked their way up and over a pass filled with a jumble of gray boulders and sat to rest and look around for a little bit. A soft breeze was blowing bringing a sweet smell that seemed somehow filled with promise from the direction they were going. Marmots crawled along the boulders and Andy thought of how she liked to catch them. Then they were descending into a pine forest, it’s floor as soft as the air. He smelled something almost sickeningly sweet, carrion. A smell that would nauseate him when it emanated from road kill. It didn’t bother him now. It seemed like it belonged, a part of the world they had entered, a smell as simple as dinner for coyotes. Mountain Girl pointed a little ways into the trees to the south. “It’s still there. A big elk. I thought the varmints would be done with it by now. I saw cat tracks by it about ten days ago. Maybe we’ll see it.” He should be scared, Andy thought, wondering if Vickie felt the same way. But he wasn’t worried and Vickie seemed equally undisturbed. Mountain Girl would have known if there was reason to worry and she was plainly unconcerned.
And then they could see the lake through the trees, a shimmering blue beckoning them through the scented air. Soon they were at the shore, watching the whitecaps wash against the rocks. Ducks swam by eyeing them and Andy again thought of food. They sat for a bit, watching and listening, smelling the water, and Vickie commented that it was worth the effort they had made. Then Mountain Girl led them around the shore to a shelter camouflaged in the woods. Vickie thought that it was pretty amazing how you could stand twenty feet away and not see it but that from the shelter you could see so much of the lake.
They ate lunch and explored. Mountain Girl showed them the rock formation that she said looked like a cats ears although Vickie and Andy both thought it just looked like a bunch of rocks. Andy asked Mountain Girl about dinner, saying that he had brought some food but he was looking forward to her ideas on the subject. She produced a sling shot and said that she had been thinking of duck with greens.
The duck had actually been pretty good thought Vickie. And the greens mixed with some spices that Mountain Girl had brought were great. Much better than the packages of Mac and cheese Andy had brought would have been. The one concession to civilized food had been the instant pudding they had made after, wedging the pot in the stream to cool it. They had all eaten it from the same pot, wiping it clean with their fingers and then licking them and feeling like little kids sharing candy. Then they had propped themselves on some rocks to watch the sun set over the lake. Andy got out the map he had brought and they found what they thought might be the lake. On the map it was called Sunset Lake and they could see why, it had great views of the setting sun. They talked for a while and then sat in silence for a while by the almost dead fire as first the bats began to flutter happily about over the lake and then it grew dark. No need for the fire to be rekindled, there was a bright almost full moon and not enough trees to keep them in total shadow. As long as they avoided using the flashlight they could see pretty well. It was Andy who posed the first question. A sort of a truth or dare. What had been the best day of their lives?
Years ago I went through a major depression. As I was coming out of it I had a dream one morning where I was hiking through the mountains (the Wind Rivers to be exact) and as I rounding some cliffs on the trail a fresh breeze welcomed me, called me, into the area beyond. I always thought it was symbolizing life renewing itself within me as the depression ended. I tried to capture some of that in this chapter.
This also was one of the first parts writen and I was experimenting with writing styles, as you can see from the punctuation or lack of it.
The real Michael lived across the street from meand was a close childhood friend although we grew apart a bit in our teens. His parents used to take my younger brother with them on vacations with them, and while they were away I would sneak into their house to drink their booze and try on his sisters clothes. But we won't go there in this story....
The chocolate pudding is a nod to Jack Kerouac and his description of climbing a mountain in Dharma Bums
Three Of Us Now
Andy couldn’t wait to tell Vickie about all this. This was someone who he just knew she would like, but when he told her she was skeptical. Being Andy of course he got the benefit of the doubt from her. But really……..this girl sounded strange even by Vickie’s standards. But Andy knew. It was more than knowing that the two girls would be friends if only they had the chance. Somewhere, in the part of him that he could never explain, he knew that Vickie needed to finally see the mountains and most of all needed to know the girl that lived in them.
It was time to take matters into his own hands. His parents would say the same thing next year if he asked to have Vickie come with them, and besides a year was an impossibly long time. But Stu’s friend Michael was going to the same lake with his family and they had invited Stu to go along. Andy begged and pleaded and promised until it was agreed that he too could go. Now it was just a matter of getting Vickie there also.
It wasn’t that difficult. Vickie managed to talk her parents into thinking that she was going to a relative’s house for a few weeks. Her mom was glad to be rid of her-both her father and a brother were in more trouble than usual and she was at her drunken wits end. Vickie’s sister was supposed to be watching her but she was working and Vickie was home alone anyway, at least the times when she was home. Her mother didn’t see that much of her and didn’t really know where she was, but that was fine with mom, Vickie, and anyone else if they were asked, which they weren’t. Andy bought her a ticket on the train to the little town near the campground and drew a terribly detailed map showing how to get from the train station to the campground along with very specific instructions about where to wait for him when she got there. But she couldn’t wait. Rather than take the afternoon train as they had planned she took the early morning one and wandered around for most of the day just looking at the place that Andy had told her so much about over the last few years. She found the designated meeting place quite a while after the time they had agreed on and he was there, trying to read the book he had brought because he just knew that she would be late, but in reality spending most of his time worrying about what might have gone wrong with their plan.
The rest of their scheme was simple enough. Andy had brought his own tent in what he had pretended was a fit of generosity and had pitched it as far as possible from everyone else so that it would be easy for Vickie to sneak into it at night. The two of them returned to the campsite and he introduced her as a friend he had just met here. Michael’s brothers recognized her but decided that on the admittedly strange possibility that she was here with her family that discretion was in order. Stu was sworn to secrecy with his eager cooperation. She sat by the fire with them till long after dark and then Andy said that he would walk her back to her family’s tent. He returned a few minutes later and said he was tired and going to sleep and a few minutes later retrieved Vickie from her hiding place and snuck her into his tent.
In the morning Andy made a small production of going to the lake just before breakfast and returned with Vickie in tow again. They ate breakfast together and then waited to see how they would manage to get away for the rest of the day. Again it wasn’t very difficult. It was hard to believe they were in the same place that Andy and Stu had spent two adventurous weeks at so recently. Michael’s parents’ idea of a busy day was to sit by the lake sleeping while his two older brothers were nominally in charge. They actually did pay attention to Michael and Stu but were bewildered at the idea that Andy had even wanted to be there. They were intimidated by the presence of Vickie and relieved when Andy and Vickie announced that they were going to do some exploring and disappeared.
They set off on the little path by the rocks at the end of the lake with Andy hoping he had watched carefully enough the last time he was here. Vickie followed him with what he thought was probably far too much trust even if her presence was reassuring. The trail to the cabin was a lot harder to follow by themselves, but after several hours and quite a bit of real worry about being lost they found the saddle where the trail joined the trail leading up from the town below. “This is creepy looking“ Vickie told him, and he remembered feeling the same way. It must be just their imagination, he said as he looked at a series of ledges that seemed to have assembled themselves in a particularly malignant manner. They continued on along the path and as they approached the clearing where the cabin stood they heard a girls voice. “I hoped you’d come back. Hi Vickie.” A moment later the girl that went with the voice appeared.
They followed Mountain Girl through the clearing to her home. She showed what there was to show of it to Vickie and then suggested that they go to the lake for a swim, saying that they looked like they could use one. Andy agreed and they started down a path, Vickie wondering just how far this would be. Andy seemed thrilled about everything that had just happened; she could feel the excitement in his very step as he walked. That was all she really needed to know, but still, she wondered what this girl was going to be like and about just about anything else she could think of to wonder about as well.
Andy was proud of himself that he remembered how to get to the lake and led the way. Just before they got to the lake there was a sharp turn in the path near a fallen tree. As he walked around and then past the tree he stopped in frightened surprise and then began to back up, right into Vickie who had stopped behind him. There in front of them was a huge rattlesnake and it was mad. It’s head wove back and forth as an angry buzz sounded. Andy had the thought that perhaps he was seeing Vickie really frightened for one of the very few times in all the time he had known her. They stepped quietly backwards, out of range, Vickie clutching Andy’s arm and hand. She really was scared. Mountain Girl eased out of the bushes to the side of the snake noiselessly and swung a stick at the snake’s neck. It caught with a solid thump and the snake collapsed. She hit it again directly on the head with the stick and then pinned the head to the ground. Suddenly there was a knife in her hand and she sawed at the snake’s neck for a moment The head separated from the body and she quickly grabbed the body and stepped away. “Stay away from the head” she warned as she pushed it away with the stick. “They can still bite for awhile after they’re dead” Vickie stared at her and the snake’s body. Here was someone who was seriously tough she decided, definitely worthy of respect. She hoped Mountain Girl was going to throw the dead snake away real soon. Instead she started down the trail again, carrying it in one hand like a limp shovel as the blood drained out of it‘s neck. She listened in disbelief as Mountain Girl said happily that this was a good sign, that already their visit had brought her something good and that Andy was just going to love the way she cooked the snake for lunch. She was happy to share with them she said, since after all they were her quests. Vickie thought that she seemed to think that it was important point this out. Well the girl was weird too but that was okay.
It was hot and the swim was great. Vickie was quiet as she listened to Andy and Mountain Girl talk. Her father would be home in a month or two she said, with evident relief. Andy had told her about Mountain Girls family or lack of it but the pleasure in her eyes as she talked of her father was unexpected to Vickie. Independence she understood. Parents like Andy’s who were real parents she also understood. Independence with love and acceptance was something else. And she was frankly worried about lunch.
They went back to the cabin and Andy gathered wood and made a fire. When “lunch” was cooked and Andy and Mountain Girl were enjoying their meal Vickie knew that a challenge had been given her. Andy had given her his sandwich unobtrusively and she knew that whatever she did would be okay with him but she also knew what was expected. She reminded herself that it was dead and cooked and resolutely took a bite. To her surprise it tasted good and the flesh did not attempt to slither down her throat. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all. “It’s pretty good” she spoke with all the bravado and nonchalance she could muster. “Yeah, I love rattlesnake. My dad cooks it a lot better though” replied Mountain Girl and Vickie realized that there was no challenge, that the idea that she might not want to eat this had never even occurred to the other girl.
It was time to be friends. Vickie began to tell the other girl of how excited Andy had been on his return, of how he couldn’t wait to tell her about Mountain Girl although he had sworn her to secrecy and had said nothing at all about her to anyone else except his family. His family of course was cool Vickie assured her. They continued to talk as they helped Mountain Girl with various chores around the cabin and yard and Vickie thought again how it must be nice to want to take care of your own place. No one else was here to either do it or not do it she reflected. After a few hours of work and talk that almost seemed like play to them Mountain Girl suggested another trip to the lake. She had enough food for the next few days but hadn’t had any fish lately and it would be a nice treat especially with a new bunch of mushrooms she had spotted. Vickie thought that it sounded almost mundane after the snake.
The second trip to the lake was uneventful and Vickie felt comfortable enough now to have a little fun. As Andy stood knee deep in the water she charged at him and leapt on his back, knocking him into the water. They wrestled around a bit with Vickie taking it easy on him. Eventually he got to his feet and she charged again. He stepped aside as she knew he probably would but she went with it and let him pick her up and throw her into the deeper part of the lake. He turned around and smiled at Mountain Girl. “Do you want to try also” he asked. “Get him. I’ll help you.” offered Vickie and grabbed Andy from behind. Mountain Girl watched thoughtfully as they struggled some more. “Grab him” yelled Vickie and as Mountain Girl moved hesitantly towards Andy he once more managed to pick Vickie up and throw her still farther into the lake. He whirled and grabbed Mountain Girl and as he did she grabbed his arm and fell backwards, thrusting her feet upwards at him and catching him in the stomach. As she lay back in the water he found himself flying over her and doing a belly flop into the sandy bottom of the shallow water. He was up in a second and as he saw the look of delight in her face he dove towards her knees and tackled her into the water. Vickie grabbed him and pulled him off and they spent the next half hour wrestling and chasing each other in the water. Eventually they collapsed onto the shore laughing but within another minute the two girls had picked him up by his hands and feet and swung him back into the lake. As he ran back towards them Andy felt peace; the two of them were clearly already friends. The idea of fishing was completely forgotten as they spent the next hours endlessly chasing each other about.
The next few days all went the same way. They would say they were going to go exploring after breakfast and disappear. They would spend half the day helping Mountain Girl with her tasks and each day she would make something new for lunch in repayment for their help and companionship. In that time Vickie and Mountain Girl came to realize that the bond they shared with Andy was soon to become equally strong between the two girls. Finally one afternoon as they discussed the evening’s subterfuge with Michael’s family, Mountain Girl, after a long silence, commented in a very quiet voice that Vickie could stay at the cabin. Andy thought that the voice suddenly reminded him of when he had first met Mountain Girl, and of how she had asked them to stay another night at Misty Moon Lake. Hurriedly he interjected that this would be a much better idea than sneaking into his tent yet again and Vickie, tired of the secrecy and always ready to sleep somewhere new, agreed.
Mountain Girl gave a scared smile, surprising after how close they had been the last few days. “We could go on a trip tomorrow too” she offered. We can go up to Cat Ear Rock. It’s by a lake like the one I took you to before” Andy thought it was a great idea but then wondered aloud how far it was. He remembered how difficult it could be to keep up with her. “Just get here early” she answered. Can’t you get away for a night?” Andy wondered. Michael’s family was so clueless. But still, if he didn’t come back they would know. A plan began to form in his mind. “I’ll tell them I met someone and we’re going on an overnight hike“ he said.
It went simply enough. He set up his own small pack the night before, loading extra stuff for Vickie also. He told Stu his plans exactly and even drew out a simple map for how to get to the cabin, although after that he had no idea as to where they would be. He left strict instructions for Stu to use this only in an emergency if he was not home by tomorrow night. Shortly after dawn he woke Michaels brothers and told them something vague about the days plans, saying that it would be an overnight trip and would they please let their parents know when they woke up. They replied that he really needed to talk to their parents about this but Andy said that he knew this would be fine and disappeared moment later. He knew that this probably wasn’t going to be okay at all but decided to hope for the best.
By now he knew the way to the cabin quite well and got there relatively quickly. The girls were ready and they ate a bit while getting ready to leave. Mountain Girl looked at Andy’s pack and commented that Andy still seemed to bring a lot of junk but he just nodded and then they were off.
Andy was a bit worried about Vickie. Andy couldn’t really keep up with Mountain Girl himself, she slipped through the mountains as easily as he walked through the woods behind his house and although Vickie was pretty strong she hadn‘t done this sort of thing before. Struggling to keep up would likely leave her feeling intimidated, which usually translated itself into some kind of unpleasant aggression on her part. The entire day, the entire vacation and friendship between her and Mountain Girl in fact, could possibly be ruined by simply walking too fast. More importantly, although she had spent many nights asleep outdoors, it had never been in the wilderness. He’d just discovered she was afraid of snakes, what else might she suddenly discover she was afraid of? He spent the first hour or so wondering what to do about this, how to fix whatever might happen. But the three of them stayed together easily. He realized that Mountain Girl had adjusted herself to them, and she spoke reassuringly to Vickie about her plans for the next couple of days. Vickie’s pride seemed to be surviving completely intact and with nothing to be afraid of she was unlikely to fly into one of her rages. Most importantly of all, she seemed to have accepted Mountain Girl with the same abandon that she had given Andy. As long as they were together, Vickie would feel safe.
The trail was one of the most idyllic he had ever set foot on. They proceeded along an open valley with a stream gently colored by glacial till from above descending through a collection of small cascades. A fresh breeze fell down the valley with the scent of newness, melting snow and flowers, on it. As they began to work around a curve in the valley Mountain Girl motioned for them to stop and crept ahead. Then she beckoned them to follow. The stream widened to a marsh and they saw several moose on the other side, contentedly browsing. The wind was against them and the sound of the stream covered the noise of their passing and a minute later they were uphill and paused to watch.
They worked their way up and over a pass filled with a jumble of gray boulders and sat to rest and look around for a little bit. A soft breeze was blowing bringing a sweet smell that seemed somehow filled with promise from the direction they were going. Marmots crawled along the boulders and Andy thought of how she liked to catch them. Then they were descending into a pine forest, it’s floor as soft as the air. He smelled something almost sickeningly sweet, carrion. A smell that would nauseate him when it emanated from road kill. It didn’t bother him now. It seemed like it belonged, a part of the world they had entered, a smell as simple as dinner for coyotes. Mountain Girl pointed a little ways into the trees to the south. “It’s still there. A big elk. I thought the varmints would be done with it by now. I saw cat tracks by it about ten days ago. Maybe we’ll see it.” He should be scared, Andy thought, wondering if Vickie felt the same way. But he wasn’t worried and Vickie seemed equally undisturbed. Mountain Girl would have known if there was reason to worry and she was plainly unconcerned.
And then they could see the lake through the trees, a shimmering blue beckoning them through the scented air. Soon they were at the shore, watching the whitecaps wash against the rocks. Ducks swam by eyeing them and Andy again thought of food. They sat for a bit, watching and listening, smelling the water, and Vickie commented that it was worth the effort they had made. Then Mountain Girl led them around the shore to a shelter camouflaged in the woods. Vickie thought that it was pretty amazing how you could stand twenty feet away and not see it but that from the shelter you could see so much of the lake.
They ate lunch and explored. Mountain Girl showed them the rock formation that she said looked like a cats ears although Vickie and Andy both thought it just looked like a bunch of rocks. Andy asked Mountain Girl about dinner, saying that he had brought some food but he was looking forward to her ideas on the subject. She produced a sling shot and said that she had been thinking of duck with greens.
The duck had actually been pretty good thought Vickie. And the greens mixed with some spices that Mountain Girl had brought were great. Much better than the packages of Mac and cheese Andy had brought would have been. The one concession to civilized food had been the instant pudding they had made after, wedging the pot in the stream to cool it. They had all eaten it from the same pot, wiping it clean with their fingers and then licking them and feeling like little kids sharing candy. Then they had propped themselves on some rocks to watch the sun set over the lake. Andy got out the map he had brought and they found what they thought might be the lake. On the map it was called Sunset Lake and they could see why, it had great views of the setting sun. They talked for a while and then sat in silence for a while by the almost dead fire as first the bats began to flutter happily about over the lake and then it grew dark. No need for the fire to be rekindled, there was a bright almost full moon and not enough trees to keep them in total shadow. As long as they avoided using the flashlight they could see pretty well. It was Andy who posed the first question. A sort of a truth or dare. What had been the best day of their lives?
everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
-
Absaroka
- Miss Diamond Goddess
- Posts: 3344
- Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2005 8:30 am
Erin I really liked your last chapter.
I was noticing some common themes. Both our characters finding protectors, and finding that the structure of their friendships helps them make their way in the world. The theme of loss-Terri getting sick, and of course my two ladies have lives that are one bit loss. the presence of water as a source of life and beauty- freudian theory says water represents both sex and motherhood. The settings in nature with the campgrounds, the Cape, and homes in the country and that sort of thing as a place of discovery. Robyn had an abandoned house in hers a few chapters ago.....
You're up, Robyn....
Absaroka
I was noticing some common themes. Both our characters finding protectors, and finding that the structure of their friendships helps them make their way in the world. The theme of loss-Terri getting sick, and of course my two ladies have lives that are one bit loss. the presence of water as a source of life and beauty- freudian theory says water represents both sex and motherhood. The settings in nature with the campgrounds, the Cape, and homes in the country and that sort of thing as a place of discovery. Robyn had an abandoned house in hers a few chapters ago.....
You're up, Robyn....
Absaroka
everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
-
Robyn Katie
- Miss Platinum Goddess
- Posts: 380
- Joined: Thu Oct 02, 2008 5:02 pm
Hi sisters,
Hastily this time ... squeezing in another post between other stuff that's clamoring for my attention. Hope my edit is on straight!
Love, Robyn Katie
***
Senior year. I’m no different—same clothes, same personality, hair shorter but still in curls. Still as passionately in love with Marty as ever.
We’ve talked about marriage, and are planning to wed. But not for a while, of course. To begin with, we know we must put it off for four whole years, as there’s college to consider for both of us. And then I’m fearful and it all sounds not very real.
As does college. The pressure to think about it, plan for it, apply, all makes me annoyed and a little afraid. How should I know what to think about college?
Everyone else in the senior class seems to. I’m lagging behind most of them, who are talking about it as if they can’t wait. But my thoughts about the future are all tangled with Marty, so it’s hard to think of anything else. I want to marry him now, so we can live together! We need so much to be a real couple twenty-four hours a day, and at last have the freedom and the privacy of our own home for any number of reasons, one of which is—
Very well, if you must know (to be perfectly frank about it): to have sex day and night.
Imagine it! No more having to get him to come twenty-six miles to our house and then hide what we’re doing from my parents and from Alice, who at thirteen is addicted to spying on us. Or else drive twenty-six miles to his house in Naventown, then go parking and make love in the back seat. Or, if his parents are home as usual, do it out on the lawn when it’s not absolutely snowing, or indoors, on the couch, but only after they’ve gone to bed, never able to just lose ourselves in sex. What must that be like, I wonder?
And the freedom to do it with no limits, to get pregnant gladly, passionately, to have his baby … All these things are impossible for us now, the mere thought fearful.
On the other hand when he touches me something inside me freezes. Why? My passion for girls? Why can't I simply stop feeling that way? I love sex, love it. But with boys it seems so pale and skewed somehow, so that I'm having to make it all up for myself, whereas with girls ...
I haven’t mentioned my studies. I ought to, I know, so you won’t get the impression all I think about round the clock is sex. Well, surprise! I have been getting very good grades last year and this. To my astonishment I’ve become a good student, with an actual liking for learning. This I could hardly have predicted!
But it’s my love life that seems to get all the attention, and not just from Marty and me. Everyone in school looks on us as a couple now. In fact we get teased a lot.
“When are you two going to announce your engagement?”
“Never mind that, how soon are you planning to tie the knot?”
“Better make it soon … before the baby comes.”
“Oh, is she in the family way? My, my, I hadn’t heard!”
“I am not!” I exclaim hotly. Though even I realize my tone of denial lacks a certain conviction. And besides, everyone in school knows the more I deny it, the more true it is likely to be.
As for Marty, I know he jokes openly with the other boys about having me. I’ve heard him tell them any number of things not remotely true. What an easy lay I am. How wild sex makes me, so I can hardly control myself. How hot-blooded and greedy and insatiable I am for it. How if he didn’t stop me, I’d be up to my tricks with half the boys in school. According to him I’m the girl that can’t say no—can’t even sit on it for a second without pleading for it. Completely false! (Or almost.) Really he ought to be ashamed. But it’s his privilege as a lordly male, I suppose. Certainly it helps keep up his status among the boys.
I try to tell myself I don’t mind. My reputation is—well, I imagine at this point I no longer have a reputation, except as a Jezebel and a floozy. Everyone in school knows about us, just as everyone mysteriously knows that Carl and Ellen have done it together, and Mike and Barbara, and the other couples who are so obviously sleeping with each other in secret.
How many girls have come up to me and said, “I envy you.”
Or “You are so brave, I wish I had your courage.”
Or “You’re so lucky being a day student. It’s so much harder finding a place to make love with my boyfriend here at school.”
Then there are the concerned ones, with remarks for which I have no answers anyone wants to listen to. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be expelled?”
“Don’t you worry about pregnancy?”
“What if Miss Meagher finds out?”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, the way you carry on.” And so on.
Menstruation is indeed “my friend,” hanging on from month to month. Taking every risk I’ll get pregnant yet somehow blessed with luck, I greet her arrival each time with silent thanks.
Shockingly, Miss Lapinsky, my French teacher all four years here at Gerrold, took me aside after French class to say in her strong Russian accent, “It has come to me you are playing with the fire with that boyfriend of yours.”
I was so shocked I couldn’t speak.
“Please pardonnez an old woman, but je veux vous dire quelque chose: you be cautious, ma chere. There is all your life left before you. Please do yourself the honor to think.”
“Oh—I do. I definitely do.”
“That is well for you. But the harder thing—curb your appetites.” I must have looked aghast, for she added, “I know—you think me an ugly old woman. Yet in my time I have enact this thing too, with some success, some badness as well. Please be guided by me: it so seldom end happily. Look to yourself, mademoiselle, je vous en prie. And excuse once more, s’il vous plait, I do not mean to pry.”
“Yes, um—I shall. Truly. Thank you.” I retreated, staggered to have been accosted like that.
Of course I didn’t take her well-meant advice. Or did it make some latent impression? My continuing upset over the sexual aspects of my relationship with Marty left me walking at lunchtime, half in distress, on the great sloping curve of the school’s big front lawn.
“Robyn?”
It’s Sue Loupe who has spoken shyly, diffidently from under that big spreading maple, its leaves already vivid yellow, orange, red. Never before has this tall elegant wisp of a creature given any indication she knew I was alive.
“What is it?”
“Haven’t you heard?”
“No, what?”
Sue beckoned, hand on a branch, standing poised like a startled faun, half off balance, as if to run away at the slightest scare. Brows rising in curiosity I came under the tree with her. “It’s all over school.”
Momentarily I had a stab of guilt, thinking it was about me. But it wasn’t.
“Pam Fain is pregnant.” Sue’s eyes were full of excited alarm.
“Beg pardon?” Hard to hear her soft voice as the sun-warmed breeze is rustling the leaves, and those eyes of hers, the sort of bruised-looking violet eyes that have always attracted me, making me forget myself. This near her, I have a tendency to say silly things, and now again I get a sudden conviction, as so often before, that everything I do with Marty is a huge mistake, that I ought to be doing all of it with someone like—well, her.
“Pregnant. She’s having a baby, she’s had to leave school. You know she was living in that senior house at the edge of campus. That’s the only way she kept it secret as long as she did, though Susan Ladmon tried her best to help keep her from being found out—”
“Sue Ladmon? She’s such a goody-goody, I thought.”
“She did, though, all the same. But then after a while it was no use any more.” Adding almost apologetically, “It couldn’t be hidden. Pam had started getting big.”
I whisper, “I didn’t know anything about this. How’d it happen?”
“Her boyfriend and she shacked up during Christmas vacation, or so I heard.” How odd, shacked up coming out of Sue’s delicate lips; she doesn’t look like she even knows what the term means.
“That makes her about—five months?” I ask.
“Mm, I suppose, but I don’t know exactly. They said she can graduate, they’ll send her Finals to her home in Cleveland; but she can’t attend Graduation. They’re going to make the announcement in assembly tomorrow.”
“Really? Here at dear old Gerrold? Where nobody in the administration even admits there is such a word as pregnant?”
“Supposedly yes.” Those wonderful eyes regard me with what looks like horrified concern, but is her normal expression. “Thing is, I thought you would want to know. You being one of the ones who—” She gestured in a distracted way. “You know.”
“Mustn’t believe everything you hear.” (My standard defense by now.)
“Well, you are, aren’t you,” she said pointedly. Our faces were very close. Accidentally I touched her hand where it rested on the branch. Half-preoccupied, she said, as if in annoyance, “I don’t know why we’ve never spoken before, do you?”
“No. I would have, if I thought you were interested.”
“Am I? I mean, I am, I guess.” Her eyes. My eyes. “I s’pose it’s that I don’t date, like you.”
I tremble, not knowing why. “What is?”
“You never noticing me.”
“But I have noticed you. Very much. I find you so attractive—”
“You do? How peculiar. As I’m such an exception …” She seemed to lose herself in thought. “Does that seem strange to you, or do you think it’s just normal? You see, I don’t exactly know about myself, for instance why I—”
Just then our lips met. I swear I didn’t mean them to. But we were kissing, lightly, adhesively—our silly lips stuck close, wouldn’t let go of each other. I was so glad, my heart gave a great bound as if it were doing the high jump.
Two seconds, though, and she broke away, all fluttery. “Oh my goodness, why are we—I mean, don’t—”
“Really?”
She switches viewpoint so fast I’m breathless. “No, you can. I wanted you to.”
“I guess we mustn’t, here, if somebody were to see—”
“Oh, as to that,” objected Sue, with all sincerity, “probably it’s not a danger. Almost certainly not. in fact, so long as we watch out for others approaching. You see how low the tree grows. So as long as our feet aren’t terribly close to one another, I doubt anyone can see what we’re doing from approximately—” glancing up and down us, “—our waists. Or a little higher. You probably shouldn’t play with my boobs!” laughing tinnily, nervously. “And then also, nobody suspects two girls, do they.”
I stared at her. “You have this all figured out?”
“Me?” Alarm. “Oh golly no. I was just trying to be, you know, helpful …”
And she bent forward, offering those soft delicate lips for another kiss. “You don’t mind me doing this, do you? I absolutely, positively won’t, if it bothers you.”
This time I did giggle.
She giggled in reply. “God, I am so glad I called you over. My heart was beating like a triphammer, I was sure it’d break a rib!” Another kiss. In fact several.
She filled my gaze. I was breathing hard, almost panting, vaguely aware of the tap of my skirt hem near my knee as the breeze blew it. Blew beneath it, too, tendrils of air playing about my upper thighs, which were newly warm.
“Isn’t it annoying how, when you get aroused,” I said vaguely, scarcely knowing what I was saying, “your panties get wet?”
“Mine are too,” she whispered.
“They are?” I didn’t know whether to be amused, pleased or aghast.
“But definitely don’t pet me there, okay? ‘Cause anything that low, people could see. And I’m a little worried about the couple on the blanket over there,” gesturing with her head. “They’ve flung us two whole glances and I think they’re peeking now. Not that they can see much of anything, thank goodness.” She kissed me again. “Excuse me being eager, but I have wanted to kiss you for such a long time! Hey,” glancing down with concern at my hands on the front of her blouse, “I said not to, and now look what you’re—”
“That excited me so much when you mentioned it,” I whispered, “did you really expect I could keep myself from—?”
“Now you’ll think I’m a schemer, and I swear I didn’t think when I said that—”
“Shh.” We kiss.
“I have my college interview in about fifteen minutes, so by then we’re going to have to stop.”
“What college?” I asked, in between many more kisses.
“Smith.”
“Do you think you’ll get in?” Tomorrow afternoon I knew I would be interviewing for Mt. Holyoke with an iron-haired woman alumna; I dreaded it, I’d have done anything to escape such pitiless scrutiny.
“I don’t know. Oh Robyn, why didn’t we discover each other years ago?" Then she checks her watch, recoils. "I have to go, ‘bye.”
Strangely, so strangely I never knew what to make of it, nothing further came of our passionate lunchtime tryst under the maple tree. Sue and I never spoke an intimate word together again. She didn’t get into Smith, I heard. I cast glances in her direction, but she avoided my eyes.
All I can think is that she must have gotten scared, or in some way regretted what had happened between us. It made me feel dreadful, for my heart had gone completely out to hers. Had she been even a little bit willing to continue, I don’t know what might have become of me with Marty, for just twenty minutes had left me head over heels in love with Sue.
How can people say, “I got over it?” No such thing. I don’t get over anything, I never have. I haven’t gotten over Sue, not all these years later. I wonder if she ever thinks of me.
All I could do was cling to Marty and try to cover over the Sue-shaped hole in my life with fresh sex. Springtime had sprung, and here were Marty and I in our favorite deserted pasture, among the willows by the stream. For the longest time we stood leaning on a low horizontal branch while he fondled me, me wishing it was Sue Loupe touching me.
What is the matter with me? Why can’t I just love a boy without the thought of a girl intruding? How shall I manage without Sue? … and yes, I am an unnatural girl and all I can say is, I can’t help it. If I’m damned I’m damned, if I’m lost I’m lost, there’s no fixing me, I’ve constantly yearned for girls since my first love, Katie, broke my heart. Boys have never been more than at the margin of the picture ...
Why isn’t there room in the world for me to marry the girl of my choice? (Sue.) Yet the world says a boy is all I can have. I must date one, be the fiancée of one, marry and live with one. Just last week I was thinking how sweet that would be, and now look at me.
Be content with Marty, says my inner adviser, while my heart cries deafeningly, Sue, Sue, Sue. I’m in a tailspin. It’s all I can do to manage my classes, take my finals, let alone plan for our prom date— Marty’s and mine, I mean, though all I can do is wish it was Sue’s and mine. Sue isn’t even going to the prom; she hasn’t been asked—the loveliest girl in the senior class, but no one asked her.
Then suddenly, when Finals are nearly over and graduation’s just days away, I miss my second period in a row. All at once it’s not just titillating scandal about Pam Fain—I’m having a pregnancy scare of my own!
Moan … this is awful, how can I write. I can’t even think. My body could be betraying me at this very moment, forming a zygote or whatever it’s called. Wildly I think: kill myself! Or no, there’s something called an abortion. But how do you get one? I have no idea. I heard they do them in France? But I don’t know anything about it, and don’t know anyone who does—
For a girl who likes sex a lot, suddenly I don’t feel sexy. Not one bit.
Should I make a solemn vow? Okay, if you insist, I’ll make a solemn vow. If I get out of this fix un-pregnant, I will never have sex again till the day I die. No, wait, that’s pretty extreme. How about this? I’ll never have sex again until I get married.
Hm. Marty isn’t going to like this. But I don’t care! This is too much of a risk to run! I don’t know if I want to have babies ever, but especially not now!
The days pass, me holding my breath until I go purple in the face. I stumble through the school day, doing my classwork by remote control, homework too, just forcing the minutes to go by, day after day, week after week, until …
My period! It’s here! My beloved period! I forgive it everything, all the cramps, bloating, mess, the works—it arrived! I’m saved! Wheee!
Marty and I go parking near the corner of Seven Acres Road to celebrate with passionate kisses. The car windows are open, the beautiful breeze refreshes us, the woods are glorious, filling in with lush pale green, the maples farther along than the oaks, so that big pushy umbrellas of big new leaves alternate with thin patterns of tiny unfolding ones against the blue, blue sky. It’s actually hot, my blouse practically opens itself.
Sudden noise in the woods.
Marty’s head swings around, eyes very nervous. “Somebody spying on us?”
“It was a squirrel, silly.”
The day is very lovely and I can’t get all upset about his constitutional anxiety that somehow somebody from school actually managed to walk all the two miles out here, conceal themselves in the woods just to see him open my blouse. Besides, I’ve got other worries on my mind.
“We have to be more careful,” I tell the top of his head.
“Yeah, certainly will,” muffled.
“I mean it. This last time I think I lost ten years off my life with worry.”
Kisses. “But you’re over it now, thank goodness.”
“Marty! I don’t think you quite understand what I went through. Suppose I had been preg—”
“Yeah, that’d have been awful all right.”
“Awful’s not the word. What would you have done if I was going to have a baby? Would you have married me?”
“I guess.”
“Are you sure?”
Shrug. “That’s a hard question, Robyn, and you know it.”
My eyes get very wide and a little bit squinchy at the corners. “We are planning to marry, isn’t that so?”
“Yeah, yeah definitely. But not just now, right? We said that. College first.”
“But if I have a baby now—”
“Thought you said you aren’t pregnant.”
“”I’m not! I told you. But suppose it’d happened. Suppose I didn’t get my period—”
“Yeah, but the whole point is, you did.”
So here I am, an almost straight A student with ambitions for my life, sitting in Marty’s car, bared to the waist, parking in the May sunshine, trying to impress on him just how close a call we just had, and that it ought to make us think! I admit the sunlight is heady, and if we didn’t have to head right back to school for the first class after lunch, we might well be tempted to be foolish and take the risk of intercourse right now. But that’s driven out of my mind by one bald uncomfortable fact: my boyfriend who I am supposed to be in love with, and whom I do actually plan on marrying, seems suddenly unable to think about what very nearly happened to us:
Me pregnant. Him responsible. (Except he somehow doesn’t seem able to think so.)
Us in trouble.
Telling our parents.
Having to a) get an abortion (unheard of, impossible), or b) have the baby.
Me, young mother. (Age sixteen.) Him, father. (Same age.)
Stroller on sidewalk.
Place to live? (Parents throw us out?)
Life in years to come. (College went up the spout?)
Us, years later, aged thirty-two, with child the same age we are now.
Furthermore …
No. I can’t think any more about this. I won’t. I’m suffering too much even when I don’t think about it.
“Honey?” Buttons done up. “We need to get back to school now.” And I need to think about what just transpired between us.
Graduation passes like a dream, Pomp and Circumstance, rolled-up diplomas, all of it. We girls don’t dress in cap and gown like the boys, but instead are turned into a bevy, a floral display all in gauzy white, like young angels. Does this mean our diplomas are somehow different?
But I must say being in ethereal off-the-shoulder white on this hot day is loads more comfy! We girls float delectably about the green glen of the lacrosse field (so nice the weather cooperated and we didn’t have to graduate indoors in the gym) as if we were sweet-tasting hors d’oeuvres for the world to nibble on. We really do look like ghosts of romantic maidens, but the illusion gets broken as real flesh-and-blood girls with some heft to them start dashing all over the place flinging themselves at each other with audible collisions like in a hockey match shouting, ”Oh! Goodbye! What’re your plans? What’ll I ever do without you?”
Alison rushes up to me and flings her arms about my neck, tangible, real and, though she’s now seventeen and a woman, still as bafflingly little-girlish to the eye as when we roomed together. I get a quick mental picture of her at sixty, still looking exactly like this, but wrinkled.
“Robyn! Will you sign my yearbook? I will miss you so much …”
She thrusts out the book. I scribble my heart out to her on my picture, barely remembering to wonder how she can miss me when we’ve hardly spoken a word in the two years since The Lainey Incident and my becoming a day student. But today is a day for forgiveness and beauty and kisses; and besides, at this moment I don’t remember one single thing against her, far from it, my whole soul genuinely yearns toward her.
“I wish we had spent more time together. Why didn’t we?”
Kisses. I notice her pulling away a little bit, as if slightly scared that my Laineyness could be catching. Still our arms reach out between us as circumstance pulls us apart, eyes wistful. “I will never forget you, never.”
“Nor I you. You’ll write?”
“’Course I will. And we won’t lose touch?”
“Promise.”
This same scene, among the hordes of parents and graduates, is reenacted with girl after girl; even Alice Parzini and Chrissie Miller and my goodness, strait-laced school spy Vicki Flisendeller suddenly discover that they loved me terribly much and won’t be able to bear not being with me. Then a bunch of boys intervene, grinningly signing my yearbook with unnecessarily embarrassing things like Finally got to kiss you, How come you weren’t my girl? and You’re the one, you always were. Marty’s there by my elbow, he wrote The future is all ours and seems to intend to stick to me the rest of the day. But all at once I’ve no eyes or thought for him. For suddenly there’s Lainey, half-mutinous eyes rising to mine.
“Didn’t know if you’d want to see me, but couldn’t bear not to say goodbye …”
“Oh Lainey …” I cry, tears starting, as we treat the whole graduating class to the world’s most incriminatingly wriggly hug and a kiss that goes on for about an hour or so. What we babble to each other I’ve no idea. But our eyes cling as they always did, suddenly I’m in love and shameless with her again. But she recedes, collected by her parents, to whom I wave with a tight smile and the prettiest look I can muster at short notice.
Then among the rest, tearing my heart into a few more shreds, here is Sue, her big crushed-pansy eyes looking devastated with a hint of jealousy, pressing a piece of paper on me with a phone number and an address.
“Can we meet? This summer, maybe? I’ll be in New York if you want to come, or …”
“I don’t know. My little old hunkajunk car isn’t very reliable at such distances.”
“Come by train.”
“Not sure. Oh Sue, I do want to stay in touch … we’ll see, shall we?”
But she’s gone like a dream in her arch, uncertain, spritelike way, with nothing at all resolved between us.
Suddenly here are my parents. They have me for a lunch of creamed chicken on toast, Marty there by my side, accepted (sort of) as my consort (as they say in the royalty racket), part of my future.
Is there something wrong with me that I merely quail inside, feeling fingers plucking at me from the future? That all I want to do is stay in the present and under no circumstances do anything about tomorrow?
***
Next time: Cast Adrift
Hastily this time ... squeezing in another post between other stuff that's clamoring for my attention. Hope my edit is on straight!
Love, Robyn Katie
***
Senior year. I’m no different—same clothes, same personality, hair shorter but still in curls. Still as passionately in love with Marty as ever.
We’ve talked about marriage, and are planning to wed. But not for a while, of course. To begin with, we know we must put it off for four whole years, as there’s college to consider for both of us. And then I’m fearful and it all sounds not very real.
As does college. The pressure to think about it, plan for it, apply, all makes me annoyed and a little afraid. How should I know what to think about college?
Everyone else in the senior class seems to. I’m lagging behind most of them, who are talking about it as if they can’t wait. But my thoughts about the future are all tangled with Marty, so it’s hard to think of anything else. I want to marry him now, so we can live together! We need so much to be a real couple twenty-four hours a day, and at last have the freedom and the privacy of our own home for any number of reasons, one of which is—
Very well, if you must know (to be perfectly frank about it): to have sex day and night.
Imagine it! No more having to get him to come twenty-six miles to our house and then hide what we’re doing from my parents and from Alice, who at thirteen is addicted to spying on us. Or else drive twenty-six miles to his house in Naventown, then go parking and make love in the back seat. Or, if his parents are home as usual, do it out on the lawn when it’s not absolutely snowing, or indoors, on the couch, but only after they’ve gone to bed, never able to just lose ourselves in sex. What must that be like, I wonder?
And the freedom to do it with no limits, to get pregnant gladly, passionately, to have his baby … All these things are impossible for us now, the mere thought fearful.
On the other hand when he touches me something inside me freezes. Why? My passion for girls? Why can't I simply stop feeling that way? I love sex, love it. But with boys it seems so pale and skewed somehow, so that I'm having to make it all up for myself, whereas with girls ...
I haven’t mentioned my studies. I ought to, I know, so you won’t get the impression all I think about round the clock is sex. Well, surprise! I have been getting very good grades last year and this. To my astonishment I’ve become a good student, with an actual liking for learning. This I could hardly have predicted!
But it’s my love life that seems to get all the attention, and not just from Marty and me. Everyone in school looks on us as a couple now. In fact we get teased a lot.
“When are you two going to announce your engagement?”
“Never mind that, how soon are you planning to tie the knot?”
“Better make it soon … before the baby comes.”
“Oh, is she in the family way? My, my, I hadn’t heard!”
“I am not!” I exclaim hotly. Though even I realize my tone of denial lacks a certain conviction. And besides, everyone in school knows the more I deny it, the more true it is likely to be.
As for Marty, I know he jokes openly with the other boys about having me. I’ve heard him tell them any number of things not remotely true. What an easy lay I am. How wild sex makes me, so I can hardly control myself. How hot-blooded and greedy and insatiable I am for it. How if he didn’t stop me, I’d be up to my tricks with half the boys in school. According to him I’m the girl that can’t say no—can’t even sit on it for a second without pleading for it. Completely false! (Or almost.) Really he ought to be ashamed. But it’s his privilege as a lordly male, I suppose. Certainly it helps keep up his status among the boys.
I try to tell myself I don’t mind. My reputation is—well, I imagine at this point I no longer have a reputation, except as a Jezebel and a floozy. Everyone in school knows about us, just as everyone mysteriously knows that Carl and Ellen have done it together, and Mike and Barbara, and the other couples who are so obviously sleeping with each other in secret.
How many girls have come up to me and said, “I envy you.”
Or “You are so brave, I wish I had your courage.”
Or “You’re so lucky being a day student. It’s so much harder finding a place to make love with my boyfriend here at school.”
Then there are the concerned ones, with remarks for which I have no answers anyone wants to listen to. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be expelled?”
“Don’t you worry about pregnancy?”
“What if Miss Meagher finds out?”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, the way you carry on.” And so on.
Menstruation is indeed “my friend,” hanging on from month to month. Taking every risk I’ll get pregnant yet somehow blessed with luck, I greet her arrival each time with silent thanks.
Shockingly, Miss Lapinsky, my French teacher all four years here at Gerrold, took me aside after French class to say in her strong Russian accent, “It has come to me you are playing with the fire with that boyfriend of yours.”
I was so shocked I couldn’t speak.
“Please pardonnez an old woman, but je veux vous dire quelque chose: you be cautious, ma chere. There is all your life left before you. Please do yourself the honor to think.”
“Oh—I do. I definitely do.”
“That is well for you. But the harder thing—curb your appetites.” I must have looked aghast, for she added, “I know—you think me an ugly old woman. Yet in my time I have enact this thing too, with some success, some badness as well. Please be guided by me: it so seldom end happily. Look to yourself, mademoiselle, je vous en prie. And excuse once more, s’il vous plait, I do not mean to pry.”
“Yes, um—I shall. Truly. Thank you.” I retreated, staggered to have been accosted like that.
Of course I didn’t take her well-meant advice. Or did it make some latent impression? My continuing upset over the sexual aspects of my relationship with Marty left me walking at lunchtime, half in distress, on the great sloping curve of the school’s big front lawn.
“Robyn?”
It’s Sue Loupe who has spoken shyly, diffidently from under that big spreading maple, its leaves already vivid yellow, orange, red. Never before has this tall elegant wisp of a creature given any indication she knew I was alive.
“What is it?”
“Haven’t you heard?”
“No, what?”
Sue beckoned, hand on a branch, standing poised like a startled faun, half off balance, as if to run away at the slightest scare. Brows rising in curiosity I came under the tree with her. “It’s all over school.”
Momentarily I had a stab of guilt, thinking it was about me. But it wasn’t.
“Pam Fain is pregnant.” Sue’s eyes were full of excited alarm.
“Beg pardon?” Hard to hear her soft voice as the sun-warmed breeze is rustling the leaves, and those eyes of hers, the sort of bruised-looking violet eyes that have always attracted me, making me forget myself. This near her, I have a tendency to say silly things, and now again I get a sudden conviction, as so often before, that everything I do with Marty is a huge mistake, that I ought to be doing all of it with someone like—well, her.
“Pregnant. She’s having a baby, she’s had to leave school. You know she was living in that senior house at the edge of campus. That’s the only way she kept it secret as long as she did, though Susan Ladmon tried her best to help keep her from being found out—”
“Sue Ladmon? She’s such a goody-goody, I thought.”
“She did, though, all the same. But then after a while it was no use any more.” Adding almost apologetically, “It couldn’t be hidden. Pam had started getting big.”
I whisper, “I didn’t know anything about this. How’d it happen?”
“Her boyfriend and she shacked up during Christmas vacation, or so I heard.” How odd, shacked up coming out of Sue’s delicate lips; she doesn’t look like she even knows what the term means.
“That makes her about—five months?” I ask.
“Mm, I suppose, but I don’t know exactly. They said she can graduate, they’ll send her Finals to her home in Cleveland; but she can’t attend Graduation. They’re going to make the announcement in assembly tomorrow.”
“Really? Here at dear old Gerrold? Where nobody in the administration even admits there is such a word as pregnant?”
“Supposedly yes.” Those wonderful eyes regard me with what looks like horrified concern, but is her normal expression. “Thing is, I thought you would want to know. You being one of the ones who—” She gestured in a distracted way. “You know.”
“Mustn’t believe everything you hear.” (My standard defense by now.)
“Well, you are, aren’t you,” she said pointedly. Our faces were very close. Accidentally I touched her hand where it rested on the branch. Half-preoccupied, she said, as if in annoyance, “I don’t know why we’ve never spoken before, do you?”
“No. I would have, if I thought you were interested.”
“Am I? I mean, I am, I guess.” Her eyes. My eyes. “I s’pose it’s that I don’t date, like you.”
I tremble, not knowing why. “What is?”
“You never noticing me.”
“But I have noticed you. Very much. I find you so attractive—”
“You do? How peculiar. As I’m such an exception …” She seemed to lose herself in thought. “Does that seem strange to you, or do you think it’s just normal? You see, I don’t exactly know about myself, for instance why I—”
Just then our lips met. I swear I didn’t mean them to. But we were kissing, lightly, adhesively—our silly lips stuck close, wouldn’t let go of each other. I was so glad, my heart gave a great bound as if it were doing the high jump.
Two seconds, though, and she broke away, all fluttery. “Oh my goodness, why are we—I mean, don’t—”
“Really?”
She switches viewpoint so fast I’m breathless. “No, you can. I wanted you to.”
“I guess we mustn’t, here, if somebody were to see—”
“Oh, as to that,” objected Sue, with all sincerity, “probably it’s not a danger. Almost certainly not. in fact, so long as we watch out for others approaching. You see how low the tree grows. So as long as our feet aren’t terribly close to one another, I doubt anyone can see what we’re doing from approximately—” glancing up and down us, “—our waists. Or a little higher. You probably shouldn’t play with my boobs!” laughing tinnily, nervously. “And then also, nobody suspects two girls, do they.”
I stared at her. “You have this all figured out?”
“Me?” Alarm. “Oh golly no. I was just trying to be, you know, helpful …”
And she bent forward, offering those soft delicate lips for another kiss. “You don’t mind me doing this, do you? I absolutely, positively won’t, if it bothers you.”
This time I did giggle.
She giggled in reply. “God, I am so glad I called you over. My heart was beating like a triphammer, I was sure it’d break a rib!” Another kiss. In fact several.
She filled my gaze. I was breathing hard, almost panting, vaguely aware of the tap of my skirt hem near my knee as the breeze blew it. Blew beneath it, too, tendrils of air playing about my upper thighs, which were newly warm.
“Isn’t it annoying how, when you get aroused,” I said vaguely, scarcely knowing what I was saying, “your panties get wet?”
“Mine are too,” she whispered.
“They are?” I didn’t know whether to be amused, pleased or aghast.
“But definitely don’t pet me there, okay? ‘Cause anything that low, people could see. And I’m a little worried about the couple on the blanket over there,” gesturing with her head. “They’ve flung us two whole glances and I think they’re peeking now. Not that they can see much of anything, thank goodness.” She kissed me again. “Excuse me being eager, but I have wanted to kiss you for such a long time! Hey,” glancing down with concern at my hands on the front of her blouse, “I said not to, and now look what you’re—”
“That excited me so much when you mentioned it,” I whispered, “did you really expect I could keep myself from—?”
“Now you’ll think I’m a schemer, and I swear I didn’t think when I said that—”
“Shh.” We kiss.
“I have my college interview in about fifteen minutes, so by then we’re going to have to stop.”
“What college?” I asked, in between many more kisses.
“Smith.”
“Do you think you’ll get in?” Tomorrow afternoon I knew I would be interviewing for Mt. Holyoke with an iron-haired woman alumna; I dreaded it, I’d have done anything to escape such pitiless scrutiny.
“I don’t know. Oh Robyn, why didn’t we discover each other years ago?" Then she checks her watch, recoils. "I have to go, ‘bye.”
Strangely, so strangely I never knew what to make of it, nothing further came of our passionate lunchtime tryst under the maple tree. Sue and I never spoke an intimate word together again. She didn’t get into Smith, I heard. I cast glances in her direction, but she avoided my eyes.
All I can think is that she must have gotten scared, or in some way regretted what had happened between us. It made me feel dreadful, for my heart had gone completely out to hers. Had she been even a little bit willing to continue, I don’t know what might have become of me with Marty, for just twenty minutes had left me head over heels in love with Sue.
How can people say, “I got over it?” No such thing. I don’t get over anything, I never have. I haven’t gotten over Sue, not all these years later. I wonder if she ever thinks of me.
All I could do was cling to Marty and try to cover over the Sue-shaped hole in my life with fresh sex. Springtime had sprung, and here were Marty and I in our favorite deserted pasture, among the willows by the stream. For the longest time we stood leaning on a low horizontal branch while he fondled me, me wishing it was Sue Loupe touching me.
What is the matter with me? Why can’t I just love a boy without the thought of a girl intruding? How shall I manage without Sue? … and yes, I am an unnatural girl and all I can say is, I can’t help it. If I’m damned I’m damned, if I’m lost I’m lost, there’s no fixing me, I’ve constantly yearned for girls since my first love, Katie, broke my heart. Boys have never been more than at the margin of the picture ...
Why isn’t there room in the world for me to marry the girl of my choice? (Sue.) Yet the world says a boy is all I can have. I must date one, be the fiancée of one, marry and live with one. Just last week I was thinking how sweet that would be, and now look at me.
Be content with Marty, says my inner adviser, while my heart cries deafeningly, Sue, Sue, Sue. I’m in a tailspin. It’s all I can do to manage my classes, take my finals, let alone plan for our prom date— Marty’s and mine, I mean, though all I can do is wish it was Sue’s and mine. Sue isn’t even going to the prom; she hasn’t been asked—the loveliest girl in the senior class, but no one asked her.
Then suddenly, when Finals are nearly over and graduation’s just days away, I miss my second period in a row. All at once it’s not just titillating scandal about Pam Fain—I’m having a pregnancy scare of my own!
Moan … this is awful, how can I write. I can’t even think. My body could be betraying me at this very moment, forming a zygote or whatever it’s called. Wildly I think: kill myself! Or no, there’s something called an abortion. But how do you get one? I have no idea. I heard they do them in France? But I don’t know anything about it, and don’t know anyone who does—
For a girl who likes sex a lot, suddenly I don’t feel sexy. Not one bit.
Should I make a solemn vow? Okay, if you insist, I’ll make a solemn vow. If I get out of this fix un-pregnant, I will never have sex again till the day I die. No, wait, that’s pretty extreme. How about this? I’ll never have sex again until I get married.
Hm. Marty isn’t going to like this. But I don’t care! This is too much of a risk to run! I don’t know if I want to have babies ever, but especially not now!
The days pass, me holding my breath until I go purple in the face. I stumble through the school day, doing my classwork by remote control, homework too, just forcing the minutes to go by, day after day, week after week, until …
My period! It’s here! My beloved period! I forgive it everything, all the cramps, bloating, mess, the works—it arrived! I’m saved! Wheee!
Marty and I go parking near the corner of Seven Acres Road to celebrate with passionate kisses. The car windows are open, the beautiful breeze refreshes us, the woods are glorious, filling in with lush pale green, the maples farther along than the oaks, so that big pushy umbrellas of big new leaves alternate with thin patterns of tiny unfolding ones against the blue, blue sky. It’s actually hot, my blouse practically opens itself.
Sudden noise in the woods.
Marty’s head swings around, eyes very nervous. “Somebody spying on us?”
“It was a squirrel, silly.”
The day is very lovely and I can’t get all upset about his constitutional anxiety that somehow somebody from school actually managed to walk all the two miles out here, conceal themselves in the woods just to see him open my blouse. Besides, I’ve got other worries on my mind.
“We have to be more careful,” I tell the top of his head.
“Yeah, certainly will,” muffled.
“I mean it. This last time I think I lost ten years off my life with worry.”
Kisses. “But you’re over it now, thank goodness.”
“Marty! I don’t think you quite understand what I went through. Suppose I had been preg—”
“Yeah, that’d have been awful all right.”
“Awful’s not the word. What would you have done if I was going to have a baby? Would you have married me?”
“I guess.”
“Are you sure?”
Shrug. “That’s a hard question, Robyn, and you know it.”
My eyes get very wide and a little bit squinchy at the corners. “We are planning to marry, isn’t that so?”
“Yeah, yeah definitely. But not just now, right? We said that. College first.”
“But if I have a baby now—”
“Thought you said you aren’t pregnant.”
“”I’m not! I told you. But suppose it’d happened. Suppose I didn’t get my period—”
“Yeah, but the whole point is, you did.”
So here I am, an almost straight A student with ambitions for my life, sitting in Marty’s car, bared to the waist, parking in the May sunshine, trying to impress on him just how close a call we just had, and that it ought to make us think! I admit the sunlight is heady, and if we didn’t have to head right back to school for the first class after lunch, we might well be tempted to be foolish and take the risk of intercourse right now. But that’s driven out of my mind by one bald uncomfortable fact: my boyfriend who I am supposed to be in love with, and whom I do actually plan on marrying, seems suddenly unable to think about what very nearly happened to us:
Me pregnant. Him responsible. (Except he somehow doesn’t seem able to think so.)
Us in trouble.
Telling our parents.
Having to a) get an abortion (unheard of, impossible), or b) have the baby.
Me, young mother. (Age sixteen.) Him, father. (Same age.)
Stroller on sidewalk.
Place to live? (Parents throw us out?)
Life in years to come. (College went up the spout?)
Us, years later, aged thirty-two, with child the same age we are now.
Furthermore …
No. I can’t think any more about this. I won’t. I’m suffering too much even when I don’t think about it.
“Honey?” Buttons done up. “We need to get back to school now.” And I need to think about what just transpired between us.
Graduation passes like a dream, Pomp and Circumstance, rolled-up diplomas, all of it. We girls don’t dress in cap and gown like the boys, but instead are turned into a bevy, a floral display all in gauzy white, like young angels. Does this mean our diplomas are somehow different?
But I must say being in ethereal off-the-shoulder white on this hot day is loads more comfy! We girls float delectably about the green glen of the lacrosse field (so nice the weather cooperated and we didn’t have to graduate indoors in the gym) as if we were sweet-tasting hors d’oeuvres for the world to nibble on. We really do look like ghosts of romantic maidens, but the illusion gets broken as real flesh-and-blood girls with some heft to them start dashing all over the place flinging themselves at each other with audible collisions like in a hockey match shouting, ”Oh! Goodbye! What’re your plans? What’ll I ever do without you?”
Alison rushes up to me and flings her arms about my neck, tangible, real and, though she’s now seventeen and a woman, still as bafflingly little-girlish to the eye as when we roomed together. I get a quick mental picture of her at sixty, still looking exactly like this, but wrinkled.
“Robyn! Will you sign my yearbook? I will miss you so much …”
She thrusts out the book. I scribble my heart out to her on my picture, barely remembering to wonder how she can miss me when we’ve hardly spoken a word in the two years since The Lainey Incident and my becoming a day student. But today is a day for forgiveness and beauty and kisses; and besides, at this moment I don’t remember one single thing against her, far from it, my whole soul genuinely yearns toward her.
“I wish we had spent more time together. Why didn’t we?”
Kisses. I notice her pulling away a little bit, as if slightly scared that my Laineyness could be catching. Still our arms reach out between us as circumstance pulls us apart, eyes wistful. “I will never forget you, never.”
“Nor I you. You’ll write?”
“’Course I will. And we won’t lose touch?”
“Promise.”
This same scene, among the hordes of parents and graduates, is reenacted with girl after girl; even Alice Parzini and Chrissie Miller and my goodness, strait-laced school spy Vicki Flisendeller suddenly discover that they loved me terribly much and won’t be able to bear not being with me. Then a bunch of boys intervene, grinningly signing my yearbook with unnecessarily embarrassing things like Finally got to kiss you, How come you weren’t my girl? and You’re the one, you always were. Marty’s there by my elbow, he wrote The future is all ours and seems to intend to stick to me the rest of the day. But all at once I’ve no eyes or thought for him. For suddenly there’s Lainey, half-mutinous eyes rising to mine.
“Didn’t know if you’d want to see me, but couldn’t bear not to say goodbye …”
“Oh Lainey …” I cry, tears starting, as we treat the whole graduating class to the world’s most incriminatingly wriggly hug and a kiss that goes on for about an hour or so. What we babble to each other I’ve no idea. But our eyes cling as they always did, suddenly I’m in love and shameless with her again. But she recedes, collected by her parents, to whom I wave with a tight smile and the prettiest look I can muster at short notice.
Then among the rest, tearing my heart into a few more shreds, here is Sue, her big crushed-pansy eyes looking devastated with a hint of jealousy, pressing a piece of paper on me with a phone number and an address.
“Can we meet? This summer, maybe? I’ll be in New York if you want to come, or …”
“I don’t know. My little old hunkajunk car isn’t very reliable at such distances.”
“Come by train.”
“Not sure. Oh Sue, I do want to stay in touch … we’ll see, shall we?”
But she’s gone like a dream in her arch, uncertain, spritelike way, with nothing at all resolved between us.
Suddenly here are my parents. They have me for a lunch of creamed chicken on toast, Marty there by my side, accepted (sort of) as my consort (as they say in the royalty racket), part of my future.
Is there something wrong with me that I merely quail inside, feeling fingers plucking at me from the future? That all I want to do is stay in the present and under no circumstances do anything about tomorrow?
***
Next time: Cast Adrift
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Absaroka
- Miss Diamond Goddess
- Posts: 3344
- Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2005 8:30 am
here's the answer to his question, and a few other questions as well
Someone once asked me if I had had an experience similar to Vickie's with her trumpet. Not at all, but doesn't every musician feel like that has happened to them at some point?
And I guess all 3 of us have felt the disappointment she describes in the beginning of this section with her father. Happy to say that for me in the end before he died my relationship with my father became a good one.
They thought for a while and then Vickie answered first. It was a deeply personal answer and Andy wondered if she was testing Mountain Girl with it. The day her father got home, again, from jail when she was five and sometimes still loved her daddy like a little girl. She had thought that maybe with him home the rest of the family would straighten out a bit. And he had greeted her with a big hug, telling her how happy he was to see her. Surely things would be better. She spent the day in bliss. Then she added that the worst day might have been several days later when he got drunk and got himself arrested again. That was when she figured out for the first time that she was going to be on her own in this life.
Andy knew about this although he suspected that there was some theatricality going on. He knew that it had actually happened a little differently from having heard the story from her about a dozen times. But if not the best and worst days in her life they were probably in both the top and bottom ten.
There was silence for a while and Andy wondered if his question had been a mistake. Then Mountain Girl spoke. She didn’t know what the best day was; she had a lot of good days. But without a doubt the worst day had been her first day here with Zechariah. Another strange adult that she didn’t know not only claiming to be her father but confirming what everyone else had told her, that her mother was dead. She had no doubt that this was going to be even worse than the foster home and not only that, it was out in the woods where if Zechariah didn’t kill her some wild creature would. Yes, definitely the most frightening day of her life. Then she added that it was funny how things worked out. In the end she would have wanted to live nowhere else but here.
Andy hadn’t quite meant to get so heavy so fast. He hadn’t meant to talk about the pain he knew both girls had survived. He didn’t have anything in his life to compare it to. He thought of his disappointments and had an answer to his own question. There were two best days in his life he said. The day he became friends with Vickie and the one when he met Mountain Girl.
They kept at their game with less soul searching questions. When had they been embarrassed? Mountain Girl clearly had the best answer to that question. She hadn’t known her own name that night at Misty Moon Lake when Andy’s father had asked it of her. She explained that her father and she never needed to call each other by name because there was never anyone else for them to talk to. She had not heard her name used by anyone since he had stopped trying to have her attend school many years ago. After she had returned from her trip with Andy’s family she had spent hours searching her home for some piece of evidence as to what both her own and her father’s names were. But after she had found the copy of her birth certificate she had decided that it didn’t really matter anyway, that she knew who she was and so did everybody else who mattered, so why bother with something like this. Andy and Vickie both thought this was a fairly profound idea and they spent quite a bit of time talking about it before they returned to their game with further questions. Who had they had crushes on? Plenty of answers for Andy and Vickie with Mountain Girl silent. What was the strangest thing they ever ate? That got a laugh from both Andy and Vickie. What had they never said that they were sorry for? That came from Mountain Girl and Vickie thought that the list was so long that she could use the rest of the night just for herself. She told them about a teacher that had actually cared about her whose life she had made miserable for a year but mostly managed to talk around the subject of what had really happened. Andy told them about some mistreatment of his brother. And then Mountain Girl told Andy that she was sorry she had never thanked him for the food he left for her at the campsite. Included in the thank you was some sort of an apology for the food she had stolen from his family.
Andy was surprised. The thought that it might have been her had crossed his mind but after she had “helped” him try to catch the person eating the food and he had also seen her prowess at catching game he had dismissed the thought. She explained that things hadn’t gone nearly as well after her father left as she had told either him or Andy. The game and fish had just seemed to disappear as they sometimes did and the store of food he had left her had run out. After a couple of days of not eating she had begun stealing chickens and rabbits from a farm at the foot of the mountain she lived on. She had helped herself to what vegetables seemed at all ready to be eaten and had even killed a noisy dog one night and eaten it also. She had vowed that before she would go to the town and ask for help she would steal every bite of food she ate. Then one day from she had the idea of raiding the coolers in the campground on the other side of the ridge. The simplicity of opening the coolers had made her feel less alone, as if somehow it meant that she didn’t have to be on her own completely. Even so, she had felt so lonely and tired that she had begun to surreptitiously wander around the campsite just so that she could have some sort of human company. Even though she did her best to go unseen or at least unnoticed it felt better to know there were other people in the world. She didn’t know what had made her pick the cooler at Andy’s family’s site but she had watched him leave the food for her and knew that something different had just happened. Something very different, something far greater than simple kindness and generosity. Within a couple of days of Andy leaving her food she noticed the game returning and had caught several fish and two skunks but the thought of someone’s kindness had such a strong appeal to her that she had continued to visit them nightly. She had even taken to sitting where she could hear them in the evening while they talked around the fire and had been summoning the courage to approach them when she heard them planning their hike to Misty Moon Lake and had decided to join them there the next day. Andy thought back to how he had felt that night in the campground. It just hadn’t seemed like an accident how any of it had happened. Somehow he had known what he was supposed to do, to hang the food in the tree rather than wake his parents and let them know there was a thief in the campground. He thought that this had to be the biggest reward he could possibly ever have gotten just for remembering a Sunday school lesson.
The remembrances, pleasant and painful, continued with Andy asking most of the questions. He knew the girls were enjoying this and that they couldn’t bring themselves to pose the questions. Finally one came that by time it she had answered it left Vickie exhausted.
What was one of their regrets? Andy had figured out that it would be best not to go for the biggest regret but just one of many. Mountain Girl had talked about wishing that she had been nicer to Zechariah. Andy had talked about wishing he had learned to stand up for himself a bit earlier. And then Vickie had surprised them with her fury. Thinking about it later Andy knew that this was her real answer to her interpretation of the very first question.
Her trumpet. Andy knew most of what was for him as well a very bad memory but even he hadn’t realized just how big a deal it had been. Vickie had started to play the trumpet back in grade school the year after she and Andy became friends and she had been terribly good, quickly outdistancing everyone in the school band in spite of her family complaining about the noise of her practicing. Somehow it had just come to her. To be sure the trumpet was a loud instrument, made to order for someone who seemed as cocky as her. One afternoon her brother had gotten angry that she had woken him up with her practicing and had bent the trumpet around the window frame in her room, breaking the window as she lay where he had thrown her. She had broken a chair over his back and that had made him really mad, but she didn’t care. He swung at her with the mangled trumpet, giving her a nasty bruise and then the fight began in earnest. He knew most of her dirty tricks that had worked so well against other kids her own age and had finally knocked her down the stairs, throwing the useless trumpet after her after banging it against the door to her room a few times. She had run out of the house and had not returned for a week. Andy remembered; she had spent it at his house, lying sleeplessly on his couch every night while his parents worried because they hadn’t seen her this angry in all the time they had known her.
Her brother got a beating for it and her parents had briefly tried to console her. But they had agreed that the trumpet was just too loud and that she should find a quieter pursuit. “It was what I was best at except fighting” she said. “And it was good. Fighting’s fun but it’s not music. Music was something good. I know that fighting ain’t really all that cool. I learned that from you Andy.” She smiled at him. “I loved playing that horn and everyone said I was so good. I never let anyone push me around like that before. But I gave up. The teacher actually offered me a school trumpet and said I could practice at school but I was just too mad to do it. I think about it a lot and say maybe I’ll do it again but I haven’t and I don’t think I will. I could kill my brother. And it was all because he was drunk. You would think he would know better from my parents but he’s just like them.” She went on for awhile and Andy thought about that week a year ago. His parents had actually remarked how she had come to be more pleasant and less trouble for a while. And he had known, he could tell that her music was changing her, allowing her to be the person it seemed that only he knew she was meant to be. He had been worried about her. For months afterwards she had been in more fights, more trouble, more of everything negative. Then she had calmed down but she wasn’t quite the same. Her big success was gone and it wasn’t clear that there was another one coming along anytime soon in spite of Andy‘s best efforts.
Vickie’s outburst was over. They were silent for a while and then Mountain Girl spoke. “You should do it” she commented. More silence. Then after a minute she repeated herself. “You should do it. You want to and you’re good at it. Andy told me you were good when he told me about you. He didn’t tell me that you stopped though. Letting your brother stop you or your family stop you would be like leaving all our food out for the critters when you’re hungry. Don’t do it. Besides it seems to me that Andy and his folks are your real family.” And then she stopped. Enough had been said and she was nothing if not direct when directness was needed. Vickie stared at the lake for a while. It disappeared into the darkness as if there was no other side, as if it held infinite possibilities on it’s moonlit waves. How dare this girl who spoke so little suddenly hand out advice so easily?
“It isn’t that easy” she said, wondering what exactly was not so easy. “Nothing is” replied Mountain Girl and smiled at her for a long moment, and then the exchange was over. Vickie looked at the faces of her two friends, indistinct in the moonlight but with something in both their eyes that she wasn’t sure she wanted to allow herself to feel. She looked beyond them at the pile of rocks that Mountain Girl said looked like a cat’s ear and thought that someone who could find a cat’s ear in them certainly had a different way of seeing things.
After a few minutes they began to talk of other things. It was late and they were tired. It was getting colder out and they went back into the lean to. The sleeping bag Andy had brought and the blankets Mountain Girl had provided were barely enough warmth and they cuddled against each other for warmth as they fell asleep.
Morning was warmer with a drizzly rain. Mountain Girl puttered about and eventually Andy and Vickie joined her. Mountain Girl commented that she thought the lake was pretty in the rain and they sat under a tree as she fished for a while. They got a fire going and cooked the fish for breakfast while Vickie wondered what this girl couldn’t do in the woods. Then they explored the marsh a bit more and headed back. The rain was a soft patter on their rain clothes and the sound of it a gentle caress on their ears. Mountain Girl’s lack of concern about the rain was reassuring to Andy and Vickie had learned not to worry about it too much in the summer. Eventually they headed back to the cabin with a bag full of greens that Mountain Girl said only seemed to grow near this lake. On the way back she pointed out some raspberry bushes that they had failed to notice on the way up and they spent a happy hour in the rain gorging themselves on the berries. Then it was up over the pass, slowly and carefully because the rocks were slippery and then they had a long happy frolic all the way back to the cabin which was sitting there homey and dry in the rain. Vickie caught herself. Homey? She was thinking of the cabin as home already?
They spent most of the rest of the afternoon there and then when it was really getting to be too late Andy decided to leave. Vickie would stay here again since it wasn’t going to be fun sneaking around in the rain which had just been getting harder all day. The girls walked with him till they were at the rocks overlooking the lake and then he went on alone.
He got to the campsite and knew he was in trouble. His parent’s car was there and they were furious with worry. He had no business just going off like that they stormed. Did he have any idea how upset he had made everyone? He was going home right now. So it was time to spill his secret, he couldn’t have them leave Vickie in the middle of the mountains with no way home. First he told them about how he gone to see the girl they had met on their trip to Misty Moon Lake and they seemed to at least understand that part of his underhanded actions. Then he told them how Vickie had accompanied them with out the knowledge of Michael’s parents and how she was staying in the little cabin with Mountain Girl and they got even angrier than they had been when they first saw him. Vickie again! But they knew that if they left her here that no one else was going to get her and that Andy would wind up doing something sneaky. Well, everyone had a cross to bear and she seemed to be theirs. As they accepted the fact that they would be spending the night here and retrieving her in the morning they grudgingly admitted to themselves that Andy had pulled the whole thing off pretty well except for his mistake of not telling Michael’s parents what he was doing. They had brought the tent for just in case. They put it up and told Andy that in the morning they would go get Vickie and bring her with them, then they were going home, and that was it. Andy was happy enough to have gotten them not to leave her here and said as little as possible while trying not to appear ungrateful.
Whatever trust and freedom they had allowed him the last time he came here was gone. They were not letting him go get Vickie alone, they were going to see for themselves where he had been and there were to be no more secrets about any of this. He tried telling them that he didn’t know how Mountain Girl was going to feel about uninvited guests but they were having none of it. They followed him, wondering at how he knew his way through the woods so well in the absence of any real trail. As they neared the meadow where the cabin stood he walked as noisily as he could and shortly before they got to the cabin Mountain Girl appeared. Vickie was not with her. Andy explained what had happened and she simply said that they might as well all come back to the cabin with her. She seemed angry and Andy wondered if something had happened while he was away. He hoped Vickie hadn't been offended in some way and started a fight of some sort. They walked back to the cabin in silence. Vickie was sitting by a tree peacefully reading when they got there and Andy had a brief moment of relief that at least she and Mountain Girl were still friends. But Vickie took one look at Andy’s parents and knew that this time she was as out of favor with them as she had ever considered possible.
Mountain Girl had developed a real skill at observing just about everything from her life in the woods. These were not the same people that she had met with Andy before. They were furious, Andy was scared, and Vickie-well it was hard to tell what she was feeling but it didn’t look good. She didn't think it was right that these people had come with Andy uninvited even if they were his parents. They were intruding in her home, threatening to take something from her. She thought of just chasing them away but then they might not let Andy come back to see her again. She had to think of something to make them do what she wanted, but what? The only thing she could think of was time. Some time here so that they could see that nothing so terrible had happened was all she could think of. She would share her home with them. Even though they had come uninvited. Even though it felt like they were threatening to take everything she had from her. She thought for a bit. Andy hadn’t shown any more independence than her father routinely expected of her and somehow she would need to make his parents see that. They would understand that if her father would have thought this sort of thing was okay then it must in fact be perfectly acceptable. She wished that he was here to explain all this to Andy’s parents. If only he was here. But he wasn't, and she would have to figure out what he would have done. She would have somehow made him understand that he had to do this. They were nice people, she knew that. What could she do to lessen their fury enough that they would let her friends come see her again sometime?
She pointed to the woodpile next to the cabin. “You see that?” She asked. “They did that yesterday. They came up here to help me with it.” Not quite true. They had actually done it over the course of the several days that they had visited her. She pointed out several other tasks they had accomplished over the last few days and commented how Andy and Vickie had been so helpful. Especially Vickie. She knew that they had mixed feelings about her, might as well sing her praises.
She was desperate to have them stay until she thought of how to make them understand what they had to do. She could think of only one thing. Something her father had never done, for anyone except her, something she seemed to have done an awful lot since she had met Andy and Mountain Girl.
“We were just going to eat. We got a porcupine this morning for stew and Vickie picked us a whole pail of berries” Actually Vickie had helped her with the berries and watched as she caught the porcupine. But still, they had been too upset to sleep well or to eat very much in the morning before starting out to collect Vickie. They were hungry, tired and it was a long hike back. They decided that it was best to eat and Mountain Girl was giving them that scared smile again. She put them to work building the fire and then cooked the possum while Vickie busied herself feeding the fire and finally getting some metal plates. There were only two of them and after a moments thought she gave her plate to Andy's mother and Zechariah's plate to Andy's father. It felt like a moment of clarity to her. She and her friends ate out of some little bowls. Mountain Girl tried to fish around for questions to ask them but they weren’t talking. Finally Andy’s mother asked what they had both been wondering. Where was her father?
Mountain Girl did not want to talk about this. It was Vickie who looked at her and said “tell them. They’re good people. They’ll understand” And so against all her instincts Mountain Girl told them most of the story, leaving out things like Zechariah’s current stay in jail.
It took a long time to tell the whole story. Half ways through Mountain Girl understood what Vickie had known, that these were people who, although they didn’t need to know about mischievous adventures, were to be trusted with important truths. They continued talking and Andy’s parents finally thawed enough to ask more questions. And then it was afternoon and well past time to resume the morning chores that had been interrupted by their arrival. She got up and Andy and Vickie quietly began to help her as his parents stared at the three of them. Andy was generally responsible but this was more than they expected from him and definitely more than they expected from Vickie.
Somehow the time passed on until they were faced with leaving now, staying longer and hiking back in the dark, or spending the night, which as far as they were concerned meant that it was time to leave. The anger had left them, as had the fear they had felt for Andy and yes even Vickie. Mountain Girl's near silence and then speech had been far more eloquent and easy to understand than Vickies' endless parade of words, so much more persuasive, and they knew what she had been asking them when she offered her the only two plates in the house to eat off of. And it had been Vickie who had brought it out of her, they marveled. Vickie who had offered Mountain Girl their trust. Vickie the peacemaker, the least likely role they could ever have imagined for her.
They thanked her for her hospitality and again there was that scared smile. Could Andy and Vickie come back some time? Wondering how in the world this had happened they heard themselves answering yes.
Absaroka
Someone once asked me if I had had an experience similar to Vickie's with her trumpet. Not at all, but doesn't every musician feel like that has happened to them at some point?
And I guess all 3 of us have felt the disappointment she describes in the beginning of this section with her father. Happy to say that for me in the end before he died my relationship with my father became a good one.
They thought for a while and then Vickie answered first. It was a deeply personal answer and Andy wondered if she was testing Mountain Girl with it. The day her father got home, again, from jail when she was five and sometimes still loved her daddy like a little girl. She had thought that maybe with him home the rest of the family would straighten out a bit. And he had greeted her with a big hug, telling her how happy he was to see her. Surely things would be better. She spent the day in bliss. Then she added that the worst day might have been several days later when he got drunk and got himself arrested again. That was when she figured out for the first time that she was going to be on her own in this life.
Andy knew about this although he suspected that there was some theatricality going on. He knew that it had actually happened a little differently from having heard the story from her about a dozen times. But if not the best and worst days in her life they were probably in both the top and bottom ten.
There was silence for a while and Andy wondered if his question had been a mistake. Then Mountain Girl spoke. She didn’t know what the best day was; she had a lot of good days. But without a doubt the worst day had been her first day here with Zechariah. Another strange adult that she didn’t know not only claiming to be her father but confirming what everyone else had told her, that her mother was dead. She had no doubt that this was going to be even worse than the foster home and not only that, it was out in the woods where if Zechariah didn’t kill her some wild creature would. Yes, definitely the most frightening day of her life. Then she added that it was funny how things worked out. In the end she would have wanted to live nowhere else but here.
Andy hadn’t quite meant to get so heavy so fast. He hadn’t meant to talk about the pain he knew both girls had survived. He didn’t have anything in his life to compare it to. He thought of his disappointments and had an answer to his own question. There were two best days in his life he said. The day he became friends with Vickie and the one when he met Mountain Girl.
They kept at their game with less soul searching questions. When had they been embarrassed? Mountain Girl clearly had the best answer to that question. She hadn’t known her own name that night at Misty Moon Lake when Andy’s father had asked it of her. She explained that her father and she never needed to call each other by name because there was never anyone else for them to talk to. She had not heard her name used by anyone since he had stopped trying to have her attend school many years ago. After she had returned from her trip with Andy’s family she had spent hours searching her home for some piece of evidence as to what both her own and her father’s names were. But after she had found the copy of her birth certificate she had decided that it didn’t really matter anyway, that she knew who she was and so did everybody else who mattered, so why bother with something like this. Andy and Vickie both thought this was a fairly profound idea and they spent quite a bit of time talking about it before they returned to their game with further questions. Who had they had crushes on? Plenty of answers for Andy and Vickie with Mountain Girl silent. What was the strangest thing they ever ate? That got a laugh from both Andy and Vickie. What had they never said that they were sorry for? That came from Mountain Girl and Vickie thought that the list was so long that she could use the rest of the night just for herself. She told them about a teacher that had actually cared about her whose life she had made miserable for a year but mostly managed to talk around the subject of what had really happened. Andy told them about some mistreatment of his brother. And then Mountain Girl told Andy that she was sorry she had never thanked him for the food he left for her at the campsite. Included in the thank you was some sort of an apology for the food she had stolen from his family.
Andy was surprised. The thought that it might have been her had crossed his mind but after she had “helped” him try to catch the person eating the food and he had also seen her prowess at catching game he had dismissed the thought. She explained that things hadn’t gone nearly as well after her father left as she had told either him or Andy. The game and fish had just seemed to disappear as they sometimes did and the store of food he had left her had run out. After a couple of days of not eating she had begun stealing chickens and rabbits from a farm at the foot of the mountain she lived on. She had helped herself to what vegetables seemed at all ready to be eaten and had even killed a noisy dog one night and eaten it also. She had vowed that before she would go to the town and ask for help she would steal every bite of food she ate. Then one day from she had the idea of raiding the coolers in the campground on the other side of the ridge. The simplicity of opening the coolers had made her feel less alone, as if somehow it meant that she didn’t have to be on her own completely. Even so, she had felt so lonely and tired that she had begun to surreptitiously wander around the campsite just so that she could have some sort of human company. Even though she did her best to go unseen or at least unnoticed it felt better to know there were other people in the world. She didn’t know what had made her pick the cooler at Andy’s family’s site but she had watched him leave the food for her and knew that something different had just happened. Something very different, something far greater than simple kindness and generosity. Within a couple of days of Andy leaving her food she noticed the game returning and had caught several fish and two skunks but the thought of someone’s kindness had such a strong appeal to her that she had continued to visit them nightly. She had even taken to sitting where she could hear them in the evening while they talked around the fire and had been summoning the courage to approach them when she heard them planning their hike to Misty Moon Lake and had decided to join them there the next day. Andy thought back to how he had felt that night in the campground. It just hadn’t seemed like an accident how any of it had happened. Somehow he had known what he was supposed to do, to hang the food in the tree rather than wake his parents and let them know there was a thief in the campground. He thought that this had to be the biggest reward he could possibly ever have gotten just for remembering a Sunday school lesson.
The remembrances, pleasant and painful, continued with Andy asking most of the questions. He knew the girls were enjoying this and that they couldn’t bring themselves to pose the questions. Finally one came that by time it she had answered it left Vickie exhausted.
What was one of their regrets? Andy had figured out that it would be best not to go for the biggest regret but just one of many. Mountain Girl had talked about wishing that she had been nicer to Zechariah. Andy had talked about wishing he had learned to stand up for himself a bit earlier. And then Vickie had surprised them with her fury. Thinking about it later Andy knew that this was her real answer to her interpretation of the very first question.
Her trumpet. Andy knew most of what was for him as well a very bad memory but even he hadn’t realized just how big a deal it had been. Vickie had started to play the trumpet back in grade school the year after she and Andy became friends and she had been terribly good, quickly outdistancing everyone in the school band in spite of her family complaining about the noise of her practicing. Somehow it had just come to her. To be sure the trumpet was a loud instrument, made to order for someone who seemed as cocky as her. One afternoon her brother had gotten angry that she had woken him up with her practicing and had bent the trumpet around the window frame in her room, breaking the window as she lay where he had thrown her. She had broken a chair over his back and that had made him really mad, but she didn’t care. He swung at her with the mangled trumpet, giving her a nasty bruise and then the fight began in earnest. He knew most of her dirty tricks that had worked so well against other kids her own age and had finally knocked her down the stairs, throwing the useless trumpet after her after banging it against the door to her room a few times. She had run out of the house and had not returned for a week. Andy remembered; she had spent it at his house, lying sleeplessly on his couch every night while his parents worried because they hadn’t seen her this angry in all the time they had known her.
Her brother got a beating for it and her parents had briefly tried to console her. But they had agreed that the trumpet was just too loud and that she should find a quieter pursuit. “It was what I was best at except fighting” she said. “And it was good. Fighting’s fun but it’s not music. Music was something good. I know that fighting ain’t really all that cool. I learned that from you Andy.” She smiled at him. “I loved playing that horn and everyone said I was so good. I never let anyone push me around like that before. But I gave up. The teacher actually offered me a school trumpet and said I could practice at school but I was just too mad to do it. I think about it a lot and say maybe I’ll do it again but I haven’t and I don’t think I will. I could kill my brother. And it was all because he was drunk. You would think he would know better from my parents but he’s just like them.” She went on for awhile and Andy thought about that week a year ago. His parents had actually remarked how she had come to be more pleasant and less trouble for a while. And he had known, he could tell that her music was changing her, allowing her to be the person it seemed that only he knew she was meant to be. He had been worried about her. For months afterwards she had been in more fights, more trouble, more of everything negative. Then she had calmed down but she wasn’t quite the same. Her big success was gone and it wasn’t clear that there was another one coming along anytime soon in spite of Andy‘s best efforts.
Vickie’s outburst was over. They were silent for a while and then Mountain Girl spoke. “You should do it” she commented. More silence. Then after a minute she repeated herself. “You should do it. You want to and you’re good at it. Andy told me you were good when he told me about you. He didn’t tell me that you stopped though. Letting your brother stop you or your family stop you would be like leaving all our food out for the critters when you’re hungry. Don’t do it. Besides it seems to me that Andy and his folks are your real family.” And then she stopped. Enough had been said and she was nothing if not direct when directness was needed. Vickie stared at the lake for a while. It disappeared into the darkness as if there was no other side, as if it held infinite possibilities on it’s moonlit waves. How dare this girl who spoke so little suddenly hand out advice so easily?
“It isn’t that easy” she said, wondering what exactly was not so easy. “Nothing is” replied Mountain Girl and smiled at her for a long moment, and then the exchange was over. Vickie looked at the faces of her two friends, indistinct in the moonlight but with something in both their eyes that she wasn’t sure she wanted to allow herself to feel. She looked beyond them at the pile of rocks that Mountain Girl said looked like a cat’s ear and thought that someone who could find a cat’s ear in them certainly had a different way of seeing things.
After a few minutes they began to talk of other things. It was late and they were tired. It was getting colder out and they went back into the lean to. The sleeping bag Andy had brought and the blankets Mountain Girl had provided were barely enough warmth and they cuddled against each other for warmth as they fell asleep.
Morning was warmer with a drizzly rain. Mountain Girl puttered about and eventually Andy and Vickie joined her. Mountain Girl commented that she thought the lake was pretty in the rain and they sat under a tree as she fished for a while. They got a fire going and cooked the fish for breakfast while Vickie wondered what this girl couldn’t do in the woods. Then they explored the marsh a bit more and headed back. The rain was a soft patter on their rain clothes and the sound of it a gentle caress on their ears. Mountain Girl’s lack of concern about the rain was reassuring to Andy and Vickie had learned not to worry about it too much in the summer. Eventually they headed back to the cabin with a bag full of greens that Mountain Girl said only seemed to grow near this lake. On the way back she pointed out some raspberry bushes that they had failed to notice on the way up and they spent a happy hour in the rain gorging themselves on the berries. Then it was up over the pass, slowly and carefully because the rocks were slippery and then they had a long happy frolic all the way back to the cabin which was sitting there homey and dry in the rain. Vickie caught herself. Homey? She was thinking of the cabin as home already?
They spent most of the rest of the afternoon there and then when it was really getting to be too late Andy decided to leave. Vickie would stay here again since it wasn’t going to be fun sneaking around in the rain which had just been getting harder all day. The girls walked with him till they were at the rocks overlooking the lake and then he went on alone.
He got to the campsite and knew he was in trouble. His parent’s car was there and they were furious with worry. He had no business just going off like that they stormed. Did he have any idea how upset he had made everyone? He was going home right now. So it was time to spill his secret, he couldn’t have them leave Vickie in the middle of the mountains with no way home. First he told them about how he gone to see the girl they had met on their trip to Misty Moon Lake and they seemed to at least understand that part of his underhanded actions. Then he told them how Vickie had accompanied them with out the knowledge of Michael’s parents and how she was staying in the little cabin with Mountain Girl and they got even angrier than they had been when they first saw him. Vickie again! But they knew that if they left her here that no one else was going to get her and that Andy would wind up doing something sneaky. Well, everyone had a cross to bear and she seemed to be theirs. As they accepted the fact that they would be spending the night here and retrieving her in the morning they grudgingly admitted to themselves that Andy had pulled the whole thing off pretty well except for his mistake of not telling Michael’s parents what he was doing. They had brought the tent for just in case. They put it up and told Andy that in the morning they would go get Vickie and bring her with them, then they were going home, and that was it. Andy was happy enough to have gotten them not to leave her here and said as little as possible while trying not to appear ungrateful.
Whatever trust and freedom they had allowed him the last time he came here was gone. They were not letting him go get Vickie alone, they were going to see for themselves where he had been and there were to be no more secrets about any of this. He tried telling them that he didn’t know how Mountain Girl was going to feel about uninvited guests but they were having none of it. They followed him, wondering at how he knew his way through the woods so well in the absence of any real trail. As they neared the meadow where the cabin stood he walked as noisily as he could and shortly before they got to the cabin Mountain Girl appeared. Vickie was not with her. Andy explained what had happened and she simply said that they might as well all come back to the cabin with her. She seemed angry and Andy wondered if something had happened while he was away. He hoped Vickie hadn't been offended in some way and started a fight of some sort. They walked back to the cabin in silence. Vickie was sitting by a tree peacefully reading when they got there and Andy had a brief moment of relief that at least she and Mountain Girl were still friends. But Vickie took one look at Andy’s parents and knew that this time she was as out of favor with them as she had ever considered possible.
Mountain Girl had developed a real skill at observing just about everything from her life in the woods. These were not the same people that she had met with Andy before. They were furious, Andy was scared, and Vickie-well it was hard to tell what she was feeling but it didn’t look good. She didn't think it was right that these people had come with Andy uninvited even if they were his parents. They were intruding in her home, threatening to take something from her. She thought of just chasing them away but then they might not let Andy come back to see her again. She had to think of something to make them do what she wanted, but what? The only thing she could think of was time. Some time here so that they could see that nothing so terrible had happened was all she could think of. She would share her home with them. Even though they had come uninvited. Even though it felt like they were threatening to take everything she had from her. She thought for a bit. Andy hadn’t shown any more independence than her father routinely expected of her and somehow she would need to make his parents see that. They would understand that if her father would have thought this sort of thing was okay then it must in fact be perfectly acceptable. She wished that he was here to explain all this to Andy’s parents. If only he was here. But he wasn't, and she would have to figure out what he would have done. She would have somehow made him understand that he had to do this. They were nice people, she knew that. What could she do to lessen their fury enough that they would let her friends come see her again sometime?
She pointed to the woodpile next to the cabin. “You see that?” She asked. “They did that yesterday. They came up here to help me with it.” Not quite true. They had actually done it over the course of the several days that they had visited her. She pointed out several other tasks they had accomplished over the last few days and commented how Andy and Vickie had been so helpful. Especially Vickie. She knew that they had mixed feelings about her, might as well sing her praises.
She was desperate to have them stay until she thought of how to make them understand what they had to do. She could think of only one thing. Something her father had never done, for anyone except her, something she seemed to have done an awful lot since she had met Andy and Mountain Girl.
“We were just going to eat. We got a porcupine this morning for stew and Vickie picked us a whole pail of berries” Actually Vickie had helped her with the berries and watched as she caught the porcupine. But still, they had been too upset to sleep well or to eat very much in the morning before starting out to collect Vickie. They were hungry, tired and it was a long hike back. They decided that it was best to eat and Mountain Girl was giving them that scared smile again. She put them to work building the fire and then cooked the possum while Vickie busied herself feeding the fire and finally getting some metal plates. There were only two of them and after a moments thought she gave her plate to Andy's mother and Zechariah's plate to Andy's father. It felt like a moment of clarity to her. She and her friends ate out of some little bowls. Mountain Girl tried to fish around for questions to ask them but they weren’t talking. Finally Andy’s mother asked what they had both been wondering. Where was her father?
Mountain Girl did not want to talk about this. It was Vickie who looked at her and said “tell them. They’re good people. They’ll understand” And so against all her instincts Mountain Girl told them most of the story, leaving out things like Zechariah’s current stay in jail.
It took a long time to tell the whole story. Half ways through Mountain Girl understood what Vickie had known, that these were people who, although they didn’t need to know about mischievous adventures, were to be trusted with important truths. They continued talking and Andy’s parents finally thawed enough to ask more questions. And then it was afternoon and well past time to resume the morning chores that had been interrupted by their arrival. She got up and Andy and Vickie quietly began to help her as his parents stared at the three of them. Andy was generally responsible but this was more than they expected from him and definitely more than they expected from Vickie.
Somehow the time passed on until they were faced with leaving now, staying longer and hiking back in the dark, or spending the night, which as far as they were concerned meant that it was time to leave. The anger had left them, as had the fear they had felt for Andy and yes even Vickie. Mountain Girl's near silence and then speech had been far more eloquent and easy to understand than Vickies' endless parade of words, so much more persuasive, and they knew what she had been asking them when she offered her the only two plates in the house to eat off of. And it had been Vickie who had brought it out of her, they marveled. Vickie who had offered Mountain Girl their trust. Vickie the peacemaker, the least likely role they could ever have imagined for her.
They thanked her for her hospitality and again there was that scared smile. Could Andy and Vickie come back some time? Wondering how in the world this had happened they heard themselves answering yes.
Absaroka
everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon