Best Friend’s Sister 2
A Pick Me Up Visit
I met my friend John in kindergarten. We were inseparable, as much as a salt and pepper pair of boys could be during the late sixties. Fourteen years later we left high school behind and went off to college, still the best of buddies. We’d gone to elementary school together, middle, and finally made it through high school. I tried to finagle my way into spending more time at his house than mine. Maybe there was drama at John’s house, I never saw it. I just think there was any way it could compare with what was going on at mine.
My house, well, it was a freaking soap opera. I was happy being anyplace else but there. If you’d asked me early on, I doubt I could’ve explained it. At the age of 18, heading off to college? Oh yeah, I recognized the pain and dysfunction that was damaging my family. But this is a story about dreams and hopes and positive stuff.
We all finally made it through high school, relatively unscathed. John and I graduated one year and his sister Wanda followed a year behind us. Growing up, we went out as many adventure as we could, whether we were seven, twelve, or sixteen. The only difference would’ve been in how we got there–on foot, by bike, or in my Cutlass.
Wanda, being only a year younger, was old enough to go with us on some of these adventures. I don’t think you could call us the Three Musketeers; for some reason John and his sister didn’t get along that well, but we did a lot together. As this was the late sixties and early seventies, you had no choice but to find ways to keep yourself occupied. You had to create your own adventures. The only alternative was to stay at home, play in the yard, read a book, or watch the three channels on TV. Yeap, no remote either. Sounds barbaric, doesn’t it. Sometimes you couldn’t even park in the driveway because of the damn dinosaurs.
Civil Rights supposedly had arrived and suddenly everything was just fine. No, I can look out my window right now and still see that’s not the case. Back in the late sixties, it was still in its infancy, not even a toddler yet. So, neighborhoods were still separate, as well as the churches, the barbershops, the hair salons. I tended to ignore a lot, having my blinders on, courtesy of a huge helping of ADD. Not so much hyper or spastic but more along the lines of being withdrawn. For me to notice anything, it had to slap me across the face. So, no, I didn’t recognize the invisible barriers that separated the white community and the communities of color.
If it had arrived, it hadn’t leached into where we lived. We lived on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, over near Delaware. John’s family was African American and a family of educators. So, I guess that’s middle class. My family was white, my father being one of the local Methodist ministers. Middle class, maybe, I don’t know.
We lived off the largess of the church and what showed up in the offering plate. I remember some months being pretty damn tight. I know what you’re thinking. Everyone bites their tongue when they have to put money in the offering plate. I know everyone grumbles under their breath, handing that envelope over, don’t they? Admit it. You know you did. Hell, I did and I was the ten-year-old son of the minster. Nobody had a tighter grip on that envelope than I did. I’m sure my mother had to pry my fingers apart every Sunday to get them to release that envelope. To me, that was five dollars better spent on comics and bubble gum and a visit to Mr. Easton’s Candy Shoppe for those plastic lips, the wax bottles filled with that nasty generic koolaid, fireballs, and all those little bins of candy behind the counter. Who actually hands over their tithe with a sincere, happy smile on their face, huh? Not me.
Ministers were transferred from church to church every six or seven years, so we moved quite a bit. It always felt like we were living on the edge of any community even after we settled in. Luckily we settled in our hometown for a long stretch of time and I made some lifelong friends. Thank god for that.
Dad was born in 1932, so his beliefs were ingrained in him way back in the 30s and 40s. I didn’t notice it at the time but looking back, I doubt he was pleased when I brought a friend home for a sleepover and realized it was little black boy named John Anderson, my best buddy. That was Dad. Another crusty old white SOB. He EFFed up majorly there, though. Having John as my friend was . . . an essential building block in how I treated people, the keystone in my belief in the value of anyone I interacted with throughout my life. When I brought home a girlfriend from the Caribbean, who was darker than dark, it was far too late to teach me how to use the “N” word, let alone use it with conviction. Hell, I can’t even say it out loud now. ell, I can’t even say it. Too late, you old MF. I know, I know, still got a lot of issues there.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
So we made it through high school. After graduating, John stayed close to home and picked a college about an hour away. He did well, majored in psychology, and found himself a girlfriend who eventually became his wife. I found a school on the other side of Virginia, about four hours away. I think it was far enough away that I didn’t have to return home too often. Wanda found a school just across the bay, about two hours away. I needed to be four hours away and she only needed two. Good for her. Two hours instead of four. Doesn’t that count for something?
I think she felt the same thing I did: the need to get away from home and use the chance to remake ourselves into someone different than who we’d been in high school. I also needed to get away from home. My family drove me nuts.
I’m sure it was difficult growing up the child of a teacher, but to grow up as the daughter of the assistant principal must’ve set her apart. Don’t get me wrong, I always thought Mr. Anderson was a good guy. That might be true or it might not. It’s probably close to what is was like growing up as a preacher’s kid. We grew up in a very exposed family within the community. Being the children of a school administrator had to be close to that, probably worse. Consider that these parents had to hold firm each day at school, set an example, and enforce discipline for 800 students.
I doubt any of these administrators ever went home at the end of the day and hung up that stern “persona” like it was a coat. Never seemed like Mr. Anderson ever let loose or drank a six pack while grilling on the deck. Having one of them as a parent doesn’t sound too appealing. I doubt Wanda was ever allowed to curse, sneak a cigarette, get drunk, or let loose. So, going to college must’ve felt pretty liberating. I could only hope she would survive the experience relatively unscathed. College life can seem pretty idyllic and straight forward, but it has its own pitfalls for those that have been sheltered a bit while growing up.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Once I made it to school I wasn’t inclined to go home very often. Once in a while I did make the long drive home to party with my brother John, but only if our parents were away. We’d spend the weekend drinking, smoking pot, playing poker, throwing up, and passing out. We never seemed to find girlfriends that overindulged as much as we did, so when we partied we usually didn’t bring anyone home with us.
I had just survived one of those weekends and it was time to head back to school. It had been fun, probably a bit too much. I was washed out and hungover and still had a four-hour drive ahead of me. At least it was ‘highway’ all the way.
On the way out I stopped by John’s house to say hello to his parents. It was always good to talk to some fairly rational adults. I always felt like a guest when I went to visit, for some reason. Maybe I was a guest. It was 1982 and despite what the laws said, everyone still had their own separate neighborhoods. Maybe I was an outlier, one of those loose ends that ends up having to fit in where it finally comes to rest. Thank god for desegregation or John and I would never have met.
I had hoped to catch Wanda at home but she’d gone back. It was probably late October. She was in her first year, while we were in our second. John had gone into psychology but music was his passion. He was always the DJ for some party and handled the sound for the school’s dance troop. I don’t even know what to say about his immersion into interpretive dance. He’d even mapped out his own choreography for a dance called The Plight of the Waterman. My brother and I went to watch that recital. I don’t know what he thought about it. Me? It was so far out any experience I’d ever had. You’d never catch me up there in tights but I was still impressed.
I was at a point where I needed to push back my boundaries, step outside my comfort zone, push the limits. I had to do something that impressed me, since up until then I hadn’t done a single thing that did. In the end it would be my trip into martial arts but that was years away. My second year into college I hadn’t done anything, except maybe remain faithful to girl that would eventually cheat on me. Not very impressive in my eyes.
My first year I learned how to drink like a fish, my grades were in the basement, and I had just broken up with my tramp of a girlfriend. She had called on a Sunday to tell me her ex-boyfriend had come to visit. “So, what you’re really not saying is that it’s Sunday and he’s been there since Friday. You had all weekend to fool around and now that he’s gone, you decided it was time to bite the bullet and get this call over with.”
“Yes. He came down Friday. But we . . .”
“Don’t even try. Are you gonna waste fifteen minutes of my life trying to convince me that you both spent the whole weekend with your hands in your pockets and pulled out the bible when you started feeling horny? You couldn’t just be honest and get it over with? You know about my Dad and everything my family went through. You had to do it this way? Couldn’t just be upfront? What a fucking tramp!” and I hung up on her.
That pissed me off to no small degree. It put me in that ‘I-hate-the-world‘ mood. I just knew every other person on Earth was having a better time than I was. It took a while to get rid of these moods but eventually they went away. After that wonderful phone call? Who knew how long it would take to get rid of that pissy mood?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Oh, I needed a distraction. I guess that’s why I went home, to get wasted and turn my brain off through artificial means. Now I just felt hungover.
So, like usual, either coming or going, I stopped in to see the Andersons. I had a good chat with John’s parents, catching up on everyone, talking about high school, college, our wonderful hometown. They mentioned they’d talked to Wanda a few times and they said she sounded a bit homesick.
“I know how that feels.” I told them. “When I graduated, I thought I did pretty well. But I have no clue how I survived last year.”
“Everyone’s first year is difficult. You’ll figure it out. You know you’re a hard worker, which is half the battle. I certainly wasn’t one of those people that breezed through everything. It took a lot of hard work and a lot of effort.” Mr. Anderson said.
Mrs. Anderson chimed in. “We know you’ll make it. You just need to believe that. And you know you’re always welcome here.”
“You know. Just when I think I have you guys figured out, you drop some bit of wisdom on me right when I need it. It means a lot to hear you say that. So thank you.” I said. “No, you’re right. I am a hard worker, I never quit, and I never give up.” I sat up a little straighter.
“Thank you both. If I stay any longer, you’re gonna make me tear up.” I stood up at that thought. “Hey, if you give me Wanda’s number, I’ll give her a call when I get back to school and see how she’s doing.”
“Oh, thank you. David.” his mother said. “I’m know she’ll be happy to hear from you.”
“There you go. I have a mission.” I got a hug from her, placed a kiss on her cheek, got a firm handshake from him, and headed down the road. Things I miss to this day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
So I drove down the highway, on a sunny October afternoon. For some reason, at the end of last year I’d gotten hooked on General Hospital. Worse than doing drugs. So, when I set up my Fall schedule at the end of last year, I built it simply so I could wake up and catch TV about mid-morning. My first class on Monday wasn’t until after lunch, just so I could sit down and see how Luke and Laura were doing.
That’s what I get for having a girlfriend who was three hours away. I was feeling a bit neglected, if you know what I mean. All the lost opportunities I’d passed by during my freshman year, while I was being faithful to a girl that didn’t deserve it. Do you know how hard it is being faithful when you get to college? There were girls all over the place, nobody from home, a ton of unknown beauties. Nah, I didn’t fool around. But the girls down the hall in my co-ed dorm treated me like I was a challenge. For some reason, they thought I was fair game, simply because I had a girlfriend. They got quite the kick out of exposing a bit too much cleavage, walking shamelessly by me in their bikinis or even a bra and panties. There were two roommates that treated me more like a younger brother, until one was ended up in tears because I hadn’t noticed her new sexy outfit or her cleavage. WTF?
After leaving their house I headed across the bridge. I was in motion while I ran my finger across the map, following my route back to school. Straight through DC to the other side of Virginia. My eyes shifted down to the small town of Wicksburg where Wanda was going to school. My finger followed the route down. Hmm, only an hour or so. It’s kinda-sorta in the right direction and then I can head across state. Plus I don’t have to be back until tomorrow. No rush. I don’t know who I was talking to, the devil on my shoulder? I tended to do it when I was being spontaneous, which usually didn’t turn out well. I was thinking a visit in person would be better than a pep talk over the phone.
As I passed Annapolis, looking for that turn toward Richmond, a bubble rose up out of my brain and popped. “Jeez. She probably has a boyfriend by now.” I still tasted some of that ‘I hate-the-the-damn-world’ feeling. It’d only been a week since breaking up and girls still hadn’t settled back into that magical niche I usually put them in, even Wanda. Didn’t make me very optimistic. I figured if I stopped by, she’d be consumed with her new boyfriend, and they’d be off snogging somewhere in plain view. “Come on, get a grip. Think good thoughts.”
Right that second, the afternoon balanced on knife’s edge. I could’ve said, “Heck with her and her boyfriend!” and keep going. Or I’d face the fact that I’d promised to her mother to check up on her. (Yeah, yeah, I know it was supposed to be by phone). I take my promises seriously, so I knew my duty was to see how she was doing. “Well, I’d better go. If I wuss out now, how I am going to face her mother?” I took the turn and headed south.
I was driving but as usual I had ten thoughts going on. When puberty hit, I was captivated by Wanda. She was the foremost woman (or girl) in my life, beside my mother and my sister, of course. How could I not be smitten? At some point I realized that she was pretty, not that anyone helped me reach that conclusion. Not like John or her parents were going to sit down and spend ten minutes talking about the things that I found so . . enticing about her. I spent a lot of mental effort trying to not think those thoughts at all. I spent fifteen years around her and her family and it just didn’t pay to have them. I valued the opinions of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson and of course John. They’d had plenty of opportunities over the years to see me at my worst. I doubt they’d be pleased if they came to conclusion I was set on seducing their little girl, whether it was consciously or unconsciously.
I guess I shouldn’t look like it was some conspiracy to keep Wanda and at arm’s length. But one day the thought snuck up on me: she was turning into quite the beauty. She was pretty in high school but as she headed into her twenties, she was . . . becoming beautiful. Some girls don’t have that luck. But some have the luck to evolve or whatever you want to call it. I wasn’t sure if she realized how beautiful she was becoming. Slim like a model, bottomless brown eyes, flawless skin, lips made for kissing. I needed to put those thoughts away.
It never accomplished anything to contemplate those thoughts. I’d had a girlfriend for the last two years, which kept me pretty occupied. Over the years Wanda and I had never had a single moment alone where we might’ve seen where those thoughts might lead. Which was probably a good idea, honestly. I was my father’s son. I felt like my blood was poison or something. It made me feel tainted.
I might have been a horny little teenager during summer camp, no thought to the future except putting my fingerprints over the nearest girl. I know I wasn’t the most considerate guy but maybe that applied to all teenage boys. Did it? IDK. But everyone has someone they cherish above all else. This would be someone they would never disrespect, hurt, or treat in any shallow way. For me that would be Wanda, and by extension everyone in her family. So, I did try to keep those stray thoughts locked up. If I slipped up and treated her like the girls I met at camp, like an hors d’oeuvre, then I’d have admit that I was exactly like Dad. If it looked like that’s what I was doing, it wasn’t going to happen at all. She deserved better than that.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A sign popped up. “Wicksburg 75 miles.” There you go. Maybe an hour. It’s 160 miles to school with no detours. If I make a stop at her school, it’ll only add 30 miles.
She was part of everything growing up. Whatever John and I did, she ended being part of it. Her mother would catch us before we left and made sure. “John. Take your sister!” He would roll his eyes, not too happy about it. It didn’t matter if we were trooping through the woods at ten, riding our bikes at thirteen, or out cruising in my ’76 Cutlass at seventeen. She was usually with us. It was liking having a little sister, which I liked. My brother tormented me constantly, so it was kind of nice to have a little sister. Instead of being a dickhead, I tried to treat her the opposite.
But lord, when puberty hit, all of a sudden my eyes spent a whole lot of time watching her walk by. I watched her cute little butt move by, I tried to sneak looks down her shirt, but the closest we ever got was sitting next to each other on the couch. Not the most romantic setting, when the adults were five feet away. Besides I always had to put on that shock collar when I came in. ‘Take your shoes off and put the collar on.’ They didn’t even have to say it anymore.
Considering we knew each when we were five or six, if we touched back then it’s because we were pushing, shoving, and wrestling with each other or trying to avoid toughing altogether. Up until puberty, it was all about cooties. After that, oh no, we weren’t given the time to entertain any of these thoughts. But coming from my family, our urges and drives were far more than mortal man, which my father showed the world so well. I did like to visit but boy they did run a strict household. There was never a time for any hanky-panky. Never a moment like, “John, get in the car. David can you keep Wanda company while we run to the store?” Never happened, never would. And yeah, they were right in their caution. If I had Dad’s DNA in my system, I wouldn’t trust me either.
Yet for all those urges I had, I spent a lot of thought on her, in wonder. She was long and slim, built like a model. Not overly busty but it didn’t matter to me. I’d seen my mother naked entirely too many times; it gave me a serious aversion to big boobs. When I think about it, it seems all my girlfriends since then have been modeled after her. Is that even possible? I usually ended up with someone with the same physique but usually with a screw loose. Yeah. A lot of loose screws, now that I look back.
Unfortunately, the years slipped by and I had missed what few opportunities showed up. There would be no walking down the hall with her hand-in-hand, no meeting up in the cafeteria, no sitting on the bleachers together. No moments to ask her to the Homecoming Dance or to the Prom. There would be no weekend dates where I might be able to convince her there was a perfectly logical reason to get in the backseat of the Cutlass.
I took the next exit and started heading south. The hour and a half went by quickly. It was like a Saint Bernard looking for people in the mountains. I was on a mission for the good of mankind. Well, not really. A mission to make Wanda happier. I followed the road signs and found the entrance to her college. “Where to go? Where to go?” I pulled into a parking lot next to what I assumed was the campus center and went to find a payphone. Yes, a payphone. A dime went in and the phone rang. “I’m need to speak to Wanda Anderson, pleased.” with an official FBI kind of voice.
“Wanda! Phone. It sounds like a professor. Hurry up.”
“Ms. Anderson? This is detective . . .”
“Oh, god, you are so funny, David. I know that’s you. I should’ve let you keep going. You scared my roommate to death. How did you get my number?”
“I’m at a rest area. It’s right here on the wall. Hold on, I dropped my sharpie.”
“Smartass.”
“Okay, not really. I went home for the weekend to party with my brother. On the way back I stopped by and saw your parents. We spent ten minutes talking about John, then we spent an hour talking about you. A whole hour talking about ‘Wanda this’ and ‘Wanda that.’ Isn’t she wonderful? Isn’t she perfect? Yes, she’s a dream. Then they made me sit through a thousand photos–brownies, girl scouts, hair appointments and church dinners, dance recitals, high school dances. Eighteen years of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmases. Like I wasn’t in most of them anyway. Finally I faked a coma and during the confusion I escaped.”
“You’re so messed up. I don’t know why they put up with you that long. I think it would be great to talk about me for an hour. You don’t know it but I’m quite a catch.”
“Come on, Wanda. I don’t know why you say that. I’ve thought that a along. I’m the one that had to watch you grow up. I bet you’ve got the boys down here in heat. You’ve probably have a boyfriend by now. I almost didn’t call. If I had to listen to you mewling about some boyfriend, it would’ve been too much. At the same time, I always thought a good ‘thumping’ would’ve done you a world of good, if you know what I mean.”
“What a perv. I know you were in heat all through high school, so you’ve got no room to talk. And what do you mean I needed a good thumping? Maybe I was ‘thumping’ all through high school and you just never noticed.”
“Were you? With who, tell me! I never looked to see if you had any hickies. And I never caught you sneaking out of the auditorium with your your lipstick smeared all over your face, your hair mussed up, and your shirt buttoned up incorrectly, if you catch my drift. But you’re wrong. I noticed you each and every day.”
“If anyone came out of the auditorium, it was you. I can even guess who it would’ve been, if you want me to. You never noticed me at all.”
“Phhht, no. Ancient history there. But you’re wrong. On the first day of school freshman year, you wore blue jeans, a pale white shirt with five red buttons, and some fish head tennis shoes. For your sophomore year, it was a blue skirt, a frilly pink blouse, and those old lady shoes. And the third Friday of October that year was the first time you wore your glasses to school.”
“Oh my god.” With a drawl in her voice. “I know how full of it you can be. There’s not a single way to check that . . . fabrication you just tossed out there.”
“Well. . . . It’s all true but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to convince you. I do remember coming out of choir once, right after you passed by and I noticed you then, just like I always did. Then these two guys walked by and one said something inappropriate about your tushy. I don’t know where it came from, but something green and really pissed off boiled up out of me. You wouldn’t have recognized me. Did he want to step aside and have a chat? No, of course not. Did he listen any better when I pushed him against the wall? Yeah, he was a little more receptive at that point. Were his friends listening? Oh, yeah. They wouldn’t have missed that for the world. Then I told him, “Keep your EFFing mouth shut. That’s my sister.”
“Are you kidding? You did that for me?”
“Of course, I did. He wasn’t good enough for you, anyway. Don’t even try to get me to tell you who. He’s buried in some landfill where no-one will find him.”
“Oh my god. You tell me now? It almost sounds like you’re telling the truth.”
“Of course I am. I usually can’t lie when I’m angry and he just wouldn’t listen. What an idiot.”
“That’s so nice. But he might’ve been my future husband.”
“Well, that’s not happening. Even John agreed with me.”
“My knight in shining armor. Thank you, I think.”
“Yeah, well. I’m sorry I let that out. I can be pretty protective. What’s worse, after I scared him off, I turned around and checked you out myself. What were they looking at? ‘Yeah, he was right. She does have a nice tushy.’ Do you know how hard it is to unthink those thoughts? You were my sister, for christ’s sake.”
“You checked me out? When did you check me out?”
“Please don’t make me repeat it. Nope, never said it and didn’t say it out loud either. Move on.”
“You are something. I’m not going to forget you said that.”
“Yes, I know. I know you won’t let it go, will you? Thank god there’s only one of me. There’s a limit to how much trouble I can get myself in. Two of me would be ridiculous.”
“What were we really talking about? Oh, you said I never noticed you, which is patently untrue. I always thought you were pretty. As you get older I think you’re going to ab-so-tutely beautiful. And I tried, I swear I tried, to not look but I always thought you had the cutest tushy. Sorry, have the cutest tushy.”
I couldn’t see her but I thought her mouth must have dropped open. “I can’t believe you said that. You never told me any of that during high school. You must be at school if you’re brave enough to say that. You wouldn’t have the nerve to say that to my face.”
“I’m hurt. I told you I was being100% honest and I guess I’m at school. Some school.” I was getting some enjoyment out of this. Idiot that I was. I never seemed to recognize the trouble I was setting myself up for. I’d probably be just as oblivious as I looked up at the top of the guillotine. “Oh, look. What a pretty shiny blade.”
“I knew it. You coward. You know I had a crush on you the whole time and you never looked at me once!” with a little less humor in her voice.
“Come on, Wanda. Listen, please. I always noticed you. I know I wasn’t supposed to, let alone get close enough to put a hand on you. And I’m at school.”
“That’s what I thought. You’re only brave when you’re three hours away. I know you’re wasted.”
“I am not wasted. I am at school, just not my school.”
“So. What does that mean? You don’t mean any of that. And when we hang up, you’ll forget you said any of this BS. You sound like every guy I know. Always making some kind of play.”
Oh, I tasted foot by now. Never in time, always after the fact. “Okay. Look, I’m sorry, Wanda. Take a breath, will you?” I had really stirred something up here, like usual. Another useless skill, pissing people off and getting under their skin.
“I’m going to be totally honest. Okay?” Her reply? Mmmmph. I slowed down, to let her know I was disengaging the BS part of my brain. “Do you think I would I ever do that you? Would I ever in my life spend time trying to play you or do anything that would hurt your feelings? Come on, think it over.” This phone call was going downhill fast.
“No, I guess not. If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone.”
“Exactly. I would never do anything to hurt you. Never. I do remember all the times I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth and felt like an idiot. Sorta like I feel now.”
“Well, I can remember some of those, if you’ve forgotten.”
“No, no, that’s okay. If I’ve forgotten some, don’t remind me. It probably just gives me room to put in some new ones. Right now, I’m looking at some trees, some grass, sidewalks, a steeple with a bell in it, and a statue of some guy from the Revolutionary War.”
“Well, if you’re back at school, that’s Jeffferson. I’d think you’d know who your school was named after. That’s embarrassing.”
“No, no. His name is Thomas Wick and he’s in front of a building called the McNeil Campus Center. Not my school, I’m pretty sure.”
“David! I can’t believe you. Are you really here? Why didn’t you say something! What are you doing here? Please, don’t go. I’ll be right there.”
Talking to myself, around the foot in my mouth, “Man, you need to cut the bullshit. Your life would be so much simpler.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I’m spinning around looking at the buildings, trying to determine which ones were dorms and where she might be coming from. All of a sudden someone ran into me from behind. I looked down and see a pair of arms wrapped around me.
“I can’t believe you’re here!”
I turned around and the hug turned into a normal one. A nice one. There were her beautiful eyes and a smile to go with it. “Well, I thought a phone call sounded kind of cheap and I thought a hug in person would accomplish a lot more.”
She put her head down on my shoulder and I could feel her body relax a bit, like she didn’t have someone at the moment that could give her a hug like this. That bad, huh? “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Well, I was heading back. When I looked at the map, I saw it was right on the way.”
She looked up, “You lie. I know what the map looks like. It’s going to add two more hours to your trip.”
“Nope, not true. It’ll only add thirty miles to my trip but if you give me a few more hugs like that, we’ll call it even.”
“Okay.” She pulled me in and gave me a second hug. “You tell me when you’ve had enough.”
“Mmmm. That’s nice. It’ll never be enough. Do you have time to sit down or do you have things you need to do?” Was this going to be a ten-minute visit or a two-hour dinner break?
“No. For once I’m caught up. How about we go find a bench and catch up?”
“That would be good. I’m tired of sitting in the car but I’m not ready for anything complicated.”
We walked across the lawn and finally found a bench. She sat down like a normal person and because I wanted to look at her while we talked, I slipped a leg through the bench and sat sideways. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. “Amazing. I’m about halfway back to school. Halfway between everything that stresses me out–home that way and school this way. And right in the middle this calm oasis. I bet it’s those hugs.”
She scooted closer until she was sideways to me, even put her legs over mine, pretty close. I reached up and ran a finger around her ear to see what kind of reaction I would get. She shivered and twisted her head, as opposed to jumping if it had just tickled. “Mmmm. That was interesting.”
She reached up to rub her ear vigorously. “What are you doing?”
“It was right there, close enough to touch. I had to touch it.”
“Stop that. It’s not time for that.”
“And that’s why they kept us apart. I’m sorry. I promise not to do it again.”
“Let’s not go that far. We were never left alone to play doctor, that’s for sure.”
“That’s the truth. Here. Can give you a hug?”
“Please, David. You can always give me a hug. They do me a world of good. You never have to ask.”
“Well, thank you. I feel like you need one, I just don’t know why.” I reached my arms around her and scooted her in closer, sideways into me. I kept my arms around her and she let her head rest against my chest. I looked down at the side of her face, the curve of her neck, but set those thoughts aside. I put my hand on her neck and rubbed it, letting the warmth sink in. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Could be better, could be worse.”
“We’ve never had a hug before, let alone a long one. This is the first time we’ve ever been alone and ever been this close. I like it.”
“So do I. It makes me feel safe.”
“You can tell me anything, you know that?” I could feel her nod her head. “Or you can tell me nothing, if that’s what you want. But if you need to talk to someone, I hope you can talk to me. I’ve been here five minutes and my radar’s going off. I’m worried about you.”
“Let me work my way up to it. For the moment can we just sit like this? It’s nice to sit here and feel cared for and protected. When I’m ready I’ll talk about it. I’m glad you’re here. It’s not something I could talk to my parents about. But I’ll be totally honest with you.”
“Your parents could tell something wasn’t right. When I passed by your exit, some subconscious thought told me I needed to come see you. So here I am.” I gave her a squeeze filled with what was brotherly love. Well, most of it. “I appreciate that your honesty. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. When you’re ready I’ll be right here.”
“That’s where you always are, right there when I need you. Thank you.” And then she settled in, almost like she wanted to fall asleep in my arms. I let her sit there like that, as long as she wanted. How often does anyone get those kinds of moments, where you can set everything aside? Amazing what nips any stray thoughts right in the bud. Being worried and feeling overprotective.
“You’re welcome to fall asleep. It’s totally fine it, okay? I’ll be right here, your security blanket.”
“Mmm mm.” And darn if she didn’t fall asleep for ten minutes. I envied her for that chance to feel secure like that. Can’t tell you the last time I felt that way.
I tried. I tried to sit still but finally an itch made me move. Ah, that woke her up. “Ohhh, that felt so good,” as she sat up and stretched her arms. She settled down and leaned back against me. She ran her hand along my arm, up and back, soothingly.
“I’m glad you feel you can be honest with me. I’ll do my best to live up to that. I just hope you don’t think I’m some kind of saint. I always worried about how you saw me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I’m part of your life and I’d do anything for you. I just feel like you have a better opinion of me than I do.”
“I think what I see in you is exactly who you are. You’re caring, generous, loving, supportive, and would protect me if I needed it. Or is all that wrong?”
“That sounds like a trick question.” She shook her head no. “Well, if you’re going to ask it that way, then yes, that’s what I believe in. For you I try to be all those things.”
“So, you’ll agree that you’re caring, generous, loving, supportive, and would protect me from the monsters of the world?”
“Okay, yes. That’s how I want to be: to you, for you, something like that. I feel like you’re reaching into my brain here.”
“Think about it. Why admit to being all those things, all those honorable, caring things, then spend twice as much time worrying about what you think are your flaws. You wouldn’t let me think that way about myself, would you?”
I had to shake my head. “No. You’re right. I wouldn’t let you do that to yourself. I think you’re too special to let you think anything less.”
“No, I didn’t think you would. Why would I let you waste so much time doing it to yourself? You’re better than that.”
That was a good question. An intelligent question. “I not sure I have an answer. I know I think way too much.”
“David. If there’s one thing I know, every night we all go home with our selves. If you can’t stand the conversations you have with yourself, you need to change the topic. You certainly can’t kick yourself out the door when you’re tired of yourself.”
“Girl . . .”
“Yes?”
“Isn’t that something. You sound just like your parents. And that’s not a bad thing. One minute I think I’m having a nice normal conversation, then one of you will slip in a little piece of wisdom that I didn’t know I needed until you said it. Your father said something this morning, at just the right moment, that made my mouth drop open. Why does it take so much effort to discover a bit of wisdom?”
“You’re asking me?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d have an answer. I know I don’t. But I think you’re right. If you can’t stand the discussion, it’s time to change the topic.”
“Exactly. So, you went home. All hungover, are you? How’d that go? And how’s your family?” She slipped that in there like it was a normal question everyone can ask. A simple enough question, which should take twenty seconds to answer. Me? No, there’s a bit too much inside my head. I tried to avoid thinking about them to just preserve my sanity. Like usual she slipped right by my defenses like they weren’t even there.
She tapped right in there, to whatever discussion my mind had been having behind closed doors. I didn’t realize it had reached some kind of boiling point. If I’d received an invitation to that discussion, I hadn’t planned on attending. “Goddamn them! Damn those people!” It came out pretty explosively and I know I made her jump. But it didn’t involve the arms I had around her.
“That didn’t sound good. I hope that wasn’t because of me.”
“Of course not, Wanda. How could I ever . .” I took a deep breath. My family always angered me. Now it felt they were intruding even here, in this calm quiet moment. I was pissed. No, they weren’t going to take this moment away from me. I always had long fuse and once everything blew up, I actually calmed down pretty quickly. I went from that burst of anger, then followed some twisted path back to relative calm and even a little amusement. I looked down at her, trying to find a smile.
She leaned back, a bit surprised at my anger. She wasn’t scared but her eyes were open wide. “Can you close your eyes for a second?” She had to think that over, look in my eyes, and pass judgment on me and my state of mind. Then she took a huge leap of faith. She gave me just a leery little stink eye but still she closed her eyes. If she’d been fifteen, it would’ve been the full blown ‘Wanda’ stink eye, which was truly formidable, but then we wouldn’t have been sitting this close anyway. It’s possible to survive a partial stink eye. Anyway.
I was trying to find a way to thank her and at the moment I had no idea how to do it. The things we were exploring. I took my hands from around her and placed them on both sides of her face. I looked at her with a bit of wonder. I’d never had a moment like this. I always thought she was pretty but we were never this close. Then her lips captivated me. Ohhh, damn.
Her eyes were moving under the eyelids, and despite her urge to open them, she kept them closed. I kept my hands on her face and let her feel their warmth. My thumbs moved up just a little and caressed the high part of her cheeks. She was conscious of how close we were sitting and would feel any movement I made. Now was the time for some self-control! Nope. I lifted up her face up. “Thank you so very much.” Then I gently put a single kiss on her lips. God, so soft!
Her eyes opened. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve a thank you but you’re welcome.”
“Is it better to let these foul moods stay inside and poison me? Or is it better to face them somehow and find some way to let them out, even if some anger comes out with them? So, yes, thank you very much.” I leaned in closer but stopped. “Can I thank you again?”
She had a small smile and her eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘If you absolutely have to.”
“Yes, I absolutely have to.” And I leaned in and I tried to put the same gentle kiss on her lips. Nope. My lips applied more pressure when they touched her lips and they decided to stay a bit longer. Plus her eyes were open and she decided she wanted to participate, too. I looked in her eyes and I know she could tell by looking in mine that what I was feeling wasn’t amusement at the novelty of what we were doing. I think she could see how much pleasure I was getting out of kissing her. Her eyes closed in contentment. “Finally.”
I wasn’t trying to be romantic (but I was) and I wasn’t hitting on her (I was, even if I didn’t know it). I wanted to thank her for giving me that discovery, that my sanity was more important than my EFFed up family. My breath rushed out. Whewww!
I leaned back away from her eyes and we looked at each other. “I wanted to thank you and at first I had no idea how to do it. I thought about taking you to lunch or to the gift shop but then I thought a kiss could express it perfectly.”
She gave out a light laugh. “That was the best thank you I’ve ever gotten. I think I might wash your car and pick your clothes out and brush your teeth for you. Maybe do your homework. Those would all require a thank you, wouldn’t they?”
A laugh escaped me. I was still getting over that kiss. “How about you just ask instead of going to all that trouble?”
“I remember tying your shoes for you once before we went to church. And you didn’t thank me then.”
I let our heads meet and I laughed my head off. Then looked back up. She looked at me with that ‘Well?’ look of hers, essentially a challenge. “Fine by me. Pucker up then.” She closed her eyes and puckered up like she was getting a kiss from her grandmother. “You’re something, you know that? You’re an ice cold drink of water on a hot day.” I leaned down and gave her whatever kiss decided to show up. “Thank you so very much.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She fanned her face. “It is so hot today, isn’t it?”
“No, I think you have a fever.”
“And how do you feel?”
“I’ll admit, I have little bit of the same fever, now that I think about it.”
“Good, good. I was hoping it wasn’t just me.”
“Oh, no. It wasn’t just you. It was better than I dreamed it would be.” I shook my head and smiled, almost laughing at where we were. I checked on the quality of my hug and tightened it up.
She settled back in and relaxed, sitting sideways to me, her legs over mine. I moved my left hand down and ran my thumb over the back of her left hand, unconsciously, like drawing in the sand. Trying to see if I rubbed her skin it would change somehow. Nope, didn’t do that. Interesting just the same. What about other spots?
“This is kinda nice. I think the last time we did this was when we were like ten. Someone slipped up and left us sitting together on some couch at your church. I think after they found us like that, they never left me alone with you again.”
“Yeah, it does have a . . . forbidden flavor to it, doesn’t it?”
“What I like is that I’m not all grossed out, like I’m sitting here snuggling with my sister. No worry about cooties.”
“It is strange, isn’t it?”
“Maybe we need to turn the heat up and see happens?”
“David, I could’ve done that here without you. The boys down are only interested in one thing: trying to get your clothes off.”
“Yeah, that’s how guys are. One minute everything’s fine and the next something takes over and then everyone gets hurt.”
“Tell me you’re not like that.”
“Wanda, I had a girlfriend for the last two years. If I could make it through freshman year without giving into temptation, I guess I’m not like that. I can’t say I never looked at another girl. For two years I was faithful but it didn’t stop me from looking. I think that’s kinda disappointing and I’m talking about myself. I don’t know what that makes me. Better than some, worse than others?”
“Yeah, well. Everyone has to face those kinds of thoughts. If you can accept that, then it boils down to whether you have the willpower to resist temptation. Do you honestly think I’ve never had those kinds of thoughts? Heck, Lisa and I had some serious plans for you, our little love slave.”
“Love Slave? Oh Lord. Now I’m curious and I almost want to know. At the same time, I know I really don’t. I’d need a lot of beer before I’d have the nerve to ask and then I know I’d still regret it.”
“That can be arranged. The beer part. Oh, boy. If I could call Lisa tomorrow and tell her we made it through the script together. She’d be so jealous.” She said with a smile of wicked anticipation.
“Wanda!”
“What? Relax. Just saying. Not like you’d end up hurt or unconscious or anything. You might even enjoy parts of it. I know I will.” Looking at me in the eye. “Did you get me anything for my last birthday?”
“Jeez, we’re talking about a lot of beer. Wait, what’s that got to with anything?”
“Nothing. Just trying to see if I have anything I can use for a bit of arm twisting.”
I lifted my arm and looked at my watch. “Oh, no. Look at the time. Got to hit the road. It was so good to see you.”
“No, sir. Not happening.” As she put more effort into making our hug one that would be impossible to get out of.
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
“Credit for what? Looking good tied up against the wall? Hog-tied on the bed? Time to run away from those thoughts entirely until I have four or five or ten beers.”
“What a wuss!”
“I hear you. How about whatever you do me, I get to do to you? Wait, wait, wait! Let me take that back.”
“Too late. You’re on. Pinky swear!”
“You’d better . . .”
“Wuss!”
“Psst! Freaking . . Flipping . . . damn woman.”
“Wuss!”
“Pain in the ass. Fine. Here.” Quick as that. Pinky sworn.
“What a wuss you are.”
“Why is it you’re the only one that can twist me around your finger, huh? I wish you’d get outta my brain, please.”
“Relax, David. Let’s move on, then, if you’re so unsettled. How’s your love life, by the way? How’s your girlfriend? What’s her name? Cruella?”
I let out a rude and disrespectful raspberry. “You are something, you know that? This is the first time we’ve spent more than half an hour together, this close. It’s good to know that despite being so pretty on the outside, you’re seriously wicked on the inside.”
“Come on. I’ll try to act mature. Tell me. How’s it going between? Hot and heavy fooling around, wedding plans, picking out names for the kids?”
“See that stick over there? Just get it and beat me with it, okay? So much more straight forward. If you must know, Barb and I finally broke up last weekend. Okay? I bet you’re full of wisdom, telling what I should’ve done and what I did wrong. But I’ll admit, it probably should’ve happened a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. I’d like to say I’m sorry . . . but I’m not. Do you want the honest truth or do you want me to try to make you feel better?”
“That seems pretty straight forward but I bet I’m not going to appreciate the honest part much. Alright. Let’s get the honest part over with, which I know is gonna be brutal.”
“Fine. Here goes. I don’t know why you went out with her. Two years of your life! What were you thinking? She wasn’t right for you and she wasn’t good for you either. I have a whole lot more I can say, and if you don’t want to hear it, you’d better stop me now.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Wanda, whatever you do. No-one ever tells you what they think until after it’s all over. Anyhow. The men in my family are idiots, where women are concerned. I’m sure all that time I thought it was pure love, fairy dust and magic, hugs, kisses, and a bit more. Looking back on it, I don’t know what I was thinking. I think I should just let someone else pick my women.”
“Ummm.” But her mouth was shut tightly.
“Ha! I know that look. You have information in that pretty little head of yours but you’re trying not to let it out, aren’t you? Tough,
isn’t it?”
She shook her head up and down but her mouth was shut. “You just haven’t had enough practice. Me? I have a lifetime of dark thoughts about my family and it takes a huge effort to keep them locked up. I try not to talk about them at all. When I open that door, too much slips out.”
“Alright, David. That might okay day-to-day. But if each one of those memories has that anger attached to them, it can’t be good to keep it in.”
“Yeah, I know you’re right. I was just pissed off that they could affect me, even here. I felt so calm and content, and then they intruded and it pissed me off. I don’t doubt it’s all in my head but at that moment, I blamed it all on them. That’s why I was so angry.”
“What’s amazing is that you made me realize that even if they are my family, they have no right to mess with my sanity. Really, I can’t . . . Me, it falls on me. . . . I can’t let what I’ve gone through keep poisoning me. If I have baggage because of them, I need to figure out a way to get rid of it.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Everyone has painful memories. Someone has to have figured how to help people get over trauma and abuse. I’ve never thought about it before but I guarantee I’m going to look into it now. Just for you. I guarantee I’ll think twice before I ask about your family again, if it comes out like that each time.”
“No, I’ll be okay. You just slipped in there quietly, while I was relaxed. I had my defenses down for once and you got right by them. How about we think about we move on?”
“Okay, let’s move on to making you feel better, since we’re done with the brutally honest part.”
“I hope it’s less painful.”
“You’ll be fine. Big sissy. Relax.” She lifted her legs off of mine and turned away from me. Then she sat between my legs and scooted in until she was sitting with her back against me. She held one hand up. “Here.” I gave her one of hands. Correct. I assumed she had wanted one of my hands, as opposed to my gum wrapper. She held up the other hand. I slipped my other hand in hers. She held both my hands and pulled them around until they were wrapped around her. “You okay?”
“If I faint, it’s because my mind is on overload from three kisses and a bunch of hugs. And that ‘Love Slave’ thing.”
“It sounds like you’re having trouble breathing? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s probably your perfume.”
“Not wearing perfume.”
“Allergies. Just allergies.”
“Feel any better now? In any pain?”
“No, I’m fine. I do feel better. Is this for you or for me?”
“Both, I guess. There you go. We both feel better.”
“I like this but how do you know you can trust me. I’m don’t think I trust me.”
“Like I said, if I can’t trust you, I can’t trust anyone. So, I’ll put my faith in you and hope for the best.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. Give me a second.” I closed my eyes. “I’m trying to see if I’m feeling any guilt for something I didn’t know I was thinking about. Like giving you that kiss and loving it but feeling like I was doing something wrong.”
“Well?”
“No, nothing yet. How about you get up and spin around and see if it does anything for me. Do some cheerleader kind of things.”
“No, I’m not getting up. How about you control your urges? If we’ve made it through fifteen years together, I’m sure you can wait a little longer.” She turned a bit so she could look at me, my arms still wrapped around her.
“Really? Do I have to?”
“Oh, please. You’re all grown up. I’m sure you have enough will power. Are you getting ready to lose it or are you okay? Your breathing’s okay and I don’t feel anything poking me, so you’re fine.”
“I would think it depends on the . . . severity of the test. Depends on what kind of response you want.” I said with a smile.
“Oh, that’s the typical horny response right there. I knew he was in there somewhere. What, you want me to give you permission to get all, you know, all hard-up?”
“Wow. Thank you for tossing water on my fire. Nothing like a dose of guilt to . . . fill me with . . . guilt. How about I just sit here quietly and enjoy the moment?”
“That’s great idea. Watch the sun go down.” She leaned into me and put her head back on my chest. My hands were around her waist, wrapped up together. It was pretty nice, actually. She felt calm in my arms. I thought she might fall asleep again and I would’ve let her.
We spent maybe fifteen minutes just watching the sun go down, watching people walk by, saying hello to those she knew, but not really having a conversation.
I readjusted my arms around her, thing to make sure it was a quality hug. “It’s kinda ‘other-worldly.’ I came down to see if I could cheer you up and now I’m sitting here with you wrapped up in my arms. I’m kinda conflicted. I’d do anything to see you happy but at the same time I’m afraid your parents would be disappointed.”
“I think if they saw how happy I am, they’d let you off the hook.”
“Wow, Wanda. That was a really good answer.” And she smiled at that.
We spent the next hour sitting there, relaxed, comfortable, feeling safe, and wrapped up together. Not even trying to keep a conversation going. The sun slowly worked its way toward the horizon. But when do stories ever stop at these points, where everyone is content and happy? Something always crops up.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My stomach was starting to growl and my butt was getting sore. But we weren’t getting up until we opened ‘it’ up, whatever ‘it’ was.
“Wanda.” She nodded her head, listening. “It’s time.” She nodded again. She knew it would come. I would let her sit as long as she wanted but she knew I wasn’t going to sweep it under the carpet. She was trying to keep her face down but I could feel something going on there. It’s impossible to cry without involving more of yourself. I slid my hands in further and pulled her as close as I could into me, because I could tell she was suffering from something. She leaned her head up against my arm, deep within my hug, and I put my face against her back. “Come on, baby. Come on, I’m here.” I felt so bad and I didn’t even know what it was. If I could only pull her pain into me. We couldn’t have gotten any closer but I knew the closest hug probably wasn’t going to erase whatever she’d gone through.
“I’m okay. I just feel so protected and loved, it’s hard to let go of that.” She rubbed her eyes. I wanted to keep her in my arms safe but it would get in the way of talking. And I wanted to see her face if she was bringing something painful out in the open.
I moved my arms, one to the right around her waist and the
other down under her legs. I lifted her up and shifted her around until she was again sitting sideways to me, her legs over mine “Come on. I don’t know what you’re going to tell me but my heart hurts already. But look at me.” She turned to look up a me, her eyes a little red. “There isn’t single thing you can say to me that will change how I feel about you, how much I care, or stop me from being there whenever you need me. So, let’s get it over with.” She looked up at me, gave me a loving smile, and brushed a tear away from my face. “You poor guy. You deserve to be happy, you know that?”
“Wanda. There aren’t enough hours in the day to go through all the baggage I carry. You can dissect me later.”
“Okay, okay. I hear you.” She looked down. “Why are guys such assholes?”
A rumble started deep in my chest, anger, fear. A growl, a moan of anguish. I hadn’t been there. “David, stop. It’s not that bad. I’m fine. It didn’t end that way.”
“My roommate Cassie and I went to a party. On campus. Lots of fun and lots of alcohol. There were a lot of people there, people I knew, old friends, new ones. I didn’t drink too much but it was close. I was feeling no pain. I met this cute guy, an upperclassman. Cute, charming, funny. A charmer just like you. We talked for hours. He didn’t even suggest going upstairs, so that impressed me. We made it to the end of the party at 2 a.m. Cassie came looking for me, so I had someone I could walk home with. He told me he’d had a great time and hoped he could see me again. We gave each other our numbers and he gave me the sweetest kiss goodnight. She liked that. She’s always trying to fix me up with some guy. Then she and I walked home. I could barely sleep.”
“So a couple weeks went by. We’d bump into each other around campus, we’d stop and talk, maybe each lunch together. The he finally asked me out for the weekend. On Saturday we went out. We went to get some dinner, had a little beer but not too much, went to see the early movie. We made it back to campus and ended back in one of the lounges in the library. It was kinda late, so not too many people there and we found a place to sit and together and snuggle. It was pretty exciting, honestly. I’ve never been kissed that much and in so many places. But it was a bit too much and a bit further than I wanted to go. Amazing how quickly a guy’s hands can try to map out your body. Finally . . . finally I slipped out and stood up. I guess he thought I was just changing positions, since he reached for me again. Hey. Hey!”
“He was still in gear and reaching for me and I stepped back. I bumped into a chair and ended up sitting down and even then he was there in front of me. He had to move in and get his hands on me, touching my legs. It didn’t matter what I was thinking, he had enough energy for both of us. ‘Stop!’ as I pushed him back as hard as I could. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ ‘Me?’ I said ‘Stop!’ or don’t you even care what I want? Answer me!’ I was yelling by now but I was scared. ‘Bitch!’ Then a staff member walked by, then stopped to look at us. ‘Both of you, come here.’ We did but I wanted to get away and so did he. I was embarrassed and he was angry.”
“She looked him the eye. If you’re on a date and you hear the words Stop, that’s what you do. It doesn’t matter whether it’s five minutes into your date, ten, twenty, or even two hours. It doesn’t matter when she says it, it matters that listen. Right this second I see you and I even know your name. Robert. If hear a anything else about you, you won’t finish this year, let alone your senior year. Do you want to finish college or would you like to go home? Tonight? Do you want go over to campus security with me and have a chat?’ He didn’t even say anything. He had a look of hate in his yes. ‘The only thing you need to worry about is if I go back my office and add something to your student file, which I can do anytime. Go home.’ He left but he was still angry. You could tell he felt like he was the victim for some reason.”
“She turned to me. ‘That was foolish. But I doubt you knew him at all, did you?”
I nodded but tears were in my eyes. “Not as much as I thought I did.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that but there are a lot of girls that never get rescued in time. I know it doesn’t feel like it but you got off easy. Where’s your dorm?” I pointed at it through the window. “Come on, let’s get you home. Find your friends and talk about it. It doesn’t help you to keep it hidden. You hear me?” I nodded. “And find people you can walk to class with. Come see me if you want to talk.”
“She was right. I’ve met some of those girls that weren’t rescued in time. It makes you want to hide in your dorm room, carry mace, or a baseball bat.”
“I’m hoping that’s the end of the story but I bet it’s not, is it?”
“No. It’s not. He trash-talked me and painted me into being some kind of slut, just because I wouldn’t give it up. How is it a guy can drop his pants to every girl he meets and he’s a stud, a freaking hero, and a girl does it and she’s branded a slut forever? And they’ll remember that forever, won’t they? They won’t remember the good things about you, just that horrible thing someone said about you years ago, whether it was true or not.”
I hugged her, hoping it would make it all disappear but I doubt it was going to be enough. “Tell me there’s something I can do, anything. How am I going to be able to leave you here?”
“That’s sweet. Thank you. It doesn’t matter where you are, I’ll always know you’re thinking about me.”
“Let’s go get you packed up.” As reasonable and unreasonable as that sounded.
“Stop. I told you it wasn’t that bad. When I told Cassie, she had a cow. The next day we went to lunch and we passed his table. I was ready to keep going but she wasn’t having any of that. He was sitting there with his friends. She wouldn’t let him get up. She roasted him royally and painted a picture of what really happened, in front of his friends and even a couple girls sitting there. I couldn’t contain myself, ‘Well? Don’t you have anything to say. Not even an apology? Cause if I let you keep going, you were going to rape me, weren’t you?! Is there another word you’d like to use?’ Oh, boy. That word dropped like the F-bomb. ‘Don’t act like you’re the victim here! You EFFing asshole. Don’t ever come near me.’ I have never been so pissed off.”
“One of the girls and one guy actually got up and left, they were so disgusted. The mistake is to think no-one’s listening, when in fact there’s usually staff in every building working on one thing or another. There were actually some people meeting over lunch not far away and an assistant dean of academics walked in just to get a look at all of us. No way he could’ve not heard that. Especially as loud as Cassie was.”
He looked around. ‘Cassie. Robin. Dean. Nancy. Zach.’ God, he knew half the table. OMG. You should’ve seen the faces around that table! For once Robert didn’t look angry, he looked scared. It was good to see. Someone, maybe it was the Dean, ended up putting it in the system. So, now’s he’s on probation and his reputation is actually in the basement now. It doesn’t erase the pain but it’s something. Until they have cameras in every room, then it’s a lot of he-said-she-said. So, end of story.”
“End of story, my ass. I hope we run into him. I want to see him get around on two broken legs.”
“David. It’s been over month, so I’m coming to grips with it. But I don’t go anywhere unless I’m with a friend.”
“I’m ashamed of being a guy. Is it okay if I toss you in my car and take you with me? We can go on a shopping spree and get you a whole new set of clothes.”
“Oh, now you want to toss me in your car?” She said with a smile. “No. I know you mean well. But sooner or later you’d have to let me out. Can’t stay locked up forever.”
“No, I guess I didn’t think that far ahead. I hope I don’t have a daughter but then I’m afraid to have a son that might turn out like that.”
“I think you’d make a great father, despite all your experiences to the contrary. I think your Dad taught you how not to be. You’re actually doing a pretty good job being the total opposite of him. You just need to stop beating yourself up so much. You’re nothing like him.”
“Once again you slip in there and walk around my brain, easy as pie. I’d be worried about that, if I wasn’t totally okay with it. Only you and your brother. You’re the only ones I find roaming around in there. Despite having it locked up tight, you both walk in there whenever you want.”
“Oh well, we’re just trying to keep everything neat and tidy and keep the riffraff out. And the occasional trashy girl that gets in there somehow.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“I could sit here forever, except my butt hurts. Do you have any romantic stories that ends well?”
“No, I’m not ready to get back on that bike anytime soon. I haven’t met anyone that special. You’re the only that makes me feel that way.”
Wow, I don’t know why that hit me so strongly. My eyes opened wide because I was startled. I felt a glow of happiness and then a bit of guilt. It felt like a huge responsibility. Simply put, she liked better than I did. Strange thing to say, isn’t it? Something inside me made me feel like I was taking advantage of her. Someway, somehow. It’s hard to be totally generous and not have some self-interest involved. I knew I had a lot of thoughts about her I tried to keep hidden away and the time we spent together had certainly stirred them up.
“Wanda. If you call me someday and say you need me right then, I’ll be there. If you call me up one day and say I’m the only one that can walk you down that aisle, I’ll even do that.”
“What a martyr you are. All set to sacrifice yourself for the common good. Do you really feel that inside or is this just an elaborate ploy?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I bet this is what it feels like to be a parent. To try to set aside everything just for the sake of your child’s happiness. Your happiness. It seems pretty hard to swallow but if your happiness is at the end of that aisle, I’ll walk you down there. I can tell I’ll hate it but I’d do it.”
“No wonder you get tired of thinking.”
“Wanda, you have no idea. Yesterday in my mind you were my sister. Right now, you’re in my arms, I’ve kissed you three times, which was nowhere near enough, and now you’re ESPing my brain. I’m done with thinking.” And I clamped my mouth shut.
“Well?”
“Mmm mmph.” As I shook my head left to right.
“Oh, you can’t do that. This is the longest we’ve ever had to sit down and talk. You can’t wimp out now. I’m not gonna let you to wimp out. So, give it up.”
“I can’t think anymore. It’s hurting my brain.”
“Do you need to get up?”
“No, Wanda. Of course not and I wouldn’t let you up anyway. I am happy right where I am and I’m happy with you right here in my arms, romance or no romance. I’m in the right spot at the right moment. At the same time, I feel like I’m walking on egg shells. My heart (and some other parts of my body) are telling me what they want to do to you, while my brain keeps reminding me why I’m here. I want 500, a 1,000 more of those kisses, while another part tells me to sit back and stop thinking about it. Is that conflict or what?”
“It’s just the brother side of you fighting with the other side that likes those kisses. I can tell you which one needs to go away.” She shifted around so she could look at me. She curled her legs up, got up on her knees to face me. She had a determined look in her eyes. “Close your eyes. Now.” I let out a hmmph, but I closed them. Then she put her hands on my face and let her thumbs run along my cheeks. “David, you think way too much.” Then I felt her move just a little, then her lips softly touched mine, once, twice, three times. How could I not reciprocate? Once on her lips, twice, a third time. OMG, how soft could they be? I knew it was going to be incredible. Something between a moan and a growl escaped.
“Was that so difficult? Was it terrible? Was it torture? More importantly, is this the only time we’re going to do this?”
“That was . . . exquisite.” She smiled but was waiting for my answer to the real question. “No, if this were the only time . . . those buttterfly kisses, drowning in your eyes, wrapped up in your arms. It’s already my favorite memory. The only time? God, I hope not.”
Again, a small smile. “Is that your final answer or do you want to try another one?”
“Too much pressure! Let me think. Each day I want ten of those kisses and anything that goes with them, like this hug.”
“Pretty good. Pretty good answer, Mr. Simpson. I’ll let you off the hook and that’ll be your homework. You need to see if you can come up with a better answer.”
“Fine. I accept the challenge. It’ll have to be a long-term project but when we can, we’ll work on it.”
“Yes, I’ll hold you to it. We’ll work on it over Christmas Break.” She said shyly.
“Please, Wanda. I have a hard enough time giving you a hug at your house, let alone give you a kiss. Who’ll have the first heart attack? Your father, your brother, or your mother? Or me? I’d have to sneak in at 2 a.m. just to have enough nerve to try.”
“Life is so difficult, isn’t it?” But she had a small smile on her face.
“Woman! Why are you smiling?”
“Yesterday we were brother and sister and now something a little more. How can a kiss stress you out so much?”
“It’s what I do. It’s my superpower.”
“Come on. We’ll worry about it when it get’s here. Try not to think so much.”
“Yes, ma’am. Your wish is my command.”
She settled back down and I got my arms around her for a bit longer as we watched the sun finally head down and dusk took over