Martin C. Winer

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Circle 250: Chapter 8: Charlotte: Crossing the threshold.

December 2, 2011 No comments

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I fully meant to stick to my intentions to help Jesse find a girlfriend. If it wasn’t for a massive distraction I received early at the beginning of our summer, I would have done it immediately. As it was, Jesse would have to wait for a little while. It was the first weeks of summer when gossip of what my boyfriend was doing in his spare time came to my ears. Recall that gossip took about four or five days to reach me. The reason for this time lag was that I met with my ‘sources’ only about once every four or five days. There were about two girls I associated with who had the unique ability of knowing absolutely everything about everybody else. If you were dating a boyfriend, without ever having talked to them, they would be able to tell you, how you met, when and give you the exact time you two had been seeing each other. In the pinnacle of their gossiping careers they were even able to give you an itemized list of all the places you had gone. These girls were so dedicated to their task simply because they had a lot of time on their hands. They weren’t very intelligent and they certainly didn’t date much, mainly because they suffered aesthetically. Come to think of it, who would date them? Every last detail of everything the poor boy tried would be known to all as it occurred. As I thought of that again, perhaps, conversely, the safest thing a boy could do was date the root of the gossip grape vine. These girls were likely not to gossip about themselves to others. It was only fun to find things out about other people and spread them. Either way, these girls and I had sort of a symbiosis. They liked hanging around me because I was popular and they gained vicarious popularity simply by association. I, in turn, gained all sorts of privileged information which they fed to me in carefully guarded quantities, making sure that I would always come back for more.

I had received word that they desired a meeting. I met them in town one afternoon, on Main st. As soon as I saw them without even so much as a ‘hello’, they jumped at me excitedly,

“Bram is seeing someone else.” It was almost as if they were salivating at the lips. They watched me carefully as I reacted, obviously so that they could talk about how I reacted to this news with other people. I suppose that if you have no relationships of your own, the only satisfaction some people can find, is in watching the demise of other people’s relationships. I wasn’t as upset as they had hoped. I had learn that it is necessary to filter a lot of the gossip these two sent my way. I would need some more details for verification.

“Hang on,” I said calmly “tell me what you saw.” The two of them shot details at me excitedly, one finishing the other’s sentences.

“Bram…” one started

“and Betty were at the drive in together on Tuesday night” the other finished. Disappointed at my lack of a tragic response on my part, this same one sought to drive the final nail in the coffin,

“and we saw them making out together for a half and hour.” She was effective. I finally let out a facial reaction of shock the details of which they absorbed like a sponge, for future recounting. I still had my wits about me though. Gossip was not a reliable method of newsgathering. I wanted more verification before I flew off at the handle.

“Was there anyone else there?” I asked patiently. They thought a long while before they produced a list of names. Evidently this was a difficult task for them because they had been so fixated on watching the two making out, that they hadn’t expected I would ask who else was nearby. They produced a list of names, but only one stood out at me. Jesse had been there with his friends. “Those misfits” I thought, why hadn’t any of them told me? Jesse hung out with a group of friends whom I termed ‘the misfits’. They were an odd bunch of strange looking people but all with unique talents. At that exact moment I could have cared less about their redeeming qualities; I was just furious. Then trying to add validity to their story, one of the girls added a necessary detail.

“You know, they were going at it so hard, the windows were fogged up we could barely see.” She sounded so disappointed. I was pleased, at least my shame had not been available for public viewing. I was still a little suspicious,

“So how did you know it was Betty then?” I patted myself on the back for coming up with such a pertinent question. Unfortunately, they weren’t put off by it in the slightest.

“Because they got out to go for popcorn together” they answered in unison.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this” I announced loudly as a I stormed of angrily. They weren’t upset by my lack of a proper ‘good-bye’. On the contrary they were content to watch me storm off, knowing that they had now had another detail to discuss with others when talking about my reaction to their news.

On my way home I passed Jesse’s house. I had never been over, but I knew where he lived because he was dropped off before me on the bus. I stopped and looked at his house deciding if I should dare knock on the door. I was a little shy to just visit without an invitation but this was a special situation. I walked slowly to the door and knocked quietly, trying to be as minimally disturbing as possible. I waited a minute or so, but there was no response. I didn’t dare knock again, so I made my way down the porch. Just then I heard the door open behind me. A woman stood in the door who I assumed, must have been his mother. Although, she didn’t look much like him. She was tanned and clear skin. Jesse was much more pale and his freckles gave him a Nordic look. Her face was warm and inviting as was her voice.

“I’m sorry dear, I barely heard you knock, I wasn’t sure if there was anyone at the door.” She motioned me in with her hand.

“Won’t you please come in?” I crossed the threshold silently still a little uneasy. I looked around the house, gathering every detail trying to make out what type of people they were. The house was very small. Still is was so cozy. The warm smell of soup met kindly with my nose. The house was plastered with art work. It was almost like a miniature art gallery. In our house, we used paintings to cover up holes in the plaster. I imagined that if this was the case here, most of their walls would be holes in the plaster if the paintings were removed, for there were just so many of them. In preoccupation with my surroundings, I neglected to introduce myself.

“And you are?” his mother said softly, seeing I needed a little push to get started.

“Oh … sorry. I am Charlotte, a friend of Jesse’s” Her face revealed a look of recognition.

“Ah yes, Charlotte” she paused for a second indicating that the name had meaning to her.

“We’ve heard so much about you.” She must have meant her family by the ‘we’. “They had?” I thought. Had he been talking about me? I certainly never mentioned him to my parents, he was just a friend afterall. She motioned me into the kitchen a girl, I would estimate as being around twenty was helping peel potatoes. A young boy of about twelve waited eagerly for the potato scraps. The ‘potato gun’ he held in his hand which used potatoes as ammunition explained why he was so interested in the scraps. Jesse’s mother ushered me in. Motioning towards the girl peeling potatoes she introduced me.

“Charlotte this is Jesse’s sister Ruth.” She paused her work and looked up. We exchanged greetings. The Jesse’s mother approached the young boy who instantly hid behind her knee. She introduced me cupping his head in her hands,

“And this shy one over here is my baby, John.” John wouldn’t look at me for a second, but I said “hello” quietly, to be friendly, while not trying to scare him off any further. His mother continued,

“Jesse is off walking Sherlock …” I remembered that Sherlock usually came barreling towards Jesse when he got home from school. I guess I was so wrapped up in my own anger that I didn’t notice Sherlock wasn’t around. Jesse’s tuned back into what Jesse’s mother was saying, having missed some of her words,

“You are welcome to stay and wait for him.” She looked hopeful. I didn’t want to intrude though.

“Are you sure that it’s no bother?” I asked just to make sure.

“Oh yes, no bother at all.” She was so kind. I probably would have refused the invitation had it been anyone else but her who asked. She was just so welcoming. I examined the art work in the kitchen. There were many landscapes depicted. I recognized them all. They were places I had been. They were all beautifully so beautifully painted. It occurred to me to look at the signature. It was a little hard to read, but I made it out to be Jesse’s. Impressed I asked,

“Are these all Jesse’s?”

“Yes dear they are. We are quite proud of him” and well they should be. I knew that he was talented but I didn’t know that he was this talented. I was still curious,

“When does he find the time to paint all of them.” She stewed for a moment, stirring her soup, and then answered.

“He’s up fairly late at night. It’s when he likes to work best. I guess the answer to your question is ‘persistence’. It takes him months to paint each painting but he just manages to find the time. He paints a little bit, each night for a large number of nights and when he is finished, he unveils his latest masterpiece. It’s really quite magical to watch. Although, he won’t let me look at what he is working on now. He says this one is private.” She continued to talk at length about Jesse and his paintings. I now knew where Jesse got his talkative nature from. While she was still talking about Jesse, painting, life and several other tangents she went off on, she served me some soup.

“Please I can’t. I just had lunch.” It was true I was quite full.

“Never you mind, you are far to skinny anyways …” I took her words as a compliment. “With eating comes appetite” she continued giving me incentive to try her soup. She watched me eat it carefully trying to discern my reaction. The soup was delicious. I smiled and said,

“Its terrific.” She was very pleased. I could tell she had put much effort into her soup.

“See!” she said emphasizing that she knew I would enjoy it. So there I was, as comfortable as a pea in a pod, it was pea soup incidentally, in Jesse’s kitchen, conversing with his family. There was a rustle at the door.

“Hi Bill” Jesse’s mother called to whoever was at the door. Bill walked into the kitchen and hugged her dearly. It was obviously Jesse’s father. A big man two but he had a very friendly quality about him. He looked at me and in two seconds he had grasped my hand shaking it, even before he had introduced himself. As he shook my hand great billows of dust came off of his shirt. He was quite dirty.

“And who have we here?” he asked, looking to his wife for an answer.

“It’s Jesse’s friend Charlotte” she answered.

“Ah yes, Charlotte.” He answered in the same way as his wife had. He was about to say something when I heard a furry scratching against the door. The whole family, save Jesse, who was now crowded into the kitchen, shouted in unison,

“Sherlock!” who jumped happily all over them, myself included. I was glad to see he remembered me, or was he did he do this with just anybody? Jesse was still at the door. I could hear the jingling of a leash which I gathered he was putting away. His mother looked to the doorway,

“Jesse, you have a visitor.” Jesse entered covered in mud. He and his father had a similarly soiled appearance. He was surprised to see me. It was understandable to, this being my first visit to his house. He managed a surprised

“Hi Charlotte” his faced brightened as he said my name. Having overcome his initial surprise, he was very happy to see me. His father started a barrage of questions before Jesse had time to say anything else.

“So tell me about yourself. Which grade are you in?” I didn’t know how to address Jesse’s parents. They had neglected to give me their names.

“I am in grade eleven, going into twelve, Mr. Redivorp.” That name was awful hard to get your tongue around but it was pronounced the way it was spelled.

“Oh dear, I forgot to introduce you properly.” Empathically, Jesse’s mother felt my difficulty in pronouncing their last name. She placed her hand on her chest,

“I’m Ellen, and this” she said motioning to her husband, “is Bill.” Bill extended his hand once again, completing the introduction. She looked at her husband’s appearance and said apologetically,

“I am sorry he is so dirty, he worked an extra shift at the quarry today.” Bill realizing that she was right tried to dust himself off but to no avail.

“Why don’t you two go upstairs and clean up. I’ll entertain Charlotte in the meantime.” Both Jesse and his father trumped upstairs and the sound of flowing water indicating that they were following her directive. Ellen kept me content with some cookies she had prepared a day earlier. About two cookies later, the two returned having changed their clothes and washed their faces as evidenced by the small droplets of water which glistened will evaporating. Bill launched right back into his questioning, but I really didn’t mind.

“So, tell me, do you have any hobbies?” I really didn’t have all that many hobbies. I wasn’t sure how to answer him but thankfully, I wouldn’t have to.

“Dad, if it’s all right, I think we’d like to take a walk” Jesse interrupted. His father stood puzzled for a moment. Jesse had just gone for a long walk. When it finally dawned on him that he wanted to be alone with me, he was most agreeable.

“Oh … sure, you two run along. I am sure we will have time to speak to each other again.” he said looking at me.

“I’m sure we will” I said. I wasn’t sure if we actually would, but I liked him. He was very caring. I felt that he genuinely was interested in what I had to say. I think Jesse was a little embarrassed of his family though. I didn’t understand why though, they all seemed to be so nice. I thanked them for their hospitality, and Jesse and I made our way outside.

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Circle 250: Chapter 7: Charlotte: A long and hard look back.

December 2, 2011 No comments

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That year at school flew by at light speed. It was May again before I knew it. It’s no wonder time flew by so quickly with all the dating I did. With all the courting and dating I took part in, I barely had time for my school work. Fortunately, I was a gifted student and my marks didn’t suffer terribly. I think my father liked my dating adventures the most. My mother was mostly ambivalent although occasionally concerned by the large number of boys I was seeing. Every month or so, I would bring my latest interest from the football team by, to meet my family. It was a test of sorts. I liked to see how my date handled an introduction to my family. If he was polite and courteous, he got all sorts of points.

My father felt as though he was almost a pseudo-coach of the football team. He discussed strategies at length with them. They all listened to him intently as though he was some sort of seer when it came to football. Really, his athletic expertise were in track and field, I don’t see how this qualified him to give football advice, save the fact that he watched football all the time. My dates liked him just the same. I think that they were relieved to have him do all the talking. It took the onus of coming up with interesting conversation off them.

The month of May, brought with it as it always did, flowering plants, some showers, lots of sunshine and preparation for the senior prom. This past year, I had become a little more involved in school life. I was even on the prom committee for this year, even though I was only in grade eleven. I already had a date. He was Bram, the new captain of the football team. What would you expect? I would date only the best. I often discussed ideas about the prom with Jesse. He was artistically inclined and had many creative ideas. I commissioned him to design and paint the programme for the evening. It turned out to be incredible. It was getting late into May and the pairing of dates was almost complete. It dawned on me that Jesse hadn’t mentioned who he planned on attending the prom with. I took it upon myself to find out.

When I questioned him about it, he seemed a little withdrawn. He wouldn’t give me a straight answer. Finally I demanded to know,

“Who are you going to the prom with?” There that was plain and simple enough. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine and his head swiveled slightly to avoid any chance of direct eye contact. Finally he gathered courage and said,

“Well, … really … I wasn’t planning on coming”. I was astonished.

“What? After all the work we’ve put in together?” Further, it was his senior year. I would have another prom yet, but this was Jesse’s first and last chance. I wouldn’t hear of it. I continued insistently,

“The prom with one of the most fun things that you will do in high school. You wouldn’t want to miss out on that would you?” I really didn’t know what a prom was like. Due to my inebriation at the time, I had attended last year’s prom in body only with only vague clouded memories as a souvenir. Still, I was on the committee this year, and I was sure that it was going to be a blast. Jesse stammered off a response. It was amazing how verbose he could be while talking about just about anything, but then was reduced to a stammering idiot when you asked him a question about himself.

“Well … uh … I’m not sure, I may have other plans with …” “Other plans?” I thought to myself. Nonsense, no one had plans on prom night. I cut him off immediately and resumed my pestering,

“Look, there is nothing to worry about. Just take a look around the caf and tell me who you would most like to spend prom night with and I will tell you if they are taken. It’s just that simple.” He looked past my left ear, and then his eyes darted immediately past mine and looked over my right ear, seemingly at the people behind me. It took him a moment before he produced the first name. As soon as we did, we launched into a verbal tennis match. He shot a name of a girl across the net and I shot the name of her date back at him. He started the match,

“Well … how about Jennifer?”

“She’s with Bill.”

“Uh, how about Shannon?”

“She’s with John or Morton. She hasn’t decided yet.” As this continued, we grew tired of adding extra words to our sentences, just the names would do.

“Karen?”

“Ken.”

“Mary?”

“Max.”

“Lucy?”

“Lou.”

“Donna?”

“Done.” We paused for a moment, both happy that I finally hadn’t responded with a name of a boy she was going with. Donna Teews, which was pronounced ‘tea-ews’, was a very sweet girl, and fairly cute to boot. I continued,

“She’s a great girl. I’ll let her know that you are interested.” He responded, trying to decline my offer,

“That’s very nice of you but, I would rather …” I cut him off again. Clearly he was underestimating my abilities at seeding the grapevine with carefully placed tid bits of gossip suggesting that he was available and willing to take her to the prom. I reassured him,

“Don’t worry I can be very subtle.” He didn’t seem very comforted at all. I figured he was just shy. The bell had sounded and it was time for class. I got up and left before he had time to try and dissuade me further. That afternoon, I talked casually to Donna’s friends and let it slip that Jesse still had not been claimed and had mentioned that he might be interested in taking her. I learned that Jesse had competition from Donald and that he would have to move quickly, lest he miss out on her too. I had to nag him incessantly before he would finally ask her out. When he did, I was proud knowing that through my interventions, he now had a date for the prom.

When prom night finally arrived, the many months of preparations came to fruition. The theme of the night was ‘Over the Rainbow’ which was based on ‘The Wizard of Oz’. It was decided, by the mostly female prom committee that the theme would suit our town perfectly. We wanted the boys to come in tuxedos and all the girls would dress like ‘Dorothy’. Are formal dresses all looked much like ‘Dorothy’s’ dress anyways. The theme just matched our needs perfectly. The walls were covered in murals which depicted the various scenes and characters from the movie. We all had our pictures taken with our dates with the backdrop of ‘the yellow brick road’ which had been painted beautifully by Jesse and some friends he had recruited to help him. I took my picture with Bram. I still have it to this day, although I hid it from my husband because it used to make him feel a little uneasy. Jesse showed up about five minutes later. He didn’t look like that clumsy boy who fell into the stream with his dog at our first meeting anymore, but he looked much more mature. There is just something about a tuxedo which adds dignity and maturity to a man.

That evening couldn’t have been more perfect. It was well planned and we followed the nicely printed programme to the letter. We danced and ate and reminisced about the year that had passed. Jesse seemed like he was having a good time. He didn’t dance that much, but talked, as he so loved to, with many people, his date standing content next to him. I was glad he was enjoying himself, he deserved it. I looked around and saw those many people dancing and sharing stories and I realized that a good deal of this wondrous night was due to my efforts. I was proud to have been able to make such a contribution. The prom ended and I found myself at Serenity pond once more only, this time, I was in complete control. Bram knew my limits as to how far he could expect to get. He wasn’t happy about it, but just the same we spent a solid half hour under the, again, moonlit pond kissing and enjoying each other’s company. The moon didn’t shine blindingly in my eyes as it had, due to my hang over, last year, but instead, illuminated the surroundings clearly. The cool light revealed the features of the landscape almost as clearly as in daylight. I remember almost every detail of that night, even now years later. It was a night where I was in control and happily so. It is still one of my favourite nights ever.

* * *

The school year came to a close at the end of June. With the final school bell of the year, thousands of kids poured out on to the sidewalk towards the buses, going home to freedom. The look of glee on their faces as they left was almost like the look of victory a platoon of soldiers would have after winning a decisive battle. In a sense, each completed school year marked the winning of a battle; the battle of growing up. It was a fierce battle against the evil forces of self doubt, peer pressure and unsurity, but if one were valiant, hopefully on the other side, one would emerge a fulfilled person. Today the soldiers of this war were happy to be leaving one of the most renowned battle fields, our high school, intact and having successfully completed their mission. School was out for the summer and we wouldn’t have to look at the school building for about another two months. Most of us darted for the buses without looking back, lest we turn into pillars of salt. I myself was in a huge rush to get home and begin my summer. I charged like a chariot towards the buses but something managed to slow my approach.

I noticed Jesse looking long and hard at the school building. I diverted my course and walked over to him.

“What’s up?” I asked very casually.

“Oh not much, it’s just … this is the last time I will see this building.” Jesse had been accepted to the University of Egret. I didn’t understand what he was so upset about. Egret city was only about a day’s drive away. If he wanted to see our sorry old school building it wouldn’t be that big a deal. Besides, I was sure he would be town for the holidays.

“Oh, come on, you’ll see it again, on the holidays, in the summer …” He cut my sentence short, realizing I didn’t understand what he meant.

“Yes, I know all that, but I won’t be a student here anymore. It will be different.” “What a sentimental fellow” I though to myself. He had a penchant for overdramatizing situations. I couldn’t tell if he was sincere but it didn’t make sense for him not to be. Standing in front of a building looking thoughtful isn’t a call for attention. I often had trouble figuring him out when he got ‘deep’ on me. As if he picked up on my confusion he started to explain himself.

“I want to hold on to this moment. I know that later in life I will wonder how it felt to be in high school. I am trying to remember every detail and the way it feels today. In a few years this school building will have a different feeling for me. I want to remember what it feels like today.” He often went on like this at end. It was up to me to keep him on track.

“Well if you keep feeling the school much longer, you will also be able to remember what it felt like to walk home on your last day of school.” The bus engine revved sounding a warning of its imminent departure. He snapped out of his daze, although he seemed offended by the interruption. I knew that he was sincere now because he was so upset at having been prevented from taking his last sentimental glimpses of the school. I didn’t guilty though. I certainly didn’t want to have to walk home because Jesse was caught up feeling the last moments of high school. Besides, he watched the school fade into the distance from the bus. I assumed that this would be equally moving to him as sitting there watching the unmoving school building.

Now seated comfortably on the bus and heading home I had some time to consider exactly what Jesse was doing. I figured he was just a little nervous about going to university. I could understand that. I was sure I would be nervous as well when my turn came next year. I questioned him trying to confirm my hypothesis,

“Are you excited for about going to university next year?” I didn’t ask him if he was nervous about university because he would have simply denied it.

“Yah, I guess it will be pretty interesting.” This was a tough call, he didn’t sound to nervous to me though. I was frustrated and tired after a long day and year of school so I just gave in and asked him straight out.

“So what’s with this school stuff. Are you really going to miss it that much?” He paused for a long time and looked off into space. He did this whenever he was trying to explain something complex. After some time of introspection he started,

“Think of this bus ride” he often used analogies to get his ideas across. I nodded waiting for him to resume.

“Our bus driver finds the route home by looking at landmarks on the landscape.” Serenity pond was coming up on the right. “Like when we see Serenity pond, we know that we should take a right and head towards the center of town.” What this had to do with looking at a school building, I had no idea. Not giving me time to answer that mental question he developed his analogy.

“Well, if one were to look just at the road ahead, we would miss all of the cues to turn and just keep driving in a straight line until the end of the road.”

“So?!” I said impatiently annoyed with this long analogy.

“So,” he continued patiently, “if you don’t look at the bigger picture and realize where you are in it at the given moment, you won’t know where to go.” I had no idea what he was talking about.

“You know how you were talking about driving on roads?” I asked.

“Yes” he answered softly.

“Well you lost me several miles back there” I said, motioning with my thumb to the road behind us. He was visibly annoyed at not being able to communicate his thought. He tried one last time,

“Well I was just thinking of who I was when I came into that building in grade nine and who I am now walking out of it for the last time. When I realized all of the changes I had gone through in just those four years, I was thinking of who I would like to be in another four.” I finally clued into what he was trying to express. My look of comprehension was accompanied by a look of relief in Jesse. He was pleased that he had communicated his message.

I could relate to what he was saying. Just a year ago, I was so naive and inexperienced. That year I felt much more independent and in control. As for who I would want to be in another four years or so, I wasn’t sure. I still wasn’t sure who I was right then. I was sure that I admired Jesse’s views on life. He wasn’t just content to live day to day, but it was like he was on a mission. He was looking into the future and planning to better himself, not just hoping that it would happen.

Jesse had become more and more persistent in his efforts to explain himself to me. For the first few months we ate lunch together, he would talk about things that were happening around school, or some other topical thing, but he never talked about anything as complex as he had just attempted. He started trying around January but he had a lot of trouble explaining himself. He typically would try but when I gave him a puzzled look, he would just excuse him self with an ‘oh never mind’ or ‘forget it.’ Actually, come to think of it, the last day of school was the first day that he ever communicated something philosophical which I understood. My mind switched routes and started to consider what other people would think of Jesse.

I imagined Jesse talking to a girl about philosophy on a first date. It was no wonder my friend didn’t have a girlfriend. That reminded me,

“Hey Jesse, how are you and Donna getting along?” I asked hoping to hear that my set up had gone well.

“She is a very sweet girl.” He stopped there as if that was a sufficient answer. He had just barraged me with philosophy, so I knew he could provide me with a more detail. A simple,

“And?! …” would suffice to let him know I wanted to hear more. Complying, he added to his answer,

“And I know that her and Donald will be happy together.” He didn’t look to upset but I wanted to know what happened anyways.

“They’re together?” I was more surprised that the gossip hadn’t reached me yet. I thought that maybe I was out of the loop. He provided some relief by saying,

“Yah, they are official as of a few days ago”. “Oh good” I thought to myself, gossip usually took about four or five days to reach me, so it wasn’t because I was out of the loop. Suddenly I realized that I was so wrapped up in my own nonsense that I forgot to show compassion for Jesse. Trying to make it up to him I said caringly,

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He answered quickly,

“Yah, I’m fine … She really is a very nice girl. We still talk but she was just meant to be with Donald.” I didn’t believe a word he was saying. He had to be bitter, I just knew it. I didn’t want to press the issue so I just let him be. The rest of the trip was quiet. I was sure that he was wallowing silently, but his face just never showed it.

I wondered what had done him in with Donna. Donald wasn’t all that special. He was nice enough but he wasn’t as interesting as Jesse. I realized however, that it was I that found Jesse interesting, if not a little hard to follow from time to time. It had only been after months of association with him that I had come to understand some of what he was saying. I imagined that a great many girls must have found him boring. I set my mind to it, that my mission that summer was to help my friend get a girlfriend. Sure he was leaving in two months, but at that point in my life, two months was still a sizable relationship. I have to admit that I enjoyed setting people up, and I didn’t get to do it as often and I would have liked to. It was kind of my contribution as a community service.

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Circle 250: Chapter 6: Charlotte: Loved the chase.

December 1, 2011 No comments

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That summer was very quiet for me. I continued my self conscious efforts, usually inside, due to the heat of the August days. At around five p.m. everyday I made my way out onto the front stoop. The sun declined sufficiently by that time for the awning to provide sufficient shade. The deep blue summer sky was starkly contrasted by the green foliage which coloured my front lot. A cool breeze blew sufficiently often to keep one refreshed against the air which was still hot and dry from the day. I would always have a pitcher of lemonade outside with me, just to keep cool. At about five thirty everyday, Jesse and Sherlock would come walking by. I would wave politely as would he, and that was it. We passed each other in time and space. I liked seeing Sherlock though. Everytime I saw him, I remembered, with humour, our first encounter. Looking back on events it was rude of me not to offer him some lemonade on those hot days. Then again, I was not one to offer anything to boys. One of the worse things one could be at my high school was a ‘tease’. Even a innocent glass of lemonade could be construed by a boy as a display of affection and I certainly didn’t want Jesse to think I liked him. It would be cruel to lead him on and then have him disappointed.

Ever since that first encounter with Jesse, I had taken to going on nature walks. I went walking for hours on end into the woods, and by the streams and rivers which networked throughout the landscape. I looked into the rivers and noticed all manner of fish, salamanders and frogs that I had never noticed before. I turned over every rock just hoping to catch a glimpse of some other species I had yet to discover. One could find an infinite amount of beauty, under just a single rock, provided you chanced upon a lucky one. There exists a very special type of beauty in nature. It is the type which can only be found if you are looking for it. It doesn’t lay out in the open for everyone to see but must be sought after. Often this search has to continue for many hours but when you find it, rest assured that it is an experience unique to you and you alone. For, once you place that rock back down, and cover up that speckled newt or shew away that butterfly, that scene will never be exactly repeated. It’s precise details and feelings are yours to remember, and yours alone.

After hours and hours of such adventures, I would come home riddled with cuts, scrapes and mosquito bites. My parents noticed that I was stewing about my self and in their habitual fussing over me, tried to arrange for me to go to camp. When that failed my father offered me a job at his office, even though I was really too young to do anything useful. It was kind of them to offer, but I didn’t take it as such at the time. I was horribly offended. I was just fine. What business was it of there’s if I chose to spend my days walking and exploring? I declined their offers, sometimes rudely, but always emphatically. After much effort, they recanted and allowed me to spend the rest of the summer in peace.

Kevin still kept in touch and we saw each other about once every two weeks. We would go out in groups with Tammy, Claire, myself and now Patty who was officially Kevin’s girlfriend. ‘Officially’ was an interesting term when used in terms of boyfriend and girlfriend. I am not quite sure what made it all so ‘official’. There weren’t any rings exchanged and there wasn’t any verbal contract. At no time while I was dating Kevin did he flat out ask me “Would you be my girlfriend?” ‘Offically going out’ with Kevin just meant that one was seeing the most of him at that time. Since Kevin was so sought after, to be ‘officially going out’ with him was like attaining a beauty queen title of sorts in our circles. I scoffed at the triviality of the whole arrangement quite possibly because I was no longer benefiting from it. I grew tired of being the third, fourth or even fifth wheel, depending on how many people came out with us, on one of Kevin’s excursions. It is amazing how time brings about change within us. I remember even declining to attend one of Kevin’s excursions to the roller rink when just three or four months ago, I would have died just for the opportunity. On second thought, perhaps time should not be thought of as an entity unto its self. It’s more the events that occurred in those short three or four months which soured my interest. Kevin was like a shooting star in the night, which streaked brightly across the sky and then quickly faded away. While initially he was wonderful and magical, with time I simply grew bored of Kevin and his accompanying crew.

At the end of August, I actually looked forward to the beginning of school. Although I would never admit this to my parents, parts of my summer were boring and I probably could have used a little more structured activity. Still I felt refreshed and ready to face the new year. I had never spent a summer exploring as I had. The animals and plants that appeared so cold and foreign to me on the paper of my biology textbook, now had new meaning to me. I was actually looking forward to learning more biology. Just a few days before the start of school Kevin had his going away party. I was there.

I remembered a large line of girls all of who, at one time or another, had caught Kevin’s eye. Kevin hugged and quickly kissed them all. I felt like I was an item on an assembly line just waiting to be attended to. Kevin reached me and hugged and kissed me exactly as he had all the other girls who preceded me in line. He also told us that he would write us all. I ran ‘hot and cold’ with Kevin in those summer months after our ‘break up’ which incidentally was just as ‘official’ as our getting together. Sometimes I could understand him, and sometimes he annoyed me. At that exact moment I was leaning more towards the latter part of the spectrum. I felt like I was just another notch on his bedpost. Soon after the line of girls, my self included, had sent him off the party disbanded, much to my relief. I caught a lift home with Tammy’s date. I admired Tammy for having moved on, and thought that a new boyfriend for me would be the perfect remedy for that which was ailing me. Claire still rode in the car with Kevin. “Poor girl,” I thought to myself, but she was pretty and I wasn’t worried. I knew that she would have a boyfriend of her own soon enough.

I never saw Kevin face to face again. Suprisingly, I did receive three letters from him. He told me how he was making out in university and recounted a few highlights from his football games. They were fairly short and the time between each arrival grew longer and longer. Just the same I was glad to hear that he was doing well. Many years later, when I met up with some old friends from my town I discovered that he had married and now had three children and I am sure that he was a good father to them. My final evaluation of Kevin was that he was that he was an average person who lived an average life. That average personality just happened to be housed in a well sculpted, Greek hero style body. So, in the end, after a great deal of contemplation, running hot and cold when thinking of Kevin, finally my tap ran lukewarm, the average of those two extremes, where it stayed for the rest of my life. I would have many more such relationships. My mind should have learned the obvious lesson from my experience with Kevin and sought more fulfilling companions. However rationality was still not at the helm. My hormones would stand at the helm in its stead, sailing from one popular man to another, never finding a place to drop anchor and rest.

It was with the intent of finding another boyfriend that I returned to school with zeal. I dressed to kill and I had an attitude to match. I snubbed everyone and everything who did not meet with my approval. Only this year, much to my disappointment, I realized that I couldn’t get away with it. Tammy had graduated last year with Kevin’s class, and Claire was extremely busy with her new boyfriend. She always called me over to sit with her but I just didn’t feel comfortable. Most of our old clique from last year had graduated. Claire usually sat alone, save her boyfriend with whom she exchanged all sorts of inside jokes pertaining to their relationship, which left me in the dark. So, most lunches I sat by myself, just hoping to establish a new group of friends. Instead of having a whole group of people come rushing to sit by my side, as I had expected, I found my eyes cycling back and forth, as though watching a tennis match, watching people file by me. I would learn much later that I suffered, not from a deficit of popularity, but from too much popularity. Many of the formula’s which are required for success in teenage years are very delicately balanced. I was the former girlfriend of Kevin who was the most popular boy that year. In the early runnings of September, there hadn’t yet arisen a contender who could take his place. To make it simple, most of the boys were too shy to risk talking to me. Quite rightly so too, for just a few months previous, I probably snubbed them all from time to time. The girls who were jealous of my success with Kevin also didn’t want much to do with me. At least, I could get a ‘hello’ out of them and occasionally coax them to sit with me, even if only for that day.

My salvation came when Jesse passed by one day. He passed straight by me. I was used to this sort of thing by then and wasn’t particularly phased by it until I noticed him stop and look back. I looked at him, trying to judge his mood. He was still just looking at me. I tried a friendly wave and a ‘hello’ just to break the ice. No harm in that, I had been doing it all summer when he passed by walking his dog. He started hesitantly,

“Is this seat … uh … is it taken?” I motioned him to sit down and he did, placing his bagged lunch on the table. I couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous about asking such a simple question. Then I recalled snubbing him when he dared to attempt sitting in a chair which would obscure Kevin’s view of me. I remembered how totally absorbed I had become with him. I had a fleeting sensation of maturity thinking that I would never be like that again. I dissipated quickly though, realizing that given the right guy, I would probably be caught doing the exact same thing.

Jesse just sat there silently eating his lunch and occasionally chancing a look at me. I was quite bored so I tried to get the conversation going.

“So, how is, oh what was his name … Sherlock?” I was hoping to uncork a bottle and allow the wine of conversation to flow. Instead, I found that I had blown up a dam sending a torrent of sentences rushing towards me.

He described the numerous adventures that he and his dog had taken that summer. I could relate to most of them because they were along rivers and streams I too had explored. We discussed all sorts of hidden alcoves and glades that we had discovered. Some of the places he had discovered, I had chanced upon too, but I was more interested in hearing about the ones I had yet to find. My mind absorbed them like a sponge, cataloguing and prioritizing which ones I wanted to visit first. His conversation, while occasionally tangential, was always topical. He would jump from science, to history, and then to current events. I found it very easy to immerse myself in his conversation.

However, he wasn’t a saving grace to me by being an fascinating conversationalist, but instead, by being a catalyst. By continuing to sit with me at lunch for the rest of that school year, he removed the enigma that surrounded me. Suddenly, people found me approachable again. If Jesse, who was of average popularity, could talk to me, then so could anyone else. Just a month after Jesse and I took up the habit of having lunch together, many members, who incidentally dined nearby, tried their luck on me. That year the football team, was very lucky. In total I dated four football team members, every one of them, very handsome in his own right. On average, each relationship lasted about a month to a month and a half before either I or he would get bored of the other and call it off. You know it had to be quite an extensive dating career when I could cite a statistic like an ‘average span per relationship’. I am proud to say, that I only got dumped twice in my dating history and once, I was about to dump him when he beat me to the punch. The one thing I was proud about was that in all of my relationships, I was able to control the level of physical activity. I knew that when a boy went for a walk with me alone, what he was expecting and that I had to ensure that I gave only what I wanted to. I would let boys go pretty far, but with uneasy feelings about my first encounter with sex, I was unwilling to let anyone I didn’t utterly trust, try again. On second thought, I imagine the football team didn’t get as lucky as they had hoped.

My relationships were so temperamental because I loved ‘the chase’. I loved the attention of being chased by men. As soon as all of dust stirred up by they boys, in their energetic attempts to woo me, settled I found that I was coupled with someone who really didn’t interest me. I got into the habit of being bitter about men. I complained to Jesse over lunch about how they lacked depth and sensitivity. I knew I was preaching to the converted with Jesse being a nice guy but I just needed to have an ear listen to me. I always wondered if Jesse minded my complaining, but he never said anything to that effect, and always listened patiently. The irony of the situation only struck me years later. I was complaining about lack of caring in men to a man who was caring enough to listen to me. I was searching for a man who was sensitive and I was discussing this search with a sensitive man.

Now, I always look suspiciously at women who complain about men all the time. It seems that it has become a common practice, which almost goes unnoticed. I nod my head patiently listening to them say that ‘men are all scum’ realizing that there are a lot of men, moreover people, who do fit the bill of being ‘scum’. I also realize that there are so many people of this sort that it is entirely possible that these particular women have only come across men who are ‘scum’. But then I think back to the days of my youth and my mixed up priorities for choosing a mate and wonder. I know for a fact that there are many terrific people out there in the world. However, due to the muddling effects of hormones, peer pressure, and societal influences, they often get overlooked. I was certainly not immune to this, just look at how I went after the most popular guys, ignoring my husband to be, who was right there all along. Finding a good mate is much like finding the hidden beauties of nature on those numerous hikes I took that summer. They aren’t necessarily out there in the open just waiting for you; you have to search for them. You often have to search for them at length, but when you do, it’s always worth the wait. Of course, these pearls of wisdom came to me in my latter years of life. I try to avoid living in the past and wishing I had my youth to live over again. Every so often though, when I think of what I know now and how confused I was then, I give in to the temptation.

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Circle 250: Chapter 5: Charlotte: Beauty below the surface.

December 1, 2011 No comments

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I continued to see Kevin into the summer of that year. His demands for sex were growing exponentially. It was becoming harder and harder to back him off. I will give him this, I can’t say that I ever felt physically threatened, it was more emotional persuasion, with his body in close proximity, which was used. This was still a potent combination though. I don’t know if he ever realized that it was his own insistence on sex which did him in. I was sufficiently flighty at that age, that had he not mentioned it so much, my first experience with sex would have slipped to the back of my mind, and he would have had a much better chance of an encore performance. I would like to say I could have said ‘no’ the entire summer but in all honesty I doubt it now. It’s a very funny thing with youth in that when pressed to do something, you often press yourself in the opposite direction to compensate. This phenomenon often makes for ‘interesting’ adventure when dealing with teenagers. I use ‘interesting’ in the same vein of the ancient Chinese curse: “May your live in ‘interesting’ times”.

Kevin was pressing for sex, so I pressed equally strongly against it. With our dichotomously apposed viewpoints on the subject we managed to make each other quite miserable. Kevin was so dedicated to getting his way, that we basically stopped going out. Sure we went to a movie or whatever, but the entire objective of any evening with Kevin from that point forward was to get my clothes off, and my equally enforced objective was to keep them on. In the four movies we saw that summer, I don’t remember a single one. I do remember however, removing his hands at every turn. Eventually Kevin and I started to drift apart. He grew frustrated with my persistent refusal to his attempts, and I grew annoyed with his persistence in trying. I grew so concerned with the situation I even tried confiding in Tammy and Claire who were now my only real female friends due to my snubbing of everyone aside from them.

I found a moment of privacy with them at the roller rink. Kevin was off skating with a group of his friends, one of them a new girl ‘Patty’ who I was suspicious of. I recounted to them the events of the past month trying to put it as delicately as possible. I tried to leave out as many details as possible to make it seem like we hadn’t gotten all that far. Claire, annoyed with my lack of important facts and details decided to ask flat out.

“So, did you two make it or what?” She asked impatiently as if she already knew the answer and was just waiting for me to say it outright. I took a deep breath and answered truthfully,

“Yes.” I lowered my head immediately as if I had just launched a grenade which would explode shrapnel into my face. I heard sighs of understanding which caused me to look up, puzzled. Tammy had a sage like look about her as she composed the words to the most profound thing she ever said to me. In retrospect, all things being relative, it wasn’t actually all that profound, more like a cliché which I just hadn’t heard yet. She explained the situation.

“You see … men are like sheep dogs …” She chomped her gum loudly as she always did between phrases. “ … and when a sheep dog takes that first bite out of a sheep and tastes the blood, the only thing the farmer can do is shoot it because that dog will never be the same again. Once a dog tastes the taste of sheep blood, it will want more and more, until it dies.” I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to think of men in this light. However the words “… will want more and more until [he] dies” resounded loudly in my mind. It was exactly what had happened between Kevin and I. Basically she was saying that it was a mistake for me to have allowed him to go that far in the first place. Now that I had, either I could ‘put up (out) or shut up’. I hoped that this wasn’t true of all men in general. Even though I lacked evidence to the contrary at this point of my life, it couldn’t be true. “It mustn’t be true.” I said to myself hoping that in saying it, I could believe it and I did, but with cautious optimism.

Suddenly it struck me. Here I was sitting over desert with Tammy and Claire, while Kevin was off skating with a group of his friends and his new friend Patty. Without my knowledge, I had silently slipped into the ranks of his token ‘girl-friends’. Sure enough, only seconds later we saw Kevin and Patty walk off and out of the skating rink. We all exchanged knowing glances. When Tammy, Claire and I realized that we all had had similar experiences, we shared exact details. We discussed the places he had taken us and the things we had done together. I was pleased because Tammy and Claire both had sex about three or four times each. I held my head up high and told them that I had gotten off only having sex with him once. They quickly retorted, in defence, that it gets better the second and third time. I was slightly curious about that until we all, in a fit of laughter discussed his love making techniques. We were extremely rude, and equally vivid. I suppose the polite summation of that five minute discussion, while we were all in hysterics, was that if Kevin’s love making were shipped by courier, the package would be shipped by expedited service: arriving quickly and the transaction over before you knew it. After about a half hour absence, Patty and Kevin returned. Kevin looked as he always did, with that same boyish charm. Patty looked a little flustered and embarrassed. Kevin said,

“We were just out for a little walk.” We all responded sarcastically in chorus,

“Uh uh!” and like clockwork, we all rose and made our way to his car. And just like that, the cycle of Kevins’ lovelife continued. I suppose that Kevin was like a launching platform for many girls. He offered them popularity and a chance to experiment with their femininity. In the end, after some time to think, I didn’t begrudge him. Later in life, in conversations with older men, my husband included, I understood that an eighteen year old boy is like a hormone with feet. Many men admitted this to me unflinchingly. All things considered, Kevin wasn’t a bad person, nor did he treat me badly. We continued to see each other occasionally, which avoided my having to answer my father as to why we broke up. I was happy for that. As far as he was concerned we were still going out, and there was no reason to tell him otherwise.

One night he told us, the group we were out with, that he had been denied the football scholarship he was looking for. I felt disappointed for him. Football was, to a very large degree, his life. He did however get a reasonable scholarship at a college half way across the country. I felt united with Kevin in one thing, disappointment in life.

During the remaining weeks of that summer, I found my self contemplative and unfulfilled. I took many self absorbed walks alone in my backyard by the stream. It seemed, with respect to my fulfillment, as though I was back to square one save my new found popularity, which I have to admit, I enjoyed thoroughly. I had hoped that having a boyfriend would complete me. I certainly didn’t feel complete just then; quite the contrary. I was on just one of these sorts of walks in the middle of August that I heard a voice and a shuffling approaching me. It was sufficiently far enough that it didn’t distract my concentration. I wondered nervously to myself: “Were all my relationships going to be like this one? Would I always feel this unfulfilled? Was this all there was?”

Now, the voice was sufficiently audible to make out what was being said. I was rather annoyed at the intrusion. I heard someone complaining of a flubbed question on a math test. My eyes scanned the path of the stream, looking for the source of the distraction. The stream in my back yard veered sharply to the right several yards ahead of me. A wooden glade obscured its path as it made this sharp turn. I found the stream again, heading again to the left and off to the horizon beyond the wooded glade. I couldn’t discern any source for the voice.

Just then, a boy and his dog came out from the wooded glade but on the opposite side of the stream to me. Obviously this is where they had escaped my detection. It was Jesse and his dog. Jesse was still talking to his dog when he noticed me staring at him. He stopped immediately, and embarrassed. Trying to relieve the tension of this odd meeting I delicately said,

“Hello.” He seemed a little more confident.

“Hi, how are you doing?” I answered half-heartedly but honestly,

“I’m all right”. He liked to talk. I could tell right off the bat. He launched into an explanation of exactly what he was doing.

“I hope you don’t mind my being here… I have a big family you see, and sometimes I just like the alone time. My dog Sherlock here makes for a great listener and certainly isn’t judgmental. He is content to listen to me tell him my troubles with a walk and a treat as a reward. You understand … right?” No, actually I didn’t see how talking to a dog could in anyway be therapeutic. Not wanting to appear rude I answered with a polite,

“Yes.” There was a short pause while he awaited a more detailed answer. He didn’t receive one.

I had never really noticed him all that much. He typically kept to himself and certainly wasn’t very popular. He did have redeeming facial features though. His rich green eyes picked up the colour of the overhanging foliage. They were a very unusual colour, especially under the current lighting, but they were very flattering. His body and face were still very youthful though. They still had yet to develop more masculine and adult features. His dog was a Springer Spaniel. It had a brown and white patches all over. Its long curly haired ears seemed to move in the opposite direction of the dog’s head. They It was still a very young dog and it couldn’t seem to stay still while Jesse was trying to talk to me. It bumbled about clumsily hoping to find a bug, or something of interest. To be honest, the clumsy look of the dog, reminded me very much of its owner.

He was visibly put off balance by my lack of more than a one word response. He paced back and forth nervously trying to find something to fill the dead air. His eyes widened having found at least something to pad the conversation.

“So, you don’t mind my being here … What with this being your property and all?” It was a pretty silly question. No one would ever mind. We all had such huge lots, it was common practice to walk wherever one wanted. In fact, where he was standing, on the other side of the stream, was actually no one’s property, just an open field. I answer to that question was a simple ‘no’ but I extended it as much as I could trying to help relieve his nervousness.

“No, I don’t mind at all”. Well I don’t suppose that it was a terrific improvement over a simple ‘no’ but the grin on his face revealed that he was pleased with it. His dog was getting impatient. He was no longer content to simply fidget. Without any warning, he leapt head first into the stream. A spray of silty water went flying into the water, the brunt of which landed directly on my shirt, knocking me over.

“No Sherlock, no!” Jesse screamed following him into the stream searching for his leash. Finding the end of the leash, Jesse yanked at it sternly trying to bring Sherlock under control. Sherlock could care less, he was in seventh heaven splashing wildly in the stream. Finally, Jesse emerged with his dog on my side of the stream. He looked at my soiled shirt horrified that I would be angry. I was angry actually but I found myself laughing at the odd experience. He started to laugh, first nervously and the genuinely.

“Actually, he does this sort of thing a lot.” His voice seemed more relaxed.

“Does he now. Do you have to shower everytime you take your dog for a walk?” I was remarkably comfortable myself. Afterall I didn’t have to impress anyone. Compared to this clumsy fellow, I had to be the coolest around for miles. Inspired by the new topic of conversation he said,

“No, I try not to walk him by the streams and rivers that often, for exactly this reason.” His intonation had a comic air. Then he continued in a voice which revealed more of his emotions,

“I try and take him on this kind of walk at least once a week though. You can see how much he loves it.” He was right the dog panted happily and looked to his owner with a look of love. Jesse scratched his head in reply. I thought it was so cute the way the two got along so well together.

“I’m so sorry about your shirt …” he said apologetically.

“Don’t worry, I am good with laundry. I can get out many stains” I said confidently, trying to ease his fears. It was then I remembered a particular stain I had removed just a few months ago on prom night. I was once again in my somber, self-absorbed state, which had abated for ten minutes due to the distracting events. I was still sitting on the ground where I had fell and Jesse patted his dog affectionately about a foot away from me. There was a lull as the moment spoke more loudly than any words we could have exchanged. We both enjoyed the silence and watched, and listened to, the flow of the stream. Eventually Jesse stood up.

“Hey, d’you want to see something real cool” I was curious.

“Sure.” He motioned me to the side of the stream. The sun was setting behind me. He said,

“It’s going to be a beautiful night.” I was suddenly fearful. I had heard a variant of that line the first night I was with Kevin. He didn’t think he was going to get away with anything did he? I slowed my approach to the side of the stream. Jesse, confused as to what the problem was, proceeded with his demonstration.

“Here … look …” He reached into the silty, opaque stream cupping his hands. When they emerged, his hands held fry. The tiny fish darted about, disoriented by their new environment. I quickly approached the bank of the stream and looked closely. In all my years of walking and playing by the stream, I had never looked under the silty surface of the water. I wondered what else there was under the surface.

“See, life and beauty are everywhere…” he said passionately, romanticizing nature. He concluded his thought poetically:

“Sometimes, you just have to look below the surface to find it.” He looked as though he was going to say something else when he caught him self. His face looked inhibited as though he had said too much; he hadn’t though. Just like that he excused himself.

“I really ought to be heading home. It was nice talking to you though.” I didn’t say anything. Still didn’t know what to make of him. Was he for real? He crossed the stream again, this time stepping on rocks to avoid getting wet. Cherokee would have nothing of that and plowed his way noisily through the river. After some insistence with the leash, they both emerged on the other side and I managed a wave good-bye. I walked inside still out of sorts, from the encounter. I walked straight past my mother who immediately noticed the stain on my shirt.

“Charlotte, whatever happened to you?” I answered instinctively, without forethought,

“Nothing, I was just knocked off my feet by some boy and his dog.” My mother and I both didn’t notice the unintentional irony in that statement. She just said,

“Fine dear, just wash up and come on down. Supper is ready.”

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Circle 250: Chapter 4: Charlotte: The blotch on my record.

December 1, 2011 No comments

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On the way to the prom, we picked up Tammy, Claire and their dates. Their dates were both, not surprisingly, members of the football team. It turned out that when I first met Tammy and Claire, they were both in between boyfriends. Both Tammy and Claire at one point had dated Kevin. I thought that it spoke highly of Kevin that he remained friends with his ex-girlfriends. Even to this day, I can’t fault him for that. He was a very friendly fellow.

Tammy’s date, as he entered the car, pulled a large bottle of champagne out from behind his back. Everybody ‘oo-ed’ and ‘ah-ed’ excitedly. It was only a matter of seconds later before the cork popped off explosively yielding a trail of long white foam. Glasses were procured by Claire’s boyfriend. He had brought some along in the box filled with all sorts of alcoholic goodies to be enjoyed later. We were all handing a foaming glass. It was difficult to keep it steady against the bumps in the road. Kevin perked himself up proudly, unable to stand in the limousine and pronounced, like a true orator,

“To good times and good friends. I hope this is the best night of our life!” There was a flurry of glasses clinking in agreement with the toast. My glass was among them, and then I brought it to my lips and took a sip. It tasted very bubbly and warm in my throat on the way down. I didn’t have much experience with alcohol yet. My previous experience consisted of champagne my parents grudgingly allowed me to partake in at new year’s and only after my repeated insistence. Having indulged in champagne previously I didn’t see reason why this time would be different from any other. Caught up in the excitement of the moment however, I failed to take into consideration my empty stomach, which still rumbled angrily for a lack of lunch or supper. My mother tried to give me some potatoes she had prepared but, I just couldn’t stomach them.

Needless to say, it was only a matter of time before the bouncing of the car along the dirt roads which led to our high school, echoed loudly in my head. Now alcohol has this funny effect of making you feel a little sick and lightheaded but wanting more of it just the same. So, just as I was being offered my third glass, rationality flew out the window, which was incidentally ajar, and I gladly accepted in what must have been a very slurred,

“Sure, I’ll have another.” That was about the last thing I remember saying. The last thing I remembered thinking, was “Wow, we are going to arrive to the prom drunk, even before it starts. We must be the biggest party animals.”

Evidently we were. I would only know what we did that night from third party sources, but it was the talk of the school for several weeks, so such sources abounded. Supposedly, we ended up dancing on the punch tables, and singing and dancing with the hired band. When our teacher chaperones tried to put the reigns on our outlandish behaviour, I was rumoured to have kissed Mr. Ogilvie and begged for forgiveness while he was reprimanding us. It was hard to confirm that rumour, but for the remainder of that year, Mr. Ogilvie always looked at me strangely as I entered the room. Fortunately for those in attendance, we ran out of steam after about an hour and we were content to slump together on the benches while we sobered up. It was one in the morning when my pounding in my head settled to a dull roar in the background.

The prom was officially over. Unofficially there were many plans being made. Our party clamored awkwardly into our limo. I heard Kevin tell the limo driver something but I couldn’t quite make it out. Kevin, with two years my superior with respect to drinking experience had managed to sober up quite nicely. I was still very dazed and would continue to be well into the following morning. We dropped off everybody in the order we had picked them up, leaving Kevin and I alone. We didn’t end up back at my house however, but instead the limo dropped us off at Kevin’s house. I looked at him oddly and he replied immediately to my confused look.

“I have an idea. It’ll help you sober up.” With that he took my hand and guided me out of the limo. He waived to the driver (the limo had been pre-paid) and the limo rumbled off, leaving a dust trail behind it. Kevin, realizing that I lacked stability in my current state placed his arm around me for added support. We started walking. I walked sloppily, tripping ever other stride, but fortunately Kevin was there to prevent my falling. He guided me into his car. I lay back in the seat and I remember that the full moon shone blindingly in my eyes. It was of no fault of the moon, the moon was not that intense, but more my burgeoning hang over.

We drove for several short minutes. The convertible top was down and wind in my hair did perk me up, although, it made me very chilly. Goose bumps riddled my skin in silent testimony to that fact. We arrived at Serenity pond. There were no big surprises in the small town of my youth, there weren’t all that many places to go. This time, we were on the opposite side of the pond. The boulder which we sat on that first night lay faintly illuminated and across the pond. Many people had the same idea that night. In fact, it took Kevin a very long time to find a spot sufficiently private although, really it was still in earshot of the next car over. Kevin looked at me boyishly. Appearing concerned he asked,

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” His eyes never met mine while he was saying that. Instead they were darting about just trying to find a place of interest. I muttered something to the effect that I was find. Suddenly his eyes found that interesting place. He stared intently at my cleavage. He stared for a good long while then drew his eyes up and down my body. His eyes had a primal look about them, although his face still looked boyish and unsure. The contrast was most striking. He opened his mouth, as if to say something and then paused, carefully composing his words as if he were about to deliver an important speech. Finally, his eyes met with mine and he started out boldly:

“Have you ever thought about having … you know…” his hands waved in the air hoping that I would be able to finish his sentence for him. I ‘did know’ and I wasn’t about to finish that sentence or help him out in any way. He continued realizing that his first sentence if completed would be to daring. He started again.

“I am going to be going to college this fall; I don’t know how often I am going to be able to see you. Charlotte, you are special to me. You know that I have been out with a lot of girls, including Tammy and Claire, but they just didn’t mean to me what you do.” I couldn’t believe it but he was actually getting somewhere. I had always been a little jealous of Tammy and Claire, always wondering if and when they would try to move in on Kevin and take him from me. Hearing him say those words put me at ease. I felt on top of the world. My spinning head added to the effect. He resumed, after noticing my more pensive look.

“I want to remember you and I want to make sure you remember me. Now I was thinking of putting this off until later in the summer but think of it …” he paused for effect. “This is our prom night. I am off to college now, I won’t ever have another night like this. I want to make it special and a memory we will both have for a long time.” That night really needed a memory because I had no direct recollection of any events from just two hours before. My mind began wavering. Happily, my mind chanced upon a logistics issue which could throw a wrench into the works and avoid my having to make this decision.

“But … But …” I stammered at first searching for the words and then, finding courage, shot off the necessary string of words, “I don’t want to get pregnant.” He looked remarkably confident. I was disappointing hoping that my words would have caused him a little grief, or caused him to think for a few seconds. He reached quickly to the glove box and produced a small brown paper bag. I was familiar with the design and logo. It was from the pharmacy. He placed it in my lap and looked at it with his eyes, as though he was asking me to examine it. I opened it to find a box of condoms. The decision, once again and in very many different ways, lay solely in my lap. As soon as the box of condoms was visible he quickly shot in,

“See, I thought of everything for you. There is really nothing to worry about.” I didn’t have any response for him. He stood poised waiting for me to say something. He looked at me as though I was a balance which was slowly shifting to agreement. He didn’t move as though the slightest movement on his part would case a breeze and tip the scales in the other direction. He was right. I peered into his eyes deeply, trying to see his true emotions but the connection our eyes established ran both ways. Somehow he was able to reach into my heart and know exactly what I wanted to hear.

“Charlotte, I love you.” His words sounded softly but clearly in the night air. A small trail of vapour came with them, the slightly chilled night air allowing me to see and hear his words. I had never had anyone aside from my parents tell me that. Quickly, with new found confidence and zeal I checked around to make sure that no one was watching and in a single motion planted a firm kiss on his lips. He was slightly shocked, as he was accustomed to having to make all of the ‘moves’ himself. He seemed pleased though, and why shouldn’t he. In all of my adolescent fantasies, I imagined my first time being long, drawn out and passionate. In reality it turned out to be far from it.

It seemed that no sooner had Kevin gotten over the initial shock of my passionate kiss, that he was on top of me, reaching down the back of my dress and undoing my bra. I supposed I could have lived with this had he remained committed to the cause of caressing my breasts. But he was far to eager. It is almost comical to me now, but after just two quick grabs from his hands, he reached into his pants and produced his penis which was up and ready. Now, even at the ripe age of sixteen, female systems always require priming and the two quick regards he gave to my breasts and an even quicker stroking of my thighs just wasn’t enough to do the trick. So, when he went to go inside me, my being a virgin to begin with, and the complete lack of any lubrication made for a very painful experience. I winced against the pain trying to not to make a sound. Fortunately for me, much like the champagne bottle that had begun the night, it only took about five seconds for his cork to pop and the whole even to be over. He had a look of pain as he ejaculated; perhaps it was painful for him too? But then suddenly his demeanour changed to that of relief and intense satisfaction. The entire event was so quick, I wasn’t sure that it had happened. I received a reminder when a looked down to my lovely blue dress which bore a crimson stain in the crotch attesting to my loss of virginity. There was no doubt about it now. It had happened.

He lay on top of me for the longest time, just trying to catch his breath. He was very heavy and I hoped he would get off me soon. Then he looked up and kissed me. I, still reeling from the pain pursed my lips and let him kiss me. He rolled over the stick shift and proceeded to zip up and tuck in his shirt. He had that boyish look again as he asked me hopefully,

“So, was it good?” I remained silent while I was trying to decide if it was a good idea to reveal the truth. He began to pout because my answer did not come quickly enough to soothe his insecurity. I put on false airs and told him that it was fine. I didn’t kiss him though, I couldn’t decide if I liked him or not at that moment. He seemed content with my answer and just like that he had the keys in the ignition and we were on our way.

We arrived a my house just ten minutes later. I kissed him goodnight. It didn’t mean much it was almost force of habit. I had never seen him quite so passionate and satisfied though. He drove off rather quickly. I wasn’t offended by his hasty departure, but ironically flattered, knowing that Kevin drove faster when he was happy. While my emotions where churning inside due to events that evening, it still made me feel so feminine knowing that I could please a man like that. While my mind was deeply confused, my body managed to walk normally, despite my hang-over, as if to compensate.

I was suddenly cognizant of the blotch on my record, or more accurately, the stain on the back of my dress. My parents said that they would wait up just to see how things went. My parents were very cute that way. They always wanted to see how I was and enjoyed seeing me happy. I wondered how they would react to seeing that stain? I thought for a second, still continuing my approach. I had nothing to cover up with outside but I had a plan. I walked in through the open door, which my parents had left that way pending my arrival and quickly grabbed Kevin’s football jacket which lay on the rounded end of the banister where it always was. I quickly wrapped it around my waist and then walked in to the living room, just around the corner, where my parents were waiting for me.

“Hi sweety how was it?” My mother spoke so sweetly that it touched me.

“Fine Mom. Just great.” I hoped that my voice didn’t reveal anything that I didn’t want it to.

“And Kevin … how did he like it?” my father added to the conversation.

“He had a great time Dad.” I was glad that I didn’t have to lie outright with that answer, although it was a lie of omission. My mother looked at my shoulder and then the jacket wrapped around my waist. I prayed she didn’t suspect anything.

“Why sweety, you must be freezing. Just look at those goose bumps.” God bless goose bumps I thought to myself. My father spoke calmly,

“Why don’t you head upstairs and change and when you come down we’ll all have some tea and you can tell us all about it.” The changing clothes part I was all for. I was less enthusiastic about the ‘tell us all about it’ part but I was sure I would manage. I nodded, agreeing to his plan, and made my way upstairs. I quickly changed, anxious to remove any and all damning evidence from my person. I poured water on the offending stain which came out remarkably easy considering that it hadn’t set. I put on my comfortable jeans which I always wore around the house. They had holes in the knees and my father detested them for that reason. I had to admit that they were very ugly and beaten up but I could never throw them out. They were just too comfortable.

I started to take off my make up and as I looked at myself, the events of the night became clear. I had always wanted my first time to be passionate and fulfilling. Aside from the pain I still felt ‘below decks’, I felt nothing. But, I had been with him so long, at least in terms of the sixteen year old dating world that I was used to him and I liked the way I felt when I was around him. Still, I definitely felt used. I felt that the experience was entirely for his benefit and that I could easily have been replaced by a sofa, had a sofa similar parts to my own. I resolved then that I would continue to see him although, in perhaps my first move of self-determinism, I would not have sex with him or anyone else for that matter until I decided I was ready. I realized that I wasn’t being prude, I just didn’t want to be an ingenue who anyone could do with as they pleased. With that thought, I brushed my teeth just to make sure that there weren’t any traces of alcohol on my breath, and made my way downstairs to have tea.

My parents were easily placated with some made up details about the prom. I remember feeling so glad that I knew that if I choose to, I could have discussed the true events of that evening with my parents. Sure they would have been concerned, perhaps raised their voices and lectured me at end, but there was no question that they would always love me. From their eager looks as I walked in that night to the warm tea they prepared for me, nothing could beat the absolute love of parents. I knew that no matter where I went or how uncomfortable a situation, I could always regain that comfort and be welcome at home.

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