Just Yesterday Morning

Written 3-27-13
A long time ago, when I was just touched my twenties, I was discussing a certain sweet young thing with my buddy Jax.
He got this far away look in his eyes and said, “I always wondered if she was a true blonde.”
“She is.” I let slip before I had the sense to shut my mouth.
“You dog!” he said. The tone of voice was a mix of admiration, because he would have jumped at the chance to jump her; surprise, because we all know I’m pretty average looking; and shock, because of the social taboos regarding what he thought we had done.
“Her sister told me.” I lied with the conviction that would have passed a lie detector test.
“Oh.” He said, his disappointment was palatable, for I knew he wanted to hear all of the wonderful details of what it was like, bedding that tasty morsel.

I guess I should have told him the truth, that it was kind of dark; but that would have let the cat out of the bag and no way to get it back in.

The truth of the strange circumstances that led to an incident that has puzzled me for decades.

For it was just happenstance that while I was down in the area, just after the New Year, that I didn’t have a place to stay on my last night.
“Hey.” She said. “My parents are out of town. You can stay there with me.”
“Okay.”

I didn’t think anything of it. We were friends from the neighborhood and I thought it was nice that she offered me a place, even if it was probably just a couch.

Later that evening, just as I was slipping into the warm, comforting darkness of sleep, the door opened and she stepped into the room. Blonde on blonde in the pale moonlight, she stood there for a moment, then said; “Are you cold?”
I suppose that at the age of nineteen, I still didn’t have a lot of sense, for I open the covers and said, “A little”.
She climbed into her parents’ bed with me, kissed me on the cheek and said, “Do you want to watch me put my diaphragm in?”

The next morning, nothing was said of what happened. Perhaps we were both embarrassed by what we had done, although part of me thinks that it was something we both had wanted.
Perhaps we both knew there was something, but didn’t want to pursue what we felt might be forbidden. Best to let it die there, rather than keep it alive.

I only saw her a few times, over the next ten years. Nothing was said until that last time, when I couldn’t stand her silence.
“Do you remember that time?” I asked and explained what I meant.
I could see her struggle as she tried to remember. “No, I don’t; but I did many things back then.”

Crushed, I let it go.
Occam’s razor; she was probably just cold and I was convenient.

I heard, through the grapevine some years ago, that she had passed away. Cancer took her quickly and too early, leaving a widower and two small children. I felt bad for them, but at the same time, felt that maybe I had dodged a bullet. I have a very good life, not a complex one tied to strange in-laws.

We sometimes wonder at what might have been. At least I know the outcome of one path that I never took. And I am glad I never went down that path.

I’ve never told the real story to anyone except Skinner and I know she can be trusted to be quiet.