Long story... To do it over again

“With a little luck,” he said, “your husband will be able to resume a normal life in a few months. He might require a bypass operation to divert flow around the compromised arteries, but yes, if this is successful, he’ll probably be all right.”

“When do you start?” she asked.

“He’s on his way to the cath lab right now. He’ll undergo the procedure in less than an hour. This is what will happen…”

He then went into a dry, sterile description of the anesthesia procedure and the recovery problems. It took about twenty minutes. But I’d already learned what I needed to know. In all likelihood, Mr. Blackmore would be all right. Though in my when there were other means to clear a clot, namely medications that actually dissolved it, the cardiac cath was a tried and true procedure.

As he droned on I found myself wondering just what had happened to Mr. Blackmore in my previous life. He had gone to the hospital this day at my insistence, because of my intervention. Did that happen before? I didn’t know the outcome of Nina’s father when I knew her before because we were never close, obviously. But instinctively I felt that he’d probably died at home that night or shortly after. Was fate being thwarted again? Or was an inevitable realignment in the works?

We moved up to the cath lab waiting room on the second floor. This waiting room was smaller, though still equipped with a television and phone. It was also empty except for Nina, her mother, and myself. We sat together in a row of chairs, Nina between Mrs. Blackmore and myself. We didn’t talk. Every once in a while I would receive a strange glance from Mary Blackmore as if she was wondering why I, someone who was only after one thing, was still there. Did I think I was going to try to ruin her daughter’s virtue that night?

After an hour or so I excused myself and found the hospital cafeteria, returning with cups of coffee, which I distributed.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Blackmore said, taking it from my hand.

“No cream, one sugar,” I said. “Just the way you like it.”

She looked at me puzzled, suspicious. “How did you know that?”

I smiled. “Nina told me,” I answered. “She takes it the same way.”

She nodded thoughtfully and we continued to wait.

Shortly after our coffee was consumed a doctor entered the waiting room. He was dressed in surgical scrubs and his hair was mussed from the sterile cap he’d just been wearing. Everyone tensed up. Again, the absence of the chaplain spoke volumes before a word was even said.

“We think we cleared the obstruction,” he told us. “Mr. Blackmore is in the recovery room now. He’s doing fine.”

He spoke a lot more. He told us that they had discovered a large amount of occlusion in Mr. Blackmore’s coronary arteries during the angiogram that had been done prior to the catheterization. Was he in the habit of eating high cholesterol food? He was? Well that was probably what had started it. He said that he would be transferred to the hospital where I worked the next day and, if he continued to recover well, would undergo a triple bypass operation. That, in addition to a change of diet, would probably take care of the problem.

By the time the doctor left we were all feeling better. Nina came over to my chair and gave me a hug, a tight, squeezing hug of gratitude. Her mother watched this impassively, not saying anything.

“Thank you, Bill,” Nina told me when she released me. “You saved Daddy’s life.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said modestly. “I just helped him see what he needed to do. I’m glad he’ll be okay.”

“You saved him, Bill,” Nina repeated. “And I’ll never forget that.” She turned to her mother. “Don’t you think you owe Bill a thank you Mom?” she asked sharply.

“Nina, I…” I started.

“Hush,” Nina told me, continuing to stare at her Mom. “Mom?”

Mrs. Blackmore swallowed nervously and then reluctantly looked at me. “She’s right,” she finally said. “You did save him. We owe you our thanks.”

“I did what any decent person would do,” I told her, emphasizing the word “decent”. “I’m glad he’s going to be all right and I was glad to help.”

She nodded and an uncomfortable silence followed.

“So,” I said at last, breaking it, “why don’t we see if they’ll let you two visit him for a bit? You’re probably anxious to do that.”

Only one visitor at a time was allowed in the recovery room. It was a rule the staff was very firm about despite my attempts at intervention using my adult voice. Finally Mrs. Blackmore went in, leaving Nina and I alone in the waiting room. We sat together and I put my arm around her. She rested her head on my shoulder, yawning with weariness.

“Sorry we couldn’t go to the movie tonight,” she told me.

“Understandable,” I assured her, stroking her hair.

A minute went by. Finally Nina asked, “Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know Daddy was having a heart attack?”

I had been afraid of this question, though I knew it was coming. I didn’t enjoy lying to her.

“I read a lot of medical texts,” I told her. “It’s kind of a hobby of mine. I thought about being a paramedic once so I went through their textbook and studied it. Your dad was having textbook symptoms of a heart attack and he was displaying the common response to it. Denial. When I felt his pulse and noticed the missing beats I was sure. That’s another textbook symptom.”

“You knew all this from reading a textbook?” she asked, her tone unreadable.

“Yes, Nina,” I said with a fairly straight face. “I have a good memory for written words.”

“I see,” she said softly. And she said no more about it.

We sat and talked softly for more than fifteen minutes, me continuing to hold her and stroke her hair. A slight cough interrupted us and we both looked up to find Mrs. Blackmore looking at us, taking in the manner in which we were seated.

“Hi, Mom,” Nina said, somewhat embarrassed. She broke free of me and sat up. “How’s Daddy doing?”

She walked over slowly. “He’s a little groggy from the medicine they gave him but otherwise he’s okay. They’re going to take him up to his room soon. We won’t be able to visit him anymore until tomorrow. Why don’t you go in and talk to him real quick?”

“Okay,” she said, standing. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

She left the room leaving me alone with her mother. We looked at each other for a moment and finally she took a seat next to me. She sat stiffly upright.

“You didn’t have to stay you know,” she told me.

“I wanted to,” I replied. “Besides, how else are you going to get home? You know how much a cab ride would be from here?”

“We could’ve handled it.”

“Like I said, Mrs. Blackmore, I wanted to stay.”

Another uncomfortable silence developed. There was so much I wanted to say to this woman next to me, so much I wanted to explain, but this was not the time. Not when her husband, a man I knew she loved deeply, was in a hospital room after nearly dying.

But Mrs. Blackmore apparently did want to talk about it.

“You’re a very strange young man,” she said, not looking at me.

I nodded. “I’ve been accused of that,” I agreed.

“I like to think that I’ve got you figured out,” she said. “That I know exactly what you’re like, how you’ll act, what you’ll do. I tried to tell Nina this when she started seeing you again. But she didn’t listen to me, wouldn’t hear a word of it. I tried to tell myself that it was teenaged rebellion, that she knew I was right but that she wouldn’t listen because she thought she was in love with you and because her mom was telling her these things.”

“But?” I prompted, looking over at her.

“But now I’m forced to wonder if maybe I was the one who was wrong all this time,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“Really,” she sighed. “You see, I’ve been waiting all of this time for you to toss my daughter aside like an old shoe. That’s what people like you do, I told myself. You get them to fall in love with you and then, once you get what you want a few times, you get rid of them. I have speeches all memorized for the day that you finally do that; speeches I’ll recite to her as I’m holding her while she cries. I’ll tell her that someday she’ll find someone who really loves her for herself, not for her body. I’ll tell her about how I found a man like that and how he came back to me even though I made a horrid mistake once. I’m well prepared for the day when you finally show Nina that you are nothing but slime.” She stared over at me, her eyes softening. “But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not,” I said. “I love your daughter, Mrs. Blackmore. I love her with all of my heart. I love her the way Mr. Blackmore loves you. I plan to be with her for the rest of my life.”

She nodded softly. “You know something?” she asked. “I’ve known that for a while. I don’t know what you and Jack talked about the day he went over to your house, he wouldn’t tell me, but I was dumbfounded when he said that he was going to allow you and Nina to see each other. I was absolutely in shock. We fought bitterly over it but finally he convinced me that I was simply going to have to let Nina run this relationship out for better or for worse. And he was right about that. You can’t control a seventeen-year-old girl if she doesn’t want to be controlled. I didn’t like it, but I had to accept it. That’s when I started waiting for Nina to come home crying again. Every time she went out with you I thought that this would be the time. You were finally going to get what you were after and toss her aside. But every time she came home she wasn’t crying. She always seemed deliriously happy in fact.

“I told myself that her happiness was simply part of your plan. I myself know intimately what it feels like to think you’re in love with someone such as yourself. You are happy during that period. That’s what makes it hurt so badly when the happiness is taken away. These last two months Nina has been positively glowing whenever she came back from a visit with you. And I just told myself you were picking her up further and further before you dropped her. I knew you were going to do it. I simply knew.”

“Do you know why I feel this way?” she asked me pointedly.

I wasn’t sure how to answer that one. I hesitated.

“Jack told you about Bob Simpson, didn’t he?” she said.

This question put me on even shakier ground. “Uh…”

She nodded knowingly. “He did, didn’t he? I can see it in your eyes. I suspected as much.”

“Look, Mrs. Blackmore…” I started.

“Call me Mary,” she said. “I think you and I need to be on a first name basis, don’t you?”

This really threw me off guard. Call her Mary?

“Bill,” she went on, “you know about Bob Simpson, right?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said. “I don’t how you got Jack to tell you that story, especially since he hated your guts, but somehow you did. This should offend me. I should go in there and beat the hell out of Jack for telling you such a personal thing. But strangely, it doesn’t bother me. I’m glad you know about it in fact. It makes this talk a little easier.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Bob Simpson left a scar on me that remains to this day. He took away something that was precious to me and precious to Jack. I’m not talking about my virginity, although that’s a part of it, I’m talking about something in here.” She pointed to her chest. “And in here.” She pointed to her head. “He used me like a man would use a dirty book and he threw me in the garbage like a man would when he’s used that book enough. He took away more than five years of what should have been happiness with Jack. To this day I still remember how I felt when I realized that I’d sent that letter to him and that I’d lost him. To this day I still get down on my knees and thank God that Jack was strong enough and loved me enough to take me back after that. What Jack did was unheard of back then. Most men today, even in these liberated times, wouldn’t do what he did. My point is that Bob Simpson was the lowest form of life on this earth. And though I share a good portion of the blame for what happened, it was Bob that deserves most of it. He took advantage of me when I was little more than a girl, when I didn’t know what I wanted in life yet. He made me think I knew what I wanted. Do you see?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I do.”

“When Nina came to me crying that day, when she told me about you and those girls at school, she was describing Bob Simpson to a tee. I was horrified by what you’d done. I still am.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m ashamed of that now. But I never did that with Nina. Never.”

“That’s what she told me when you got back together. But I couldn’t accept that. You were Bob Simpson out to destroy my daughter. You see, before I fell in love with Bob I’d heard all of the stories about him. The same stories Nina said she’d heard about you. I didn’t believe them, I wouldn’t believe them, because I loved him, just like Nina loved you. I figured Nina had simply been smarter than me, or luckier anyway. She caught you sleeping with an engaged girl and she couldn’t ignore your reputation any longer. I told her she’d done the right thing in getting rid of you. She was hurt, I could see that, but not nearly as hurt as she would have been if you had gotten what you wanted.”

“And then she went back to you,” Mary said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t believe it at first but finally I knew it when she started borrowing my car every day. I was determined to put a stop to it once I knew what was going on. I didn’t let her go out with you on New Year’s Eve and I stupidly thought that would end it. But when she asked to borrow the car again the next day, giving me a pathetic lie about it, I knew something would have to be done. That’s why Jack showed up at your house.”

“And the rest is history,” I said softly.

She shook her head again. “I was sure I knew what you were about, Bill,” she told me. “You don’t even deny what you were like?”

“No,” I said simply. “I can’t deny it. All I can say in my own defense is what I told your husband. I discovered a way to get girls to go to bed with me. I was fifteen when I discovered this and I couldn’t resist taking advantage of it. I couldn’t. But Nina was never like that to me. I initiated the relationship with Nina for friendship. That’s what we were Mary. Friends. That’s what we still are primarily. I love her deeply, I want to marry her, I want to spend the rest of my life with her, I want her to have my children, but she is my friend first and foremost. The best friend I’ve ever had.

“When she caught me with the engaged girl and told me she would never see me again I was crushed. I realized then how much she meant to me. Since then I haven’t done anything like that and I don’t plan to do it in the future. Nina is my future Mary. Can you understand that?”

“That’s just it,” she said. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t see past the fact that you were like Bob Simpson. That’s the whole point of what I’m trying to tell you now. You were Bob Simpson reincarnated, out to have my daughter. I was so sure of that fact that I didn’t see certain other things that were right in front of my nose the whole time.

“I told you what I thought about Nina’s apparent happiness to be with you. That was easily written off as part of your plan. But there are other things, things I didn’t acknowledge until you forced me to tonight. For instance I’m forced to ask myself why, if you were only after one thing, it has taken you so long to get it? You’ve been seeing Nina for more than two years now. Now I certainly don’t want to go into what, if any, sexual experience my daughter and you might have had, but if that is all you were after, surely you would have gotten it by now wouldn’t you?”

I nodded. “If that was what I was after, I would have,” I agreed.

“But still she remains committed to you, and you to her. The biggest thing I’m forced to see though, is you.”

“Me?” I asked.

“You,” she confirmed. “Tonight you and I were forced together, probably against both of our wills. I didn’t want to be with you, to have anything to do with you. I just wanted you to go away. But all the same I’ve been watching you when Nina is sitting next to you. I can see how you feel about her in your eyes. When I came in the room just now and saw you with your arm around her, holding her to you, you reminded me of Jack. You were holding her the way a man who loves a woman holds someone. You weren’t trying to cop a feel or put on a phony comforting act for her benefit because you thought it might get you inside of her later, you were genuinely concerned about her and you were genuinely trying to comfort her. You love her.”

“Yes,” I nodded enthusiastically, “I do. That’s what I’ve been trying to say all this time.”

“I recognize that now,” she said. “And I realize that you are not exactly Bob Simpson. But you’re close. And just because I recognize it doesn’t mean I like it, Bill. I’m willing to acknowledge that you and Nina are in love with each other. But I can’t forgive you for what you’ve done in the past and I have no proof that you are no longer doing such things. I still believe that Nina is heading for destruction by being with you.”

“That’s fair enough,” I told her. “You think that we’re too young to know what love really is and that I’ll give in to the temptation to stray away from Nina, right?”

“Roughly,” she answered.

“We are young,” I said. “But tell me this, do you think that Jack knew what he wanted when he told you he wanted to marry you before he went off to the war?”

“What?” she asked.

“He loved you back then. Very much from what I understand. And though he didn’t have the, uh, experience that I do, he was pretty certain that you were the woman for him. So do you think he knew what he was talking about?”

“Yes,” she agreed, seeing where I was taking this.

“That’s the same way I feel about Nina. I know she is whom I want to spend the rest of my life with. My experience has done nothing but show me that sex is nothing but hollow pleasure if it’s not with someone you love. I don’t plan to repeat those experiences. I am committed to Nina now and I will remain so. I’m the same age Jack was when he fell in love with you. Nina is older than you were when you fell in love with Jack. She’s older than I am in fact since I got to skip second grade. Why do you think that you, of the previous generation, have some sort of all-knowing lock on what love is and that those of us in this generation are clueless?”

The Look was strong upon her face. She smiled. “You are certainly a remarkable young man, Bill,” she said. “I’ll give you that. Like I said, I’m not quite sure you’re right for Nina and I’m not quite sure you are my idea of the perfect suitor. But there’s little I can do about it. You’ve proved yourself worthy of my giving you a chance. So for Nina’s sake I would like to extend you a welcome into our house for as long as you and she are together. Maybe someday I’ll learn to love you. Or maybe I won’t. But until we know for sure, you no longer have to hide on the porch when you come over. You’re welcome in our house.”

“Thank you, Mary,” I answered, touched by her cynical words. “I’ll take you up on that. And be assured, you’re not going to get rid of me.”

“Time will tell, Bill,” she answered. “Time will tell.”

________________________________________

Two days later Jack Blackmore was transferred to the hospital that I worked at in order to undergo bypass surgery. He was installed in a private room on the seventh floor. His spirits were reported to be high by Nina, who visited him daily after school, usually joining her mother there. I had not had opportunity to see him since the night he’d been taken away.

On the Tuesday following his heart attack I had a brief chat with my dad before I headed off to school.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asked me, nearly appalled by what I was suggesting.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it wise,” I agreed. “But it’s not dangerous. After all, the man is undergoing a bypass tomorrow. What can it hurt?”

Dad shook his head. “I’ll concede to your greater medical knowledge,” he told me. He did as I asked.

After work that night I went out to my car and put a few things into a plastic bag. I then went back inside. I rode the elevator up to the seventh floor and headed for the ICU where Jack was being stashed. Visiting hours were soon coming to a close and Nina and her mother had already gone for the night. I was unquestioned as I walked past the nurse’s station. The surgical scrubs I wore saw to that.

I entered his room and stood in the doorway for a moment. Jack Blackmore was dressed in a standard hospital gown. IV’s were installed in his arm and connected to a pump. Wires snaked from beneath the sheets and his gown and fed to a monitor on the wall above his head. He was sitting in the bed, which he’d adjusted to a chair position, watching a baseball game on the television. He looked over at me as I entered, his eyes taking a moment to realize that I was not just another hospital worker coming in to take his blood pressure or to get him to piss in a jar.

He nodded when he recognized me. “Bill,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I told him, coming in and closing the door behind me. “How are you?”

“Hanging in here,” he said as I took a seat. “I never did get a chance to thank you for talking me into going the other night.” He lowered his voice a little. “The doc tells me I might’ve died if I hadn’t of come in.”

“I was glad to help,” I assured him.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” he said, “I owe you one.”

“Maybe I’ll collect someday,” I said. “But in the meantime, I brought you something you might like.”

“What’s that?”

I reached into my bag and withdrew two dripping, icy cold bottles of beer. Beer that my Dad had bought for me that morning and which had sat in an ice chest in my car all day. It was his favorite brand. His eyes lit up as he saw them.

“I can’t drink that,” he told me, his voice far from virtuous.

“Sure you can,” I said. “You’re probably sick of Jell-O and powdered eggs about now. You’re probably even sicker of powdered orange juice. Have a brew. You’re going in for bypass surgery tomorrow. What can it hurt? Hell, they ought to be feeding you bacon and eggs and greasy tacos tonight. The cholesterol can’t hurt you now.”

He licked his lips for a moment and then said. “You have a gift for putting things into perspective, young man. Give me the beer.”

“Better pour it into your cup,” I instructed. “If the nurse comes in and sees it, she’ll kill me.”

He gave me a shrewd look. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

We poured the beer into the little plastic cups that are only found in hospitals and stashed the bottles away.

“To good health,” I offered, holding up my cup.

He nodded. “To good health.”

We clinked them together, well, not really, plastic doesn’t clink, but you get the idea. We drank. The beer was like nectar on my parched throat. It probably tasted even better to Jack Blackmore, who had just faced death in a much different way than he had in World War II.

“Mary tells me that you had a talk with her,” he said after the first drink.

I looked at him for a moment and then nodded. “I did.”

“Uh huh,” he grunted. “She also tells me she invited you into our house.”

I swallowed nervously, wondering if Mr. Blackmore was about to veto this decision, if he was about to tell me that he would see me in hell before he saw me in his house. “She did.”

“Well,” he said, sipping out of his beer again, “I guess I’ll have to agree with her then.”

It took me a moment for what he said to filter through, so much was I expecting the “see you in hell” speech. “You agree with her?” I finally asked.

“Young man,” he told me, “you alone have caused more turmoil in my household than anything since Bob Simpson himself. I’ve fought with my wife, my daughter, sometimes both at the same time over the subject of you. That last thing I ever thought I’d do was invite you into my house. But I’m forced to admit that much of the turmoil and arguing that you’ve caused was because of the preconceived notions that Mary and I had about you. Notions that, like Mary pointed out, are apparently wrong. I’m not inviting you over because you saved my life, although I’m grateful for that. I’m inviting you over because I think I was wrong about you. You’re not Bob Simpson. You’re an offshoot of him, but you’re not him. And I think that maybe you’re starting to get out of that stage. My daughter adores you, Bill, absolutely adores you. But I also realize that maybe you feel the same way about her. That maybe you were telling me the complete and honest truth that day I came over to your house. If that is so, I apologize for not believing you and ask that you understand why I didn’t.”

“I do,” I said. “I probably would’ve reacted the same in your shoes.”

“I suppose you would have,” he said. “I’m not sure I like you yet. I’m still holding judgment on that matter, but I’m going to give you a chance. Just like any father gives any suitor his daughter brings home.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You asked me the other day if I wanted to live to see grandkids.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I do,” he told me. “And I assume that you intend to provide those grandkids?”

I swallowed nervously again. “Yes,” I finally said. “I do.”

He nodded slowly, taking a long drink from his beer. “Be sure you treat my daughter right, Bill,” he said. “She’s the only one I got. I intend to live long enough to kick your ass if you ever hurt her. Do you understand?”

“I do. And you’re gonna have to live a long time to see that, Mr. Blackmore.”

We stared at each other for a moment. Finally his expression softened. “Who do you like?” he asked, jerking his head towards the television.

“Like?” I asked.

“In baseball?” he clarified, as if I was an idiot. “You’re from Spokane so I assume you like the Mariners.”

“Well to tell you the truth, Mr. Blackmore…”

“Jack,” he said. “Call me Jack.”

“Jack,” I said, the name sounding strange on my lips. “To tell you the truth I’m not much of a baseball fan. In fact I don’t really follow sports at all.”

“You don’t watch sports?” he asked, looking at me as if I was some sort of communist radical.

I shook my head. “No.”

“If you’re going to be dating my daughter, Bill, we’re going to have to change that.”

The next day Jack Blackmore went under the knife for a triple bypass operation. They cut open his leg and removed arteries from it. They then split open his chest, stopped his heart and installed those arteries in his heart, bypassing the occluded vessels. They restarted his heart and sewed him back up. The procedure took nearly five hours to complete from anesthesia to recovery room. Nina and Mary spent the day there, hanging around in the surgery waiting room, reading old magazines, drinking coffee, and worrying.

I spent the day in school and at work, doing some worrying of my own. At the front of my mind was the fact that I’d most likely pushed fate off of its path once more. Mr. Blackmore, Jack, was supposed to be dead in all likelihood. But now he wasn’t. Was fate going to work swiftly to reclaim him? Was he going to die on the operating table, a victim of reaction to anesthesia, improper procedure, or some other malady? Was he going to die of a post-op infection? A thousand things could go wrong, any of which a vengeful fate could seize upon in order to take the wayward Jack Blackmore out of the picture.

Since he was in the hospital where I worked I popped up to see how things were going at every opportunity. I stopped by upon arrival to find Nina and Mary still in the waiting room, waiting anxiously. I hugged Nina and told her it would be all right. She wiped a few tears away as she heard this. The words felt almost like a lie on my lips. By my second break he was out of surgery but not allowed any visitors yet. I offered more words of encouragement before heading back to my station. By my last break they’d both been in to see him. Their moods were better and they were more relaxed. He’d come out of surgery just fine, they told me, though he was in considerable pain.

I went back up when my shift was done and found them both in the private room he’d been moved to. They were sitting in the chairs by his bed, just watching him as he floated in and out of consciousness. I guessed, correctly as it turned out, that he’d been heavily medicated.

“How’s he doing?” I asked the two women in his life.

Before they could answer, Jack himself spoke up. “Like shit,” he said thickly, his eyes turning to me.

“Not good, huh?” I asked him, stepping closer.

“It feels like someone chopped my goddamn chest open with an axe,” he said.

“Jack,” Mary admonished automatically, “your language.”

He gave her a look, a look that only people that have been married for 33 years can pass.

I stayed with them until visiting hours were over. They seemed to have no problem with my presence there. Nina and I held hands as the conversation went back and forth and as Jack went in and out. He tried explaining the finer points of the Mariner’s strategy to me but the Demerol or whatever they were giving him made him continually forget what he was saying.

When we finally left him for the evening I rode the elevator down with Mary and Nina and we walked out to the parking lot. Their car was parked in the visitor lot while mine was parked in the employee lot. I walked them to their car and it was time for me to make my leave.

Mary walked around to the driver’s side of her car while Nina and I stood at the passenger door, looking awkwardly at each other.

“Well,” I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Are you going to be here?”

“Only in the late afternoon,” she said. “Since Daddy’s doing fine I’m going back to school and ROP.”

“Oh,” I replied, casting an eye at Mary, who was watching us, refusing to get into the car. “Well, I’ll see you at school tomorrow then and I’ll probably stop by here after work.”

“Good,” she smiled hesitantly. “Well…”

“Well…” I repeated. We continued to stare at each other, casting nervous glances at her mother.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Mary suddenly announced. “If you want to kiss each other go ahead and do it. I’ve seen you do it often enough through the curtains.” With that she huffily got into the car.

Nina and I looked at her and then at each other, astonishment and embarrassment on our faces.

“You heard Mom,” Nina told me, smiling.

“Yep,” I said, leaning in and kissing her.

The next day Nina went back to school, as she’d said. She would not be able to visit her father in the hospital until at least four o’clock. Jack was continuing his recovery and was reported to be doing well. Mary Blackmore was holding vigil at the hospital.

I reported to work as usual, not stopping upstairs. At my first break I stood hesitantly outside the central supply department. Finally I pushed the elevator call. When it arrived I rode upstairs.

When I entered the room Mary and Jack were talking softly about something. They both looked at me strangely as I entered. We stared at each other, nobody wanting to talk, neither of them wanting to ask me what I was doing there without Nina.

Finally I stepped in. “Jack?” I asked. “How are you doing?”

He hesitated for a moment, continuing to look at me. At last he said, “A little better. Not much, but a little.”

“Good,” I replied, going over and grabbing a seat.

________________________________________

Jack stayed in the hospital for two weeks. He suffered no post-op infections and in fact made what was termed by his cardiologist a “remarkable recovery”. During this time I made it a habit to head upstairs on breaks and check on him, to pass a few words with the elder Blackmores. It was only two days before they stopped looking at me strangely and started greeting me with something approaching warmth. And of course I visited after work when Nina was there.

Understandably Nina and I had little time or place or mood for physical affections. Our brief kiss as we parted at night as Nina climbed into her dad’s car, Mary climbed in her car, and I climbed in mine became an accepted ritual with her mother but there were no rendezvous at the empty house, no making out, no dates.

When Jack was released he was still in pain, particularly when we moved his chest or took a deep breath, but he was much better. He was instructed to get up every day and walk or perform some other form of exercise. He was instructed to change his diet, to avoid alcohol, and to avoid everything else that was the least amount of fun. He would be off work for at least another month before he would be allowed back on light duty for another two months. If all went well he would be able to resume his route about the time that Nina and I left for college.

Two days after Jack went home, I went to work as usual. The first thing that happened was Mindy greeting me at the locker room door as I emerged dressed in my scrubs and sterile cap.

“Hi, Mindy,” I said, somewhat surprised to see her there. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Bill,” she greeted, smiling. “I got a question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Since you’re my favorite employee,” she said, “I thought I’d ask you first. My husband and I bought tickets for Fiddler On The Roof on Saturday night down at the theater. But the asshole went and got himself a promotion at work and has to go to Seattle for a training session over the weekend.”

“Really?” I asked, immediately interested.

“Yeah,” she said sourly. “Anyway, I’m trying to get rid of the tickets now. I paid twenty apiece for them but if you’re interested I’d be willing to let them go for ten apiece.” She smiled a little. “Of course they won’t let you have the complimentary glass of wine, but hey? So what do you say?”

“I say, will you take a check?”

Nina was delighted to go to the theater with me. She’d never been to such a thing before, had never even seen the movie version of Fiddler On The Roof. She was a little nervous about having to dress nice for the occasion-rarely did we go someplace where a dress code was in place-but she was excited about it whenever I talked to her.

She called me up Saturday afternoon about one o’clock.

“Mom and Dad want to know if you’d like to come over for dinner with us before we go?” she asked me.

“You’re kidding,” I said, feeling a little nervous at the prospect. Though the Blackmores had warmed to me during Jack’s stay in the hospital I still had not been inside their house since the day of his heart attack. To me it didn’t seem we were quite ready for that step despite the invitations from them.

“Not at all,” Nina replied. “She’s making her roast chicken.”

I had enjoyed Mary’s roast chicken once before, in the days before our break-up, back when they’d still thought I was a suitable companion for their daughter. It was truly a work of art. “Well,” I said doubtfully. “What do you think?”

“I think you should come,” she said softly. “They’re trying, Bill, they’re trying to accept you. I think you might do some damage to that if you refuse.”

I sighed. “What time then?”

“Four-thirty.”

“Tell your mom and dad I’d be honored to accept their invitation.”

I had just hung up the phone and was heading for the bathroom when it rang again.

“You got that?” I heard Dad yell from the other room where he was watching a nature program on PBS.

“Yeah,” I called back, “it’s probably Nina again.”

He grunted something in reply and I picked up the phone. “Hello?”

It was not Nina. “Bill Stevens please?” A gruff voice demanded more than asked. I was immediately on guard just hearing it.

“This is Bill,” I said slowly. “And who is this?”

“Mr. Stevens,” said the voice. “Sergeant Matt Cable, U.S. Marines. How are you today?”

U.S. Marines? What the hell? A part of me wondered if this had anything to do with the Beirut bombing I’d tried to stop. Was Sergeant Cable from intelligence? If so, he wouldn’t have called on the phone, would he? “I’m just fine, uh, sergeant. What can I help you with?”

“Well, Mr. Stevens,” Cable told me forcefully, “the question here is what I can help you with.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you planning to go to college?” he asked next.

“Yes,” I said. “Uh, Sergeant, perhaps you could…”

“Good,” he went on, not even hearing me. “And have you thought about how you’re going to pay for college?”

Suddenly I got it. He was a recruiter! He was trying to get me to join the Marines. How the hell did he get my phone number? I didn’t remember any recruiters calling me at home in my previous life. But even as I thought this a vague edge of a memory surfaced, more a sense of déjà vu. Maybe they had called me and I’d just dismissed it.

“Uh, yes, sergeant, I have college expenses all taken care of. Thank you very much for asking. Now I’m kind of busy and…”

“Ahh,” Cable went on again, “but did you realize just how expensive college really is? The average cost today for a four-year degree is approximately thirty thousand dollars. Do you have that kind of money?”

“I will,” I said shortly. “Listen, I appreciate your calling and all, but I’m really not interested in joining the Marines. How did you get my number anyway?”

“The high schools in the area provide us with a list of graduating seniors,” he said absently. “But really, Mr. Stevens, I think you should give some thought to the Corps. It will give you four years of discipline and maturity. You’ll get to serve your country in the most honorable way imaginable, and you’ll make over forty thousand dollars for college while you’re doing it. You can also learn valuable job skills.”

“Like charging machine gun nests?” I asked.

“What?” he said, confused. He was obviously not accustomed to having his sales pitch interrupted.

“Valuable skills, you said. Is charging machine gun nests and jumping out of landing craft onto a hostile beach a valuable skill? What if I get killed? Can’t really go to college then, can I?”

He paused for the longest time. Finally he said, “You misunderstand, Mr. Stevens. Not everybody in the Corps does that. There are many support positions that require skilled individuals. We will train you in those skills. For instance, computer science, an up and coming field. We can train you in it. By the time you get out you’ll possess a valuable civilian skill and you’ll have money to go to college with to expand upon it. Not only that, you’ll have had the satisfaction of serving your country.”

“Uh huh,” I replied. “And suppose I take the ASVAB and it tells you that I’d make a lousy computer tech? Suppose it tells you that I’m not good for much of anything besides shooting a gun and charging out of landing craft? The ASVAB is taken after I’ve signed my name, right? So if it tells you I should be a grunt and I’ve asked for computer science, where am I going to end up?”

This threw him completely off guard. “Uh… well,” he stammered, “the fact of the matter is…”

“The fact of the matter is that you just want me to sign my name on the line and you don’t care what happens to me after that. You don’t care because you got whatever points they’ve given you for signing up another stupid kid so your cohorts can train me to love the idea of dying for my country in some conflict over oil supplies or something equally worthless. Do you believe in honoring your father, Sergeant Cable?”

“Well, of course,” he answered, reeling from what I’d just said. He didn’t have enough sense to gleam the fact that I wasn’t interested and end the conversation.

“Well my father didn’t charge machine gun nests or fight VC. He braved hostile police and National Guard soldiers so he could smoke dope and burn his draft card. If I were to join the Marines after he went through all of that, it would be an awful betrayal, don’t you think?”

He didn’t answer that one, there was only silence on the line.

“So if it’s all the same to you,” I finished, “I’ll just go to college with the money I have, study well, and leave the machine gun nest charging to those too stupid to see through your used car salesman speech. And hopefully we’ll have ourselves a nice war sometime and they’ll reinstate the draft so I can go to protests and smoke dope and burn my draft card and honor my father in a manner that he so deserves. Good day, sir, and please lose this phone number.”

I clicked down the phone, smiling to myself. That was the most fun I’d had without Nina in quite some time.

________________________________________

The day was a glorious example of spring in Spokane; perhaps the nicest time of the year in our city. Unlike Western Washington, we don’t get near the rainfall and cloud cover in the eastern portion of the state. At ten minutes to four, when I headed over to the Blackmore house, the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a deep blue, the trees were blooming with fresh leaves and fruit blossoms, and the temperature was a pleasant 72 degrees.

I was actually sweating a little in my suit and tie, both from the warmth upon my thick clothing and from the nervousness of having dinner with Nina’s parents. I wheeled to the curb, took a few deep breaths to gather my courage, and then headed to the door.

Nina answered it and she quickly made me forget about her parents. She was wearing a pretty black and white dress complete with nylons and high heels. Her face was made up and her hair was styled attractively. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the sight of her, as I saw her blush at my perusal.

“I’ve never worn anything like this before,” she said, embarrassed. “Mom helped me pick it out.”

“It’s beautiful,” I told her, leaning forward and giving her a peck on the lips. “Your mother has good taste.”

“Thank you,” Mary Blackmore said dryly from just inside the doorway. It was my turn to blush.

“You look very nice too, Bill,” Nina squeaked, standing aside to allow me entry.

I stepped inside to find her mother, wearing a pantsuit and a cooking apron, appraising me. We looked at each other for a moment.

“How do you do, Mary?” I asked politely. “Thank you for inviting me over.”

She nodded, her face forming the slightest hint of a smile. “I told you that you’re welcome in our house, Bill,” she said. “And Nina’s right. You do look very nice. Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” I assured her, telling the absolute truth.

“Well good,” she said, turning and heading for the kitchen, “because I’ve made enough for an army.”

While her mother went to finish dinner Nina led me into the living room where Jack was sitting in his recliner, watching television. The Mariners were battling the Blue Jays and apparently getting the shit kicked out of them. Jack seemed in a foul mood because of this.

“Hi, Jack,” I said nervously, seeing the scowl on his face.

“Goddamn bunch of pansies!” he yelled at the TV as a Mariner hit into a double play. Beside him a glass of lemonade sat untouched so long the ice was melted.

“Jack, your language,” came drifting out of the kitchen.

He shot an irritated look in that direction for a moment and then turned to me. “There’s no hope,” he told me.

“No?” I asked carefully.

“None,” he assured me. “Well don’t just stand there. Have a seat. Watch this pathetic excuse for a game with me until dinner. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Okay,” I said, heading to the couch. Nina came with me. When she sat down she did it inexpertly, since she was not used to wearing a dress. It hiked all the way up to mid-thigh before she shifted and pulled it back down. It took every ounce of my willpower to keep from gazing at this directly, instead of with my peripheral vision. Somehow I managed.

Jack saw my struggle. I know he did. I think I gained a point or two with him.

He continued to explain the finer points of baseball to me as we sat there, while Nina looked bored. His conversation was peppered with the occasional “goddamn”, which was always answered by an admonishment from Mary in the kitchen, no matter how softly he muttered it. Each admonishment was met with an irritated stare back towards the kitchen.

When Mary called us to dinner we sat down at the table, Nina seated next to me. We dug into delicately basted and roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, and homemade biscuits. It was all as wonderful as I remembered it. Many boys, when taking dinner with their girlfriend’s family for the first time make the mistake of only eating one helping for fear of looking like a pig. I did no such thing. I ate until I was stuffed, refilling my plate twice. It wasn’t hard to do. I knew I’d earned some brownie points with Mary.

We pushed away our plates at last and Jack stifled a burp, an action that earned him a sharp look from his wife but no verbalization.

“Great dinner, Mare,” he told her affectionately, patting his stomach. “Up to your usual standards.”

“I agree,” I put in. “Your chicken was divine.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she said tonelessly, though obviously pleased with the praise. She stood up. “Let me start clearing the table.”

While she began picking up the dishes Jack turned to me. “Chicken is good,” he told me. “Especially the way Mary does it, but there’s nothing like fresh meat you’ve brought down yourself. You like venison?”

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I’ve never had it.”

He looked at me in disbelief for a moment. “You’ve never had venison?”

“Never,” I said. “My dad doesn’t hunt.”

“So you’ve never had elk either?”

“Never.”

“Boy,” he said, “you’ve lived in Spokane all of your life and you’ve never had venison or elk?”

I shook my head.

“Amazing,” he said, staring. “So you don’t have a hunting rifle then?”

“I’ve never fired a gun in my life,” I told him.

“Bill,” he said seriously, “you and I are going to have to take a little trip one of these Octobers over to the panhandle. You’re not one of those goddamn animal rights activists are you?”

“Jack,” Mary warned from the sink.

“No,” I told him, wondering if he was really offering to take me hunting. Was this the same man who had stormed my house on New Years Day? “I suppose I’ve never been hunting before because my dad has never been hunting before. There was nobody to show me how to do it. I’d really like to learn how if you’d teach me.”

He nodded, smiling. “The first October you have free, you come see me,” he said. “We’ll get you a rifle and a license and we’ll head up. I’ll show you what it’s really all about.”

“That’ll be cool,” I answered truthfully. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

________________________________________

“I think Mom and Dad are actually starting to like you,” Nina told me as we drove towards downtown and the theater building.

“Yeah,” I agreed, resting my hand on her nyloned knee. “Weird, isn’t it?”

“They’re starting to see you as I do. Especially Daddy.”

I looked over at her. “I’m not gonna have to kiss him, am I?” I asked.

She chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe he’s a good kisser. He’s certainly done it more than I have.”

“Well, maybe we’ll play a little catch-up tonight,” I suggested slyly.

“Maybe we will,” she answered back, just as slyly.

We both enjoyed the play immensely. Nina because it was the first time she’d seen a live play and because the story was both romantic and tragic, elements she loved in her art. Me because it was one of my favorite productions and because I was seeing it with Topol, the Russian Jew who played the part in the movie, cast as the lead character, something I’d never been able to see in my previous life. The acting and singing were magnificent and by the end Nina had tears streaming down her cheeks as the Jews were forced from their village. I myself had to stifle tears despite having seen the play and the movie multiple times before.

We joined the throngs exiting the theater and made our way to my car, walking hand in hand, talking about what we’d just seen as we went. Nina went on and on about the story, the plot, the acting, the thrill of seeing it live. I was glad that I was there to share this first experience with her, to hear her reactions to it.

When we reached my Datsun I opened the door for her and she sat down. Her skirt rode up again as she did this, reaching well above mid-thigh. This time there was no father to think about and my eyes drank in the sight of her legs, clad in dark nylon and spread just a tad. I felt warmth spreading to various parts of my body as I witnessed this.

Nina saw where my eyes were glued and she smiled, pulling down her skirt demurely. “What were you looking at?” she asked teasingly.

“A work of art,” I told her, making her blush.

I got into my side of the car and started it up, heading for the freeway. My hand dropped to her left knee, leaving it only to shift gears.

“It’s still early,” Nina told me, glancing at her watch.

I looked at mine, seeing it was shortly after ten o’clock. “Kind of,” I agreed.

“It’s a nice night,” she said next, looking at me, her own hand dropping to my thigh.

“That it is,” I answered, suppressing a smile.

Silence developed. Finally she said, “So why don’t we go find a nice place to sit for a while and just look at the stars and the moon?”

“The stars and the moon?” I asked lightly.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “They’re very pretty tonight. I’d like to look at them. Surely you know a place where we can look at them alone.”

I grinned, nodding slowly. “I think I know such a place,” I said, putting on the gas a little.

“I thought you might.”

The place was a little used park near the falls, almost directly across the river from the larger park where the high school students liked to have their keggers. As a matter of fact we could hear the faint hoots and howls and drunken laughter mixed with the indecipherable sounds of car stereos drifting over the roar of the falls towards us. A kegger was going on as we sat there.

I had long since removed my tie and unbuttoned the collar of my shirt. I’d also thrown my jacket in the back of the car. We walked over to a picnic table and sat on the surface of it, our feet resting on the wooden seat, looking out at the falling water, smelling the mist. Our hands intertwined gently and we simply looked for a while, not speaking. There was a light breeze, warm enough to keep us from shivering and the sound of thousands of crickets chirping came from behind us. The stars and the moon were shining in the sky.

“It really is a beautiful night,” I offered, edging a little closer to her.

“Yes,” she agreed, letting her head fall to my shoulder. “It’s too bad we don’t have a blanket or something so we could lie on the ground and really look at the stars. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I have the blanket in my trunk from when we went on the picnic last month,” I offered, thanking whatever gods there was that I was a lousy housekeeper.

Nina gulped and then raised her head back up. “Really?”

“Really,” I said seriously.

“Break it out.”

We spread it about fifty yards away from the car, near the cliff that led to the river below the falls. When the wind blew right a fine spray of mist would hit us delicately. We lay down on our backs, about a foot apart, our hands together, our heads looking upwards.

“Do you like astronomy?” she asked me, her thumb tracing circles around the back of my hand.

I shrugged. “I’ve read a little on it,” I told her, only semi-lying. In my previous life I’d taken an astronomy course in college as a science elective. That had been in my pot-smoking days. There’s nothing like getting stoned and heading up to the college’s observatory in the middle of the night. I got an A in the class.

“So have I,” she told me. “I bet I can name more stars than you.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “What’s the bet?”

“Loser has to kiss the winner until they say to stop,” she offered.

I nodded, feeling my penis stir in my suit pants. “You’ve got yourself a bet.”

She pointed to the most obvious. “Polaris,” she said.

I pointed to another. “Regulus,” I told her, pulling out my big guns.

“Amateur,” she scoffed, pointing again. “Betelgeuse.”

“Not bad,” I allowed, pointing at a fuzzy blur. “You see that one?”

“Which one?”

Gently I took her face in my hands and pointed it in the direction I was looking. “That red one over there about ten degrees west of Cassiopeia.”

“I see it,” she said, looking at me instead of the star.

“That’s Mars,” I said firmly.

“No it’s not,” she told me. “Mars is a planet and the planets are all in the ecliptic. Besides, Mars isn’t visible right now.”

“It’s not Mars?” I asked innocently.

“No.”

“Bummer,” I said. “I guess I lose then.”

We stared at each other in the moonlight. “I guess you do,” she told me, angling her face towards mine.

There was no slow build up to our kisses, our tongues found each other in the first two seconds while our arms and hands pulled our bodies together. I felt the scratchy material of her dress beneath my hands, the outline of her bra straps bulging from beneath. Her hands yanked the back of my dress shirt out of my pants and then plunged beneath it, her manicured nails scratching at my back.

I rolled her onto her back, pressing my body to hers and began to kiss her neck, inhaling the perfume she’d applied, working my way down to the hollow of her throat. She arched her back as I kissed her there, licking lightly with my tongue, tasting her delicate skin.

“I’ve missed this so much,” she told me breathlessly as my hand slid up her flank and across the bulge of her right breast.

“Have you?” I muttered, nipping at her skin lightly, my fingers coming to rest on the silver button at the front of her dress. It was cool to the touch, round, and I swirled around it, playing with it.

“Yes,” she said, kissing the top of my head, her hands pulling free from my shirt.

Slowly I undid the button, leaving a gap in the front of her dress. She smiled, arching her back a little more. My fingers dropped to the second button. In the moonlight I could now make out the top of her bra and the upper swell of her breasts. I leaned my head down and kissed her chest, just above this, running my tongue down to the top of her bra. She shivered in delight, pulling me closer. I undid the remaining buttons, spreading the dress wide open, so her entire bra was visible to me.

I let my mouth travel between her breasts, feeling the cotton material pressing into my flesh and then I began to kiss her ribcage below the bra cups; teasing, soft kisses punctuated with licks. Nina moaned softly at the sensation, her fingers finding my hair. I worked my way back and forth beneath her breasts, my mouth kissing every inch of the exposed skin of her chest. Occasionally I would rub my cheek across her bra cup and feel the material and the protrusion of her nipples sliding across.

Finally my hands slid behind her back and found the clasp of her bra. With a quick flick it was undone. I slid my hands back around to the front and pushed upward, moving the now-loosened bra off her breasts, baring them. I looked at them in the moonlight, seeing the rigid nipples, seeing how they heaved up and down with her excited respiration.

“They’re beautiful,” I told her softly. “I’d like to kiss them.”

“Ohh,” she groaned, pulling my head down.

I took the right nipple in my mouth, sucking on it gently, as I had in the car that night. I swirled my tongue around it, suckled it, kissed it, made it stand out proudly before I switched to the other one. Nina held me firmly to her as my hand dropped down and landed on her knee, where it began squeezing and caressing through the nylon. Slowly I began to slide my hand upward.

I was ready to halt the exploration of my hand at the slightest sign of protest but I received none. Her legs slowly parted, encouraging further travel. I shifted to the inside, my digits trailing over the smooth nylon and tight muscle of her thigh. I reached the hem of her dress and slowly continued onward. She opened her legs wider. I squeezed her inner thigh, marveling at the feel of her legs in pantyhose and then the back of my hand reached the junction of her legs; the panty portion of the hose. I felt dampness against my knuckles and Nina drew in a sharp breath, pushing her crotch into me.

Continuing to suck her breasts I let my hand turn over so my fingers were now touching her. I felt the wet material and the outline of her swollen lips. I pushed slightly, making circles around the area, memorizing the feel of this moment, making out the bulge of her clit through the thin layer of clothing.

“Oh God,” Nina moaned, her hips bucking a little. “That feels so good.”

I raised my head from her breasts and moved it back up, so I was staring in her eyes. They were shining and very excited.

“It’s not supposed to feel bad,” I whispered to her, bringing my lips to hers once more.

Her tongue plunged into my mouth, attacking mine viciously, her lips sucking it into her mouth. Her hand slid down to my crotch and began to squeeze my erection through my dress pants, making my own hips begin an involuntary rhythm.

My fingers left her junction and continued upward, across her lower stomach, seeking and finding the top of her pantyhose just under her belly button. I slid one finger beneath the elastic, touching her bare stomach, letting it slide back and forth along the edge.

“Yes,” she whispered into my mouth, sucking my upper lip, running her tongue along my teeth.

I pushed downward once again, this time beneath the pantyhose, my fingers feeling the soft flesh of her lower stomach and finally encountering coarse, curly hair. I pushed onward and she spread her legs even more. I touched warm wetness and smooth lips, felt the erect clit and then my middle finger was resting against her lips. Her crotch began to push upward against my hand, demanding more, so I gave it to her. My middle finger slowly slid into her tight warmth, her membranes clutching at me greedily. It slid in easily, lubricated by her copious juices. She was tight, tighter than anything I’d ever felt before, tight enough that I worried if intercourse was even possible with her.

“Oh, Bill,” she moaned, squeezing me extra hard. Suddenly her fingers were fumbling with my belt. She pulled the end free of the loop and gave a sharp yank, freeing the buckle.

“Nina?” I asked, panting.

“I want to feel it,” she told me, nipping at my neck.

I nodded and her fingers popped open the button on my pants. She yanked the zipper down and plunged her hand inside, diving beneath my underwear. Suddenly her cool, eager fingers were around my cock, feeling it, touching it, moving harshly over it while her hips continued to move up and down under my own fingers.

She was inexpert at the job but that didn’t matter. The feel of her hand on my bare flesh was thrilling enough, the thought that she was touching me intimately driving me on. I let my finger slide out of her a little and I began pushing against her clit, rubbing my hand in circles.

“Ohhhh!” she moaned, her own hand becoming erratic and finally dropping away from me. “Yesss, Bill!” she cried, grabbing my forearm and pulling it harder into her. Her hips were now blurring up and down, moving with instinctive force. Her juices were soaking me as I rubbed her clit and slid my digit in and out.

She lost the ability to speak coherently. She only moaned and said things like, “Ohhhh yesss, ohhhhh Bill, ooooh.” Finally she arched upward and all of her muscles tightened. Her fingernails bit into my forearm painfully and from her lips came: “Mmmmm!”

I continued to rub her until she relaxed once more, her butt dropping back down to the blanket. A contented sigh escaped from her lips and she looked up at me. Slowly I pulled my hand from her crotch. It was dripping wet and I resisted the urge to put it to my nose, to inhale her special scent for the first time.

“Wow,” she muttered, taking deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” I asked gently, a little worried that I’d overwhelmed her.

“Yesss,” she breathed. “That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. Having you do it is much better than…” She stopped suddenly, realizing what she was saying.

I must say that I was shocked by her words. “Better than what?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Though it was very dim lighting I could tell she was blushing again. “Well,” she said, giggling a little, “you know? After our other, uh, sessions, I had to do something to get myself to sleep at night. There’s nothing wrong with it you know.”

No there was nothing wrong with it. In fact the mental image of Nina laying in her bed and masturbating herself was so powerful and erotic that I nearly came just thinking about it. For some reason I just hadn’t considered the possibility that she was doing that, although my first act upon returning home was a quick session with my five best friends.

“I think that’s very sexy,” I told her.

She giggled again. “Now you know one of my secrets. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Of course not,” I said, laughing. Who would I tell? Her Dad? Her Mom?

“It’s just embarrassing,” she said, her hand touching my cheek. “But it was nothing like it felt when you did it to me just now. I mean, wow.” She shook her head.

“I’m glad I could help,” I said, kissing her lips.

“What about you?” she asked. “Do you ever, you know?”

“Masturbate?” I asked teasingly.

“Well, yes.”

Now had I been a normal teenager I wouldn’t have admitted it under torture. I would have claimed that I’d never so much as laid a finger on my penis, not even to pee, not even to wash it. Teenagers have a horror of being discovered masturbating. But I was not an ordinary teenager and I knew that women were as turned on by the thought of a guy jerking off as guys were thinking about women doing it.

“All the time,” I told her. “Especially after one of our sessions. Especially then.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes shining with arousal again.

“Really,” I assured her. “After we make out I have to. You see, when I’m uh, turned on for a long time without uh, relief, it actually causes pain if I don’t.”

“You mean blue balls?” she said clinically.

I laughed. “Nina, you never fail to surprise me,” I told her. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“So every time you and I have made out you’ve gone home and…”

“Whacked off,” I confirmed.

“Wow,” she whispered, licking her lips. “What do you think about when you do it?”

“You,” I said. “Making love to you.”

She gulped, her eyes drifting down to my dick, which was still protruding through my pants, as erect as it could be. “So you’re going to do that tonight when you get home?” she asked.

“First thing,” I answered.

She hesitated for a second. “Maybe I could, you know, do it for you?”

“What?” I asked, my dick giving a twitch at the thought.

“You did it for me,” she said, sliding her hand over my chest. “The least I could do is return the favor, right?”

I swallowed. “Well… if you really want to…”

“I do,” she whispered, pushing me onto my back. “Just tell me how to do it.”

She reached out and grasped me once more, encircling my shaft with her fingers.

“Do I move it up and down?” she asked, doing just that.

“Yeah,” I breathed, lost in the sensation of her hand upon me. I directed her to move it upward a little more and to increase her speed and loosen her grip. Eager to learn, she complied. Her hand stroked me softly, finally gaining speed as my hips began to move up and down.

“Involuntary action of voluntary muscles,” she said, watching this phenomenon. She speeded up, increasing the pressure.

“Uh huh,” I grunted.

“How much will come out?” she asked me, just as I started to feel the tingles running up my spine.

“A lot at this point,” I groaned, actually humping her hand.

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhhhhh!” I breathed. “I’m gonna…”

She watched intently as orgasm assaulted me and my dick began to spurt jet after jet of pent up semen from the head. I groaned in pleasure, the exquisite feeling of relief, doubled by the fact that it was not my hand that was providing it. It shot straight up and landed on my stomach, my pants, my shirt. It covered Nina’s hand, running down the back of it, sticking to her fingers. The blue ball sensation, which had been building in my testicles, was relieved in an instant.

When the last bit dribbled out Nina removed her hand and looked at it. “Wow,” she said. “That was very sexy, Bill. Can we do that again sometime?”

“You bet,” I agreed, basking in the afterglow.

It took a few minutes to clean ourselves up. There was a hopeless stain on my dress pants that would require a dry cleaner to remove but Nina had somehow managed to only wrinkle her dress and run her pantyhose in one spot. It was high on her thigh, probably a result of my hand being in there and her mother would most likely not notice it.

When we were composed we kissed each other one more time and carried the blanket back to my car. From across the river the sound of the kegger continued. I smiled as I thought that I’d just had much more fun than most of them would have and that I wouldn’t wake up with a hangover as a result.

We talked of inconsequential things on the drive home, both of us still glowing from the experience we had just shared, both of us realizing that things were moving forward in our relationship. I gave her a long, luxuriant kiss goodnight at her front door, not even caring that her mother was probably watching, and then watched her until she was safely inside.

I drove home to a darkened house, my parents already in bed. I went directly to bed, smiling as I fell asleep.

Graduation night came at last. We put on our dress clothes and then covered them with gowns. We put stupid looking hats on our heads and filed into the school auditorium where our parents were assembled. We listened to a bunch of boring speeches by the principal, a guest speaker, and the school valedictorian, Carrie Founder, who had an appointment with a good-looking loser and an overdose of anti-depressants in her future. She rattled on and on so long that she began receiving catcalls from her bored peers. At last we filed across the stage where the principal read our names from a little card we each discreetly slipped to him and he then handed us a fake roll of paper with a ribbon attached to it. Our real diplomas, we were promised, would come in the mail in a week or so. Flashbulbs exploded from the audience like strobe lights.

Nina, Mike, and I hung together through all of this, passing the occasional comment under our breaths, Nina and I holding hands for much of the night. We got our fake diplomas and returned to our seats, watching, catatonic, as the rest of our class marched through one by one. Why are these so-called “great memories” that people go on and on about-graduations, weddings, bar mitzvahs-so damn dull while you’re actually sitting through them? Most of the students, myself included, were looking forward to what came after the ceremony.

The school was of course sponsoring a graduation party. It was to be at a local community center and was touted as a fun-filled celebration with dancing, music, and food in a safe, alcohol-free environment. Of course no one but the geekiest planned to be there, although many had claimed to their parents that was where they were going. The real party was to be at the falls where three kegs were being brought in for the occasion. Marijuana sales had also gone through the roof in the preceding two days.

When the ceremony was over everyone headed out to the parking lot. Hundreds of students and parents hugged each other, slapped each other on the back, shook hands, posed for the obligatory pictures, and generally congratulated each other on surviving the Spokane Public School System with their lives and sanity intact. Then the parents began to drift to their cars, leaving the students to their own devices. Of course the memory of Lisa Sanchez’s untimely death on the previous graduation night was strong among the parents. Admonishments to be careful, and not to drink and drive, and other worried comments echoed through the parking lot followed by the reassurances of those who thought themselves immortal.

Even my dad, knowing what he did about me, was worried.

“You’ll be okay tonight, Bill?” he asked as we stood next to his car.

“You bet, Dad,” I told him. “I’m going to be the designated driver tonight. I’ll get everyone home safe.”

He nodded slowly and then climbed into the car, Mom beside him. They drove off and I returned to Nina, who was standing with her own parents.

“Congratulations, Bill,” Jack told me, holding out his hand. I shook it and then received a surprise when Mary, repeating his words, actually stepped forward and hugged me.

“Thank you,” I told both of them, giving Mary my best hug before she released me.

“Where are you two going tonight?” Jack asked next.

“Oh, just to a party,” Nina replied vaguely.

Jack gave her a knowing look. “And will there be drinking at this party?” he asked.

Nina hesitated and was probably about to give him a pathetic lie. Nina was not a very good liar, particularly to her parents. But I jumped in.

“There certainly will be,” I said.

Nina looked sharply at me, her expression disbelief. Jack and Mary also seemed surprised.

“It’s graduation night,” I went on. “I believe that the law states you must drink on graduation night. But have no fear. I’m driving and I take that very seriously. I’ll get Nina home safely, I promise.”

“You’re not going to drink?” Jack asked, skeptical.

“Maybe a beer or two at the beginning,” I answered, “but I’ll be sober when it’s time to come home. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jack told me, his eyes boring into me. “Remember what I told you about my daughter. She’s the only one I got.”

“And remember what I told you about your daughter,” I shot back. “She’ll be safe with me. Won’t you, Nina?”

“Of course,” she said softly, watching the exchange and realizing it was taking place on a level she was not a part of.

Jack and Mary finally climbed in their car and drove off. Nina and I went to find Mike, who was explaining to his parents how he was going to the school sponsored party where no alcohol was allowed. His parents were reassured by this and were smiling as they entered their own car. When they were gone we all looked at each other.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“Fuckin aye!” Mike put in happily.

We climbed into my car and headed for the falls.

I must say that it was very eerie being at the party. You see, I’d attended it before when I’d graduated the first time in my previous life. The only differences were the presence of Mike, who had not graduated before, and Nina, who had not been a member of the party-group before. Aside from that, everything was the same. Everything.

The kegs were scattered throughout the parking lot as they had been before, lines of people, still dressed in their dress clothes, winding their way to the tap to fill their cups. The same cooperative effort with the car stereos had occurred, with everyone agreeing to tune them to the local rock station and not to play any tapes. The music of Van Halen, Foreigner, Dio, Black Sabbath, Ozzy Osborne, and others marched by and I was almost able to predict which song was coming next. The conversations were the same and though I hadn’t memorized them on my first trip through, hearing them as I went by it was uncanny how much my subconscious had absorbed seventeen years before. It was a little like being in the middle of a dream, one of those dreams you have of prior events in your life, but never had the sensation of déjà vu been so strong.

Nina, Mike and I paid our money and had our hands stamped. I quickly drank down three beers, giving myself a pleasant, non-dangerous buzz. The alcohol was able to dampen the sensation a little but not completely. It was very disquieting.

Mike of course was hitting the keg as fast as he could, filling his cup and then walking immediately to the back of the line. By the time he reached the tap again, his cup would be empty. He then repeated the process. He also had several joints with him, which he shared with those in line around him. It was less than an hour before he was hopelessly wasted. This was not surprising.

What was surprising was the fact that Nina was sticking with him and doing the exact same thing. She was drinking beer like water and hitting every joint or pipe that was passed her way. I’d never seen her do anything like this before.

“You might want to slow down a little,” I suggested to her as she came staggering over to me after her latest trip through the keg line. She was weaving and unsteady on her feet, spilling some of her beer on her arm.

“Fuck it!” she said, giggling. “I’m having a good time tonight. How many times in your life do you graduate?”

I nodded. “Good point. But be careful. If you keep up this pace you’re going to be unconscious before too long.”

She reached down and grabbed my cock through my pants, making me jump and look around to see if anyone had seen it. A few had, and they turned away, smirking.

“Nina!” I admonished, pushing her hand away.

“I’m not gonna pass out until I get what I want,” she grinned, taking a huge drink of her beer.

Apparently Nina wasn’t the only one whose inhibitions were being destroyed by alcohol. Every time she walked away from me some girl would come up and strike up a conversation. Most of them were girls that I’d bedded before during my “male-slut” period. Most of them made no bones about what they wanted.

I’d run into this before of course. When I stopped making my rounds and committed myself to Nina a lot of the girls continued to approach me for a while. They always used the line that I was used to, that they needed help “studying” and had heard that I was an awesome tutor. I would tell each one the same thing, that I had a girlfriend now and that my tutoring days were over. It hadn’t taken long before the grapevine had informed all but the most aggressive that I was out of circulation. Even the most aggressive gave up after a while. But the party atmosphere and the alcohol had renewed a lot of the aggression. I believe I gave up more sex that night than I ever would have thought possible.

One girl, Jessica Round, was especially persistent. She would not take no for an answer. I remembered her well. A redhead that was a member of the elite, she’d been well versed in sexual technique before I ever got to her. She had been one of my favorites both because of her staggering good looks and because of the fact that she was on birth control pills, which made a condom unnecessary. She had been one of the longest holdouts when I’d dropped out of circulation.

Three times she approached me when Nina was getting her beer refilled or heading off to the porta-can to pee. On the third time she became nasty in her suggestions.

“C’mon,” she pleaded, burping a little as she sipped from her beer. “I haven’t had my pussy eaten with any skill since I came over to your house that time. Ditch that little lisping, skinny chick you’re with and take a walk with me.” She grinned. “You won’t be sorry.”

I bit back my anger for a second and took a deep breath. An idea came to me.

“Listen, Jess,” I said softly, conspiratorially, “Nina and I are pretty much committed now so I can’t really do that.”

“Nina,” she scoffed. “What does that…”

“But…” I said.

“But?” she asked hopefully.

“Well, I couldn’t really take myself out of circulation without finding a suitable replacement, could I?”

She looked at me fuzzily. “What do you mean?”

I pointed at Mike, who was standing among a group of guys near the keg. They were all looking at the passing females with admiration and probably explaining to each other which one’s they’d fucked, how they’d done it, and when they’d done it. A joint was being passed around while they conversed.

“You see Mike Meachen over there?” I asked her.

“Yeah?” she asked confused.

“He’s even better at it than I am.”

“Mike Meachen?” she asked, scowling.

“I’ve lectured him on the proper study techniques so that my name could live on. You get him to go for a walk with you and you won’t be sorry.”

“Mike Meachen?” she repeated again.

“Trust me on this, Jess. He’s good. All you have to do is tell him exactly what you want him to do, and he’ll do it. Be specific. He doesn’t mind. He aims to please.”

She appraised him for a moment. “Well,” she said, “he is kinda cute.”

“Would I steer you wrong?” I asked. “Sensual pleasure is just waiting for you.” I winked. “And of course, he’s just as discreet as me. So go get him.”

She smiled drunkenly. “Okay,” she announced. “Thanks, Bill.”

She headed off in his direction. Nina returned a moment later, carrying a fresh beer. Her gait was very unsteady now and her eyes were glassy.

“What were you talking to Jessica for?” she asked with distaste and more than a little suspicion.

I shrugged. “She’s kind of aggressive,” I told her. “So I directed her attention elsewhere.”

“You’ve, uh… done her before?” Nina asked.

“Nina…” I started, uncomfortable.

“I only ask because she used to come up to me all the time and ask what the deal was with you. And then she started asking me if I liked the ‘vacuum cleaner’ treatment. She’s a ho.”

“I agree,” I said. “And I’m sorry you had to deal with her. She’s from a previous life, Nina.”

Nina nodded, kissing my cheek. Her breath smelled of beer. “Okay,” she said. “So what’s she doing over there with Mike?”

“Watch and see,” I said happily, taking the cup out her hand and taking a quick drink.

It didn’t take long. Less than thirty minutes in fact. I couldn’t hear what was being said but suddenly the attractive redhead joined the group that Mike was a part of. The other guys tried to flirt with her of course but she only had eyes for Mike. Within ten minutes she was rubbing against his arm. Within fifteen she was pushing her breasts into his back and shoulder. Within twenty he accompanied her to the keg and refilled her glass. There was one more whispered conversation and the two of them walked off into the woods, holding hands, carrying their beers with them. Even from my vantage I could tell that Mike was nervous. Again I found myself wondering if he’d ever actually been laid before. Oh well. He was about to get laid now.

“How did you do that?” Nina asked me, weaving a little.

“I can do anything I set my mind to,” I told her. “Anything.”

She leaned forward and kissed me again. Then she looked up. “I’m very drunk, Bill.”

“I know,” I said. “But you only graduate once, right?”

Mike and Jessica emerged from the woods about forty minutes later. Both were staggering and holding onto each other, their hair mussed up, their clothes wrinkled. Both were smiling. That was a surprise. Had Mike done a good job on her? Maybe a combination of her drunkenness and her instructions to him had done the trick. She seemed happy, which hadn’t exactly been my goal, but so did Mike. They hit the keg again and then split up, Jess heading over to a group of her friends, Mike heading over to his. It wasn’t a minute before he began his description of what just happened to him. By morning her reputation would be shot. Cruel? Maybe. But so had been the way she’d talked about Nina.

By this time Nina had gone back to the keg herself and was having difficulty standing. She giggled at everything and her words were slurred. She rubbed her body against mine shamelessly, pushing her breasts into my arm, grabbing my butt.

“I think you’d better lay off the beer,” I told her carefully, holding her up.

“Everything is starting to spin a little,” she admitted. “But I’m having such a good time.”

“When things start to spin,” I suggested, “that should be your warning sign that you’ve had too much. Believe me, you want to quit.”

“Then take a walk with me,” she said. “Let’s go into the woods like the other couples have.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told her.

“Why?” she burped, nearly falling. “I want to make love under the stars. Come on, Bill…” she kissed my neck, nipping at it, “… let’s go.”

“Not tonight,” I insisted.

“Don’t I turn you on anymore?” she pouted.

“Very much,” I told her. “But I want your first time to be special. Doing it in the woods on a bunch of pine needles while you’re drunk would not be special. Do you want your life-long memory of your first time to be, well, nothing? Because believe me, Nina, you won’t remember anything that’s happened tomorrow.”

She looked at me for a moment and was about to say something else when her face suddenly soured. “I’m gonna throw up,” she said matter-of-factly.

She was right. I led her over to the edge of the woods, out of sight of everyone else, and she began vomiting up great gluts of beer. It went on for several minutes and I held her up while she did it. For the first time I began to worry about what her parents were going to think when I brought her home. Her dad would kill me.

I led her over to my car and placed her in the passenger seat.

“Sit right here,” I told her. “And if you need to throw up again, just do it outside, okay?”

She groaned in reply, but it was an affirmative groan. I headed back to the party to try and collect Mike.

Mike wasn’t in much better condition. He was sitting on one of the picnic tables with his eyes closed, concentrating intently.

“You okay, Mike?” I asked him.

“I feel sick,” he said. “I’m trying not to barf.”

“C’mon,” I told him, grabbing him by the arm. “Let’s get you back to the car. I’ll help you.”

He leaned heavily on me as we walked.

“Guess what, dude?” he burped, tripping and nearly falling.

“What?”

“I fucked Jessica Round tonight.”

“Yeah?” I asked, knowing I was hearing a true pussy story for once.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “I ate her pussy and everything. That bitch was hot for it. She kept tellin’ me what she wanted me to do.”

“Did you do it?” I asked.

“Goddamn right,” he affirmed. He then went on to describe the encounter in greater detail. By the time we got to the car I had the high points.

“Oh, dude,” he moaned as we reached my trunk. “Take me home.”

“You need to do something for me first,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Stick your finger down your throat.”

“What?” he demanded, holding onto the trunk to keep the world from spinning out from under him.

“Stick your finger down your throat.”

“That’ll make me throw up!” he cried.

“Right,” I acknowledged. “You’re going to do it anyway so you might as well get it over with here instead of in my car. Besides, you’ll feel better. Trust me.”

“I don’t know man,” he said doubtfully