Winter 1978

She bumped into me between classes. Her books scatter. I drop to one knee, reaching for notebook. The girls by the lockers are giggling. Someone bumps me, as I try to occupy my nonexistent world. Flames could burst out of my face.

Stumbling words out. “I’m sorry,” Picking up the loose papers.

She’s kneeling beside me and whispers. “You didn’t have to knock my books on the floor to meet me.” She sticks out her free hand. “I’m Brenda.”

I touched her hand. “Brian.” Raising my head. Her green eyes glitter and are glued to me.

“You’re supposed to say, Nice to meet you.” 

“Yes, … yes, glad to meet you and sorry about …”

The other girls move down the hall, still giggling.

She grabs my arm. “Walking me to class would be the polite thing to do unless your girlfriend would be mad.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“You don’t want to be seen with me?”

“No, … your good-looking.”

She leads me to her class, and she says, “And what part are you looking at?” She giggles and hands me a piece of paper. “Meet me after school, you can explain.” The bell rings and she slips in the door.

I ran down the hall. I’m late. Opening the door, everyone stares. I slide into my seat, my heart pounding. I try to slide under my desk, carefully unfolding the note.

‘After school’ written at the top and an address.

She wants to meet me. I find a pay phone and call work, making up a vague family crisis.

Mrs. Jacobs asks. “Something else you need to tell me?”

She knows I’m lying. “I’ll make up the work.”

***

It is a two-story faded blue house. My mushy legs barely get me up the five steps to the front door. I lightly knock and then give another light tap. She pulls it open, my hand still ready to knock. She has changed into a top with light blue string straps, showing the white bra straps. Her perfectly shaped legs model the petite blue jeans shorts as I try to look up. Petite—when did I learn that word?

“Thought maybe you stood me up.” She tilted her head, showing off a dimple on the right cheek. “Come in.” She opens the door and directs me to the small living room. “Would you like ice tea?”

“Sure.” I stare as she walks away.

She was in eleventh grade and skinny compared to most, but me being the smallest senior, and could still pass for a ninth grader, doesn’t give me much girl appeal. She had a great album collection, including the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. She talked a lot, added dance instructions, and made me laugh. I’m alone with a girl. I responded with stale bread answers. She would giggle.  

We made weekly dates. She brushed against me, held my hand, sending an urge through my body, the want to kiss, but was always checking the time. Sometimes she’d stop in the middle of an album and say, “You have to go and push me out the door.”  

She swaps out our ice tea for wine one day. Then toasts “To good times.” She rubs the top of my leg and gives me a quick kiss.

Arousal took over, and I couldn’t move.

She giggles. “You’d better … it can’t be today.”

The next week she played the Rolling Stones and kissed me when I walked in. I can taste the wine on her breath. She sits on my lap facing me. Dimples lit up her face, and she was moving slowly on my lap. With a kiss, her tongue entered my mouth. Desire I can’t seem to explain. She buried her chest in my face. I wanted to—kiss—touch. I slid my hand touching the soft skin on her back, and she stayed tight to me.

She jumps up and runs to the window. “My dad’s home. He is never this early.” She shuts the record off, grabs our glass of ice tea and pulls me to the kitchen. Catching my breath when he walks into the kitchen.

“Unexpected guest?”

She says, “Hi Dad. Would you like some ice tea?”

He squares his stance, making him seem taller. “Get me a beer.”

Terror has taken over Brenda’s face. “Dad, meet Brian. He just stopped for a minute, catching up on the school gossip.”

I open my mouth—

He pulls out the chair. “You’re dating my daughter?” Holding his squinted eyes. “What, too hard a question?”

Brenda sets a PBR on the table. “Dad, stop it. He is a friend who helped me with some homework. It’s just kids’ stuff.”

“Brenda, Brenda, you didn’t tell me about seeing some young whippersnapper.”

“Dad, don’t get all uptight. Thanks, Brian, for the help.”

I slide the chair back.

“You sit right in that chair, Mr. Stud, and enlighten me on your visits.”

Brenda stiffens; her eyes are dilatate. “Dad, he stopped as a friend, were not dating.”

He tips his PBR, guzzles seemingly half the can and slowly wipes his mouth. He turns slowly towards me. “From my view, it appears he came to see what’s available?”

“Dad, how embarrassing!” She takes a step towards him. “Brian, leave.”

“So, explain you happened to drop by. She dressed up in a skimpy outfit, but you’re not dating.” He glares at me. “Think there are some facts that are vague.” He slowly turns his head. “Missy, I’m making a suggestion. You go change your clothes.”

Brenda says, “This was his second time and—”

“Go to your room and change your clothes. Mr. Stud has gawked enough. Will talk later.”

 She doesn’t move as they stare at each other. He says, “Now.”

“This is truly embarrassing. You wonder why I don’t invite friends over.”

“Can’t remember you asking to invite some wimpy stud over. Your room is calling you.”

She slowly leaves. I watch her, slowly she climbs the stairs. The quiet, the glare, the silence of  fear, Whatever that saying is.

He takes another long drink and wipes his mouth, then licks his lips again.

“Where were we? Yes, the man-to-man conversation? What’s your last name?”

“Simmons.”

He grills me about where I live, how I met Brenda. Then says, “You think it’s proper to stop by a girl’s house when she’s alone?”

“While—” I raise my head.  

“Yes or no? Your old man never taught you manners?” He retrieves another beer.

“My dad—”

“You over here playing kisses face with my daughter, you better know the respectable answer?”

“Sir, we…”

He leans, inches from my face. “The trailer park where you live—some major white trash infiltrating our town.” He grabs my shirt and pulls me out of my chair, inches from his face. “I know your type—mom collecting welfare, shacking up with some loser or whoring around, letting her son run wild.” He grabs my crotch and rolls his fingers around my balls. “You’re not planning on using these around here, are you?”

Gasping he pulls me towards the hall. Then grabs my throat, pins me to the wall, and squeezes my crotch tighter.

His spit sprays my face. “Your tongue not flapping—nothing to say?” His hand tightens around my throat. “You will never use these again if you ever—” He squeezes.

I try to scream.

***

 I’m lying on the floor. Focus. He’s at the table sipping his PBR, wets his lips and grins. “Dumb time to take a nap. Want a beer?”

I push myself up.

He’s grinning. “You hit your head awfully hard.” He goes to the fridge and brings back two. “It wouldn’t be polite to stop and visit, not to have a beer.”

Brenda has a sweatshirt and blue jeans and is sitting with tears running down her face. I steady myself, sizing up whether I could make the door. My balls are throbbing.

I slowly make my way to the table.

He raises his can. “To your manhood.”

I touch his can and grimace down a swallow.

“Missy ambiguous story doesn’t seem very respectable to my daughter or so your just the using type?”

“No, sir—”

“You’d better get drinking. Giving me an impression, I’m not good enough to drink?” He takes a drink. “Those will go down and couple of days this time.” He wipes his lips.

My nausea is increasing.

Terror flows from his eyes. “Guess your old man didn’t teach how to drink either?”

My heart is pounding. “My dad—”

 “He ran off, don’t explain.” He licks his lips. “I hate sob stories.”

Brenda slowly shook her head.

“Explains why you’re such a sissy.” He laughs. “Did your mommy tell you what all the hardware is for?”

Tears are dripping from Brenda’s cheeks. “Dad, please, it’s not what you think.”

He licks his lips, checks my can. “Can’t leave with a unfinish beer.” He gets himself one.

I gag down more beer.

He laughs. “We’re getting to know each other I’ll take drop by get to know your mother. You wouldn’t mind?”

I’m a coward. Defend your mother. Slowly, I take a swallow and get up. “My mother … thanks for the beer and advise sir.”

He licks his lips. “You learn fast.” He holds his grin. “You’d better make a proper date if you plan on seeing my Brenda again.” 

Brenda gets up.

He says, “You stay right there. There’ll be no kissing on my front pouch, will there, baby?”

Brenda watches me. He’s watching her; I stand defiant at my hundred and ten pounds. Brenda, let’s make a run for it.

He slowly turns in his chair. “You need help to find the door?”

I never looked back.

***

I puke twice on the way home and was hunched over in pain getting into the house, grabbing aspirin and the ice bag, and sitting on the bed in shock. Suck up the pain, before Mother gets home. Mom keeps asking if I’m feeling okay. I pass it off as the flu.

On Monday, I ponder meeting Brenda at her locker but make way to mine first. There’s a note.

‘Don’t talk to me again. You have ruined my life.’

The weeks went by as I tried to grasp what had happened. Looking for a chance to talk to her, but she was never at her normal spots. Once she ran into class as I opened my mouth.

Only three months before graduation, but every day is hell. I asked my buddies about sex and became the laughingstock of the school. They tried to set me up for the first time. One gave me condoms and told me to always carry them so you’re ready for the opportunity. The entire school knows. Linda, one of Brenda’s girlfriends, meets me at my car after school. “What did you do to Brenda? She won’t talk to us about anything. We’re sorry about our game we played.”

“What? I didn’t.”

“She invited you over on a dare. She’s never been out with a boy. Admit it. Did you rape her?”

I grip the thought. “No, I never would—”

“What else could it be? She is so depressed and won’t hang out or talk to any of us.”

“Her dad attacked me for being there. Didn’t she tell you? Thought he was going to kill me.”

“Brenda was getting back to normal after her mother died.” She stares at me.

“What happened said it was a long time ago.”

“Her mother was drunk and fell down the stairs.”

***

I made routine checks on Brenda’s, walking and driving by, looking between the houses. It is aimless. But tidbits about Brenda, something is wrong, we had fun together. Her dad changes his routine now never knowing which evenings he stops at the bar.

Mother is making dinner when I arrive home from work, trying to put the world behind,

Mom said grace before we started eating tonight.

I stuff the first mouthful of food.

Mom says, “Mr. Simmons stopped today.”

I stop chewing—

“Didn’t know you were dating someone?” She pauses. “It’s not wrong to want to see a girl. Why were you hiding it?”

“We hung out a couple of times nothing more.”

“He said you’d been sneaking around and drinking beer at his house.”

“We weren’t sneaking and forced me to drink a beer with him.”

“He was concerned, and I can’t blame him, alone with his daughter without supervision.”

“Don’t worry, nothing happened.”

Her eyes are scanning, waiting for an answer. She finally says, “The first love is something. Sometimes you may move on, but it is emotional in your heart.”

***

 Brenda doesn’t show up at school. I skipped my last class, parked my car in the factory parking lot and walked to the back door of her house looking into the kitchen. Suck up my fear and. I turn the knob; it’s not locked. “Brenda.” Someone moves in the other room.

Brenda comes to the kitchen. She is wearing an old blouse that’s too big, has a bruise on the side of her face and her eyes are swelled up. “Go away. He’ll be home soon.”

I move towards her. “He’s at work. I checked. He beat you for hanging out with me?”

“He can’t deal with Mom dying.” She grabs my arm. “Now get out of here.”

“I could never hit a girl.”

“I was wrong to invite you over. He gets crazy and needs someone to take care of him.” 

“What do you mean, take care of him?”

“Nothing, you can’t understand. Once you … you … want more. Now leave.”

“I enjoyed—” 

“It was going to be our first time. It’s ruined. Go find someone else.” Her breath is racing, eyes become like a tiger. “I hate you. Now leave.”

I walk to my car and wait until sunset, and the porch lights come on. I crawl along the fence and slide behind the bushes, peeking in the window. She was cooking when her dad came home. He reaches around her and kisses her on the neck. She shakes her head but never turns around. They eat and she cleans up the dishes. He rubs up against her standing at the sink, whispering in her ear. Then he goes off to the other room. She stands staring at the sink with the knife in her hand.  

I make weekly checks on Brenda as I get ready to graduate. Her dad now changes his routine and comes home at different times. I wait until dark and sneak to the window. One night she walks into the kitchen and gets him a beer with only her bra and panties on.

***

I turned eighteen and graduated and went to work full-time. A few weeks after school is out, Brenda’s house is empty. I took evening classes to keep my mom happy, but depression is taking over my life. I found a book ‘The Emotion of Sex’ and bought a Playboy. I still haven’t found the courage to ask a girl. Knowing no girl wants to have sex with me. Mom tries to promote me as her upstanding man. I’m a wimp.

Mom says, “You have a letter.” She slowly picks it up. “It’s from Brenda.” Quietly she waits for me to reveal some secret. “Go clean up; dinner will be ready in half-hour.”

My hands shake, tearing open the envelope.

Dear Brian,

            I am extremely sorry for what I did and know this should be a face-to-face apology, but in my state, this is the best I can do. The truth, it was a dare. Some wild teenage fun we would have both being virgins, finding sex and love together.

Anyway, you are an extremely charismatic guy, and you will find the one. Wish life could turn out different but please don’t feel any guilt. None of what happened is your fault. Remember, you were my first love.

I am sure you have forgotten me and hopefully found your one, but I just wanted to say goodbye.

     Love Brenda XOXOXO

“Brian, dinner is ready.”

I stick the letter in my pocket, afraid of losing it.

Mom says, “I am glad you’re staying in contact with her.”

I scan the ceiling before finally looking into Mom’s eyes. “I have to find her.”

“What?” She shrugged. “What’s going on?”

“She’s in trouble.” I pull myself up straight. “She needs help.”

***

Mom lays the old suitcase on the bed, touches my arm. “You be careful; her dad is an evil man.”  

Mom hands me an envelope and a small cooler as I finish packing the car. “Call me and let me know. I love you.”

“I will, thanks for understanding. Love you too.”

The sun was rising when I reached a rest stop outside Cincinnati. I splash my face and study my map. My heart was pounding. I found the address, his car in the driveway. My mind goes blank. What is my plan?

I park at a gas station outside the subdivision. Shock hits me as he goes in and gets some coffee, and pays no attention, yet my heart is pounding out of my chest. Grow some balls. He leaves, I start my car, pull right in the driveway, and walk up to the door and knock. I check the handle, and walk in. She is staring at me.

“What are you doing here? He will kill you. Leave. It will be over soon.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

Tears roll off her cheeks. “I’m not—”

“You’re my girl.” He hands her a Florida Boucher with sunny beaches. “We can live on the beach till we find a place.”

“You’re serious or crazy.”

“Both.”

“You should know the ugliness.”

“It’s not going to matter. Pack, we’ll talk on the ride.”