CHAPTER ONE.
I was 12 years old. He was the same age. We were both fresh faced, naive, and surely hesitant but eager participants; to discover love, or at the very least, something deeper. Finding ourselves at Belinda Huntington's home - an overindulged precocious girl -- for her birthday party, where the main source of entertainment would be an exceedingly slippery game of spin-the-bottle. My mother drove me to her house; a renovated Victorian echoing the charm and social status of the occupants who were oblivious to their good fortune, living within steps of the River Walk. We lived in a modest residence by comparison. Being blessed with a mature sense of self, I knew an invitation to Belinda's party was seen as the ultimate compliment and unexpectedly, she had extended one to me. Unexpected, for a quiet and studious girl who knew her lack of social popularity excluded her from most events, such as these.
I remember being nervous, entering her lavish home, cautiously ascending the staircase to the upper third floor family room and secretly pondering where to position myself, reluctantly blushing as I sat courageously beside my first crush. His name was Marc Tullford. He was rare, one of the lucky ones, with a unique cool name just because he had a 'c' instead of a 'k'; and was smarter than most with seemingly little effort. Marc was blessed with big hands and arms that looked like they belonged on someone much taller. He had dark hair and green eyes which were rimmed with thick lashes. Through the grade school years, I had observed him from afar; although unfortunately, few words were exchanged between us. I was shy, he was not. Unintentionally, I had committed to my memory bank, that unmistakable feeling of tummy butterflies and pure unsolicited exhilaration, just by being close to him.
So there we were, sitting in Belinda's third floor family room. We ate hot dogs and sipped on sweet root beer floats. I remember the food and everything about the first boy I ever kissed.
I had not spoken to, nor heard of Marc since then. As I drove, I wondered what made my mind wander back to those adolescent moments of sexual awakening. Coming home after all these years? Or the fact that I was driving for days, and I had examined every aspect of my adult life with no foregone conclusions? I was now searching my treasure chest of childhood memories for possible insight.
Self examination: unattached single woman, mid-30s, knowingly attractive, highly educated, charmed personality...absolutely acceptable, if I say so myself! To most, the absenteeism of male suitors was surely a product of my overzealous quest for career advancement. Perhaps some questioned my demeanour; years past gleefully gossiping at every possible opportunity. And either explanation was surely justifiable as to why this lovely young woman was unattached. Inwardly, I knew my perfectly acceptable status didn't equate to preferable, to me.
Finally heading south and seeing the mileage sign, being tired but relieved that I'm on highway 35, San Antonio was only minutes away. I can't believe I'm moving back home! Driving from Chicago was a long haul, but thankfully it was a one-way trip.
"Vivian, you are all woman, there is nothing you can't do. Yeah well, a few things...never mind, don't let your mind wander there, stay awake and keep driving," I said out loud as if hearing the sound of my voice made me less lonely.
Solitude naturally procured this habit of me speaking out loud, while driving, and was perhaps the only quirky thing about me. Or so I thought. Plus, knowing that the occasional witness would assume I was speaking into my phone helped justify the idiosyncrasy. Yes, knowing no one could ever hear me, I would have inspirational natter on most interstates.
Urban expansion coupled with a decade of renewal had not escaped San Antonio, but the one thing that remained; a charming river aligned with restaurants, shops, and spellbound visitors: the River Walk. Purposely purchasing my condo within steps and a breathtaking view of the river was the prudent thing to do. I was alone; hence living close to the bustle of people was the precise backdrop for happiness. My family lives here in San Antonio, and I was returning home.
Pulling into the underground garage, I loaded my arms with as much as I could carry, and walked toward the elevator. My furniture was delivered the week prior, along with my personal belongings which were neatly packed. Twelve stories up, I turned the key and opened the door to my new home.
I was fortunate to have a week to unpack and finish decorating my condo and putting everything in its place. Choosing a creamy white palate with splashes of color on the walls and decorative accents made the space stylish and current. I loved to decorate. Slick and modern furnishings complemented me and my lifestyle. That said, what I really longed for was a Georgian style home, filled with comfortable furniture and a family of my own, but I knew that was not feasible.
As the hospital administrator, my new position was lucrative but demanding. Keeping abreast of medical advances, government regulations, technology, and the ever-evolving health care insurance and financing options, was relentless. The hospital was conveniently located a few city blocks from a new state-of-the-art fitness club which I joined on my very first day at work. Everything suited me, and I was ready to work and start my new life - right back where it all began.
At the club, I signed up for a massage with Salina who apparently gave fabulous and effective rubdowns. I asked her to concentrate on my upper neck region; she was so good that I almost fell asleep. My mind wandered. I had no experience with women, but was always a little curious. Women being so pretty and sexy, that they are often the main appetizer in my sexual fantasies. Could a fantasy become a reality? Would I be able to ever go through with it? No one would ever find out. I wasn't sure if I would like it. With new beginnings, I felt like being a bit of a rebel. After all, there would only be one way to satisfy my curiosity.
A month had passed. My new job was proceeding along as expected and I was also able to visit with my parents on a regular basis. A family dinner on Sunday night, where attendance was mandatory, was something to look forward to at the end of each weekend. Playing and interacting with my two nephews was the highlight by far. I loved that feeling every time I heard them say 'Aunt Vivie.' Visiting with family was even more enjoyable when a Spurs game was blaring from the flat screen; hoping for a win as all of us yelled. Yes, I was right back where I should be, with family.
