Best Friend's Sister 6
A Trip to the Beach
Despite being loud and obnoxious at times, I'm really... not. I'm not really a loud person. I can tell when I'm being noisy and obnoxious. Usually a second or two before someone's getting ready to tell me to shut the EFF up. Not enough warning to help me keep my foot out of my mouth. I'll think I'll have that mastered when I'm like 90, far too late to be of any use.
I think being conspicuous is a way to stop myself from retreating into myself, since I'm really an introvert. Karaoke, karate tournaments, fighting some hopped-up maniac, skiing down the black diamond slope, what else? They were just a way to force myself out of retreating to some place where I felt safe, which was usually in isolated spot with a book in my hands.
Sorta like my karate. It isn't really who I am. I had no desire to rule the world or get one-up on any particular person. It was a way to force my way out of my comfort zone and not withdraw from the world. What's the point to this train of thought? My natural inclination is to withdraw, almost like a person on the spectrum. As I headed into my twenties, I decided I didn't like being an adult. Nothing I had experienced so far as an adult had lived up to my expectations. Could I return it and ask for a different model? If I could have avoided it, I would have. I guarantee there wasn't a bit of joy found in the decay of my family throughout most of my life and its inevitable collapse. I'm pretty sure by 1986, I'd had enough of adulthood but had no idea what to do about it.
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By the start of 1987 I was at an impasse. I had just finished my first year post-bachelors and it hadn't been exactly stellar. Debbie was long gone and had even left the ministry. My brother John had been working at a summer camp in Maine and at summer's end he eventually moved up to the family home at the top of the Bay. He was painting houses, making good money, but hating it at the same time. John was in Salisbury and was deep into his relationship with Laurie. Married yet? I don't remember. It was like three years before the arrival of their daughter, so very early in all of our lives. Me, I spent that year me living at home with my parents, acting like I still had an ounce of respect for my father and trying not tell my mother she was a fool. If only I could send myself a message.
David '86. Get out of the house now.
It's fucking up your sanity. David '21.
During the of summer of '85, I met a woman who worked as the camp nurse. We stayed together from the end of camp through New Years, were together off-and-on during '86, and then it fell apart by the end of the year. Too young to know I had to start looking for solutions outside the box. Thankfully I received an invitation to look for work in Richmond. It wasn't something I would've ever considered but the offer showed up right when I needed it. Wanda somehow convinced me to go with her and look for work in the big city. I wish I could find out how she reached that moment in her life but I don't think I'll ever have that opportunity. I know she had a bad break-up, which was evident when we ended up on Grace Street. It surprised me that she wanted to go back to Richmond but I guess she'd put down roots there. But I think we were both at the point where we needed to get away and stretch our wings, no matter what made us come to that realization. So that's what we did.
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So, how did my savior show up? Why did she show up? It seemed to move awful quick, now that I look back on it. On night we had our first kiss in my studio. Two days later we were on the road. I wish, I so wish, I'd been in another state of mind. She must've been extremely determined, to take on someone so... damaged.
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One night we'd our first kiss. The somehow came to the conclusion that moving was the solution to our problems. I suppose everyone convinced me that I needed a change of venue. Simple as that. I showed up the next morning ready to go. We packed up the car, said our goodbyes, and headed on down the road.
Wanda had changed into a long dress and high heels. God, she looked elegant. I thought she looked wonderful, grown up. Me? I was still in my overalls and my muck-out-the-stall boots. Once again, I was outside my element but willing. I was the fool that always volunteered when one was needed. She looked sophisticated and I felt like a hick. So, we started out the journey on an uneven footing, even if it was all my imagination. I felt like I was following in her wake, while she probably felt we were equals and there to support each other. I couldn't see she might have been struggling just as much I was.
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We'd been in Richmond for maybe three years, long enough to settle in and long enough to actually miss the family back home. So we worked it out and made the trip. For me, each visit did less and less for me. How is it possible to admit that going home was bad for you? How can anyone come to that conclusion?
Eventually we hit Centreville and rolled up to Wanda's house. We limped in, sore after the three-hour trip, and received a hug from her mother. We had about an hour to sit down at the kitchen table and bring each other up to date how everyone was doing. It was good to chat but sooner or later I had to bite the bullet and go home to see my family. At some point we had to talk about them, a topic that always stirred up so much in me. I felt out of control when I slipped up and let it loose. There was simply too much up there. Of course, Wanda and Mrs. Anderson were perfectly willing to pull the string on that pinàta. I hope they didn't think this impromptu intervention was going to resolve all my issues or get rid of the damage. They cared, which absolves them of the attempt, as fruitless as it was going to be.
No wonder they felt so much sympathy. Wanda and I had grown apart but we still cared about each other. Whatever it was, she laid her hand on my cheek, like she always did, somehow knowing it calmed me down. I don't think she gave it much thought. Some natural instinct. Me, I closed my eyes and felt her hand there. Her mother was watching me, though. She could see that the touch was a... lifeline to me. Like I was drowning and Wanda's hand gave me a touch of hope.
To Wanda, it was over in a second. To me, it took a minute to get over the feeling. To her mother, she saw something that needed to be fed, like a fire. I think the next time they talked she suggested we should d go on some sort of road trip together. The next time Wanda and I talked, she asked if I felt like going to the beach. "Oh, yeah. That's a great idea. It'd be nice to get away for a bit."
Finally, our schedules matched up. I pulled up at her apartment and knocked on the door. She opened up and there she stood, in shorts and a t-shirt, towels and sunglasses, a change of clothes, alcohol. "Amazing. I think you're the first girl I've met who's actually ready on time."
"That's me. I work, I sleep, I eat, I have a schedule. I have to be on time."
"Okay. Well, let's get out of town and go to the beach. I have to stop by my place first for a few things, then we'll hit the road."
"So, you're the one that's not ready to go." I heard some energy there but there was little enthusiasm. We had drifted apart and I felt it was all on me.
"Yeah, you're right. Let's go."
We got in the car and headed back to my apartment. It couldn't have been more than five minutes until we made the turn onto Grace Street and passed a small apartment on the left. I think we both turned to look at it as we passed. It had a lot of memories for her, some good, some bad. Me, it was a short but memorable visit. "You know what I think about every time I pass that place?"
"Probably not the same things I do."
"I seriously doubt that. It was the first time I had a some seriously dirty thoughts about you."
"Really. And what was that?" with a drawl in her voice, like it no longer truly mattered. Which hurt a bit.
"Well, you didn't have a key. The only way to get in was to force the front window and then you had to crawl in to unlock the door."
"So, what's so x-rated about that?"
"Wanda. I assume it's not an easy thing to crawl through a window wearing a dress and high-heels. Halfway through, your dress got caught on something and lifted up. I saw just a bit too much or just enough. But there was nothing I wanted to do more than.."
"Okay. I get the picture. In any other setting that would be exciting but I was half in and half out of the window, with my butt sticking out. I'm sure I probably wouldn't have appreciated it as much as you would have."
