Michael wiped his hands on his jeans. Sucked in a few deep breaths. He waited until his nerves calmed. He pulled the double glass doors open. He entered the high school office; most of the secretaries had gone home. Tomorrow is the last day of school. Michael walked up to the counter, wide and shiny as a new penny, when Mrs. Harbaugh noticed him.
"What may I do for you, Michael?"
"Nothing really."
She smiled politely as she always had for the last four years he's attended school. Her fingers went back to the typewriter, and the sound of the IBM Selective soon filled the office with its rhythmical tap-tapping. Suddenly, the typewriter stopped as though someone lifted the tone arm from a record. Mrs. Harbaugh looked over the top of her glasses. She took them off, and gently chewed on one earpiece before allowing them to settle across her chest, suspended by a delicate metal chain.
"Michael?"
Gathering strength, he didn't know he own, he felt the rock in his stomach grow to the size of Mount Everest. He glanced around the office once more and said, "Is Kathy working?"
"Ahh, I understand now," she said. Mrs. Harbaugh smiled knowingly. "She's in the back, refilling the Mimeograph machines with paper. She shouldn't be gone long."
Michael looked down at the floor and then turned on his heel. "I see." So close... But rules being rules, no one, except those girls who volunteered to help the office secretaries had any business behind the counter.
He took a few steps toward the glass doors when he heard Mrs. Harbaugh's chair roll across the floor. "Tomorrow is the last day of school, and gradation is Sunday. I can't see how it would hurt if I let you go back and say 'hello' to her."
Michael's smile lit up the office. Mrs. Harbaugh opened the half-door that separated the lobby and the offices to the rear. She held the door open. "Go ahead, it's okay."
He walked cautiously down the narrow hallway that led to the miscellany of small offices. He could hear some singing as he approached the last opened door. Michael leaned against the doorjamb, listening, watching, and smiling at Kathy. She didn't know he was there, her hands busy restocking the shelves above the Mimeograph machines. She reached high, balancing on her tip-toes, to place another ream of paper on the top shelf, and the hem of her skirt rose to mid-thigh. Her black hair hung luxuriously over her shoulders and midway down her back.
When she turned, her hair billowed out, and then she caught a handful of errant strands and looped them behind her left ear. That's when she noticed Michael in the doorway.
"Oh! Geeze, you startled me," Kathy said.
"I didn't mean to."
Kathy smiled, but it didn't last. "Does Mrs. Harbaugh know you're back here?"
"Yeah, she said it was okay."
"You're staring at me." Kathy blushed. "Is there something you want?"
Michael wiped his hands on the back of his jeans—a habit of his when he's nervous. He stood and admired Kathy. She had to be the most beautiful girl he had ever known. No one came close to Kathy. But for Michael, she might as well have been on the moon. He and Kathy came from different places. They had different values. He always figured Kathy wouldn't give him the time of day if she were pushing a wheel barrel full of alarm clocks.
Kathy had it all. Breasts that were firm, perky, and tented all the shirts she wore so they'd grab your attention from across the gym. Her legs were long and slender; athletic. She had the perfect smile with glowing white teeth. She had been the head majorette all though school. She only dated the football studs like Tony.
"Michael, is there something you want? You're freaking me out a bit."
He thought and while he did, his eyes followed her every move. This is the time. Graduation will be in a few days. Then... His lifestyle, his upbringing was so completely different from Kathy's. Her parents had money; his mom and dad both worked to put food on the table.
"Kathy, there's something I'd like to ask you."
She slipped a ream of paper on the table's edge then stopped and looked at Michael.
"Okay?"
"I'd...it's kinda hard to ask."
"Ask me what?"
"I'd like to kiss you."
Kathy's face flushed. "Are you serious?"
"As a matter of fact, I am quite serious."
"I'm dating Tony. Everyone knows that."
"I do, too. I'm not asking for a date. Just a kiss."
Kathy walked over and stood a few feet from Michael. "Why?"
Michael moved into the small office. He looked around to be sure Mrs. Harbaugh was out of sight.
"'Cause if I didn't ask, I'd regret not asking you the rest of my life. I know you'll more than likely say no, but at least I'll know for sure one way or the other. But most importantly, I asked. I'll never regret asking, but I damn will regret if I don't."
Kathy reached around Michael and pushed the door so it almost closed, leaving a small gap between it and the doorjamb. "I'm gonna tell you no."
Michael nodded. "That's fine. But I did ask." When he reached for the doorknob, he felt her hand touch his.
"That took a lot of nerve to come in here and ask me that. I don't understand."
"Mark Twain said it best."
"I'm not much into reading."
"He said,
'Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowline. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover
.'"
They stood beside each other in silence—the sounds of Mrs. Harbaugh's typewriter in the distance. Kathy closed the door a bit more. "He said that?"
"Sure did. I'm not disappointed that you told me 'no.' But, I'd be disappointed the rest of my life if I hadn't asked. Right or wrong. Up or down. Yes or no. Either way, I'd know the answer to my question. I'll never worry about what you might have said. I know the answer."
She touched his fingertips and when she did, Michael jumped.
"Okay."
"Okay what?"
She shrugged. "Okay, let's throw off the bowline this one time, I'll let you kiss me."
Kathy moved closer. Waist to waist. She smiled. "Go a head. You wanted to; now kiss me."
His fingers moved along her arm, past her elbow, they stopped and teased the shoulder strap of her bra, tracing its outline beneath her white shirt. Kathy closed her eyes; her head tilted a bit to the right. Her lips parted slightly. Michael's hand cupped the nape of her neck. He leaned down to place a kiss on her soft, velvety pink lips. He entwined his fingers in hers. Kisses. His lips moved from hers as he placed small delicate kisses on her cheek. He kissed her eyes. His lips followed the curve of her face down her cheek and finally to her ear, placing soft kisses as he went.
Kathy's heart pounded in her chest. She felt her skin burn hot. He returned to her lips for one last kiss before he released his grip on her. He smiled. Content. Kathy had her eyes closed. Enjoying the moment. She wobbled a bit, and Michael caught her in his arms.
"Wow. Damn. Who taught you how to kiss?" Kathy stammered. She pulled her shirt down tight.
"Thank you," Michael said as he reached for the doorknob.
"That's it?"
