Author's Note
In 1971 the State of Michigan passed a law that lowered the age for the purchase and consumption of alcohol from 21 to 18 on January 1st 1972. In retrospect that seems short-sighted, but at the time a common complaint was "I'm old enough to fight for my country, buy a car, get married, and so on, but I can't have a beer?" Soon leveler heads prevailed and the drinking age was raised back to 21. I mention this so that the reader will understand how a high-school senior could have a drink with a teacher at the prom. I never drank very much while I was in high-school -- that behavior waited until my freshmen year at college where frequent over-consumption, vomiting, and acting like a total jerk became commonplace.
This is a story highlighting my ineptitude at reading situations then, and realizing later what I missed -- both in picking up on cues and an adventure I would have really enjoyed. The second parts of the story is how I imagine the situation would have evolved if I wasn't so inept.
A Missed Opportunity
"Would you like to come over and play some tennis?" said the voice on the phone.
The voice was Margaret O'Connor, my former 12th grade English teacher. Mrs. O'Connor was an alumnus of our school. She graduated (as Margaret Sullivan), went off to college, earned a teaching degree, married Chuck O'Connor, and took a job teaching at her alma mater all in a four-year span. My senior year was her second-year teaching; she was 22 and I turned 18 in March. She was pretty in the classic Viking- descended Irish look with red hair, pale skin, and freckles that faded into cream the further down her breasts you looked. The breasts themselves were plenty adequate for my filthy imagination and I used to stop at her desk when she was sitting and try to peek down her blouse while I asked some stupid made-up question about a paper or assignment. She never seemed (to me) to notice, but in retrospect I think she likely did.
Our Lord Have Mercy was a co-educational Catholic high school in an urban suburb of Detroit. Our town was an enclave where you were either Irish or Polish (or sometimes both, like the Dombrowski kids whose mother had been an O'Donnell). Our fathers worked for the auto companies (except Joe Szymczak whose father was a taster at the brewery).
The class was American Literature and I was the only senior in it. I was a voracious reader and had already completed all the advanced English courses, but still was required to take an English course my senior year. The counselor tried to dissuade me from the course, "It's a lower-level course - even freshmen can take it." But I said that I liked American Literature and I thought I'd enjoy it. I didn't let the counselor know that what I planned to enjoy was interacting with Mrs. O'Connor. I did appreciate the class and Mrs. O'Connor always made me feel special. I got an A in the class; which wasn't unusual for me in classes I liked (but Cs and Ds were common in classes I didn't). I was bright but almost never studied or did my homework. Now, looking back, I think my grade in the class was a bit inflated.
Mrs. O'Connor was a chaperone at our Senior Prom and she brought her husband Chuck. The prom was held at a big old fancy hotel downtown. While there was no alcohol in the venue itself, because of the new law, students were allowed to go to the hotel bar and order a drink. At some point Mrs. O'Connor invited me to join her and Chuck at their table in the bar. I don't remember what Chuck had, Mrs. O'Connor had a white wine, and I ordered a Guinness. Chuck looked surprised that I'd ordered the dark and bitter brew, but I said "I'm Irish -- I ought to drink Irish beer," not letting him know that this was the second total beer in my life and that Guinness was the only Irish beer I knew. Chuck seemed a bit stiff to me that evening. I hadn't met him before and I attributed his demeanor to being dragged to an event where he knew no one. Now that I look back, the lively conversation I was having with Mrs. O'Connor and her animated responses may have contributed to his mood. That, and I found out later they were getting divorced. I don't know if they had committed to that path yet on that day, but their relationship must have already been strained at that point and they had separated by graduation time. I knew this because Mrs. O'Connor called me to her desk on the last day of class and told me.
"I've never played Mrs. O'Connor, -- but I'm willing to try," I said.
"Chuck and I are getting a divorce. I've moved to an apartment by myself; let me give you directions. By the way, call me Maggie -- and I'm taking back Sullivan," she said.
"OK Maggie, what time?"
"Anytime you can get here will be fine."
It was early afternoon and I was home alone. My parents were at work and my younger brother was fishing someplace, like he did every day. I rode over to Maggie's apartment building on my bicycle. I rode everywhere on my bike - I had even taken extensive camping trips with it. I didn't otherwise exercise, but all that riding kept me in shape.
Maggie answered the door in tennis clothes - a sleeveless white blouse and a VERY short white skirt. I was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt. We went down to the court and my ineptitude was immediately apparent. If I connected with the ball at all it went flying widely. It was very hot outside and after about 10 minutes we stopped the game and Maggie invited me up to her apartment for a drink.
"I got you your favorite beer," she said, "or would you like some wine? I've got some cooled down in the fridge."
"The beer will be fine," I said.
She brought in the drinks then sat across from me on the couch. I have already mentioned how short her skirt was and the way she sat I could see all the way up her legs to the yellow tennis panties she wore. I'd seen glimpses of yellow while we played, but now I had a clear view. I pretended not to notice - but I peeked. I thought I could even see the outline of her slit in the close-fitting material.
As we drank, she talked about her separation, "My friends and family are always trying to fix me up with guys, but the results have been disastrous. One fellow must only bathe when the moon is full or something -- he stunk! Another one didn't have the brains God gave a rock -- GEEZ!. I invited one guy for dinner -- I don't know why -- he said he'd bring some wine - he brought Rosie O'Grady!! I know we're Irish -- but ROSIE O'GRADY!" (Rosie O'Grady was a cheap fortified wine that was popular with drunks and high-school kids who drank it for it's high alcohol content and low price.)
