Caroline lived a couple of doors down from my house on Pine Street. I stood at her front door. I knocked. I quickly glanced at my house down the street; it sat empty. I knew my parents would be eating dinner out. Later, they would probably go to the game or maybe catch a flick at the local movie theater.
Dark clouds moved overhead. I heard some thunder in the distance.
Some muffled rock music played from one of the back rooms. It sounded like the Rolling Stones. A small crucifix sat, on the door, right below a very tiny window. I looked down at my watch, 6:50 PM. I ran my hands through my jet-black hair and sighed.
She said I should come over, now.
I knocked again and the door opened. Caroline's usually cheerful face was deflated. She held a mangled picture in her hand. Mick Jagger's voice rang from the back. "I can't get no satisfaction..."
"Hey," she said looking at me with her light brown eyes, streaked with red-lines.
Her curly light, brown hair framed her cheeks, cute nose and flawless, tan skin. She wore cut off shorts that were way too short by Southern standards. Her white tank top hugged her full breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra.
I stepped inside. She closed the door.
We looked at each other for a second. She looked down and covered her face with her hands. The picture fell to the floor. I moved towards her quick. I hugged her -she let me-her arms stuck to her sides. I squeezed her tight. I felt her breasts push against my chest. I could smell her hair, it reminded me of a vanilla. I breathed in.
On the floor, in the picture, sat Caroline and some guy, maybe her boyfriend back in Germany? They both sat on a stone wall. She was in his lap with her arms around his neck and she was laughing. His curly, blond hair sat neatly on his stern but nonsensical face. He held his arms up a bit as if to say "oh well, that's right, all of the women want me". I felt a sharp sting in my chest.
I saw a streak of lightning flash outside the foyer window followed by a loud boom.
"You ok?" I said.
She didn't say anything, she just held me tighter and I felt tears soak my collar and my shirt. We held each other. Caroline pulled away and sniffled. She looked at my shirt.
"Oh, Jamie," she said, "I got your shirt wet."
She smiled a little with a laugh.
I looked at her and thought, "Even at your worst you are still so beautiful."
"It's ok, it'll dry," I said looking at her, then at my shirt.
Caroline bent over and picked up the picture. The perfect curves of her butt peeked out of her cut offs. She stuffed the picture into her front pocket and faced me.
"Street Fightin' Man," came on in her room. I would never mistaken that guitar riff.
She forced a quick smile.
"I found some Wodka in the kitchen," she said wiping her eyes with her bare shoulder.
"Ok," I said. She headed down the hallway, towards the kitchen. I followed her.
A small bottle of Smirnoff sat on a pristine white countertop. Some wooden stools with baby blue cushions sat around the counter. Caroline walked over to the dishwasher and fished out two small tumblers. She handed me one.
"Where'd everybody go?" I said, heading to the freezer.
Caroline poured a shot into her glass and downed it. Her face cringed and she coughed. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. I opened the freezer door and reached inside. The mist covered me.
"They all went to the football game," she said, between coughs.
"Oh," I said, ice clinking in my glass.
In the South, everyone looked forward to Friday night football games. They usually started at 8:00, and lasted until at least 10:30 or so.
"You wanna mix something with that?" I said, rummaging through the fridge, searching for Coke or Pepsi.
Caroline slid onto one of stools. I spotted several cans of Coke.
"I don't care," she sighed, looking away. Outside more lightning and distant thunder shook the house.
I pulled out a can of coke.
I looked out the window.
"It's gonna rain," I said.
Caroline ignored me.
Her eyes filled with tears again. She slammed the glass on the counter with a bang.
I flinched, watched the glass spin in circles. I put my glass on the counter, walked over to Caroline. I put my hand on her back. Her skin was silky smooth.
She hugged my waist, from the side and squeezed. Her shoulders moved, my shirt felt wet again.
"You're not gonna be happy until my clothes are soaking wet, are you?" I said.
She muffled laughter into my side. She looked up at me like a lost child might look at a kind stranger, searching for help. I could clearly see her cleavage...those deep lines cascading down into her chest. I looked away to keep from staring. I could feel her emptiness.
The record ended and I could hear it scratching in a pattern...scratch...one...two...three scratch...one...two...three...scratch...one...two...three...
"What happened?" I said. I squatted down next to her.
Caroline wiped her face. She glanced at me. Finally, she inhaled, steadied herself.
"Well, remember my boyfriend Wallace?" she said rolling her eyes a little.
I held her hands.
"Yeah," I said.
She bit her bottom lip.
"He sent me this," she said. She fished out a twisted, folded piece of paper from her front pocket. I looked down. She handed me the crumpled note.
"I am going to stop the record," she said, then stood up. She studied my face for a second before turning, then she walked out of the room towards the hallway.
I opened the folded letter. The handwriting might as well as been in Egyptian hieroglyphs. I saw her name, and I recognized some easy words like "Hallo".
For some reason, I suddenly remembered Caroline walking down the hallway on our first day of school, where, both of us were seniors. She wore this long, light, brown skirt that hugged her full hips and fell just past her knees. She also wore a suede, brown vest over a white, see-through blouse and a thin, deep, amber sash rested around her neck that hung down just above her breasts. Her brown, shiny, leather boots matched her brown vest. She held a folded note in her hand.
My best friend Dallas noticed her first. He ribbed me hard, whistled, then thumbed towards Caroline.
"Dibs," he said quickly, undressing her in his mind and adjusting his Yankees cap.
I whispered, glancing at her, "who is she?"
"I dunno," he mumbled, "but damn if she ain't smokin' hot!"
I watched her stroll towards us.
"Ain't that the truth," I said combing my hair with my hands.
Dallas's deep, blue eyes and sandy, blonde hair usually guaranteed he got "Dibs" on me anyway, bastard. Dibs was our "code-word" for "if" she speaks to me first then, she is mine -no cock blocking. This narrowed our competition for girls. But Dibs could be reversed if, and only if, she showed no obvious interest in the one calling "Dibs".
Despite being close to the same height of 5'11, me and Dallas were complete opposites. He wore baseball stuff, I wore my black Beatles t-shirt, that also matched my hair and eyes. I was tan, and Dallas was fair skinned. He would tease me sometimes calling me a "Mexican", even though I was Native American.
Dallas walked towards her but she just kept staring at me. She walked right past him pretending to read the paper in front of her. I almost choked when she walked right up to me.
She put the paper down. "Hallo," she said, a big smile with her thick German accent. "Can you tell me where the main office building is?" Quickly tucking the note away.
"It's this way," I said, pointing towards the end of the hall.
She put her hair behind her ear.
"I like your shirt," she said smiling.
Dallas stood looking at us, maybe he felt the spark, too. Maybe...?
I told her to follow me and we walked together.
Dallas watched us. He flipped me off as we walked away. I just smiled.
"So, this is your first day at an American High School?" I said, trying to find easy words.
Caroline smiled and said, "yes" clutching her notebooks and a faded, white purse that hung from her shoulder.
When we arrived at the office, I just stood there looking into her eyes. She never broke eye contact with me. I think she started to blush and then she tilted her head a little.
