After I had hitched the last fifteen miles (ironically, in the mail contractor's truck) and dropped my gear at my parent's place, "Hi mum and dad, I'll catch up later..." I made my way downtown to see some of my mates I had gone to school with. I was the only who had moved to the university down south, so I had a lot of hanging out to do. Also, I wanted to find B and spend some time with her, if she would still give me time, that is, since I hadn't been the best to her when I left this town. But she was the love of my life, with the most entrancing smile I have ever, and I mean ever, seen. When she smiled, my heart would die for a second, she was so beautiful.
Slight lithe body, pert tight breasts, the type where the nipple is almost bigger than the flesh of her breast; dark eyes and dark skin, rich brown hair, usually cut just shoulder length. And a gap at the top of her legs, quite noticeable when she wore tight jeans - which she usually did.... My young B, not quite my first love, but fuck, I'd ache for her, often. My plan was to go find her at her place and at least try to talk to her. I doubted anything else would be happening, not after the way I had left her at the beginning of the year.
So I made my way across town and walked along by the creek to her place, not quite the house on the other side of the tracks, but almost. As I walked through the bush alongside the creek, I heard the amazing clear tones of a lyrebird chiming off up in the scrub, unseen. The lyrebird not only has one of the most beautiful natural calls, a real song, but they are also extraordinary mimics. I had heard recordings of them sounding like a chainsaw, a telephone, even the click of a camera shutter. This one was a bloody long way off its range though, these birds were usually found a lot further south of here, and nearer the coast.
But ahead of me on the footpath, there was a well loved and well recognised figure coming towards me. B, with the characteristic swing of her hips, tight jeans, thick woollen jacket against the cold, leather boots on her feet. Her face lit up as she saw me, and she ran to me and entered my arms for a whole of body hug. We clutched each other tight for maybe thirty seconds, not saying a word, her arms tight around my back, mine caressing her soft hair. So, forgiven, maybe?
"God A, I've missed you these last months, you bastard, you sweet beautiful bastard. It's so good to see you, it really is." So, forgiven, then. And she turned and laced her arm through mine, as we walked the final few blocks to her house, me telling her about the university and the new people I had met there, and she telling me about goings on in my home town. About Grace I said not one word.
Grace was my private place and my crazy place and, to be honest, my night on the train was only a morning ago and I was still trying to get my head around all of that. So B, who was from a less complicated time, was like a welcome breath of fresh air and, dare I say it after what had happened to me, innocence. It was as if I needed to keep my erotic lust driven present quite separate from a younger, cleaner past. B was pure, and I wanted to keep her that way, in my head at least. Even though she still turned me on something fierce. But it was memories of my fingers in her panties sitting in the back row of the movie theatre that ran through my head with B, not come drenched assholes with the girl disappearing on impossible wings, as it was with Grace.
"Come on in, say hi to mum, I'll make us a coffee. You still two sugars? Sweet boy!" And she grinned, her old line snapping a smile to my stupid face. I really did love this girl.
"Hi, Mrs B," my old greeting as always bringing a smile to her mother's face. I was always made to feel at home here, almost like a son, not the daughter's boyfriend. While the kettle was boiling and the coffee spoon clinking on the cups, Mrs B and I quickly shared the essential news. Hubby still good with his work? Tick, but the old bastard still bitches about my cooking. B still doing dancing classes? Tick, but she's probably gonna quit next year. That simple kid still doing the mowing business? Tick, but don't knock him, coz he is now employing two others, his business has taken off so well.
And we lingered the long afternoon through, just talking talking talking. This was the girl who, when we were both sixteen, taught me that you didn't have to sleep with a girl to love a girl, taught me that you could have a girl who was your best friend but wasn't your girlfriend (but who later, was). This was the girl who, well, she was just the girl. She was B then, and she was B now, and I loved her then and I loved her now. B.
