I was 19 when I had my first steady girlfriend. My dad had enforced a strict no-girlfriend rule at home until I graduated school. I had accepted this rule but had also decided that it was not against the letter of the rule to have casual sex, so I had one nighters and a few fuck-buddies, but not a girlfriend. I was certain my dad would not have approved so I never told them for fear he would act like an overly controlling government in a nanny state and close the loophole. All that is singularly unimportant to this story. The point is, I was 19, was in my first year of university and had my first steady girlfriend.
My girlfriend's name was Chelsea and she was also 19. I was doing an economics degree, she was in pre-med. We had both taken philosophy that semester. She was interested in Hume, Calvin, Lock, Hobbes, the whole lot of them and would spend hours talking to me about the leviathan, Voltaire's treatise on crime and punishment and existentialism or metaphysics in general. Unfortunately, although I was also studying the same subject her discussions were lost on me. I had picked philosophy as a 'soft' subject to give me a break from macro-economic forces and as a way to look at pretty girls. In my second reason I was hugely successful and had started dating Chelsea. Chelsea was beautiful. She was short at 5'4", slim and petite with small, perky breasts. I loved her smallness as it meant I could pick her up easily which made for some wild sexual encounters.
We had been dating for about 6 months or so. We enjoyed hanging out together but hadn't really clicked yet. Certainly we weren't in love, or at least that is what I thought. Increasingly I had felt Chelsea was wanting to move on. She would cancel dates or arrive late and seemed to have less and less time for me. We still had sex, but I think that was because we both enjoyed it rather than for any other reason.
One night during summer vacation we had arranged to spend the evening together. My mother had died in a car accident when I was 13. She had been driving home from a girls' night out and run off the road into a ditch. The coroner found that while there was alcohol in her blood it wasn't a high concentration. It was assumed that she was fatigued and had fallen asleep at the wheel. Death by misadventure. It was sad, everyone wants someone was to blame when death occurs, and I guess there was someone to blame, just that it was mum. At any rate dad was alone now, and he had done a super job raising me. It was hard for him, I know. He had to work a lot and couldn't always be there for sports days or parent-teacher nights, though I know he tried. He was also strict and firm, like his dad, and thought it was weak to show his feelings. Consequently, although I knew dad loved me, there wasn't much evidence of it. The closest it got was us sitting on the porch on a summer night, enjoying a parentally supervised beer as we spoke about sports, girls and cars.
I don't think dad ever thought about dating after mum died, not while he had me to raise. Now that I had finished school and was becoming the man I would grow into, he was relaxing. It was good, now that he thought I was an adult we seemed closer, like he could be friendly and didn't have to be dad laying down the law any more. At any rate, I digress. This night, dad was away on more business. He was travelling with his sales partner, and between you, me and the keyboard, she was smoking. I had laid in bed beating one out whilst thinking of her on numerous occasions. I hoped dad was trying to score there. So I had the house to myself, and now I had it to share with Chelsea.
I had hired a movie, a generic tick-the-box romantic comedy that Chelsea would like. In the kitchen I was busy cooking away. After mum had died dad and I had shared dinner making duties. I was no gourmet chef, but I did pretty well for myself. I had a roast slowly cooking, sweet potato lathered in butter and mashed up with honey seeded mustard and roast corn. I had even gone all out earlier in the day and made chocolate mousse which was chilling in the refrigerator.
It was now 7:30 and Chelsea was running late, again. I sat at the breakfast nook sipping beer and catching up with the latest news on facebook and youtube. My phone started ringing, it was Chelsea, calling to say she was running late no doubt. I pick it up and answered.
'Hey babe, you're running late, are you?'
'Hey Charlie, yeah, sorry about that. Some things have come up here, okay, I'm not going to be able to make it over tonight. Maybe later, but not for a few hours at least, and it is only a maybe.' I listened in silence, not terribly surprised given how things had been going these past few weeks. 'Sorry, Charlie, is that okay?' she asked.
Well no they damn well weren't but I wasn't going to say that to her. 'Yeah, that's fine bub,' I replied. 'Is everything okay there?'
'Yeah, it is, just some family drama going on at the moment. Sister and mum are arguing, I've been dragged into it too now.' She sounded sincere over the phone, but then I knew her well enough to know she could sound any way she wanted. Chelsea had even joined the campus drama society, and while she was still trying to break into a major role (the cliques in any typical drama society never change) she was making a bit of a name for herself with her acting ability. There was talk she may even get a minor part in the society's major second semester play which is pretty fast for a first year student.
'Okay,' I said. 'Hope everything works out.'
'Thanks, sweetie,' she gushed. 'I'll make it up to you, I promise.'
Yeah right, I thought as I put the phone down. I tried not to let it bother me, but as I sat there alone trying not to think about being stood up again, the harder it became to think of anything else. I was starting to get angry about it. As I sat on my stool quietly fuming I saw the headlights of my neighbours' car turn into their driveway. On the spur of the moment I stood up and walked outside.
My neighbour was just getting out of their car as I approached. 'Hi, Mrs. Dub,' I called out. Dub was short for W which in turn was short for Waters. Mrs Waters had been our neighbour for nearly as long as I could remember. She was my dad's age and was also single, having divorced when I was about 8 and then moved next door to mum, dad and myself. She had always been good friends with my parents and had often baby sat me when mum and dad wanted to have a romantic night out together. After mum died she supported dad as best she could. In the early weeks she would often cook us dinner and do some of the washing. She was, and still is today, a genuinely nice person. I often thought her and dad would get together, but they never did. I sometimes wonder if it was because she knew my mother or because dad, thick as a post as ever at times, never even thought of it.
'Oh, Charlie,' she called out, 'You startled me.'
