Once again thanks to LadyCibelle for her help and encouragement.
*
The mile markers counted down as we approached the California coast. I was dirty, hungry, and tired in no particular order. We had been driving for almost three days straight in a ten-year-old car that was barely still alive. I thought to myself that this might be the dumbest thing that I'd ever done in my life.
.........................
It started a year ago. I had just finished my sophomore year at college and was home for the summer. After a pickup basketball game at the local park I headed home. As I got close to the house I saw an unfamiliar car parked in front. When I entered my house through the garage I heard voices talking and laughing in the living room.
My dad yelled, "Joe, come in and meet some old friends of ours from our high school days."
I walked into the living room and saw my folks sitting on one couch and another couple sitting on the opposite couch. Everybody stood up when I entered and dad introduced me. "Joe, this is Frank and Ann Woodward from California. We grew up in the old neighborhood and went through high school together. They are on their way to West Point where their oldest son is graduating and just stopped to say hello."
I shook their hands and said hello as my dad continued, "And this is their daughter Paula."
She had been sitting in the corner and I hadn't spotted her as I came in. She looked at me and gave a shy smile as I said, "Hi Paula."
I checked her out quickly. She was about five-foot seven-inches tall with brown eyes and brown hair cut so it just reached her shoulders. Her blouse had the first two buttons open so I could see the beginning of a sun-tanned chest. Her breasts were full—pushing her blouse out attractively. Her body was trim, flat stomach and narrow hips. I was instantly attracted to her.
Everybody sat down again, but I realized that the only chair left in the room for me was far away from Paula. On an impulse I went over and sat on the floor next to her chair and leaned my back against the wall. I caught a faint scent of her perfume as I sat next to her.
Frank asked me a couple of questions about college and then the adults went back to talking about their high school years.
Paula hadn't said anything but she looked at me so I said, "Hi again."
She smiled and quietly said, "Hi to you too."
I thought, "She's as shy as I am, so I guess it's up to me."
I asked, "Would you like to take a walk while our folks catch up on things?"
She grinned and nodded yes. When there was a gap in the conversation, Paula asked, "Mom, can I go for a walk with Joe?"
Her dad answered, "Sure, but no longer than an hour—we have to get back on the road if we're going to keep on schedule."
We both stood up and went out the front door. I turned and we walked side by side in the direction of the park. Paula said, "Thanks for getting me out of there. I love my folks, but we've been in the car for three days now, and we have at least two more days to get to West Point. I need some exercise and all the folks want to do is talk about the old neighborhood.
"You're going to be a junior in college. Do you like school?"
I answered, "Well some days are better than others. I have a swimming scholarship, which means a lot of time at practice, plus I have to work side jobs for some money, and then I have to study pretty hard to get good grades. When those things get overwhelming, it can be a downer.
"How about you? Are you going to college?"
Paula giggled, "I think I just got a compliment since I just graduated from high school last week. I'm not even eighteen until September twenty-ninth. But to answer you, I've decided to go to a junior college south of Los Angeles called Windy Hills, and see if college is the thing for me. I don't want to waste my parent's money if I don't like school, so this is a way to find out. I'll live with my grandmother who has a house in the same town as the junior college."
I teased, "I've heard every school in California is a party school, so that means yours is too?"
She hesitated a second and then answered, "Well I'm not sure if Windy Hills is a party school, but I'm kind of shy so it probably doesn't matter."
Finding it easy to talk to her I replied, "Well then we might have a contest here on who is more shy—you or me."
She giggled, "You're not shy Joe. You started talking to me first. You got me out of the house for this walk, and you're getting me to talk like we're best friends."
"Paula," I answered, "if we were at a party or dance and I came up to you and tried to pick you up, it would be a disaster. I'm kind of a klutz that way. I'm really good at sports and I have a lot of male friends, but put me with a pretty girl and I run out of things to say in about five minutes."
"Oh," she laughed, "you can talk to me because I'm not pretty."
I stammered, "No...no that's not what...."
Paula interrupted with a light slap to my arm and a laugh, "I'm teasing silly."
Still embarrassed I said, "You're very pretty Paula. I think you're easy to talk to because we just met, and in an hour you will be gone, so I don't have to impress you or anything."
Paula said, "Well we won't decide who is the most shy then. You tell me about yourself and your college and I'll tell you about myself."
We walked around the park for about an hour and then headed home. We never stopped talking. I was disappointed when we finally got home. I thought, "Why couldn't I meet someone like this in college?"
The adults were on the front porch waiting for us. Paula's dad said, "There you are. Time to go. It's your turn to ride in back."
I said good-bye to her parents and then opened the car door for Paula. She slid into the back seat and without thinking I leaned in and whispered to her, "Be careful at West Point. I've heard those cadets have the quickest hands in the east."
She blushed and giggled. Then she turned serious for a second and touched my arm as she said, "Thanks for being so nice Joe—you're sweet."
I should have kissed her then...I wanted to, but with both parents standing a few feet away I just couldn't. "Have fun," I said to her.
There might have been a trace of disappointment on her face as she said, "Bye."
As their car pulled away, my mother turned to me and said, "That was really nice of you to take care of Paula. She looks like she is a sweet, young girl."
I didn't answer as I sadly thought of the phrase that described what just happened, "two ships passing in the night."
I was wrong. Two weeks later I picked up the mail and found a small letter addressed to me. It was a thank you card from Paula.
She wrote, "West Point is a beautiful place and when the cadets marched and the band played, it was really impressive. However, the highlight of my trip was my walk with you. Good luck in junior year. Fondly, Paula. PS If you ever feel like writing to me, here is my grandmother's address."
The summer passed quickly and I soon headed back to college. I never answered Paula's letter; nothing could ever come out of it I thought at the time.
It was a Friday near the end of September and I had decided to go to a fraternity party. I wasn't a member of any fraternity, but for a couple of bucks they would let you in to help pay for the keg and band.
It had been a long week—my classes were harder than I expected, and my practice swim times were only fair so the coach had been riding me. I was hoping that I'd get lucky at the fraternity party. It wasn't to be. The boyfriends aggressively protected their girlfriends, and there were no single girls. So I ended up drinking a couple of beers and got horny watching some couples make out during the slow songs. Depressed, I left the fraternity after a couple of hours.
I arrived back at the dorm and crashed for the night. The next morning I woke up still down and I was trying to decide which one of my classes needed the most work when I glanced at the calendar; it was September twenty-fourth. I paused for a second and then remembered what Paula had said; "I won't be eighteen until September twenty-ninth."
I thought, "Why not?"
I walked into town to a drug store and bought a funny birthday card. Back at the dorm I wrote, "I hope you have a great eighteenth birthday!"
That didn't seem to be enough—I had not answered the card she sent me. So I sat down and started writing a letter to her; it was a happy letter. I searched for all the good things that happened since I got back to college and tried to describe them. I talked about my goofy professors and their idiosyncrasies and made jokes about their teaching techniques. When I finished the second page I realized that my depression was gone—searching to write Paula about the good things in college had helped me. I sealed the letter and birthday card and mailed it to her at her grandmother's.
I thought, "I wonder if she'll answer it?"
Three weeks later her letter arrived. It started, "Your birthday card and letter made my day; because of you my eighteenth birthday was a special one that I will always remember."
The next two pages described her early days at Windy Hills Junior College. It was mostly a happy letter, but at one point she said, "I'm really lucky that Gran is letting me live with her; I think I would be lonely without her to talk to."
About three weeks later I mailed my second letter to Paula, and so it started—every three weeks or so we would write to each other. My letters became more personal and longer as I gradually described how things were going for me—both the good and the bad, but I tried to make the letters happy.
She soon was more open with me. She wrote, "I just read my letter to you and blushed. If you were standing in front of me I just know I couldn't tell you what I wrote in the letter. It's so nice to have a real friend that I can talk to without being embarrassed. I wish I were three years older and closer to you."
The letters continued through the winter and spring. College was going better for me—the grades came out fine, and I surprised everyone including myself by having a great swimming season. Through the months, however, I became more and more anxious to receive Paula's next letter. Each letter she sent to me gave me an upper for the rest of the week.
I was in the student union one day in early spring and glanced at the note board. There were books for sale, tutors for hire and a multitude of other things and services available. My eye caught one card. It read: "Riders wanted at the end of the term going to Los Angeles. Forty dollars and share the gas expense."