The author reserves all rights, except for those ceded to Literotica, per the rules.
*****
Bill jerked his hand back as the rose thorn punctured his thumb. Sucking on it, he looked at the row of bushes his wife had planted, many years ago. He never enjoyed all the care they took. But, he had kept them looking tidy & lovely, 22 years later, as they gave him one of the best memories of his wife, Ann, and it was a memory that did not come with pain.
He had been driving the two of them home after their friend's birthday party. They both had each consumed a few drinks over a couple hours. Bill had never convinced himself that he could not have avoided the herd of deer that ran out of the woods on that rural highway.
He had swerved right to miss the second one, when the third one came through the windshield. The car went off the road, and slammed into a pine tree on the driver's front corner. Cars of the 90's weren't nearly as safe as they are now; doctors said Ann died instantly from the deer hit. Among those friends that Bill had told the story to, they knew he had suffered a broken ankle & leg, fractured ribs, some internal injuries, and a concussion.
It was only occasionally that he even noticed the slight limp. Now the suffering was all in his memories. Bill had tried dating a few years after the accident. Some of the ladies that had offered condolences to him while was recovering in the hospital, had suggested they go out. Later, after recovery from most of the injuries, he had finally dated several of those that had asked him out. It was soon clear that a couple of them were husband hunting, hoping to snag him in his loneliness.
The other was quite appealing, but Bill realized he could never satisfy her the way she deserved and desired, so he ended it after a few dates. That same concern had been with him since, so he had not dated anyone in over 18 years.
Bill had tried the common things to help make the day-to-day pain of Ann's loss go away. He had given away all her clothes, shoes, and costume jewelry. He sold her good jewelry and the few furniture pieces that held his strongest memories of her. The remaining things that tied him to her, he had donated. Except for the house itself with its roses, some photos of them, and souvenirs of their travels; all other physical items that reminded Bill of Ann, had been removed.
This expunging, plus time, had ridded him of the worst pain. Bill was down to loving memories and occasional longings. These he could control enough to keep himself out of depression. Happiness was a harder thing to sustain, so he often focused on mental exercises to improve his mood.
One of the best exercises was to fight his normally shy and reserved nature, and force himself to cheerfully talk to neighbors and strangers while out in his front yard. He was often there, given the frequent needs of the rose bushes. While this plan started out with him feeling animated, he eventually began to enjoy the interaction for its own sake. He no longer was he using it to avoid memories; he liked it just for the brief companionships it provided.
Today, it was Melissa that was walking past the picket fence, which was the limit that Bill would let the rose bushes advance towards the sidewalk.
"Hey Mel, what is making you look so happy today?"
She had been walking by, fairly regularly, for the last 5 years. He had seen her grow from a skinny 12-year old, to a petite, presumably 17-year old, young woman. They often chatted, for short periods.
"Hi Mr. Haerth!" she chirped. She held her smile as she said, "I got an 'A' on my science test."
Her big, friendly smile was quite a contrast to the Goth look she seemed to be practicing with. The somber character of her long, black hair, black lipstick, and heavy black eye makeup, just looked wrong with a happy grin residing in the middle of it.
"Well, congratulations! Your hard work paid off. Are you aiming at a college degree in science?" Bill asked, genuinely.
"Yeah, but I am only a junior, so college is well over a year away."
He responded, "I was guessing you were 17, now?"
"I am, but my birthday falls just after the cutoff, so I am about the oldest student in my class."
"I suppose that just gives you more time to decide what you want."
She replied, "I guess. I wish I knew more of what I wanted...Well, I have to get home to mom. Maybe see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Great. Bye Melissa."
"Mel, Please!"
"Sure, sorry."
Bill had to wonder what had made Melissa turn toward the Goth style in this last year, and concurrently, want to be called just Mel. She had been filling out nicely with age, from the earlier gangly kid. Right when she seem to be perched to blossom into a rather cute, petite, slender young woman, the Goth style had arrived, and buried all the hard work nature had done to give her attractive qualities.
The following day, Mel came past Bill's house a little later than usual. He was relaxing on the porch, sitting in a chair. He waved as Mel looked his way.
Mel gave her usual, "Hi Mr. Haerth."
He noted, as she stood at the gate post, that this time there was only a simple smile on her face, and no bounce in voice. "Everything okay, today? You seem to have lost yesterday's cheerfulness?"
"Yeah...well, sorta okay. Just not a great day."
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Ummm...would you mind if I asked you a question?"
"Ask away," he assured.
"I, kinda, don't want to ask it this loudly. Can I come up on the porch with you?"
"You are welcome anytime, young lady. Can I get you some of my fresh lemonade, made fresh from my lemon tree in the backyard?"
"Yes, please," she said, as she reached to the back of the gate post, and lifted the release.
"Here you are," he offered, as he came back out the front door, and handed her a tall glass, with a flex-jointed straw.
"I will help you anyway I can Melis...MEL," he added.
"You always have been nice to me, Mr. Haerth, and easy to talk with. On the porch here, you can call me Melissa, if it easier. Actually, I still like that name, but I just don't like the way some kids at school say it. My mother gave me that name because, in Greek mythology, there was a princess of Crete who learned how to gather honey, but she got changed into a bee. So my name means 'honey bee'!"
"No wonder you always liked my roses."
"Very funny!" she said with a sarcastic grin, "Anyway, as you may know, I don't have a father. My mother has her problems, and is hard to talk to about some stuff. I DO love her, a bunch, but talking about some girl-boy things just...doesn't work...ya know?"
"Sorry about your father's death, and mom's difficulties. I think I understand what you mean. It has been many years, like 45, since I was 17, so I hope I can offer something useful for a teen of today."
"No apology necessary about my dad. My mothe...sorry, he died...five years ago, and I wish it had been longer than that. If I hadn't needed him to create me, I would wish he had never been born."
"That has got to be tough having a father like that. He was that bad, was he?"
"He was a terrible person, Mr. Haerth. Mom said he was better before I was born. But, then he just got worse every year after that, no matter what we tried to do."
"By the way," Bill said, "most people pronounce my name incorrectly, as if were spelled "H-a-r-t-h", like you would pronounce the hearth of a fireplace. Actually, the first part is pronounced like 'Hair.' But, let's make it even easier, and you just call me Bill. Okay, Mel?
"Deal, Mr...Bill," she giggled.
Bill thought to himself, "What a wonderful sound, a giggle, and so long since I remember hearing one."
"Alright," he said, "I assume you came up here for another reason than to give me some family history?"
Her sparkle dimmed a bit, and she said, "I thought, maybe, you could offer a little perspective...on boys?"
"I will try. But, they will only be my well-aged opinions."
"Fine...Well," she continued, "There is this boy at school that has been patting my butt as he walks by. Not all the time, but when the hallways are not so busy. When I turn to look at him, he quickly turns away, and keeps walking."
