Homecoming

All sex participants are 18 or over.

***

Homecoming has always been a huge social event in my hometown; bigger even than the county fair. It's a matter of civic pride that alumni come from all over the country to watch the Friday night football game, golf and grill Saturday afternoon, and attend the Homecoming dance Saturday night.

My Senior year I was sidelined with a sprained ankle for the game, but we won for the fourth consecutive year. Since I couldn't dance with a bum ankle, Emily dragged me away and we drove out to the Hill.

Hanson's Hill is less an actual hill than a steep cut bank along the Ogahpaw River. It's named after Ollie Hanson who spent his life converting his family farmland into a vast cherry orchard.

I parked in our favorite spot. Emily grabbed the blanket from the back seat then opened her car door.

Atop the Hill, amidst the trees, if the moon is full, you can see the Ogahpaw Valley stretch its way past town, all the way to the horizon. When the moon is new, and the sky is dark and clear and cool, you can see the Milky Way rise from the river valley, like crepe paper streamers, gathering stars on its way up to the apex of the universe.

"Earth to Ryan. C'mon, let's get out."

We spread out the blanket on the very edge of the Hill and lay down, side by side. I was on my back with my hands behind my head, marveling at how the stars moved so fast but seemed not to move at all.

Emily was on her side snuggled up next to me, caressing my chest. Her generous breasts pressed against my ribs. She had one leg thrown over mine, perfectly positioned for rubbing her warm crotch on my thigh.

She noticed my lack of response.

"Hello, Ryan, what's the matter?"

I scanned for a meteor, wanting to wish away this moment.

"I was thinking about all those people who came back for Homecoming."

Emily nuzzled my neck. "I'd rather think about you and me."

"I was thinking how they were once where we are now—just getting ready to graduate high school—and they're ten, twenty years further along, and they come back here for a couple of days to relive the past."

"Oh, forget about that, Ryan. I need a little loving." She was getting frustrated.

"I wonder why they do that."

"Jesus, Ryan, they just want to hook up with old friends. Who cares."

"Maybe so, but maybe they think their past is better than their present. Maybe they come back thinking they can change something in their past that will make their life better."

"That's stupid, Ryan. Nobody can change the past."

"True enough, but we can change the future. At least, we can

affect

the future."

Emily propped herself up on her elbow.

"Now, you're freaking me out."

"Sorry."

She lay back down on her back.

The Ogahpaw River usually runs low, quiet and lazy but up north they'd had thunderstorms earlier in the day, and the river was running high and frantic. It was too dark to see the water, but odd as it sounds, I could

feel

it moving, pulled downstream by irresistible forces.

"I don't want to be like that. I don't want to have to come back to wash away any regrets."

I fondly remembered our first time on the Hill. Waiting for the privacy of darkness, we watched the sheen on the river fade as the sun sank below the horizon. The awkward fumbling with buttons and belt buckles. The slow, building anticipation of an imminent storm. Lightning and thunder. Dam-breaking force. Relief. Tenderness. Laughter. A bond that grew into love.

"I had a premonition," I said quietly.

"What the actual fuck," she whispered.

"I don't know what to call it, exactly. Déjà vu maybe. But I know I'm going to lose you."

"Ryan don't say that," she said, astonished.

"I saw it, Em. It's already happened. We're married. We have two boys, Grainger and Gavin. Grainger's a brainiac. Gavin's a stud athlete. They're great kids, Em.

"We have a safe home, great friends, good income. We travel. We've seen the Sagrada Família, the Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum. Our boys have seen the Pyramids, Em. The Pyramids!"

"It's a nice dream, Ryan. We can make it come true."

"You don't get it, Em. It

has

happened. It

is

true. Too good to be true, in fact. There's a snake in the garden and you let it in."

Emily lay quiet, still.

Finally, meekly, she said, "I would never do that, Ryan."

"You

have

done it, dammit! I watched it happen!

"You drifted away, and I did everything I knew to get you back on course. But you never did. You rebuffed me so many times, you missed so many games, so many spelling bees, I couldn't help but get suspicious.

"I'm not sorry I did this, Emily, but I'm sorry it had to be done. I spied on you. I hired a PI. It didn't take her long to find the snake. It was so easy she refunded part of her retainer.

"I cannot describe the pain I felt over the loss of your love. I honestly thought I would die,

should

die. The grief I felt for the breakup of our beautiful family..."

I'd hoped the darkness hid my tears, but choking my words betrayed my sadness.

"Ryan...I...it doesn't have to turn out that way. You said yourself we could affect the future. What can we do, what can I do...?" Her voice faded.

I no longer felt the river, no longer saw the stars, no longer held the mystical bond shared between lovers. Never had there been a night so black.

"The snake has a name, Emily. Austin Andrews."

She gasped into the darkness.

"Two weeks ago, after the game when I sprained my ankle, I texted you from the locker room, remember?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

"I was soaking my ankle in an ice bath, and I told you I would be picking you up late."

"Yes."

"The trainer looked at my ankle and said it would be okay. He taped it up and let me go early. I went to your house to go get you."

"Oh my god...oh my god."

She openly sobbed pitifully, but I gave no quarter.

"That's when I had my premonition, my vision, my look at the future. That's when I discovered the snake.

"I drove by your house and there you were. You and that asshole Andrews, standing by your front door with the porch light on forgodssake, in full view of anyone who happened to go by.

"Kissing him with your arms around his neck. He had one hand on your ass and the other down the front of your jeans..."

"I'm so sorry...please...I'm so sorry...Ryan, oh Ryan..."

"Sorry my ass!"

I hadn't meant to get heated, but anger, together with grief, jealousy, and disgust was a volatile mix.

"So, I'm losing you, Emily, purposefully and pre-emptively. I'm not going down that road with you. No grief, no pain, no anguish from the likes of you. I'm not coming back in twenty years full of regret.

"C'mon, I'm taking you home."

The ride back to town was quiet, save for Emily's occasional whimpering. Instead of entering her driveway, as usual, I parked by the curb.

"I'm so sorry, Ryan. I screwed up."

No argument from me.

"It was just that one time. I don't even like him."

Bullshit. As if that mattered, anyway.

"Please say something, Ryan. Please don't ignore me."

I got out and walked around the back of the car, illuminated by the red taillights. I opened her door and stood there, waiting.

She wept as she got out. I slammed the door, walked around the front, got in and drove off, Emily pleading for me to talk to her.

I blocked her number. At school, I avoided her when possible and refused to speak to her when it wasn't. She got her friends to try to get me to talk to her. I gave them the same silent treatment. She started working on my friends. They told her to piss off.

She finally got the hint and left me alone until Valentine's Day, when she sent me a card with a note.

Dearest Ryan,

You are my first and only true love, and always will be.

I told Mom what I did (without the gory details,) and she says I can learn an invaluable lesson—Regret is a harsh master. She is so right.

It was a beautiful dream, love, and I'm so sorry I ruined my chance to make it come true with you. My only consolation is that if you ever suffer from regret, it will not be by my hand. You saw to that and rightfully so.

I know you will never love me again. I hope someday you can forgive me. Know that I will always love you and I wish you the best.

Yours forever,

Emily

After that, she let me be.

Epilogue

Every year, I get a letter from my high school alumni association with an invitation to attend the Homecoming festivities. I haven't been back since my college years except to see my parents, but this year was the twenty-fifth anniversary of my high school graduation. That seemed reason enough to read the invite.

I was pleasantly surprised to see in the margin, in red ink, written with a flourish, "I hope to see you there. —Emily"

I had forgiven Emily years ago. There was nothing to forgive, really. We thought we were in love until love became abstruse and neither of us knew how to handle the complications.

Emily had been right in her Valentine card written long ago; it was a beautiful dream but ultimately unattainable, because it had been scripted for Emily and me and we were no longer on the playbill. Instead, I met Janey, a cute girl in college, married her, and we eagerly started a family, Tammy and then Luke.

But life wore at us until Janey decided to violate her vows and then spend the rest of her life without me.

Sweet little Tammy turned eighteen, covered herself with body modifications and tattoos, opened an OnlyFans account, and I don't want to know anything more than that.

Luke adopted Ze/Zer pronouns, dressed like a girl, and demanded I call him Lucy, for which I freely admit I was nowhere near prepared.

The dream, with all the wrong actors, became a nightmare.

I reread Emily's note and smiled. "I hope to see you there." Emily and I had shared wonderful experiences we could never share with anyone else. You lose your virginity only once.

I realize nostalgia is a tool we wield to massage the past; we exaggerate the favorable parts and minimize the bad, pretending they'd never happened. But the past never changes, we merely reconstruct our memories.

Even so, it might be nice to feel the river again, to see the stars, maybe start something new. To come home.