CopyrightΒ©2012
Some of you might recognize this story. I published it a couple years ago under a different name but pulled it because of some difficulties I was having with the site at that time. Originally it was posted in three parts.
Recently I combined the parts into one story and was going to publish it on the pay sites but changed my mind. I enjoy the instant feedback I get here so I decided to resubmit the story. I warn you, this is the long version but I hope you'll take the time to read it. I also hope you enjoy it.
Thank you,
Laptopwriter
All characters are over eighteen.
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Prologue:
With-in the confines of chapters one and three, Brent, while working in his back yard, experiences a heart attack. Writhing from the pain, he struggles along the ground in an effort to seek help. During this time, he will relive the joys and tragedies from the three loves of his life. Please accompany him on his journey and I hope you enjoy the read.
Chapter One; "Tanya"
The bitter breeze strewn lifeless brown leaves along my cold, hard Midwest lawn. Only a couple weeks prior they dazzled brilliantly against the sun as it shown through the yellow, orange, and red colors of fall. Now, I struggled against Mother Nature; my only weapon to stop their attempted escape on the wings of her frosty breath was an old fashion bamboo rake, a hand-me-down from a generation long since passed.
I worked feverishly, gathering the last remnants of summer into piles to be bagged and picked up before the first snow fall. The dull, gray sky and wintry winds told me time was short.
My left arm was still hurting as it had been for most of the day. Normal, I suspected for a man who, like the season, was also approaching winter. The long tentacles of the old rake scraped along the ground when suddenly it dropped from my hands. I went down to my knees clutching my chest from the worst pain I had ever experienced. My body twisted from tightening muscles and I fell hard upon the frozen ground behind my house.
I was paralyzed from the agony. My body refused to function. I heard the rustling of leaves under me as I rolled uncontrollably from one side to the other.
I had to regain control. I was alone, blocked from view of the street and my neighbors. Somehow I had to get to the house. Then it hit again. My body curled in a ball as it was wreaked with a second wave of burning torment.
I laid there. I struggled to breathe. I could feel the erratic rhythm of my heart pounding in my chest, when off in the distance I heard a voice.
"I love you," it said like a whisper in the wind. There was something familiar about it. It was almost like a dream, yet so real...no, not a dream, a memory. I heard it again, "I love you with all my heart." This time I recognized it. It was a voice I hadn't heard in over fifty years, the voice of my high school sweetheart; the first love of my life.
"Tanya," I said in a raspy voice. It was all I could manage but it brought me back to a warm summer's night in my home town.
We lay under the stars, our naked bodies entwined, our hearts pounding, our minds spinning, as we both had just experienced the rapture of making love for the first time in our lives. Tanya turned toward me and caressed my cheek with her dainty hand. "I love you," she said. "I love you with all my heart."
I still remember how it all started. Back then, as far as I was concerned, it was the most unlikely romance I could think of. I was certainly no lady's man. In grade school I had red hair, freckles, and wore glasses. I was constantly ridiculed by the girls in my class. I guess I grew out of a lot of that by the time I entered high school. My hair turned darker in color. The freckles were all gone; I still couldn't escape the glasses though and was nonetheless very self-conscious in spite of the small popularity I enjoyed as the school photographer.
Tanya Dickens was a cheerleader and certainly one of the most popular girls in school. She and I shared a class in English Literature, but other than that, I had no real contact with her except to take pictures of her at the football and basketball games.
I still remember my reaction on that cold November, Friday night after the football game when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder from behind. I turned around and saw Tanya with her winter coat wrapped around her little cheerleader's outfit.
"Hi Brent," she said, in what I was sure was the voice of an angel. "Hey, if it's not too far out of your way, do you think you could give me a ride home tonight?"
My brain instantly turned to mush. Be cool, I thought, don't get tongue tied, don't act scared, just answer her.
"Sure Tanya, no problem." Whew! I did it; I spoke to her and didn't make a fool of myself...at least not yet.
It was only a ten minute drive from the school to her house, but it was the most stressful ten minutes of my young life. She didn't wait for me to get out and open the car door for her like the gentleman I was taught to be. Instead, as soon as I stopped in her drive she opened the door herself, glanced over toward me with a smile that would have melted the heart of Genghis khan, and simply said thanks. A moment later she left me sitting there like a love sick puppy as she disappeared behind the front door of her house.
Driving off, I thought to myself, if I live to be a hundred, I will remember this night for the rest of my life, the night Tanya Dickens rode in my car. Little did I know at the time, there would be many more nights to remember.
The following week was pretty much like all weeks in school until Friday in English Lit. I was already seated when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, once again, into Tanya's smiling face.
"Are you taking pictures at the game tonight, Brent?"
"Sure, I'll be there," I said trying again not to pee my pants.
"Could you give me a ride home again?" She asked.
I was really finding this hard to believe. Two weeks in a row?
"Absolutely!" As fast as I said it I wondered if I'd sounded too anxious.
"Great," she replied enthusiastically. "I'll see you tonight then."
That night all I could think of was taking Tanya home again. What if she wanted to talk? What would we talk about? I was so nervous I almost forgot to shoot pictures. I didn't have a single photo that was even worthy of the high school newspaper until late in the fourth quarter. I happened to be in the right spot at the right time when I grabbed a great shot of the winning touchdown.