My summer of languages learned, and innocence lost
Note to Reader: I have not provided a physical description of Susan (not her real name), one to help protect her identity, but also to allow you, the reader, to insert the older woman of your fantasies the summer you became of age.
Addison is your iconic Norman Rockwell portrayal of classic small-town Mid-America. Literally in the middle of the country, middle of the state, and even in the middle of the county. Even today, Addison is pastorally calm; surrounded in every direction by rolling green fields of corn and soybeans for as far as the eye could see. We were from the big city and moving to such a rural community was certainly a cultural adjustment for the whole family.
My dad was the principal of a typical small-town high school, and my mom was a secretary in a typical small-town bank. I had a sister and brother; we lived on a typical street, in a very typical suburban house, with perfectly typical neighbors.
Our next-door neighbors, the Jenson's were also a very typical American family. Mr. Jenson was president of the local agriculture CO-OP, which was the most significant business in town and a deacon at the Baptist Church, which just happened to be the largest church in town. Mrs. Jenson was a nurse at the local hospital, and they had two kids, Adam and Rebecca.
The Jenson's house was a little bigger than ours, and they drove little nicer cars than us, but the really cool thing was they had a pool in their back yard. We had never lived near anyone that had a pool, and the Jenson's were always open to us coming over and swimming as long as they were home. And Mom was okay with that, as Adam and Rebecca were both Red Cross certified lifeguards, Mrs. Jenson was a nurse, and of course, it kept us outside playing most of the time on summer days.
As Adam was six years older than me, we really weren't all that close, and besides, he graduated high school two years after we'd moved to town and soon went off to college. On the other hand, when mom and dad went out for the evening, Rebecca was our babysitter of choice. And when our parents would occasionally go out of town overnight together, she was always hired as our live-in nanny. Rebecca knew how to have fun, but she also knew how to keep us out of trouble. She was more than just a good nanny; we looked up to her as a big sister, and my parents almost considered her part of the family.
It was somewhat of an adjustment when she graduated high school and went off to college, but nowhere near the shock of two years later when Mr. Jenson suddenly and unexpectedly died. In fact, the entire town was in shock. I knew Mr. Jenson was a pretty important person, but I really had no idea how important he was until his funeral. The Baptist church, again the largest church in town, was absolutely packed. As the sanctuary filled to capacity, hundreds of people had to sit in the fellowship hall and listen to the service over the PA system. Adam had already graduated college and was an officer in the Navy. Of course, he flew home as did Rebecca, who was attending college in New York. It was good to see Adam and Rebecca, but certainly not under circumstances like this. And it was absolutely gut-wrenching to see Mrs. Jenson under these circumstances as she was almost inconsolable in her grief.
Over the next two years, Mrs. Jenson relied on me more and more for help in the upkeep of her house, at least the exterior. At first, it was just to mow her lawn, but over time I started doing all kinds of handyman chores for her. Besides mowing, I'd weed the flower beds, edge, and sweep the drive and walks, wash her car, clean the gutters and the big one, the one I really loved -- pool boy. Within a year after Mr. Jenson's death, the pool was almost totally in my care. I vacuumed it, skimmed it, kept all the chemicals in balance, and basically made sure it was clean and sparkling blue during the six months a year it was warm enough to use. As fall approached, I would winterize the pool and then in the spring, I would spend weeks getting it back in shape for the summer.
And this is really where my tale of lost innocence begins, but first one more detail about the Jenson house. Besides doing all the lawn and outside maintenance, whenever Mrs. Jenson would leave town overnight, like to go to California to visit Adam or fly to New York to see Rebecca, I'd be hired to take care of the house. I'd bring in the mail, feed the dog, turn lights on and off around the house, and generally keep an eye on the place. This gave me free access to the entire house, which I admit, over time, I took advantage of. It was nothing malicious, it was just innocent curiosity.
Adam's old room had completely been converted into a guest bedroom. Virtually none of his stuff was left, the closet had been thoroughly cleaned out, and the dresser drawers were empty. Rebecca's room still had some of her stuff leftover from her high school days, but most of her clothes and personal items were gone. In her closet were just the usual things you hate to throw away, but you don't really take with you when you leave home, like high school letter jackets and prom dresses. In her dresser drawers were pretty much the same things; a few old nightgowns, jeans too tight to wear and old bathing suits from summers gone by. I kept hoping to find anything of an erotic nature, but there was none.
As I became of legal age, I got bolder and eventually decided to check out Mr. and Mrs. Jenson's bedroom. Now I absolutely never went through my parent's stuff -- never dreamed of it. But for some reason, I simply could not resist the temptation of rummaging through Mrs. Jenson's most personal effects.
The first thing I noticed was that almost every trace of Mr. Jenson was gone. Now there were the usual family photos around the house, but that was about it. His closet was completely cleaned out, as were his personal grooming things in the bathroom. Even in what I would have assumed had been his dresser drawers and his bedside table, all completely empty and clean. In hindsight, I don't blame Mrs. Jenson for getting rid of all of his intimate belongings, and I'm sure it was agonizingly painful, but also very necessary.
As for Mrs. Jenson's things, I didn't really find any smoking guns there either. I realize how absolutely awful all this must sound, but I had already turned eighteen years old, and I had absolutely no sexual experiences, besides, I was insatiably curious. Plus, to be honest, I simply couldn't stop myself even though I knew it was utterly wrong. First, I went through her closet. There were the usual dresses, blouses, and skirts for a woman her age. In addition to the typical nurses' outfits, both scrubs and old-style white uniforms that I assume were from her college days. In her dresser were all of the ordinary things you'd expect, bras, granny panties, slips, nightgowns, a few bathing suits -- but again nothing even remotely sexy, just the usual
'mom'
type stuff.
Did I feel guilty about snooping? Well, of course, I did, but it didn't stop me from going through her bathroom cabinets anyway. And yet again, I was somewhat disappointed. There were the usual hair and dental care stuff, soaps, perfumes, and makeup, but nothing that would tweak the imagination of a young adult male. No
'feminine hygiene'
products or devices, no contraceptives, no
'personal lubricants'
-- nothing that would have made the risk of being caught worthwhile. And yes, I felt really guilty, but none the less, inquiring minds had to know and I was disappointed, but satisfied.
By the time I was a senior in high school, and had celebrated my eighteenth birthday, it had been two years since Mr. Jenson's death. And in those two years, Mrs. Jenson relied on me almost exclusively for the maintenance of her yard and pool. She paid me $10 per hour, which was well above the local standard for such labor at the time, and we developed a wonderful working relationship. Friends and neighbors, I guess you'd say.
On the opening weekend of spring break my senior year, Mrs. Jenson called me at home and asked if I was available during the Spring Break. I told her, of course, I was available and what could I do for her. She reminded me that the pool cover was still over the pool, and she wanted to get the pool ready for summer. She also reminded me that the pool had not been drained in years and that it was time to completely empty the pool, thoroughly clean it and then refill it with fresh water. She also thought the whole process would take several days and suggested that we start first thing Monday morning. I agreed and told her I'd be over bright and early Monday morning.
