I guess I was a late bloomer sexually. Someone had to show me and I knew deep down that it wasn't someone my age.
That summer I went to the movies twice as a third wheel with Heather and her boyfriend. They made out through Jeepers Creepers and Super Troopers.
It seemed a waste of time and money to me.
It was my eighteenth birthday, and I had a few friends over. Heather had snuck some beer over and naturally that attracted the unrefined boys our age. They came for the drinks and stayed for Heather. Heather and I were always night and day. To look at is you probably wouldn't think we were close.
Heather had always been very girly. She wore skirts and heels, of all things. Maybe the way I dressed and carried myself had something to do with never getting laid. I had already fitted myself with the style I would be comfortable in for years. Cowboy boots, jeans, and a hoodie were my wardrobe. I know now that I was hiding the figure I didn't have. I was barely five feet tall and only weighed around a hundred pounds. My tits were small. I never wore makeup, and I found my hair to be quite to my liking when I rolled out of bed in the morning. It was shoulder length and brown, but turned lighter when I was in the sun. I was never really in the sun unless my step father took us out fishing or hunting. Those interests of mine often too made me more tomboy than anything. Red would take me and my brother and sister out for the day and teach us how to kill and skin whatever we came across. At first I didn't like that, but not wanting to piss him off, I became pretty good at it. Killing was easy. Sex seemed much harder.
My birthday is on the fifth of July, so there was always some leftover fun to be had.
We were throwing firecrackers at each other in the garage. Not really trying to hurt anyone, but seeing how close we could get.
I was the unlucky one. A million to one shot that the firecracker I threw would land on the pool table. Damn thing blew as it landed and left a burn mark across the green.
That pool table was Red's pride and joy and the only thing new on our property. Both cars broke down, the house was falling apart, and there was no food in the fridge. However, he still played at the table every night until he got too drunk.
"He's going to kill you," Heather said, what I was already thinking.
Golf courses aren't as beautiful as that table was. I was never as pure as it was. Not in his eyes.
Heather hurried back with a wet towel and started dabbing at it while I stood frozen, only able to hold the beer I disliked.
The guys were no help and seeing our panic, had already headed for the exit.
"Help us, you jerk," Heather said as she became frantic. "He loves this table more than he loves Melinda"
I still hadn't moved.
"We gotta go," one spoke for all of them.
Red had a reputation for being violent. There was one instance where he beat some guy in a bar because he used to date my mother. No other reason. Just that they used to date.
He was a drunk with a temper, but I'm sure there might have been a little more to the story than that, but that was the truth that circled out in the small town.
I finally put my beer down and helped Heather. We patted and rubbed and prayed and dabbed, but there was an obvious change in color on the table. Not much, but I knew he would see it.
There was nothing else I could do but show him what happened and apologize.
