If You Only KnewbyMoogPlayer©
I want to express a very warm and heartfelt "Thank You" to all of the kind and gentle souls who took the time to vote and/or leave a comment, as well as those who have sent me feedback on my previous stories. This one is for all of you, and I pray that God richly blesses each and every one of you. Oh, one more thing, this story is totally fictional.
P.S. I've had numerous requests to write a book. I've already got one out there called, "Disavowed". It's a very poignant love story about a U.S. Navy SEAL named, Michael Masterson, and you can get it at any of the on-line sites that sell books...Thanks!
"Now just what makes you think that I'd go out with you," she asked, "You're that creepy guy in my creative writing class who always writes all those stupid weepy assed love stories, aren't you?"
"I'm sorry that I bothered you," I quietly replied, looking down as I walked away in shame, amidst the laughter of Trish and her friends.
"Trish" is Patricia Warner, one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful girl on campus whom I'd met at college my freshman year. I was there on an academic scholarship, as my parents couldn't afford to send me. However, I knew from the clothes that she wore and the car she drove, that she came from a wealthy family. And even though she treated me like total shit upon our first meeting and continued to do so throughout college, I still fell hopelessly in love with her the very first time I ever saw her, and there would never be another girl for me but her.....
Hi, my name is Bryan Hendrickson. I'm six feet, four inches tall, weigh two-hundred and thirty pounds, and I have long dark brown hair with very little gray in it and blue eyes. I've been told by more than one woman that I was handsome, but I'm now approaching fifty-four; and am a retired writer with a little over half as many novels under my belt as the years I've spent on this wonderful earth. However, I was barely eighteen when what I'm about to tell you took place.
I was considered to be a nerd when I was younger and didn't really have much going for me, other than the head on my shoulders. I wore braces and glasses in high school, guaranteeing that no girl would have anything to with me, much less talk to me. I wasn't an athlete, and although I knew all the jocks, as I'd helped tutor most of them, I still didn't hang out with them, or the "in" crowd. And I sure as hell wasn't a partier, nor did I use drugs. Hell, I was considered by the nerds to be too geeky for even them, but my saving grace came in the form of my Mom's brother, my Uncle Joey, who taught me martial arts. It was true that I looked a lot like him, and more was the reason we took up together
He hadn't been home from Vietnam, while the war over there was still raging, for more than a few months when my Martial arts instruction began. He never talked about what he did in Vietnam, and now that I've seen the things that I've been forced to deal with in my life; I can truly understand why. Still though, Uncle Joey always told me the truth when it came to life, and was a very good influence on me. And it was because of him that I was prepared when it came time for me to attend the hormonal hell called high school. I was thankful for the training, which never seemed to end, and still doesn't, even though I'm grown now, but I'm getting ahead of myself again.
During high school, I was pretty much a loner and could be found in the library studying, in the classroom working, or in the gym working out. I made straight "A's", which is a Four, point Zero average. I even scored in the high fifteen hundreds on my SAT's and graduated second in my class; but I can honestly say that there was not one person whom I could honestly call a friend when I was in high school.
It wasn't that I didn't like people, I did. I was just a painfully shy kid who didn't speak more than two words at a time when being addressed by someone other than my parents. The only decent things that happened to me were getting my braces removed right after I graduated high school, and the fact that I didn't have acne. But I still had to wear those ugly fucking glasses. Oh well, enough about me...I guess you get the picture, huh?
My English teacher, Miss Linda Walsh, said that my writing skills, as well as my use of the English language were well beyond my years, and she told me that I would make a great writer. (She was a very sweet lady who I'll always remember with much affection.) So, with the full four year academic scholarship given to me by a university that was well over two hundred miles from my home, off to college I went with dreams of one day becoming a published author.
My parents drove me to college and took me to my dorm that first day. After I was moved in and met my new room mate, Kyle Crossfield, I went back down to the parking lot with Dad to say goodbye to him and Mom, who cried while she was hugging me.
"You take good care of yourself, baby," she sniffled, "Your father and I are so very proud of you, Bryan."
"I'll be okay, Mom," I smiled, holding her hands, "And I love you and Dad very much."
Dad said that Mom cried all the way home, God love her. I had good, no, make that great parents. Dad and his partner were trying to start their own engineering firm, and barely had the money to keep it afloat and Mom was a legal secretary. Although they worked long hours, they made just enough to pay for our house and feed and clothe the three of us. Regardless of how little we had, there was never a shortage of love around our house, and I've learned in life that love is what really counts, especially when it's pure and true.
When I got back to my dorm, I sat and talked with Kyle, who, for some reason, I was not shy around. I didn't know what it was about him that made me relax, but it was the start of a friendship that still lasts to this day. We talked about how bad we both had hated going to high school and discovered that we were both there on academic scholarships. Kyle was a Math major, and when he found out that I was an English major; he laughed and said, "Good, I really suck at English so, you can help me out."
"I'd be glad to," I laughed, "What is there to do around here?"
"We can go over to Gaffe's, where there will more than likely be a bunch of really hot girls, and drink some beer and play pool," he grinned, "Or we can go to the student union building, where there won't be any girls, and watch movies."
"I vote for Gaffe's," I timidly replied, "But I've never really drank beer though."
"Trust me, bro," Kyle laughed, patting me on the shoulder, "I'll look out for you."
It was during the fall of 1972 and the United States been involved in Vietnam for over seven terrible and bloody years. I had earned my black belt in Karate and the legal drinking age in my home state was eighteen back then so; as soon as Kyle and I walked into Gaffe's we headed straight for the bar. We hadn't been there for more than five minutes, when in walked the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.
She stood at somewhere around five feet, six, to five feet, seven inches tall. Her long dark hair fell to right below her waist right above the most perfect ass known to man. Her body measurements were proportionate to her height, and her face was more beautiful than any I'd ever seen; but what stood out more than anything were her eyes. They looked like indigo cut crystal, shimmering in the morning sunlight, and sparkling like a brilliant blue kaleidoscope. I was so in awe of her that I blatantly stared at her like a zombie in a trance.
"Hey! Bryan!" Kyle laughed, snapping his fingers in front of my face, "Earth to Bryan, are you still with us, man?"
"Holy Mary, mother of God," I gasped, regaining what little sense I had back then, "Who is she?"
"That, my goofy room mate, is Patricia Warner," chuckled Kyle, "Not only is she a sophomore, but she dates the captain of the football team."
"Still though," I wistfully replied, "I sure would like to get to know her."
"Get real, Bryan," Kyle sadly smiled, as we drank our beers, "You'd have better luck pulling a golden rabbit out of your ass before guys like us would be able to get next to the likes of girls like her."
"Maybe," I grinned back, "But it's not such a bad thought, now is it?"
"Yeah, right," Kyle snorted, "That's all it ever will be, too, is just a thought."
I had class the next day, most of which were advanced level placement classes. It meant that I was in classes that were usually reserved for third and fourth year students. The first day was spent going over not only the syllabus for each class I attended, but what I would need to have ready when each of those particular classes met again. Still though, I felt like I finally somewhere that I belonged, and it made me feel better about not only myself, but the world in general.
When I came to the last class of the day, I must've been a little early because there were only eight to ten people in the classroom. However, when I walked in, a very nice looking, and as I soon discovered, a very kind lady named, Doctor Laura Matthews, called my name as I walked through the door.
"You must be Mister Hendrickson," she said with a smile, "I'm Doctor Matthews, your teacher for this class, but you can call me Laura like everyone else does around here."
"It's nice to meet you," I shyly said, "And you can call me Bryan."
"Please come in and have a seat," she smiled, rising from her desk and moving toward the door, "I've heard some very nice things about you." I simply blushed as I took my seat, but a feeling inside of me told me that I was welcome here, and I began to relax.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any better, and right before Laura closed the door, the beautiful girl I'd seen the night before at Gaffe's breezed into the classroom.
"Miss Warner," Laura smiled, "It's nice to see you."
"I wouldn't have had to come back if you hadn't held me back," Patricia sneered.
"I didn't hold you back, dear girl," Laura replied, unmoved, "You were late with your term paper, and you didn't do it correctly either. You have to follow the rules just like everyone else, and that's why you have to repeat this class," and with that said, Trish took a seat as Laura closed the door, and then returned to her desk.
"This class will be held every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoon," Laura said, tapping her fingers on a stack of papers on her desk, "Be sure to pick up and read your syllabus thoroughly as you leave, now, class dismissed."
I silently watched as Trish made her way to the door. She wore a white long-sleeve tee shirt, and a pair of very tight, hip-hugger jeans and she was more beautiful than I had originally thought, thus sealing the fact that I desired so very much to belong to and her to me.
I waited until the rest of the class was almost gone before I rose from my seat and headed to Laura's desk. "Can I see you for a moment, Bryan?" Laura politely asked, as I was picking up a copy of the syllabus for her class.
"Sure," I said, "What can I do for you?"
"Have a seat," she smiled, "I wanted to talk to you."
I took a seat, and as soon as the last person walked out of the room, Laura rose and shut the door behind them and then returned to her seat.
"I know Linda Walsh, your English teacher," Laura smiled, as she sat back down behind her desk, "We were room mates in college until I got married. She's told me some pretty amazing things about you, Bryan."
"I wouldn't know," I bashfully replied, "She was my favorite teacher though."
"My, you are shy," Laura chuckled, "Relax Bryan, I won't bite you."
"I am relaxed," I nervously said, "I know you won't bite me....it's just that....well..."
"What is it, Bryan," Laura said, concern in her voice, "You can tell me."
I mustered up every ounce of courage I had and blurted out, "I get real nervous around pretty women...and....you're very beautiful."
"Thank you, kind sir," she smiled, "It's been a long time since a man paid me such a nice compliment."
Let me tell you more about Laura. She was twenty-five years old at the time, and gracefully stood five feet, eight inches tall; and was every bit the epitome of beautiful. While she didn't dress provocatively, she was still the essence of true femininity in everything she said and did. She had long golden honey-blonde hair that danced on her shoulders, and sparkling green eyes that reminded me of two brilliantly shinning emeralds, but still though, I could see a hint of sadness in them when she looked at me. She had a dazzling smile that gave me a sort of comfort, kind of like meeting an old friend that you haven't seen in a long time. If I were older, I would surely want to be seen, and maybe one day be loved by someone who was as sweet and as beautiful as she was. But I couldn't understand why she said it had been a long time since a man paid her a compliment.
That's why I asked, "I know this is none of my business, Laura, but doesn't your husband tell you how beautiful you are? I know I would if I were him."
"And Linda was right when she told me what a sweetie you are, too," she sweetly but sadly smiled, "But my husband was killed in Vietnam, in sixty-eight, during the Tet Offensive."
"I'm so very sorry, Laura. I was almost fourteen when that happened," I solemnly replied, "It's been a sad time for all of us. Hopefully that shitty war will be over soon."
She rose from behind her desk, and after walking to where I stood, she placed her soft arms gently around my neck, and sweetly hugging me, said, "Thank you for your kind words, Bryan. You're a good man, and I don't know how I know this, but you're going to do great things one day."
Still though, the fact that she was a very beautiful woman didn't go unnoticed by me; and when I felt her unintentionally press her breasts against my chest, an involuntarily warm tingle began to arise from my groin at an astounding rate. But as opposed to embarrassing myself, as well as disrespecting Laura by letting her feel my impending erection rubbing against her, I gently eased away from her and replied, "I'm not a man yet, I'm only eighteen."
"You sweet boy," Laura knowingly smiled, placing her palm to my face, "My husband, Jake, wasn't much older than you when he was killed defending our country. You act a lot like him, you know."
"No," I smiled, now relaxed and shaking my head; "I didn't know that."
"I need to tell you something, Bryan," she said, "I'm going to be your faculty advisor while you're here."
"Really, that's good then, yes?"
"Well," she slyly grinned, "That depends."
"On what," I uncomfortably asked.
After slipping a card into my hand that had writing on it, Laura playfully punched me in the arm and giggled, "That card has my address and phone number on it. Be at my house for dinner at seven o'clock this evening. And don't be late; you and I have a lot to talk about, kiddo."
I arrived at Laura's house right on time, and when she opened the door, she greeted me wearing simple blue jeans and tee-shirt. Her house was within walking distance of the campus so; I stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of white wine.
"Hi Bryan," Laura smiled, "I'm glad you could make it."
"Thank you for inviting me," I replied, handing her the wine I'd brought, "I was taught to never come to someone's home empty handed."
Laura took my hand and closing the door behind her, brought me into her living room and sat me down on the couch. Taking the bottle she smiled and said, "Make yourself comfortable while I open this," then she disappeared into the kitchen.
I looked around her home while I sat there, and noticed pictures of different people either hanging on the wall, or in picture frames sitting on her coffee and end tables. Along her far wall were shelves of books that stretched from one end of the room to the other.
"The roast won't be done for a while," Laura said, coming into the room and sitting down next to me on the couch, "So, we can have a little talk while we're waiting."
Then as she handed me one of the two of wine glasses she held, she grinned and began, "As a faculty advisor I only take on one student at a time, and then, I'm their advisor until they either graduate or drop out. None of my students have ever dropped out, and we're not about to start a new tradition with you. Do I make myself clear so far?"
"Yes," I replied, "But why only one student, and why me?"
"I've read some of the short stories you wrote in Linda Walsh's class," Laura smiled, "And I'll tell you now, Bryan, that I've never read finer work than yours. I think you have it in you to be one of the greatest writers of our time, but you're going to have to discipline yourself to buckle down and work hard, very hard."
"I can handle anything you put in front of me, Laura," I said, "But you still haven't answered my question, why me? I'm sure there are other, more gifted students in this college than me."
She looked at me with tears beginning to fill her eyes, and shifting in her seat, she sadly replied, "Because Linda told me that she never saw you laughing and talking with any of the other students you went to school with," and then tears began to roll down her beautiful cheeks as she continued, "Linda told me that everyone picked on you and called you names like creep, and geek, and nerd."
"So," I angrily said, "You're doing this out of pity then."
"No, no, oh no," she quickly replied, "I'm doing this because I know how you feel. Who do you think granted you your scholarship?"
"You didn't have to," I growled, feeling very insulted, "And how could you possibly know how I feel?"
Look at this," she said, reaching over to the end table closest to her, and then pulling out an eight, by ten inch, framed, photo and handing it to me. In the photo, a high school graduation picture; was a girl with bigger glasses than mine, and thick braces that looked like the railroad tracks I used to have in my mouth. Her hair was blonde, dull, and wiry, and hung in thick braids from the sides of her head.
"That was what I looked like when I graduated from high school, Bryan," smiled Laura, "Pretty geeky looking picture, huh?"
"That can't be you," I disbelievingly gasped, "I mean...you're beautiful...and..."
"Now do you believe me when I said that I know how you feel?" she pointedly asked, with just the hint of a smile on her face, "I was just like you think you are now."
"I guess I understand what you meant now," I said, "I'm sorry for getting angry at you, Laura, and thank you for helping me get into college."
She smiled, and then leaning over and softly kissing me on the cheek, she put her arm around me and giggled, "You're welcome, Bryan, and besides; us nerds have to stick together."
"Hell yeah," I smiled, "We sure do!"
For the next three years I studied everything I could get my hands on, and at the end of each semester; Laura would always smile proudly at me for making the Dean's List. And when I wasn't studying, I was in the gym training and/or working out by myself.
I found out early on that Trish was a Psychology major, and it always seemed, because me of being in the advanced placement program, we had at least one, or two classes together, each semester. Every time I would smile or speak to her, she would look at me like I was an insect, and then ignore me as if I wasn't even there.
I went home and visited with my folks as I wasn't about to let them stay by themselves without any word from me whatsoever. They were always excited as they listened to the news that I brought with me each time I came home. I didn't have to tell them about Laura, as Linda Walsh, my teacher, had kept them abreast of everything I had done. Dad beamed and couldn't tell me enough how proud he was of me, which made me feel good that I had done my parents proud. And each time I would leave, my Mom, bless her heart, would always cry.