Alternate Memories - Dayton Ch. 01

Author's Preface:

This is the second in the Alternate Memories Series. The first was entitled NORFOLK. You might want to read these in order, but each is written to stand alone. Enjoy.

About two years ago, I received an unexpected letter from a woman named Maribeth who I had dated for a short time in the fall of 1965 as I was finishing up my last semester at the University of Dayton. After graduation, I had accepted an ROTC commission in the U.S. Army and had subsequently deployed to Vietnam the following year. As is common in such circumstances I had lost touch with Maribeth, so it was with some surprise that I discovered that she had not only found me, but reached out after all these years.

To make a long story short; Maribeth told me that she was extremely ill and was fighting cancer for the second time. Her Doctor's prognosis was not encouraging, but she was determined, and I remembered that she was a fighter. In her letter she brought me more or less up to date on her life which, as with us all, had both up's and down's, but for her, mostly the latter.

On the up side, she had risen to the top of her profession as a clinical psychologist and had earned a doctorate in that field with multiple honors and awards.

However this was more than counterbalanced by a horrible childhood, a stern aloof mother and an unknown father. A failed marriage of her own followed by several less than desirable attempts with other relationships. No children and no relatives, and a series of medical problems that could bring several individuals to their knees. As she wrote;

"As I look back on my life, the one and only time I ever felt really happy was the few months I spent with you."

For a long time I pondered on how I should respond to Maribeth's letter. She lived a thousand miles away, I was married for almost 50 years and had three grown children and four grandchildren. What could I possibly do to reach across all those years and, in some way, aid Maribeth in her latest struggle?

We had corresponded for a while when I had the germ of an idea. Often, Maribeth would remark that she had few good memories of her life and so I began to consider the possibility that perhaps, through my writing, I could replace those bad memories with better, more exciting ones.

This was the genesis of a series of stories that I have collectively titled "Alternative Memories." While these are fictional accounts, the people, places and events in them are real and evoke a realistic timeline that Maribeth could adapt into her mind and actually achieve the intended purpose.

Obviously I hope that these "Alternate Memories'' will make Maribeth's burden easier to bear. If so, I'm satisfied with that. But, in truth, I wonder about myself. What are memories anyway, and who's to say these stories weren't real.

Does it matter after almost 50 years? What is reality anyway? Consciousness creates everything we take to be real and true and my opinion is that...

If it feels real, it must be so. You be the judge.

July, 1966

Since I had left Maribeth at the doorway of her Aunt's house in Portsmouth my days had become a little bit gloomier. We'd spoken several times since that day but even those weren't cathartic since long distance communication in the mid-sixties was far from what we take for granted today.

In order for us to talk, first we have to have previously agreed on a time that Maribeth will be near her phone. Secondly, I have to find a pay phone that was likely to be available at that time, and lastly I have to make sure I have enough of the right change to feed the phone, otherwise we'll be cut off in mid sentence.

Letters are better, since they're more private and lend themselves to a more candid sharing of our feelings than a phone where you're always conscious of the seconds ticking away. In the two weeks since our date in Virginia, we've each sent two letters and spoken once.

The call was nice. It was great to hear her voice. It sounded like she was keeping her voice low, so I wondered if there were other people around. I told her that I would be finishing the Basic Officers Transportation course in another week and that I had received orders to report to the Oakland Army Base in California. I was slated to be a platoon leader in a stevedore company that loaded ships, but a lot of my class was getting orders to units deploying to Vietnam, so I wasn't sure how dependable that assignment was.

Sure enough the day after our phone call I received a change of orders. I was now being assigned as a platoon leader in a truck company that was assembling at Ft. Meade, Maryland. With the military build up in Vietnam, It was pretty obvious where I would be in a few months.

As an aside, I was a little bit miffed by T-School. For the entire six weeks of classes and field exercises I had been ranked #1 in the class of fifty. The incentive for finishing first in your class was that you could pick your assignment. Just before graduation we had one final exam on which I got almost a perfect score, but when the final ranking was posted I had fallen to #2. As far as I know there was no statistical way this could have happened, so of course I suspected some kind of fix was in. I asked about it and was told that's the way the numbers shook out, but they refused to give me any details. As a new 2nd Lieutenant, I knew my political clout was non-existent, but it still pissed me off.

One interesting effect this change had was on my plans for the week after I completed T School. Since my parents lived less than an hour from Oakland I had originally thought I'd drive there and spend a couple of days with them. Now, with an assignment to Maryland, it made a cross country trip and back impractical. In its place I considered spending a few days of my leave in Dayton which, of course meant that Maribeth and I would see each other again.

When I mentioned this to her on the phone, she was super-excited and she wrote down the dates that I would be in town. She said that she was hopeful that she could convince some of her co-workers to cover for her at the dry cleaners so she could be available for most of the time I'd be there.

Since it was mid July, it was likely that there would be some bedrooms available at the Alpha Kappa Psi house. I had lived there two summers previously, so I called and found out that indeed I was welcome to crash there for a few days. The two brothers who were living there were friends of mine, so it was a plus all the way around.

Graduation from T-School was scheduled for noon on a Saturday, which made it impractical to leave Virginia right away. I couldn't drive all the way to Dayton without arriving at like 3 a.m. So I left early Sunday morning. The new interstate highways were a pleasant change from the stop and go that I was mostly familiar with and I arrived in Dayton about 5 p.m. unpacked what little I had and gave Maribeth a call at home.

She answered the phone immediately. I was imagining her fussing around doing things to say occupied while not straying far. The phone in the fraternity house was a welcome relief from a pay phone and its incessant countdown, so I was relaxed and in a great frame of mind when I called.

I had no idea what arrangements Maribeth had been able to work out for the days ahead, so the first order of business was bringing me up to date on her availability. With the exception of the coming Wednesday, she had been successful in swapping work dates with several co-workers, so it looked like we might enjoy a fair amount of time together. She asked if I wanted to come over immediately, but it had been a long drive and so I begged off.

The next day was a Monday, so I offered to take her to lunch. We made a date for noon and chatted for a few more minutes. Several times our conversation alluded to our recent get-together in Norfolk, and it was clear that both of us were looking for a rerun of that experience. As I listened to her voice, I could feel the sexual tension begin to build, and so it was with some anticipation that I blew her a kiss through the phone and hung up.

Next, I called my friend Norb and let him know I was back in town for a few days. Norb was still a student at the University of Dayton, but he told me that he was taking one summer course and he would be done. About time, I thought. Norb had originally applied to U.D. in the fall semester of 1960, so he had already been there two years before I arrived. If indeed he was going to graduate, he would have been there just short of seven years! He was still dating Kathy, so we agreed that I would check back and see if we all could get together.

John Borchers and Dave Miller were the other brothers that were living in the AKPsi house and I spent the rest of the evening talking and drinking beer with them. They were interested in my Army experiences so far and asked how I felt about the Vietnam war. Both of them had low draft lottery numbers and the only thing that kept them from being in my situation was their college deferments. I said that I hadn't really formed an opinion but that I was having a hard time understanding exactly what 'American interests' were threatened so far away. In any event, I had grown up in the military, so I was pretty conditioned to follow lawful orders without much question.

My dreams that night were erotic to say to he least. At one point I remember seeing Mariberh running across what appeared to be a field of grass. She was naked and as she ran her breasts swayed from side to side, but as she drew near she just disappeared. Later I was asleep in that same field and in the dream Maribeth woke me up. This time she was fully clothed and she extended her hand and helped me get up. The next thing I remember is we entered a beautiful garden with paths that twisted and turned around tall bushes and trees. Then, for a long time we were separated from one another and while we could hear each other's voices, we just couldn't seem to meet. When I awoke, I must have been sweating because the sheet was damp. It may have been from the dreams but since it had been a typical hot summer night, it could have been just from that.

By 8 a.m. the next morning it was obvious that the heat was unlikely to abate. It was already 80 degrees and the sky was cloudless with no hint of a breeze. For me, it was a late rising and as I staggered downstairs I wasn't sure whether John or Dave were still in bed or even if they were still in the house. When I entered the kitchen I found there was coffee in a pot on the stove. It was cold and I had no idea how long ago it had been perked, but since I had just come from an environment where any black colored liquid was called coffee, I was conditioned to be tolerant of these things. I turned on the burner and waited.

While I waited for the coffee to boil, my mind turned to formulating a plan for the day. I checked my wallet and confirmed my entire net worth was the $250 I found there. The romantic in me told me that Maribeth was to be treated like a queen and that I should take her to the very best places. The realist in me considered the situation and concluded that I would need to be creative. I checked out the kitchen and found some chuck roast that didn't seem too old and I was surprised to discover an actual loaf of french bread. Wow! I thought, I never remembered we ever stocked french bread.

The coffee was surprisingly good, so it probably only dated from yesterday. When I finished, my body reminded me that I needed the five mile run that I had begun every morning with for the last several months. I pulled on a pair of olive drab shorts and my canvas shoes (we had not yet been told to call these 'running shoes'). The temperature outside did not dictate any further clothing, so sans a shirt I started out.

I ran down Stewart Avenue and then did every road on the U.D. campus. Checking my watch, I estimated that I had only run about three miles by that point, so to add two more I ran past NCR and followed the Miami River down to Carillon Park. The trip back was all uphill, and by the time I got back to the AKPsi house I was covered in sweat so a quick shower and shave were in order. Then, dressed only in my underwear I returned to the kitchen and rewarmed the coffee for my second cup of the day,

Now, fully caffeinated, I got down to putting together a picnic lunch. The chuck roast on buttered french bread was wrapped in Saran wrap and I found some cheese, grapes and potato chips that I tossed into a paper bag along with the sandwiches. I thought I remembered that there was a small cooler somewhere and I found it in the bottom of the pantry. As always the refrigerator was well stocked with beer. I removed four cans of Wiedemann's and emptied the ice trays into the cooler. The cans of beer and the bag of sandwiches followed.

It was almost 11 a m. by the time I was finished, so I went back upstairs to dress. Still no sign of John or Dave. Their bedroom doors were still closed so they could be there, but I doubled it.

The day was dictating shorts and tee shirts. I had one pair of khaki shorts and a black tee with the word 'ARMY' centered on the front in gold block letters. I put back on my black canvas shoes with no socks and added a green jungle hat and sunglasses. Then, picking up the cooler I went out to my car and stowed it in the trunk. I lowered the convertible top and snapped the tonneau cover over it. Ready at last, I turned on the ignition and was pleased when 'Charlie' started immediately with that low rumble that spoke of a well tuned engine. Putting him into gear I turned left onto Stewart Avenue and headed north to pick up Maribeth.

When I pulled up in front of her house she was sitting on the porch. She saw me immediately and she quickly ran to the car. She opened the door and gave me a quick kiss and said, "let's go," I was puzzled by her greeting but I figured I would soon discover an answer, so I shifted to first gear and drove down the road. As soon as we had turned off her street, Mariberh told me to pull over and stop.

As soon as I did, she was all over me. She turned in her seat and took my face in both hands. Her lips, fresh with new lipstick, found mine and soon our tongues were engaged in a familiar dance. I tasted her breath which seemed to be a nice blend of female pheromones and what I took to be mint. My right hand reached behind her with the intention of pulling her body as close as possible. We kissed for a long time and when we finally came up for air, I couldn't help but ask about the strange greeting in front of the house.

Mariberh smiled and said, "not here and not now, I'll tell you later." When she finally settled back into her seat, I took a moment to really look at her. I observed that she had stacked her long hair into an attractive bun and for about the hundredth time I marveled at what women can do with their hair using only a few bobby pins.

While most of her hair was nearly coiffed, a few loose strands fell on both sides of her face, creating a frame that accentuated her eyes, lips and slim neck.

Yyy

She had on a sleeveless sky blue blouse and a pair of denim shorts. A small pouch was belted around her waist and I assumed this was substituting for a purse since she didn't seem to be carrying one. As I had noticed during our date in Virginia, the sleeveless blouse and shorts combo was fantastic since it emphasized her very feminine arms and legs. She had obviously been spending some time outside as her smooth skin was nicely tanned. In the past, she had told me that she found it difficult to get a good tan since she had a tendency to burn. I assumed that she had perfected her timing because the current result was beautiful.

I hadn't noticed the white sun visor she now wore, since when she ran to the car she must have been holding it in her hand. Ditto the frilly yellow sunglasses which I remembered from Norfolk. The final piece was her brown leather sandals which encased delicate feet with red painted toenails.

As we drove, Maribeth turned to me and asked, "where to master?" At her question, I felt a strong sense of both pride and satisfaction. I found that I liked the feeling that she trusted me to take responsibility for the circumstances and events within which our relationship was blossoming. I had no doubt that if I asked her to arrange a day, she could do so with ease. So it wasn't a question of ability rather it was both of us falling into the natural order of things. I wanted to lead, she seemed content to follow.

We were driving in the general direction of the Miami River, so I outlined my plan for our lunch. I told her that I had packed a picnic and I thought it would be nice to sit and eat at Island MetroPark.

As the name implied, the park was located on an island in the Miami River. It was most famous for its bandshell where outdoor concerts were held. It was also the site of several rowing clubs. I doubted we would see any boats on a Monday afternoon, but the miles of well cared for walking paths and old forest oak trees should more than compensate.

I soon turned on Helena Avenue and crossed the stone bridge that led to the entrance to the park. While most of the island was covered by walking paths there was a perimeter road which permitted cars to access almost any area, so if you wished you didn't need to walk far.

I drove to the northern tip of the island where a copse of Oak Trees shaded several picnic tables. Looking out from this location, the Miami River seemed to flow around both sides creating an illusion that our castle was surrounded by a wide and formidable moat.

I parked 'Charlie' in the shade of one of the trees and unlocked the trunk and removed the cooler. Maribeth walked ahead of me looking for the best table, while my eyes fixated on her feminine curves as her butt swayed in the sensuous manner of all women. Once she glanced over her shoulder to confirm that I was just behind and gave me another smile. A moment later she said, "Ooh look," and pointed to an empty table that was almost invisible from the path. When we walked to the site, we discovered that not only was it pretty much hidden from the path, but also from the six other tables in the copse, only one of which was occupied by another couple.

I sat the cooler on the table and took Maribeth into my arms and kissed her deeply. "Such a great choice," I whispered in her ear. Maribeth whispered back, "I always make great choices." I knew she meant me, so I responded, "So do I." With these words I felt Maribeth melt into my embrace and our kiss became more passionate. My right hand found her breast and I was mildly surprised to find it otherwise unencumbered beneath her blouse. When she sensed my touch she pressed her tit more firmly into my hand and I kneaded the soft flesh. I was soon rewarded by a firming of the little button of her nipple. An audible moan escaped her lips and I took this as a signal to up the ante. I pressed my hips forcefully against her, wanting her to feel my arousal. Another whisper, "that feels so good....I need you."

Well I 'needed' her too, but first there was the matter of lunch. Two cups of coffee make a lousy breakfast and it was now after one o'clock in the afternoon and I was starving. When I explained these facts of life, Maribeth scrunched her face into a pout but soon agreed that survival came first and if that's what her man needed, that's what she wanted too.

The cooler had kept the beer cold and I removed two cans, fished into my pocket and removed my Swiss Army knife which had a blade that punctured the top with just the right sized opening. I handed the first one to Maribeth and then opened the second can and took a big swig. On such a hot day the cold beer hit the spot.

I opened the bag and layed out a couple of napkins. Maribeth unwrapped the sandwiches and I used my knife to cut the cheese into bite sized wedges. We sat down next to each other and attacked the lunch. Even if I do say so myself, the roast beef sandwiches were delicious, and the flavor of the cheese went great with the sweet taste of the grapes. We finished our savory, tart and fruity lunch with the salty potato chips. I had to admit that the combination of all of these different tastes all at once was delightful, and when I thought about the taste of Maribeth herself, I went iñto sensory overload.