Hubris of Youth Pt. 02

My wandering mind had me feeling something more basic, and my body was reacting on autopilot. Before I realized it, I had a full-blown erection, uncomfortably crowding my pants. Fortunately, the lighting in this background area was dim enough to conceal the bulge. Now if only it could ease the swelling.

So it went, as I spent the hour of the broadcast battling with my body's natural reactions. If I didn't watch her, then I would relax, and my erection would subside, but it was nearly impossible to keep from watching her. In the end, I gave up, and resigned myself to sitting with a huge boner in my pants for the duration. When at last they had signed off, I remained seated. Savannah picked her way over to me.

"Well? Did I do a good job?" she asked, leaning over for a kiss. Her hand fell on my lap. "Yikes! I guess I did! Poor baby. Can I help you with that?"

"You're the only one who can," I laughed. She tilted her head.

"Suddenly, I have a craving for sausage."

We never did make it to the restaurant.

***

The day of Savannah's birthday, we had no opportunity to get together, other than that evening, so I picked her up after her broadcast. The plan was for a nice dinner, maybe a late movie, that we probably wouldn't actually watch anyway. Back at her place, we would spend the entire night expressing our appreciation for each other physically.

At least, that was my plan.

In the restaurant, the waitress directed us to our table, and left us with menus to sort through. I noticed that she wasn't really into it.

"You seem a little distracted tonight, honey," I observed. "Is everything alright?"

Savannah smiled over her menu, but it was forced.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said softly. "It's just that I'm not very fond of birthdays. I appreciate the sentiment, and I'm glad to be out with you tonight, but this is the one day each year when I just feel... old."

"Not from where I sit," I laughed. "You sure didn't feel old last night."

"Why, thank you," she smiled, genuinely this time.

"Would it help if I told you my mother wished you a happy birthday, too?" I offered.

"She did, did she?" Savannah laughed. "Well, thank her for me."

"She always tells me to say 'hi' for her," I continued.

"Then, why didn't you?" she asked, pointing a chastising finger at me. "We've never really talked about your mother, other than that you live there. What's her name?"

"Daisy," I replied.

"I once knew a Daisy, a long time ago," she said quietly.

"Mom always said that Dad rescued her from torment. Taking his name meant she wasn't 'Daisy Haysie' anymore," I chuckled.

"Daisy Haysie?" Savannah asked.

"Well, her maiden name was Hayes, but kids can be cruel," I replied. "I suppose the rhyme was inevitable."

I looked at Savannah, who seemed pale.

"Honey? Are you okay?" I asked, concerned.

"Um, no, not really," she answered, closing her menu. "Would it be okay if we called it a night? I don't feel well. I'm sorry."

"Of course, honey," I nodded, touching her hand, just as the waitress arrived to take our orders. After a quick explanation from me, she took the menus and left us.

"I know you had plans for tonight," Savannah apologized, again, "but I might be coming down with something. I think I just need to go to bed." She saw me grin, and added, "Alone, baby. Sorry."

The drive back to her house was quiet, with no conversation to speak of. Parked in her driveway, I turned off the car, and we sat in silence.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in, and take care of you?" I asked her.

"I'm sure, honey," she said, softly, opening her door. I opened mine, and hopped out, to meet her at her side, anticipating at least a kiss goodnight. "Just a hug, okay? No use getting you sick as well."

I held her for a minute, feeling her soft breathing. I wanted to say something, but I was confused. Was she really sick? Was this just the birthday blues? Did I do something wrong? I felt her stir.

"I should get to bed," she said. "I'll probably turn my phone off, so don't worry if I don't respond, okay?"

"I, um, yeah. Okay. You're certain I can't help?" I offered once more.

"Goodnight, Nick," she said, with decided finality. I watched her go to her door, unlock it, and go inside.

"Um, happy birthday, baby," I said softly, to myself. "Get well soon."

***

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you, despite your best efforts, are in a situation totally beyond your control? One where you are trapped, helpless on the sidelines, while events unfold like a slow-motion train wreck?

I had several of those that night. Every time, I woke up, my heart pounding, and when I fell back to sleep, my subconscious chose to resume the horror as though it had a remote control with a pause button.

After a fitful night's sleep of emotional distress, I woke up alone, a stark reminder that things had not gone according to plan last night. I lay there, rehashing the whole scenario in my head, still unsure of where I went wrong. While it is true that I had only been with Savannah for twelve days, in that time we had grown very close to each other. Now, it appeared that it might be over, and I didn't know why.

Or, I might be totally wrong. Maybe she really was sick.

I checked my phone. Nothing. No response.

I was nearly useless at work that day. Checking my phone every few minutes, and finding no messages each time, did nothing to ease my dread. By the end of my shift, I was sure things were over.

And I still didn't know why.

That evening, during dinner at home with Mom, I was sullen at best. She had the news on as usual, and noticed that I wasn't paying my usual rapt attention.

"Nick? Something wrong?" she asked, giving me her concerned look. "Girl problems?"

Her generic terminology belied the fact that she had been aware of the situation between Savannah and myself since the onset. Denying it would be an exercise in futility.

Besides, maybe it would help to talk it out, even with my mother.

"Um, yeah. Girl trouble," I nodded.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry to hear that. I've always liked her, and I hoped things would work out for you," Mom said softly, touching my hand. "Tell me about it?"

"That's just it... There's nothing to tell really," I told her. "Everything was fine. Better than fine, actually. I thought we were falling in love, then suddenly... It's over."

"I'm sure it feels that way, but there must be more to it than that. She must have had a reason to turn away," she suggested. "When did this happen?"

"Last night. We were out for her birthday, and we were talking, just like usual, then everything changed," I said, exasperated.

Mom rolled her eyes, and smiled.

"Last night? Don't you think you might be jumping to conclusions?" she asked. "Just because she didn't text you today doesn't necessarily mean it's over."

"No, but it's very unusual for us. She said she wasn't feeling well, and not to worry if she didn't respond at first, but I can't help it. It just feels wrong," I said sadly. "Seeing her on the news means she can't be that sick."

"Okay, back up a second," she directed. "She was sick?"

"Not really," I sighed. "Alright. I'll tell you everything." My eyes were closed, and I recapped the whole evening. "We're at the restaurant, and she seems a little bit down. Not her usual self. She says she's not fond of birthdays."

"Not unusual for a woman," Mom replied.

"I suppose. We talked a little more, and she seemed happier," I added. "I even told her you wished her a happy birthday. We were talking about you, and then suddenly, she gets pale, and wants to go home."

"Talking about me?" Mom gasped. "Oh my."

"Yeah, she asked about you, and I told her. We even talked about your old nickname, when you were a kid," I replied.

Mom sat back, and exhaled slowly.

"What?" I asked.

"I think I understand," Mom sighed. "I think this is my fault."

"Huh? You've never even met Savannah," I wondered. "How could it be your fault?"

Mom got up, and poured herself another cup of coffee. When she came back and sat down, she was holding the cup in both hands and looking down uncomfortably. She obviously had something to tell me. I had no choice but to wait, until she was ready.

"Honey," she said softly, "the truth is, I have met Savannah."

"You have? When?" I asked.

"Oh, about forty years ago," she admitted. "Maybe a little less. I grew up with her, and her older sister. In fact, her sister Shannon used to be my best friend."

"So, that's why you always said to say 'hello'," I answered. "I thought you were just being polite. So, why would that be a problem? Does it matter that you know her?"

"Well, it doesn't really matter to me," Mom said. "I mean, I know my opinion isn't the one that matters when it comes to your love life, but I would have imagined someone closer to your age, and further from mine, when I pictured your girlfriend. Still, your happiness is what matters to me, and if she was your choice, then I could make peace with it."

"Thank you," I nodded.

"Like I said, my opinion isn't important. It doesn't bother me," she looked up, and fixed me with a stare, showing her seriousness. "Just because it doesn't matter to me... Well, it might matter to her."

"She knows how old I am. It's hardly a secret," I replied.

"Nick, stop thinking like a man," she laughed. "Maybe age isn't her concern. Maybe it's something more personal. Something from her past. Maybe it's me."

"I'm going to need some help with that one," I shook my head. "Thinking like a man is a habit. What do you mean?"

"Really? I thought I taught you better than that," she sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll spell it out for you. You may have noticed that we women don't always say what we mean. Well, it's not because we are being dishonest. It's because our emotions have changed, and that has changed our intent."

"Okay, so you're saying she's changed her mind? There has to be a reason, doesn't there?" I said, hoping there was one. I might not like it, but at least I'd know why.

"I'm betting it has something to do with her knowing me," she said. "You said you were talking about me, and you hadn't done so before. She didn't know my name, and certainly didn't know my maiden name. I imagine it was something of a shock to find out the young man she had become involved with was the son of a childhood friend."

"Oh. Daisy Haysie," I groaned, suddenly cluing in. I slapped my forehead.

"Yeah. Daisy Haysie. That must have been a surprise, to say the least, and more than a little embarrassing," Mom discerned. "You said you felt like you were falling for her? You think she felt the same?"

"I think so," I nodded. I couldn't actually tell my mother how I came to that conclusion, as it would be divulging a little more about our relationship than I was comfortable telling. "Nothing concrete, but it felt that way."

"Early in a relationship, emotions can be very fragile, don't you agree?" Mom suggested. I nodded. "Perhaps fragile enough that shock and embarrassment are enough to shake them. She may not have changed her mind, but she might need time to figure out how she really feels."

"So, I should let her go?" I questioned. "I really hate that idea."

"No, don't let her go, but don't press too hard," she smiled. "Let her know you care, and that you are there to talk to, but don't inundate her with messages. That looks desperate, and desperate isn't what any woman wants in a man."

I sat back, silent. All of this was just an opinion, of course. Another woman's opinion, but still better than anything I had come up with, and despite the fact that nothing had really changed, it did make me feel better.

"Thanks, Mom," I said softly.

"Anytime, honey," she smiled. "I truly hope it all works out."

***

To say this situation was bizarre was an understatement. I mean, when was the last time you took your mother's advice on your sex life? In this case, it was even stranger, as Mom not only knew what was happening, but with whom. Hell, she even knew the 'whom', before I did.

In the absence of anything contrary, in terms of advice, I went along with Mom's plan. I gave Savannah some space, and took great care to keep my messages from sounding like I was feeling angry, or desperate, which is exactly what I was actually feeling. I sent her only one message, and it was crafted with great attention, so as not to cast guilt or blame.

Hi Savannah, I sent. I hope you are feeling better. I now understand that you need some time and space to sort things out, and I promise to give you that space. I miss you. My life seems somehow lessened by your absence, but I know it's not only my decision to make. Please, if you want to talk, don't hesitate to call me, anytime, day or night. I just need to know you're alright.

To my great relief, that message brought a quick response, where as the previous ones had been met with silence.

Thank you, Nick. Miss you too. I'm okay. Please be patient.

My heart leapt with joy. While hardly an unequivocal declaration of love, it said enough to put hope back into the equation.

'Please be patient', she asked. Easier said than done. I had sampled the goods, and they were really, really good. Now I felt like an addict, forced to go cold turkey. Hours seemed like days, and days like weeks.

In actuality, it was only five days of silence, but I was about ready to scream, when at last she surfaced.

Hi Nick. Can you meet me at our corner, this afternoon? she sent. We need to talk, face to face. I owe you an explanation. See you at 3?

I'll be there. Thanks. I replied.

Uh oh. I once got fired from a job, and was told we 'needed to talk', which is a whole different animal than 'want to talk'. It didn't fill me with confidence.

As for the location, 'our corner' was the corner where she had waited for me, on our first time together. I had deliberately been avoiding the usual route for walking Sox, so that it wouldn't appear that I was stalking her. For all I know, she'd been doing the same, and running elsewhere.

At least I'd know. At 3 o'clock, on our corner, I'd know whether, or not, we were over.

If I thought time moved slowly before, I now had a whole new appreciation for the effect. It seemed like it had stopped completely. When at last the damned clock finally neared 3, I put Sox on her leash and headed out. My heart was pounding in anticipation.

Rounding the corner at the top of the hill, I saw her, patiently waiting at the corner, a block away. It was almost like seeing her for the first time, all over again.

She was dressed for her run, and looking fabulous, as usual. As we approached, she smiled, but having been the recipient of her full-wattage version, I knew her polite one.

"Hi Nick," she said softly, then bent to pet Sox, giving me an agonizing peek down her top, at the huge rack I might never again have the pleasure of fondling. When she stood, her smile was gone. "Let's go over here," she directed. "There's a little park, with a bench, where we can talk."

I nodded, and followed her, watching her ass wiggle in the tight spandex. It was torture, having her nearly naked body so close, yet so off limits.

When we reached the park, she sat, and patted the spot next to her, shifting slightly further away as I sat as well.

"Nick, I'm sorry about the other night. It wasn't fair of me to act the way I did. I'm sure you must have been terribly hurt," she said, apologetically. "It's true, I don't like birthdays, but you were being very nice, and you had planned a celebration. It wasn't your fault."

So far, I had nothing to add, so I let her continue uninterrupted.

"I'm afraid something has come up, that might make us being together difficult. Something from my past, many, many years ago. That's the real reason I have been pulling away. I needed time to think."

Hmmm. Maybe Mom was right, I thought.

"Oh shit, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to spit it out. I know your Mother," Savannah gasped, and hung her head.

"Yes, I know," I replied. Her head lifted slowly, eyes wide. "Let me clarify... I didn't know then, but I know now. Mom told me that you grew up together. You, your sister Shannon, and Daisy Hayes."

"Oh god. This is so embarrassing!" she moaned, resting her head in her hands. "I'm fucking the son of a childhood friend? What a cruel joke!"

"Savannah?" I said softly, putting my arm around her. She didn't pull back. "Honey? Who cares? Other than the three of us, no one knows, and no one cares. Does it really matter?"

"It shouldn't, but it does," she blubbered, tears flowing. "I'm the one! I'm the one who called her 'Daisy Haysie'! She must hate me! I can't put you in the middle of that!"

Sonofabitch! Mom nailed it. I gotta get her to work on my lottery numbers.

"She doesn't hate you," I replied, holding her closer. The longer we stayed in contact, the less stress I felt from her. "She always said she liked you on TV. When she found out I was seeing you, she was happy."

"She was?" Savannah sniffed. "I'm almost her age, and I know her. Isn't it a bit creepy?"

"Not to me, and if she feels that way, she hasn't said so. We talked about the whole situation, and she's okay with it. It wouldn't be her first choice, but she understands," I told her.

Savannah sat silent, processing her thoughts, the tears restrained for now. I decided to seal the deal, and fished my phone out of my pocket. Two movements of my thumb, and the call was placed.

Before Savannah knew what was happening, Mom was on speaker.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hi, Mom, it's me," I said. I could feel Savannah tense. "Could you please tell me again how you feel about me dating Savannah?"

"Of course, dear," Mom said softly. "May I assume that the reason for this question is that she is listening?"

The silence was deafening. Savannah obviously didn't want to reveal her presence, and was trying to hide, but nature abhors a vacuum. She finally broke.

"Hello, Daisy," she said sullenly.

"Savannah Banana!" Mom chirped happily. "Long time!"

I watched Savannah's face change, going from ashamed, to surprised, to smiling, in the space of seconds.

"Savannah Banana?! My god! I forgot all about that!" she laughed. "You're the reason I don't wear yellow often!"

"Well, you look better in blue, anyway," Mom giggled back. "Brings out your eyes. So how have you been? How's your sister?"

"Shannon has four kids, all grown. None for me, but I'm sure you know that. I had no idea about your husband. I'm sorry," she replied, as though reporting a story.

"Thank you. You couldn't have known. But enough about the past. You have a question I need to answer, right?" Mom asked.

"Oh, this is weird," Savannah smiled. "I never imagined I'd be having this conversation."

"Me neither," Mom giggled again. "Savannah... Can you get any younger?"

"Um, no. I wish I could," she answered.

"Didn't think so. I'd like to, as well," Mom said. "Well, then, if you're going to be in a relationship with my son, it will just have to be the way you are. I just want my boy to be happy, and he's been very happy with you. I'm not putting pressure on you, just saying that whatever you two want to happen, I'm okay with it."

"You realize what you're saying, don't you?" Savannah grinned, looking like a huge weight had been lifted.

"Yes," Mom sighed. "Go ahead. Have sex with my son. Talk about weird. I'm giving my childhood friend permission to do things a mother doesn't like to think of."

"Thanks, Mom," I laughed. "I'll be home late."

"Have fun. I love you," she giggled, and the phone clicked off. I put it back in my pocket.