My Obsessive Crush

Apologies first I guess.

This story is unedited. There will be mistakes. If that's a problem for you, then I suggest you move on. I do need to say thanks to Randi & George, who helped with development.

This is a long story. I was going to post it in several chapters, but decided. We're all adults.

All sexual connections are over eighteen.

*****

"hey look, it's calf girl." I glanced up from giving my calf a hug to see Andi and some of her group of popular girls giggling and laughing. Turning my head, I tried to ignore their taunts as they walked past the animal displays at the district Agriculture and Pastoral show.

"I think the cows better looking aye?" Melanie Mathew's added loud enough for me to hear. As if she had anything to brag about.

Their snide nasty comments hurt, but I was used to it. Ever since the first time I met Andi, she'd taken some perverse pleasure in poking fun at me. Like today, surrounded by her little support troupe of popular girls.

She bullied and teased me, the whole way through school. Maybe I was just to passive? An easy target.

I gave Daisy, my calf a hug. "You still love me don't you?" The way she rubbed her head up against me as I hugged her made me think she did. I loved her, right from the day dad brought her home. Her mother had died giving birth, and daisy needed nursing.

I loved her, and volunteered that very moment. "I'll do it Dad, Please, you can trust me."

"You'll have to nurse her, feed her, spend time with her."

"I promise Dad."

Daisy and I connected, she needed a mum, somebody to care for her, and I needed something... I sat with her in the barn, her head in my lap as I bottle fed her. Brushed her coat and helped her walk around. From that day forward she became my focus.

Well, while I was not at school anyway. Mum took me along to the shows with her, and I took great pride and pleasure at showing her. Especially when we occasionally won some blue ribbons.

Dad let me keep her as our house cow. I milked her, and cared for her.

I even begged for her life after dad caught her in the veggie garden eating the cabbages. She nearly ended up on a truck to the butchers shop that day.

Dad made me fix the fences, and I had to teach her to stay away from the garden. Not easy, I can tell you that.

Andi made my school years hell. I never understood why she hated me so much...

I never did anything to her. We weren't friends, we hardly knew each other. Still, every day she made my life hell. It got to the stage I hated going to school.

My saviour was my Uncle Roly. Who lived on our farm in a small cottage.

He'd never been part of our life. I'd heard of him, dad played some of his records on the stereo. When I asked about him, dad said. "He's a musician. Lives in the city, he never liked farm life. He wanted the city life.

It seemed weird the day he turned up. I didn't talk to him, but dad let him move in and he worked for my dad on the farm after that.

Dad wouldn't talk about it, he just said. "He's had a hard life, Roz. Treat him softly and he'll do you no harm."

That sounded strange coming from my dad. Uncle Roly... hurt somebody... No, impossible. He was a lovely man. At least that's how he seemed to me. At first, we didn't have much to do with each other. He lived a reclusive life. Hardly leaving the property other than to go to the liquor store, or the pharmacy. He didn't seem to have friends, he almost never talked to anyone.

Even when we worked together, he never said much.

It was music

That was the glue that he and I bonded over. He loved it, and I often heard it bellowing loudly from his little cottage.

At first I simply listened, sitting in my bedroom with the window open listening to his wailing guitar. I loved it. I already had an interest in the guitar. I had been learning before he turned up.

It was the day he caught me spying through his living room window, listening and watching him play.

He stormed over to the window, and was about to pull the drapes. As our eyes met, something changed. He opened the window and leaned out.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Watching."

"Why?"

"I'm learning to play guitar. I love listening to you and wanted to see how you get those sounds."

"You play guitar?" He asked dubiously?

"Yeah, I have lessons with Mr's Watson, every Wednesday."

He seemed gobsmacked. "What, that old biddy still teaches?"

I nodded, not understanding why he was suddenly upset.

"Go get your guitar. Bring it out and let me see what she's taught you."

"Really?" I gasped in joyous shock.

"Yeah, and hurry up. Your mother'll shoot me if I keep you up late."

I played Green Sleeves, the song Mr's Watson showed me.

"Wow." He said, his head nodding. You got good rhythm." He watched on before he asked. "Have you been learning scales as well as chords?"

"Some, but I don't understand."

He pulled out his guitar and slung it low over his shoulder and started playing. Not songs but scales. His fleet fingers dancing over the fretboard. Moving so easily, and he didn't even watch where his fingers went. He just played.

Totally stunned, I watched on like a drowning guppy. My mouth hanging open, my eyes bugging out. I think that was the moment. He realised, I wasn't merely interested. I loved it.

That was the moment we became more than just relatives but friends. He became my mentor, my teacher.

I didn't care that he was reclusive, in fact it was perhaps what made us kindred spirits. Shy, nah I was worse than shy. The reason Andi and her bunch picked on me was mostly I didn't fit in. I was never much into sports, I definitely wasn't a scholar. I wasn't bright and bubbly, or pretty either for that matter. Just plain old me.

Uncle Roly and I sat around in his cottage. Him playing, then talking about his old band. Lot's of photos and news clippings. As I got better, he brought me my first electric guitar. A Telecaster. That's when the fun really started. With the volume turned up loud, we rocked out. The walls of his little cottage shaking from the pressure.

Him laughing maniacally. Me cackling like a hen, or a crazy fangirl, which I suppose I was.

*****

"Catch calf girl." I saw it at the last minute, before the netball hit me in the face. It came in at bullet speed, but I managed to bunt it away with my hands. Everybody laughed as I staggered back.

"You have to catch it Rosalyn." Mr's Williams our gym teacher yelled curtly. I hated netball, especially since Andi and her cronies were in the team.

"Everybody knows cows can't catch." Blaire added to Andi's taunt. I tried to be part of the team, I wanted to find some way of fitting in. I struggled though, it was hard. If Andi, or her friends got the ball, they never passed it to me. I could be waving my arms frantically in wide open space, still they never passed it to me.

"What's the point, she''ll just drop it." Caroline one of the girls said to Mr's Williams, who was trying to get the girls to include me. "She's such a clumsy cow." Of course that would be followed by a chorus of laughter.

At home, I'd go and spend some time with Daisy, make sure she had plenty of feed. I knew if she didn't have plenty of hay. She'd be straight back in the garden. Then I'd get my jobs done around the farm, help dad and uncle Roly. Then help mum with dinner. After that it was always out to uncle Roly's cottage where we rocked out.

"Take your time Roz, don't be in such a hurry. You're trying to hard." Easy for him to say. He was so good, me. I was always trying to keep up with his flying fingers.

"Breathe, Roz. Close your eyes, let your mind take control. Don't force it." I tried, but always panicked when I felt myself struggling to keep up. Uncle Roly loved really fast punk songs, and I guess his love affair with them rubbed off on me. His tastes were very contagious.

It wasn't that he didn't play other styles. He loved blues. Deep dark sensual old American style blues. I loved jamming with him when he was in the mood. The pace of the songs allowed me to find ways to get in and blend with him.

"Oh yeah, that's sweet, baby girl." He commented when I got it right. His praise always gave me a deep feeling of satisfaction. Of achievement and pride.

Yeah, I knew he was struggling with life. If I was late getting out to his cottage, he'd be drunk. I didn't mind so much, cos that's when we played the blues, and he let me play lead. He'd just play some slinky rhythm licks, and I'd come over the top with lead.

"Go slow." He growled. "Stop shredding, let the song breathe. Sometimes, less is more. Learn when to hold that note. Let it ring out."

I learned, it took a while but I learned. I slowly grew to understand what space was. I learned when not to play...

The other thing with Uncle Roly. He hated the modern trends, he hated all the digital effects stuff. He had only a couple of old analogue pedals. He loved the old guitar players who like him refused to go down the effects road.

"There's nothing you can get from a pedal, you can't get from the guitar. Just give it a chance. You want distortion, then crank her up... Let her sing.

He adored Rory Gallagher. He spent ages playing his records and explaining the riffs Rory played. He broker them down and taught me.

"It's not just what he plays Roz, it's the sound. Listen to how he bends those strings. How he lets one note take up space...

He loved old Gary Moore stuff as well. His love became my love. I guess that's the way mentorship goes. His passion for the music became mine.

Singing, that was something else. "You've got a great voice Roz, you have to learn to use it."

"But I always go flat." I complained.

"Because, like your guitar. You haven't learned to use it." So vocals became part of our lessons. He taught me to sing, taught me about melody, and harmony. How to use my voice to support his. We learned about thirds, and them fifths.

He taught me how to use my diaphragm, to breathe, and to trust my ear.

"No." He yelled at me one day. The anger so clear... "Stop trying to be perfect. Let your voice break up if you can't get the fucking note, who cares. You don't have to sound like a crystal glass ringing. Imagine your voice is a guitar. Sometimes it needs to distort, to break up."

I hated him being angry at me, and I broke into tears. He grabbed me tight. "I'm sorry for yelling baby girl. You are my world. I didn't want to hurt you."

After that, I understood a little more. Our connection was even tighter. He opened up about how he let the world get on top of him. Married somebody for the wrong reasons and how they separated. Which is what led to his break down. Bankruptcy, divorce, it all pushed him into a mental meltdown that he couldn't climb out from under.

His only solace, booze, music and now me. I think our connection kept him going. There was genuine love and affection. For those important years, he was a huge part of my life...

*****

"What!' I gasped in horror, as I climbed down off the bus.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. He passed away last night."

"Why didn't you say something this morning?" I yelled in frustration. "You let me got to school!"

"Honey, we didn't know. I only found him after he didn't show up for work." My father said, drawing me into a tight cuddle. My tears erupted in epic proportions, my whole body shuddering uncontrollably.

"What happened?" I finally spluttered between sobs. "I thought he was getting better."

The exchanged cringing glances between mum and dad clearly showed me that something was up.

"Mum, what happened?" I screeched. "Tell me."

Dad sat down and pulled me onto his knee. "Honey, you have always known Roly, was a special soul. Tortured and fragile. His whole life has been a desperate fight against the forces of darkness. Last night those dark forces won. He took his own life. He did leave a note, and apologised for causing us pain. He made special mention of you. He did love you so. You were the only person who brought any real joy into his life."

"But, we played together after dinner?"

"I know, Sweetheart." Mum said with her warm consoling sigh. "It must have been much later."

From that moment forth, my world changed. There was no guide. Life became an empty void. My mentor, my friend and confidante gone.

At least the kids at school gave me a break from the torture. The only one who never said anything kind was Andi. She simply ignored me. At least Blaire and Poppy gave me a hug and some condolences, which they almost made sincere.

My evenings were never the same though. Now I had nobody to bounce ideas off when writing songs. No one to laugh with. He had been the person I depended on to lift me up, and push me. I'd sit for hours just picking and focusing on scales.

"They're the key Roz. Learn them well. Build up the muscle memory. Get scales right and you will be able to play with anybody."

With his words still in my mind, that's what I did. I'd sit hunched over my guitar with my headphones on just playing. Over and over all over the fretboard, playing the scales in all their forms.

Uncle Roly was never far from my mind. Every time I picked up one of the guitars or plugged into one of the amps or his old analogue pedals. His image and his warm smile appeared. He left me all his guitars and amplifiers. His custom Tele, and the VOX AC thirty, and the AC fifteen he brought for me.

Stuck in my room alone, I played for hours, the string grooves on my fingers deepening, the callouses rough and strong. I wrote songs, not music. My dyslexia made that impossible, but I did love playing with words. I studied You tube videos seeking answers to questions Uncle Roly usually answered. I got better, the troublesome weird world of school forgotten as my fingers danced upon the rose wood fret board.

I guess the internet changed my focus a little. Music is a wide world, and I found other artists I loved. There were girls playing guitar, and I loved watching them. Jackie Venson, who I adored. Joan Jett... Nina Hagen...

People in general made me uncomfortable. I suppose that's why I stayed away from the social events from college. The dances, the balls. All the other girls seemed to love having boys chase after them. For me it was the opposite. I never felt the attraction.

*****

The early years:

I struggled with learning, the Dyslexia, turned my world upside down, inside out and back the front. Maybe that was the centre of my persona. What made me so introverted.

When Andi asked me to join the band, I was nervous. I loved music, it was the medicine that soothed the anxiety raging within me. It took away my insecurities, but getting on stage... That scared the shit outa me. Not that we had to worry about stages, not at that time.

All we ever played in those days was Poppy's parents garage. I didn't care, it was great fun. We rocked it out in the old store room behind her parents service station. Blaire and Poppy were fun, but it's not like we were mates before the band. They like Andi, were part of the in crowd. The popular girls, they dated the boys from the first fifteen, or the cricket team.

They were pretty, each in their own different way. I on the other hand was a lost soul, filled with insecurities and anxiety. I was reclusive really. My parents owned a small farm about twenty minutes out of town. I got on great with the animals, I loved Daisy, and the tractor, but people... They weren't my thing.

*****

I still remember the day Andi asked me.

I was walking out to the bus stop, when she tapped me on the shoulder. "Roz, slow up girl."

I turned to see her walking quickly behind me. Her arms full of school books. Expecting to get teased or mocked for my poor fashion sense. I snapped curtly. "Whatya want Andi?"

"Shit, ease up Roz, I just wanted to talk."

I was just about to form in line for the bus home when she said. "The girls n me were wondering if yah wanted to come and jam with us tonight?"

"Jam... as in play music?"

"Yeah, you know we've got the band going, we just need a guitar player, to give us a bit more bite and I've heard you're pretty good."

"What about some of the boys, I know Pete Simmons, is a good player."

"Nah fuck that. We want to keep it all girls. We're gonna be New Zealand's answer for the Slits, or the runnaway's."

"Why me Andi? You've spent years mocking and tormenting the shit outa me. Is this some sort of joke? You film it and show it to all your mates."

She grimaced, dropping her eyes. "Nah, we're deadly serious. I'm sorry for the past Roz, we didn't mean anything. It was just harmless fun, right. You know we were only teasing, right..."

"Whatever." I hissed snidely. I didn't believe a word she said. Leopards don't change their spots.

"So are yah in?" She asked, like she didn't care about my concerns.

"Nah, I don't know what's going on, but, I'm not interested." I muttered trying to get away. This was way to weird to be true. I could see the bus driver staring at me. All the other kids were already on.

"Nah, I'm not letting you make fun of me." I climbed on the bus, and watched her standing there staring at me.

That night, with my headphones on, and my guitar screaming. I snorted. "Band... What the fuck... They have a band?" I'd heard some rumours, but cast them aside. "Fuck that." I said using Uncle Roly's words.

The look on Andi's face though... What was that about?

The next day, I didn't see much of her. We didn't share any classes. She was in the smart girls classes. I was never that clever.

It was as I walked out to the bus. There she was, waiting. "Roz, I was serious yesterday. We'd like you to come along."

"Why?"

"Roz, come on. I know we teased yah a lot, and we said and did some silly shit, but believe me. We want you in the band, we could be something special. I have this feeling." She stated firmly. "Come on, what have yah got to lose?"

She was right, what did I have to lose? My dignity... My life was boring as, I didn't really have any friends apart from Daisy on the farm. I didn't have my own car. I had the license, but no way of getting around.

I shrugged off handedly, trying to quell the butterflies. "I'll need to ask my parents if they'll bring me back to town."

"Nah, we can pick yah up. Poppy's, got a car. We rehearse behind her Dad's servo. You can leave yah gear there, we all do."

*****

"Hey Roz," Poppy and Blaire both called out as they helped me load my gear in the boot of Poppy's beaten up old car.

After years of being made fun of, and flooded with nervous anxiety. I couldn't shake off my fears. I wondered if it was some weird twisted plot that the mean girls would trick me into thinking I was joining a band, in reality I was going to be ridiculed in some way.

My nerves eased somewhat when the girls all helped me carry my gear into the run down old store room out the back of Poppy's fathers service station.

Once inside, I was shocked to see the walls awash with posters of old girl bands, mostly the slits, but there were Bananarama, The Bangles, The Donna's even Girl School and other girl bands. All different genres, different era's.

I was also stunned by the gear they had. Poppy, had a great Precision bass, and a Gallien Kruger head, with a four by ten quad box. Blaire's drum kit was a sweet looking pink Sonor kit. Andi, had a pretty new looking Roland Juno, and a great little Roland hundred and eighty watt dedicated amp.

The PA, was a good quality one as well. The mic's were all Shure. A great set up.

I thought my Vox AC thirty would stand out, but it blended right in. My uncles old Custom Telecaster took away some of the bludgeoning anxiety.

I spent fifteen minutes plugging in my guitar with my solitary pedal and tuning up. The girls all looked on, chatting and giggling.