Once Upon a Time in Emmitsburg

The college thing was like a bone in my throat. I knew if I didn't do something Darla would be completely out of reach. And Amber? Forget Amber. As it was, I was living on increasingly more forlorn half-promises and foolish fantasies. I talked to one of the guidance counselors at school; she suggested I join either the Army Reserves or the National Guard. Either way she said the military experience would give me added discipline, plus she said they both had financial offerings for kids like me.

Uncle Cameron had always expected his boy Brandon would go to college; he'd set aside considerable resources for that. Brandon fooled him; he went to college, the University of Maryland, but he also joined the Army ROTC. Brandon told his dad he planned on a career in the military. That surprised me; I never figured Brandon to be anything but a total self-seeker. He talked to me once about it; he said he felt the need to "do something". He said he remembered 9-11. He'd been old enough to understand and thought he had a duty. I was amazed. The jerk was a patriot!

Amber graduated from her high school and slipped off to some unheard-of place in Pennsylvania called Haverford. I looked the place up. Jesus, I had no idea. Amber had to be a genius to get into a school like that. I felt good but terrible too. I was glad she had the brains, but it made me feel even further away from her and her sister. The good side was the school wasn't far from where I lived, not that it meant anything. I figured I'd never see her again.

I learned to never assume anything. I was downstairs in my uncle's cellar just sorting through the trash that was my possessions when I heard someone talking to Aunt Katherine upstairs. I thought I recognized the voice. Then there were footsteps coming down the stairs. I looked over and it was Amber. 'My gosh,' I thought, 'What's she doing here?'

I asked her, "What are you doing here?"

She was wearing a loose fitting mini-skirt and white blouse. I didn't see any pantyhose. Her hair was longer, curly and up in a bun. She was wearing glasses, and that was a surprise since she mostly wore contacts. Even with the glasses I still couldn't believe how lustrous her eyes could be.

She glanced about and said, "So this is how the other half lives."

I said, "Pretty grim, huh."

Looking past me to my room she said, "That your boudoir?"

Thinking how I hoped there weren't any semen encrusted paper towels or other incriminating evidence I looked off to where I'd spent the last several years of my life, "Yep, that's the bedroom."

She walked past me to my room and looked in. She muttered, "God, what a dump."

My "dump" was no more than a partition; cheap paneling hammered into a few 2X4s. Walking toward it, I whispered, "Welcome to my shit-hole."

She followed me in. She rubbed her fingers across the top of my bed. Her hands were small. Her fingernails were polished in some light color. I heard her breathing. She hesitated a moment, and sat down. I sat down beside her.

She looked at me through those glasses. Her eyes were bright, watery. I was mesmerized. I couldn't move.

Without losing eye contact she unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse. I reached across and cupped her cheeks and chin in my hands. Her face was so perfect. She leaned forward. We kissed. She used her hands to pull my Tee-shirt over my head. She pulled me close. My chest was against her breasts.

We fell across my bed, kissing. Thanking God I'd changed the sheets I pulled up her skirt and started working on her panties when she stopped me and said, "I'm not ready for that."

I didn't say anything.

She did though, "We're both over eighteen and old enough, and I'm sure you've had plenty of experience, but I'm still a virgin, and I plan on staying that way until I find the right man and marry him. Can't we just stay like this and kiss?"

Put off by her tone and the implication that I would never be that "one", I groused, "I get it. I'm not marriage material."

"Not now," she said, "someday maybe." She seemed contemplative. Her eyes were watering. Was she going to cry? She murmured, "Probably not with me."

I foolishly asked, "Why not me? Too poor? Too stupid?"

She gave me what I'd come to recognize as one of her more serious looks. They always frightened me. She whispered, "You're stupid, just not as stupid as you think, and being poor can be fixed with determination. No," she added, "your problem is you don't have the grit. But who knows? Someday maybe. Anything's possible. Don't count on it though."

I heard the whole mish-mash, but concentrated on the "someday, maybe". I put my arms around her, I pulled her in, and we kissed again.

She whispered, "Your hands are small, you're skinny, and you're crude."

I didn't know what to think; first she hints there might be a slim chance, then I'm skinny and crude. What was I to believe? Was I all that bad? I stuttered out, "Do I have a chance? Tell me what to do."

Her unspoken reply was another deep kiss. God, her lips were so soft and moist. Her body was firm, but not muscular like what I'd heard about 'other-directed" women, if she was "other directed". She had the prettiest, small, pear shaped breasts with light brown aureole and tiny nipples. I looked at her; I was hungry. I was a starving man. I asked, "Tell me what you want?"

She seemed perplexed, and I realized she was as lost as I was. Her right hand dropped to my zipper, she pulled it down and reached in for my penis. She touched it with her fingertips, and in a half whisper said, "I've never seen one before. I mean in the flesh...like this. I've always wanted to see yours. It's so big. I can tell you've been circumcised. I'm going to kiss it."

Amber dropped her head to my lap and kissed my penis. She sat back up. "It's very pink isn't it? I think it's pretty."

I put my right hand on her cheek and used my left to pull her as close as I could. I wanted to crush her in my arms. I was so nervous! Her hand left my penis and found the back of my neck; she traced a finger up behind my ear, and it sent chills up and down my back. I believed she felt something too. I wanted to believe she did.

We sat on the side of the bed and kissed and hugged, and cuddled for I couldn't say how long. A minute? A lifetime? She never touched my penis again, and other than her soft breasts I didn't try touching any of her other private places. She wanted me to; she took my hand and laid it atop her panty covered pussy. They were soaked. From the outside I managed to stroke up and down. She was so swollen! She pushed my hand away. We sat there, breathing heavily, like two people starved for air.

She whispered, "We can't keep doing this."

I whispered back, "Whatever you want."

She pressed her chest against mine. I was in turmoil. How could this be happening? More to myself than to her I murmured, "This isn't real. I must be dreaming."

She murmured back, "Hold me, Timmy. I like it when you to hold me." She nestled in closer murmuring, "You're so warm."

I folded her tightly into my body. Her face was pressed against my chest. Her hair had a clean freshness; like roses in springtime, like the morning dew on the fresh cut grass at Mrs. Grummond's. She was touching my back with her fingertips. She was kissing my chest. She used her tongue and lips and kissed my nipples. I felt all a quiver. If only we could stay this way forever. My chest felt wet; she wasn't crying, but her cheeks were wet.

She moved. She lifted her head. Her eyes were red. Her cheeks were soaked with little rivulets of water, like the purity of a mountain stream. There were teardrops on my stomach. She breathed, "I can't stay."

We got up. She rearranged her blouse and skirt. I was still gasping for air.

She looked down at me. I wished I could interpret the expression on her face. She was such a mystery. At last she walked toward the door at the back of the cellar. I followed. At the door she turned around. There was a haphazardly stacked heap of empty paint cans near the door. She kicked them over. Some rolled in different directions. Looking at me derisively she said, "Try to do something. Will you?" Then she left.

I went back and sat down. What the hell had just happened, and what was I supposed to do? I'd been alone almost all my life, but at that moment I was lonelier than ever.

Later, I jerked off.

When I got out of high school, I kissed my Aunt goodbye, went to see Mrs. Grummond at the expensive nursing home where Mr. Wexler had stuck her, and last I went to see Darla. I never bothered trying to see Amber. I just couldn't figure her out. Besides, I was afraid of her. I was sure if I went to see her she'd make a fool out of me.

My goodbyes with Darla were hard for me. I got a good shower, washed my hands, tried to get the grease smell out of my body, and went over to her school. I caught her as she coming out of one her classes. She was a rising senior.

"Darla," I called out!

She saw me, waved, and came over, "Timmy, I've missed you. I've been meaning to come see you."

I said, "I've missed you too Darla. I want to tell you something."

She said, "I have something I want to tell you too."

I said, "OK, you go first."

Darla said, "I know I'm still in high school, but I met a guy through Amber. Amber said he was really smart and has a real future. He's only a college sophomore, but he goes to Princeton. We've gone out a couple times and he said he wants to marry me. I told him I might."

I was stunned, not exactly crushed, but certainly feeling off. My stomach felt tied up. My life wasn't over, but I'd had a dream, a stupid dream I knew, but... I said to her, "Darla you're still in high school. Don't you want to go to college? What about your future?"

She smiled, it hurt to see that smile, to think it was probably for some guy who went to Princeton. She said, "Not right away silly. He wants to go to law school. I'm planning on Bridgewater. I'm going into Environmental Science. He said we could get engaged and get married once he was finished law school."

I was a little relieved, but still apprehensive. She'd already made plans about what she wanted to study in college. Me? I was clueless. I only wanted to go to college in the hope of keeping up with her, and...the other one, I guessed. But if Darla went and married a guy from Princeton, a future lawyer, my stupid dreams would be a big fat stupid joke. I was still the retard. I couldn't tell her that so I said, "It sounds like you've got everything figured out. I hope it works. You know how I feel about you."

She put her books down and took me by my elbows, "I know how you feel Timmy. Believe me I know, and I want you to know I still love you. I'll always love you. You'll always be first place for me, my one and only."

I thought she sort of choked back a tear, but with her I could never tell. She went on, "Tim, don't you be getting involved with anyone. I'm not completely sure. You know you're my guy. If things don't work for me, I want you to be there. Promise me. You won't do anything."

What could I say? I looked her in the eye and tried to be as sincere as I could, "Darla, if you want me to wait, I'll wait. You marry your boy from Princeton I'll disappear, but as long as you're unattached I'll wait."

She pulled me in close and reached up with her eyes and mouth and whispered, "I love being loved like that."

We kissed.

Not long after Darla's revelation I decided to take my guidance counselor's advice and join the military. I made a special trip to College Park and talked to Brandon. He said the Reserves was the better choice because when there was ever any trouble they usually called up the National Guard first.

I signed up for the Army Reserves. When they asked me what I wanted to do I told them something in the motor pool. I took their ASVAB test and later was called into the office of some Warrant Officer. We had a nice long chat.

He started, "McLeish, you won't be going into any motor pool."

I replied, "Sir, I thought I got to pick what I wanted. I've been working for an auto mechanic. I thought I'd get more experience. That's why I signed up."

He smiled and responded, "You're overqualified for that. We need you in something a little more involved."

I asked, "What would that be?"

He said, "Something involving technology. Something in the Intelligence field. If not that, then something in the medical field."

I was surprised. He had my high school records, but I guess any prior information about my being a "retard" was missing. He couldn't have me right. I told him, "I don't think you're talking about the same person. I'm not fit for anything like what you said."

He said, "Young man I know exactly what I'm talking about." He paused then added, "You love your country don't you?"

I nodded yes.

He said, "Then you'll do what I say."

I said, "Yes sir. What's that?"

He shuffled some papers and said, "After basic training I'm sending you to Fort Sam Houston. They have several good medical programs there. I think you'll fit right in."

Was I surprised? I replied, "Sir, I'm not very smart. I'm sure not officer material. What could they do with me there?"

He said, "You'd be surprised. You won't be an officer, but that's where you're going. Of course, this means your active duty will be somewhat longer."

I didn't want to be away from where the girls were for very long so I asked, "How long?"

He said, "That won't be your concern. This is for your country." He stood up and saluted.

I stood up and saluted right back.

He said, "You're dismissed."

I stood to attention, saluted again, and left. A couple days later I got my orders. I was off to Fort Benning, Georgia and right after Basic on to Fort Sam Houston. I was on my way to...somewhere...to something.

The whole military active-duty thing took longer than I'd originally planned. I thought the motor pool would've been maybe five or six weeks, but after basic at Fort Benning the medical stuff at San Houston was a lot more involved. I remembered how when I was young I'd have trouble concentrating and sometimes get awful headaches. I was sure they'd catch me and I'd be sent someplace else, but studying science and anatomy, and the medical stuff wasn't nearly as daunting as I was afraid. Back in middle school and high school people used to say I was a slow learner, a retard. That wasn't the case anymore. It was like my Language Arts had finally caught up with my math. Best of all, nobody ever acted like I couldn't; I made mistakes, but they were patient, and they were confident in my ability. I still got headaches, but I wasn't the "dummy" anymore.

I got home a few times, and every time I made a beeline to Mrs. Grummond's retirement home. They treated her well there, but I knew she was unhappy, being in a nursing home wasn't like her real home. I told her when I got home and got the partnership at Mr. Havermore's garage I'd find a way to get her home. I hadn't been told that they'd sold her house. If I had known I wouldn't have told her.

I never got to see the girls, but I had gotten a couple letters from Darla. She'd started at Bridgewater and liked it, but she'd broken it off with her Princeton man. She said she thought he'd been playing around, and besides she said she was too young for marriage just yet. She also reminded me about my promise.

Amber never tried to reach me, and I never tried to reach her, but Mrs. Grummond told me some things. Mrs. Grummond had periods when she wasn't very lucid. I remember a couple times she called me Warren; her husband had been named Warren. I loved her so; it hurt to be around someone I cared about so much and see her losing her identity. I think what she told me was mostly about Amber, but some of it sounded like it was stuff she remembered from when she was young. I'd seen pictures of her when she was young, and she was beautiful, like her granddaughters. She said Amber had been dating some man who taught at M.I.T., but she also told me she was seeing some guy who worked in the Federal Justice Department. She said Amber had broken a leg parasailing in Austria. Imagine that, parasailing in Europe; I'd rented a motorbike once, gone to see the Alamo, and then took a boat ride up the "River Walk". I wasn't jealous. I wanted only good things for Amber. It hurt though. She did things I could never do. Hell, with my legs I was lucky I made the cut to get in the army.

One thing about the army; I was skinny and still pretty weak, but the big strong types didn't have much of an edge anymore. Skinny and weak me could do twenty pull-ups. Some of those big football player types couldn't do one. The running part was still hard.

After active duty I was still not sure what I was qualified to do. They put me down as a surgeon's assistant. Who knows what that really was? I know I should've had more preparation, but who's to argue with the army?

Went to see Mrs. Grummond again; she was really slipping; she didn't know who I was at first. I called the Wexler's and got Mrs. Wexler. She said Darla was still at Bridgewater, she'd met a boy there, she said he was nice. Darla had been invited to join one of their sororities, but she wasn't sure if that's what she wanted to do. She changed her major from Environmental Science to Political Science. Mrs. Wexler told me Amber had been home for a few days but left again to go back to Europe; she'd met a man who taught history at Penn State, said he's really nice. I thought, 'What happened to M.I.T.?'

I realized my chances with Darla were over. About Amber, she might be bi-sexual. I thought about Haverford; 'she and I didn't even speak the same language.'

I saw Brandon, he'd changed. When we were growing up he never bothered to talk to me, now it was different. He took me to a Texas Roadhouse. We had dinner, and he told me his plans. He was going to finish at Maryland and go right in the army. He figured he'd start out as a Second Lieutenant and work his way up. He had such confidence, and he'd changed his whole outlook. He told me I was wasting my time at the garage. He said I should follow up on my medical training. I told him I'd think about it.

I asked Brandon something that had been on my mind for a long time. I asked him why he never had anything to do with me, and why he hardly ever took up for me. That pissed him off. First. He said he did what his father wanted. Second, and this was when he got pissed, he asked me how many time I shared my lunches with John Wentz. John had been another SPED, but the regular kids used to torment him and steal his lunch money so I had to share my lunches with him. I couldn't find an answer. I guess Brandon had been around and I never knew it.

I went to Mr. Havermore's garage. Boy was he glad to see me! I started back. I asked him about his partnership offer. He said he was still looking into it. I figured that could be my big break. I visited the local community college, signed up for some courses. Maybe, with the A.A. I'd scraped together with the army I could take some courses on-line at one of the state colleges.

I met a girl.

Mary was a girl who graduated from Pamunkey the year before I did so we were the same age. She still lived at home, but attended Mount Saint Mary's right in on our home town. I told her I remembered her, but hadn't really. She was very pretty, soft spoken, shy. She was very small not quite five feet, brown hair and blue eyes. She said she remembered me, said she heard I was a trouble maker. She took me home to meet her parents. I could tell they didn't like me, but I liked them. I liked Mary too; not to marry or anything but maybe someone to hang around with. I knew I wouldn't get anywhere with her; she was way too Catholic.

Back at work at the garage. Mr. Havermore said he looked into my becoming a partner, said he'd find a lawyer to work up something. I was very pleased. I worked very long hours. Of course, I had my license, even had a car. We were a Triple A rated facility so I was out on the road quite frequently. Mr. Havermore's son had been working at the place too; he was worthless. I could never find him when something needed to be done, and when I did, he looked like he was high on something. Drugs; that was something I never did.