The Girl Next Door

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"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand," I said. I must have looked confused.

"I know you just got here, but I took the precaution of reserving for lunch at a tiny little Italian place two blocks away. We should go now. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, actually," I said, and I moved to kiss her. She moved away. "After lunch. We can kiss after lunch."

"You're wearing a wedding ring," I said.

"I know. I thought it would stop men from hitting on me. It doesn't. It just changes the type of men who hit on me. Don't worry: I'm not married. If you want to lay a wife, you should go after Stephanie," and she nervously giggled.

She was probing, but I stayed silent.

The restaurant was great. I had spaghetti carbonara, which is my favorite, and it was delicious, even if the cook was probably Mexican. After lunch, we walked slowly back to Veronica's place, telling each other about our lives for the last ten years. I learned Vero had four lovers during the ten years: two during college and two after. Ken was the current one; they'd been together for three years. Yet there was no engagement ring.

I knew Vero: if she was intimate with Ken, psychologically she could not be with me as well. Ken had to go. The topic of Josh being one of her college lovers did not come up. Neither one of us wanted to spoil the mood.

When we got to Veronica's landing on the fourth floor of her building, I gently pulled her towards me and kissed her, telling her I loved seeing her again.

"I hope you didn't think we'd just fall into bed again as if the last ten years never happened," she said.

I had, of course, but I said, "No, of course not ... May I see you again?"

"Kiss me again, and I'll tell you after the kiss," she said. As our mouths closed the distance between us her cell phone rang. She broke the kiss saying, "It's Ken." She ran into her apartment, kicking the door closed, and left me standing there on the stoop.

I left, and as I was walking away I got a text.

Mea culpa. It was Ken. Ken and I need to talk. I'll call you in a few days

I texted back:

Okay. Good luck with Ken. I'm available if you'd like a nice guy instead of him. Just saying.

I got back:

😂

Three weeks later Vero called. We made a date. At the end of the date, I went to kiss her on her landing, just like the previous time. "I broke up with Ken. It was awful," Vero said, and she began to cry.

I took out my phone and called up a song my grandmother had told me she had loved, back in the day. I began to play it.

Don't take your love away from me 🎹
Don't you leave my heart in misery 🎸
If you go then I'll be blue 🎼
Cause breaking up is hard to do
Remember when you held me tight
And you kissed me all through the night
Think of all that we've been through
And breaking up is hard to do

"Nice song," Vero said when she stopped crying.

"Neil Sedaka," I said, as she looked at me blankly. "My grandmother's favorite. She played it for me when you dumped me before you went to college. You destroyed me."

"I never dumped you, Philip. I loved you. You dumped me!" Vero said.

A long discussion ensued, heated at times to be sure, and it finally ended with us agreeing to disagree. Then we kissed, once again.

I began to leave, planning to see her again in about a week, but Veronica grabbed my hand. She pulled my arm, and me, into her apartment. I didn't leave for three days.

Finally, we ran out of food and had to venture out for supplies. Vero even put on underwear for the occasion of venturing out. She called her mom to tell her we were going to marry, but she already knew. My mom knew, too. As usual, I had no idea how they knew even before I knew!

I don't know if it was I who gave Stephanie her third child, but when we got together with Stephanie and her brood, Vero thought Steph's third child's nose and ears looked remarkably like mine. It seemed to me Vero was giving me funny looks all the way home. But the child never became a real topic of conversation for us.

Who really knows who the father is, anyway? Maybe Stephanie does, but she's not talking.

I liked Stephanie's husband Paul, too, and we became friends, all seven of us if you count the children. No swapping was involved but only (it appeared) because Paul was not interested.

I may be innocent and often surprised by what life brings my way, but Paul is no fool. He knows he's sterile: we discussed it.

I hoped Stephanie cheated with me simply because she wanted to. After all, I had wanted her since I was fifteen! Well, now that we had enjoyed each other to the max, I was pleased to discover that I can be friends with my childhood crush and not constantly want to have sex with her. Who knew?

I don't care that much about Stephanie though, because Vero loves me and she could never break up with me again, assuming, of course, she ever did! I love Vero too. I love her more than I ever thought would be possible. I still have the occasional secret fantasy about Stephanie, especially after one of our family get-togethers and seeing the way she looks at me, but that's what they are: fantasies. Veronica is my reality, and reality is wonderful.

Sometimes though, when I think back to my wild times with Veronica that summer after high school, I wonder how she knew so much about sex. Also, where had her hymen been? It didn't matter of course, but I couldn't lose the suspicion that I was not the first to enjoy her charms.

When her brother came to visit us, somehow my suspicions became worse. There was something there, in his eyes. The way he looked at his sister, and the way he looked at me.

However, as my mother once explained to me, there are some things it's better not to know. I know that was self-serving since she was possibly having an affair with Mr. Peters at the time, but that does not diminish the truth of her maxim.

The night Vero's brother came to visit, I decided to rededicate myself to little Ms. Clitoris. Ms. Clit to her friends. Vero smiled as I had that thought. Her smile was lascivious. Sometimes I think women (my mother, Sarah, Stephanie, and of course Vero) can read my mind. I'm an open book to them. All I can say is happy reading.

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17 Comments
AnonymousAnonymous9 months ago

Hated the beginning of the story as much as I hate the taste of black licorice, and it didn't get any better. Sorry. Blech

AnonymousAnonymousabout 1 year ago

The first two sentences are awkward as hell. Yes, I'm familiar with the candy. No, I do not think whatever it is you tried to do was smooth. Difficult to get into the story after such a rough start.

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

It's easy to see how Anonymous thought shift was supposed to be shirt. Women don't call shift dresses shifts just like they don't call A-line dresses A-lines. They call them dresses.

Peter_ClevelandPeter_Clevelandover 1 year ago

To Anonymous ("I stopped..."):

shift: "a straight, loose-fitting dress worn with or without a belt" (dictionary.com)

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

I stopped in the middle of a conversation between the main character and a female when you made a few consecutive references to her "shift" that she was wearing. The story was incredible until you couldn't spell a key word repeatedly!

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