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 What If Vol 2-1

Her Profession of Love 

She’d wanted the words.

She’d expected the words,

but never expected the

deep-felt sincerity witnessed by his tears.

“I love you,” I repeated,

scrubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands.

“That’s why I did what I did today.

I knew it the second I saw you.

I couldn’t just walk out of your life,

or let you walk out of my life.

What I told your mother is true :

I’m not like that!

Actually I’m kind of shy and thought

I’d never go up to a girl like I did,”

I smiled,

“especially if she’s with her mother,

and say, ‘hi, there,  

I just fell in love with your daughter,

so can I have her phone number

so I can call her

so we can get to know each other

so that, maybe…

oh, God,

so that maybe she’ll fall in love with me, too’.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

She did, though.

Susan knew exactly what she wanted to say.

“God, Susan, I’m such a jerk.”

“No, you’re not!

Why would you say such a thing?”

“Why?

First off,

I’m sitting here,”

averting my face,

exaggerating slightly,

“crying like some kind of a baby.”

Turning away as she approached,

“Here you go, kids.”

I turned back when the waitress left.

I don’t think you’re a jerk at all.

Guys always think they’ve got to act like…

‘Guys’ and I think it’s really beautiful.”

“Oh, yeah!

Grown men always cry!”

“What I mean is,

it’s wonderful that you can show your feelings this way.”

Trying to get a hold on her own emotions,

cutting into the pie,

Susan put a piece in her mouth.

“You may think it’s neat for a guy to cry

when he tells you he loves you,

but personally

I think it’s really dumb and I feel like a dope.”

Placing her fork onto the edge of plate,

looking him in eye,

“No, it’s not dopey at all!

Don’t feel that way!

Do you think you’d have

ever gotten my number if I didn’t

want you to have it?

I saw you there too, you know.

And I was wondering how

I was going to meet you,

but a girl can’t just go up to a guy

and introduce herself,

especially,”

smiling,

“if she’s with her mother.”

Stopping, debating with herself,

wondering if she should go on,

and if she did,

how much she should say.

“Then,”

going on,

“when you stood up,”

Susan said,

“I thought you were leaving,”

her throat thickening,

“and when you put your jacket down and came to me…”

 hesitating again,

 thinking,

No, don’t tell him!

But, her emotions at play also,

“it was like God was answering my prayer.”

Quiet a long moment

absorbing her words,

“Praying?”

I asked incredulously.

“You were actually praying to meet me?”

Swallowing, “Yes,”

blinking back tears,

Thinking Don’t say it,

but,

“I feel like you do,”

Susan whispered.

“I love you, too.”

What If Vol 2-2

Samson 

“You love me?”

Daring to believe,

but fully overwhelmed by Susan’s emotional declaration.

“You love me!”

Feeling the thickening in my throat again,

but able, this time,

to hold back tears,

touching my thumb to her cheek,

lifting a running tear,

putting the tear onto my tongue,

“There, Sue, now we’re a part of each other.”

Taking her hand,

holding her palm to mouth

I kissed Susan’s hand,

and kissing it,

smelled the fragrance of Susan’s flesh.

God! Thinking the thought again,

“Susan,” I said, moving her hand from my lips,

turning it upright,

studying her hand as if to confirm that this was truly happening,

that this was truly Susan’s hand,

“This whole thing…”

I said reflectively.

“I’m not a religious guy, Sue,

not at all.

But don’t you see why it happened?”

So long as she had mentioned God and praying,

even though I fully believed it,

reiterating, 

“It’s God! God wanted us to meet each other.

Why else would we both be at Walgreens,

at the same time?

And how come,

all of a sudden,

how come I had the nerve to talk to you?

And why would you and me…

you and I…

fall in love with each other the second we saw each other?

Why?”

Truly believing,

“God.” Susan answered.

“God!”

                                    ***

…Samson.

Walking slowly in the thickening snow,

strangely,

the feel of Susan’s bare hand brought biblical Samson to mind.

And as Samson knew his hair,

his strength,

was a gift from God,

I sincerely felt that Susan was my gift from God.

And with her inexplicable,

seemingly completely reciprocal love,

for the first time in my life I felt I  could do monumental things

—yes, even pass a college entrance exam.

What If: Vol 2-3

First Kiss 

Walking with Susan,

merely walking alongside Susan

conveyed an aura of physical comfort

and spiritual warmth that,

literally,

gave me the sensation of walking on air.

Turning off the brightly lit avenue

onto the comparative darkness of a side street,

at a point between the waning light of one streetlight

and the increasing brightness of the next,

as though arriving at a preordained location,

stopping,

turning to each other,

his arms about her waist,

her arms about his neck,

for a long moment each looked at the shadowed face

of the other through the falling snow and semi-darkness…

Their lips touched…

Soft…

Pure…

As soft and pure and chaste as the falling snow that swirled about them.

Each standing within the arms of the other,

the bulk of  winter clothing separating their physical bodies,

both sensed the deeply felt mental warmth of loving,

…of being loved.

For this,

their first kiss,

sensing their universes’ spin,

nothing more…

nothing other than this purely chaste kiss was needed,

nor wanted.

For this,

our first kiss,

I had a far off sense

of kissing this kiss before;

as kissing this kiss as in a different life,

of being in this place before,

other than snowflakes, though,

I had the remembrance of fireflies.

This sensation of déjà vu adding to the mysticism of this night,

 and of this soul-moving kiss.

Oh…

In wonder,

within her mind

the simple word

Oh, was thought,

because now,

for the first time in the years of her life

—other than the love of her fanily—

Susan Friedman now knew the meaning of love.

What If: Vol 2-4

Goodnight

Six months younger than me,

I learned

Susan would be seventeen in February.

“How’s about tomorrow?”

Standing hand in hand on the steps

between the entry and first floor,

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

I asked.

“I’d love to see you tomorrow,

but don’t want my parents  

thinking we’re moving too fast.

But…”

Thinking…

“Call me tomorrow at about eleven.

Tell me you’re taking your brothers sledding…

Think they’ll want to go?”

Susan asked.

“Sledding?

You kidding?

They’ll love it!”

“Okay, then.

When you call,

tell me you’re going sledding with your brothers

and wondered if my brother and I want to go along…

Think your dad’ll let you take the car again?”

“You kidding?

My dad would love getting rid of us on a Sunday!

But what about yours?

Your mom and dad want you and your brother

away on a Sunday?”

Smiling,

“You kidding?

My mom and dad love being alone.

I don’t know what they do…”

She blushed.

“Well, maybe I do,

but they love being alone.”

Walking up the three remaining steps,

Susan looked down at him.

The hallway being warm,

her coat was unbuttoned and…

Placing my hands on the curve of her hips,

looking into her face,

“Thank you.” I said.

“For what?” she asked.

“For lots of stuff.

For being you.

For taking a chance on me.

And most of all

—and I still can’t believe it—

for telling me you love me.”

Taking his head between her hands,

Susan kissed his forehead,

then,

in an emotional,

spontaneous move,

pressed it tight against her chest.

My arms now about her waist,

holding her closely I felt and

could hear the reverberation of Susan’s heart.

I smelled the spicy fragrance of her perfume

and sensed the gentle,

soft swell of Susan’s breasts upon either side of my face…

Surprisingly,

so unlike him,

surprisingly

the sense of Susan’s breasts against his face

did not cause a penile reaction,

and…

I felt as though I could stand there,

stand there

like that for the rest of my life,

but in a few all too short seconds…

“I’d better go in now.”

Kissing me lightly on the mouth,

opening the unlocked door,

backing into the apartment,

silently mouthing

“I love you,”

Susan threw me one last kiss.

Returning the kiss,

“I love you.”

I whispered.

“Goodnight.”

What If: Vol 2-5

College?

“Hey, Mom, Dad,”

I called from the front door,

“I’m home!”

And received the reaction I’d expected.

In the den,

watching television,

“Straw’s cheaper than “hey!” his mother said.

And, “Glad you’re home,”

his father said.

“Weather reports say the streets are getting bad out there.”

“Nah,” I said,

the streets ain’t all that bad!”

And again got the reaction I’d expected.

“Ain’t ain’t in the dictionary.” His mother said.

“Dad,” in the den,

sitting on the edge of the desk,

“That offer you made to send me to R.I.T.,”

I asked, “it’s still open, isn’t it?”

Glancing at his wife,

looking at his son, “Why?”

“I’ve changed my mind,

 Dad, I do want to go!”

“When I suggested R.I.T.,

it was because I thought it would be an

investment in your future

and our business.

But when’s the last time you set foot in the studio?

Also,” his father said,

 “when I made the offer you still had two years

left in high school,

and maybe,

just maybe,

if you worked your tuchas off,

maybe you’d have made it.

But now, with… what?

 Less than six months before graduation

you suddenly want to go to college!

Forget it!

You’ll never make it!”

“Dad,” I asked,

“are you telling me if I pass the entrance exam

and if R.I.T. does accept me,

you won’t keep your bargain?”

“Bargain?” his father stated angrily,

 “What bargain?

Two years ago I told you if you work your ass off

and got accepted to R.I.T. I’d pay.

You’ve worked your ass off?”

He questioned sarcastically,

“ ‘Since when’?”

“What’s this all about?”

his mother asked.

“This has something to do with the girl you met today?”

“Mom… “

Appealing to his mother because,

so he thought,

she, rather than his father,

would better understand.

“I know this’ll sound strange,

but I love her.”

Not getting quite the reaction he’d expected.

“ ‘Love’?”

She said mockingly,

“You just met her!”

She said emphatically,   

You just want to get laid.”

Wincing at her words,

“No, Mom!

That’s why I know I love her,”

Said just as emphatically,

“I do not want to get laid!

To be continued

©January  31, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman