Long Distance

I was the first high school girl I knew who had a college boyfriend. Only problem was, Scott went to RIT in Rochester and I lived in Youngstown, Ohio. For nearly a year, the four-hour trek and motherly interference kept the "no nookie" rule absolutely in effect. Just before starting a summer class that would take me further away, and about to enter even more distant NYU that fall, I sat complaining to him on the phone. It was midnight in mid July and all I could talk about was how we might never touch again. Afterward, I tossed the phone into a pile with my scrunched-up socks and fell asleep in the den.

Around five in the morning, I heard a tap at the back window. I woke to Scott's elfish grin and the thin dawn chill. We made love on the frumpy backroom couch in a fairy-tale sequence where euphoria and the full force of body-on-body met to form an ecstatic void. Hot but not raunchy, it was more about hands expressing than tweaking the get-off.

I remember clutching a blanket over us, shy that we would be found mid-buck, which would ruin the secret and break the spell. I distinctly recall lying there, worn afghans letting morning air in and exhales out, ready to die in post-coital nakedness next to my first real lover.

We came to, so to speak, just before Moms was due to awake. I walked him down the street to the church where his station wagon hid from my neighbors' watchful eyes. We had a long kiss in the parking lot and then he drove home; he had work later that afternoon. I crept back into the house, picked up my socks, hung up the phone, and went back to bed.

That, of course, was the last time we were together.

 
My Voice Nation Help
0 comments
Sort: Newest | Oldest
 
New York Concert Tickets

Around The Web

Loading...