Later in the year, when I was bringing her home from school after practice, she decided that she did not want to go out with her boyfriend that evening.  I suggested a movie, and that I could pick her up about eight-ish.  She told me that seven would be better, and we made the plans.  We had spent many evenings together, just “pal”-ing around, and I expected this evening to be the same.  I had recently been able to suppress my feelings for her to a state that it didn’t hurt so much not to be the one she would be in-love with.  My dance-card, so to speak, didn't leave many options.  Her boyfriend at the time thought I was gay, so I had the perfect cover.  I knew she still needed my friendship, and I knew I still needed her love.

          Separating my feelings for her was not a difficult thing to do, as all the closest friends I have had have been girls.  My emotional tennacity could not be quenched talking to the fellows.  To me, it was a matter of the conversation, and not needing to hide my feelings all of the time.  To me, that was a good time; a place to be open.  I was able to practice being myself.

          I had been able to acquire two four-packs of wine coolers, packed in ice, and my plan was to drink them with Jennifer after the movie in a new subdivision that was being built.  Only the roads had been built, and the very back of the soon-to-be neiborhood was as barren and as exclusive as could be.  My original plan had been to take her to a private pond I knew about, buried in the woods.  You could build a fire, and the water was clean enough for skinny-dipping; although I did not think there was any chance we would be getting naked together.  (Except ffor my everyday day-dreams)    There were two lakes in this area, built by and directly behind an Otis oil-riggers work-shop.  It was a large facility that those who were working offf-shore would return to after a shift, clean their tools, report, clock out, and get drunk by the lake.  The other lake was built as a place to dump excess oil p0roducts used in cleaning at the shop.  Every once in a while, you would sneak back there and find that the other lake had been drained.  Barrells would be buried in the middle of the lake, and then it was filled back up.  In scouting, after school, I found that the only road to the lakes had been cut off by a side of the road drainage ditches.

 

 

 

Next Page:

www.oocities.org/radar3064/bydesign/pg8.htm