On what turned out to be a fateful day for me, I was 18 years old and a Senior in high school. I wasn't "big man on campus," or anything like that, but I seemed to possess a certain confidence, and could talk to just about anybody about anything. It was some kind of a gift, I guess, because it wasn't anything that I worked on. It was just the way I was.
On that particular morning, I had walked a different route than usual, passing through a little rougher part of town. It was no big deal. I'd grown up here, knew just about every bit of the city, and wasn't ever worried. More of that "confidence," I guess.
Anyway, what caught my attention was a little girl wrestling with a bicycle. The first word I heard her say was "damn." About the time I heard that, I realized she wasn't really a "little girl." Well, she wasn't my age - probably not a 'teen yet - but maybe twelve years old, or so.
"Flat tire?" I asked, although the problem was obvious.
"I have them regularly. I really need new tires."
"Well, there's a bike shop just up the block. Let me carry it for you."
"I know Mr. Jarvis' shop. I can wheel it okay."
"If you wheel it, you might damage the tire more. Let me carry it."
She didn't object, and walked beside me as I carried the bike up the street. "I'm Charlie," she said, "But I'm a girl."
I looked down at her. She was a cute thing - no, more than that. She was going to be really pretty in another couple of years. "I can see that you're a girl, and you do it very well."
She looked up at me, a little suspicious, I thought. "What do you mean by that?"
This one was obviously not to be trifled with. "I merely meant that you seem to be an excellent representative of the female of the species."
"If you mean that I'm pretty, okay, but don't let that fool you. I'm as tough as any boy on my street."
"I believe it. Behind the obvious prettiness, I sense there is a strong individual, who could hold her own against anybody. If I ever got in a street fight, I'd look for you to be my partner."
She was silent for a second or two. "I think you're probably teasing me, but you wouldn't be wrong to pick me."
"I wasn't teasing, Charlie. I would pick you."
We arrived at the bike shop. Mr. Jarvis greeted me like an old friend - which I was, although I hadn't seen him in quite some time. "I brought you a customer, Mr. Jarvis."
"Oh, I am well acquainted with Charlie and her bicycle tires, Josh. I'll fix her right up."
"Good. Well, I need to get going. It's nice to see you, Mr. Jarvis. Charlie, thanks for the walk and talk. I really enjoyed it. I'm going to be looking out for you in the future. I wouldn't be at all surprised to hear great things about you."
***
Time marched on, as it has a tendency to do. I finished high school, went to junior college and got a teaching credential, and immediately got hired by the local school district. They assigned me to a class of Seniors, something I didn't think they did with new teachers. I mean, I was only a few years older than some of my students, and I had heard stories that Senior classes could be pretty unruly, and tough for even well-seasoned veterans. Still, I did okay, didn't flunk anybody, and got a good rating from the school board. I felt ready to tackle Senior Class Number Two.
On opening day, I was getting my desk ready, and not paying a lot of attention to the students filing in. My school was near the center of the city, and while most of the attendees were from predominantly White middle-class families, there was a smattering of African-Americans, and also a few "Orientals" - Japanese, and maybe a few from Korea. The boy-girl ratio was about even.
After the class had settled down, I introduced myself, and gave a little summary of what we would be covering. (It was an English class, so easy to explain.) Last year, I had developed the habit of asking some general question to the class, just to loosen things up. and see what kind of response I got. I decided to do the same that semester.
I don't have any idea what question I asked, but a hand went up immediately. I looked at my class chart. "Okay, Sharlene, give it your best shot." She did, and as I recall,0 her response was excellent. I thanked her, sat down, and started the class in earnest. Something seemed to freeze me in place, and I couldn't look away from Sharlene. There was something about the voice...
As the class started to noticeably fidget, I realized that I was still mutely staring at Sharlene, while the students got more and more amused. I finally pulled myself out of my trance. "Well, that was weird!" I admitted. "First day insanity? I don't know. Anyway, I'll be better tomorrow, I'm sure."
The class eventually calmed down, the rest of the session went fine, the bell rang, and everyone filed out. Well, I thought everybody had gone until I looked up from my note-taking, and found a pretty face looking back at me.
"I'm sorry for taking you by surprise like that, Mr. Adams. I wanted to see if you'd recognize me, right away. I think you did."
Sharlene might have been a little contrite, but there was a mischievous look in her eye that suggested otherwise. I took a few moments to scan the picture before me: A young woman a little taller than average, with lovely chestnut hair worn long and curly - no resemblance to the long, blonde, straight hair prevalent in my classroom that term. Was her beauty something that could grace the cover of a fashion magazine? I didn't know. It wasn't conventional high school Senior beauty, but it certainly had my attention.
"You are Charlie of bicycle tire fame, aren't you?" I asked, but I knew the answer.
"I am. I found that the social world of high school demands that girls have girl's names, so I reverted to Sharlene - which, by the way, is my actual given name."
"But Charlie, the tough street kid, is still alive and well behind the facade?"
"Oh, I think so. If you ever need somebody to back you up in a rough-and-tumble, I'm your girl. But what I want to know is how you recognized me so quickly. I mean, you did know me as soon as I spoke, didn't you? I knew you the minute I saw you, but men's looks don't change much over time. I'm sure I don't look anything like I did when you last saw me."
That went without saying, and I'm afraid I was spending quite a bit of time appreciating "the changes." I pulled myself back to the question. "Charlie, I have absolutely no idea how I knew you so quickly. It's not very flattering to say this, but I probably haven't thought about you since the day I met you. I didn't have any idea you were in my class, or anywhere on the planet, for that matter. As you said, I wouldn't have recognized you if I had seen you, or been expecting you. It is a complete mystery to me."
She just looked at me for a silent moment, but I sensed that mischief, again. "So, you didn't plan to see me after class, to give me a hug, and tell me how glad you are to see me, and to comment on how much I've 'growed up?'"
I shook my head. "I am glad to see you, and I definitely appreciate how much you've 'growed up.' But no, it's all a weird surprise."
"So, what happens now?" she asked. "Are we going to pick up our friendship where we left off?"
"I think what happens now is that I continue to be your teacher, and you continue to be my student. Society, rules, regulations, and The Law pretty much rule out anything else. I will be happy knowing you are nearby, but I will be sad for the same reason."
"Damn!" she whispered. "Okay. I know you're right, but... " She turned to walk away. I called after her, and she stopped, but didn't turn around.
"I am very glad to see you again, Charlie."
***
After the strange first day, my class settled down, and I think we made good progress. My teaching skills were better that second year, most of the students responded enthusiastically (not common with high school Seniors!), and I had the feeling by the end of the term that we had all learned something.
Charlie and I had no personal contact - as it had to be. She was a strong participant in the classroom, and I credited her with instigating a lot of the discussions, then keeping them going. It was probably for the best that we couldn't be friends, but it kept me a little sad much of the time.
I had very confused feelings about her. I was unable to convince myself that there was absolutely nothing between us - although that was the real truth of the matter - and I found myself regularly seeking her face among the students. Just watching her for a few seconds seemed like kind of an anchor to me, holding me in place so I could do my job. I convinced myself that I badly needed something from her. I was pretty sure I knew what I needed, but, of course, it wasn't anything I could have. (I suspect you're thinking you know what I had in mind, but I think you'd be wrong.)
Charlie would occasionally catch me watching her, and would give me a quiet smile. I didn't know if she ever watched me, as I watched her, and couldn't imagine what, if anything, she was thinking about me.
Finally, it was graduation day for my Senior class. I attended the finale, and had a chance to give my congratulations to quite a few. I saw Charlie, and she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then disappeared into the crowd.
I had no idea what, if anything, would come next. I went home feeing wistfully sad.
***
I taught Senior English a third year. It wasn't quite the same without Charlie to look at, and to have participating in class discussion, but I think I did a good job. I liked teaching the Seniors quite a lot. The stories I heard about how rough those classes could be seemed ludicrous. Maybe it was just my teaching skills that made the difference?
Charlie hadn't just graduated, she seemed to have disappeared off the face of the Earth. I would casually ask former classmates what they'd heard from her, but nobody seemed to know anything. Any future for me with Charlie seemed less and less likely, but - as the poet Alexander Pope put it - "hope springs eternal." I wasn't a hermit. I enjoyed the minor social whirl with the other teachers, and dated a little, but it occasionally dawned on me that I had reserved quite a large part of me for some future circumstance.
I developed the habit, on weekends and long summer evenings, of taking a book to a local park. Much of the park was busy with various people activities, but I had discovered an isolated bench that apparently nobody else knew about, or had forgotten about. It had a nice placid view of the forest, and I occasionally saw deer or rabbits, and once I was visited by a wild turkey. Quite a surprise!
I mentioned taking a book with me. It was mostly just a prop. I opened it, and sometimes read a page or two, but mostly I just thought about things - or, just as regularly, dozed off. If it was the latter, I would snooze until the book fell off my lap, then start a new cycle.
You can probably guess that more than a little of my thinking involved the missing Charlie. However, I did have other concerns, the most prevalent one being my future work. As I've said, I liked teaching quite a lot, but would I still like it a lot in ten years, when all I had was a junior college teaching credential, and not a lot of other options? That was a question with no answer, yet.
Future employment was my topic on a certain June afternoon, just after the end of the school year. Well, I should say that it "had been" my topic. I had progressed beyond that to the eyes closed, head nodding stage. The book hadn't fallen off my lap yet, but that was imminent. It was at that point that someone walked up to the bench, and sat close beside me. I caught a faint fragrance like wildflowers as the person rescued my book - just in time - then sat quietly.
I knew who it was - well, who else could it be? - but I was a little bit afraid to open my eyes. I dared a very quick peek. Yep, Charlie.
"If you don't mind, I think I'll just sit here with my eyes closed for a while. Being pretty sure you're here and you're real, my heart is doing amazing happy flip-flops. If I opened my eyes, and found I was mistaken, it would ruin the rest of my day, and most likely the rest of my life."
She let my heart do a few more somersaults before she spoke. "Well, Josh, we could do it your way. I'm willing to sit here by you while you play out your fantasy. But you know that I'm an action-type girl, and it's just possible I could get bored, and wander off before we discuss any of the things we need to discuss. You do agree we have a few things to discuss, don't you?"
I opened my eyes, and sat up straight. She was still there. "Where have you been, Charlie?"
"Where have I been? Just around. My folks needed a little help, so I went home, and got a retail job to bring in a little money. Also, I've followed you out here a few times, and watched as your book fell off your lap. Your antics interest me."
"While you were observing my antics, did it never occur to you that you could have come over and sat with me?"
"Oh, sure, but I still wasn't certain about your intentions. I hear all the time about the unscrupulous men who prey on beautiful, naive, virginal young women. We can never be too careful."
"And what evil did you think I might have planned for you?"
"Well, I did wonder if you had a Lolita Complex about me."
"A Lolita Complex?"
'Well, I was twelve years old when you first met me. That was Lolita's age when Humbert Humbert became obsessed with her. Humbert was an older man. You were an older man. The coincidences seemed rather suggestive."
"I am a few years older than you, Charlie, but I hardly qualified as 'an older man' when you were twelve. Besides, that has nothing to do with anything else. I have been obsessed (as you call it) with only one person in my entire life - and I have a feeling it's going to stay that way, forever. My obsession is with a beautiful, naive, virginal 18-year old (at the time), which seems like a pretty good match for a handsome, naive, virginal, single male of age 24."
"Wait, you're a virgin?"
"Charlie, I didn't ask you for clarification of any of your statements. Grant me the same favor."
"Okay. I suppose those kinds of facts can be thought about later, as they become relevant. Anyway, you're right about the Lolita situation. It doesn't work, and I gave up on it pretty early. However, that left me in a quandary. Why were you so obsessed with me? Oh, it was obvious it was all about me, not some other random beautiful, naive, virginal schoolgirl in your classroom.
"So, what could the obsession be about? I could only think of one thing: sex."
"Sex, Charlie?"
"Sure. Isn't it obvious? You're obsessed with me, but the rules make it impossible for you to actually be with me. I'm pretty sure I'm sexually attractive - at least, I know a few girls who I'm absolutely positive boys find very sexy, and I think my attributes are as good as theirs."
"I agree that your 'attributes' would rank favorably against anybody else's." I shouldn't have said it, but she pretty much ignored me, anyway, and went on with building her case."
"So, isn't this beginning to look like a classic situation? I'm the ideal target, too, because you don't know me - don't really know anything about me. You wouldn't pick somebody that you knew for your fantasy. I mean, even if you hadn't actually had... Well, I just mean that a fantasy would seem to work a lot better with a completely unknown woman, so you could make up absolutely anything you want to.
"So, there I am. You want me badly, but you can't have me. Well, not in person, but your imagination can go anywhere it wants, and no one can stop you. You remember that song about the boys watching the girls walk by? 'You can't go to jail for what you're thinking!' It's true. You can think whatever you like. I can't stop you. I'm a prisoner to your thoughts, and what are your thoughts going to be about? Sex!"
"Charlie..."
"I don't know a lot about this sort of thing, but when I started thinking about your fantasies - well, any man's fantasies - I assumed his thoughts get pretty ... well, pretty sexy. I supposed there had to be a lot of kissing and hugging, and... Oh, my - I hadn't thought of this for a week or so. He probably took my clothes off. I mean, not my clothes, but the woman's in his fantasy."
"But aren't you talking about my fantasy? That would mean that you..."
She talked right over me. "Because it's his dream, I suppose I do - I mean, the woman does just exactly what he wants her to do. But what is that? I mean, we'd kissed and hugged, and some of my clothes... Well, to be a good fantasy, things would have to get pretty intense, wouldn't they?'
"Charlie..."
"And then I got to thinking that this fantasy lasted the whole school year. Didn't it have to keep getting more and more intense in order to keep your - I mean, his - interest? I tried to think about what you - he - might be doing with me - well, with her - and I got really hot and dizzy. When I got home, I had to take a cold shower. "
"Charlie, stop! I wasn't thinking about having sex with you, either as fantasy or in real life."
That stopped her, at least for a moment, anyway. "Why not? Aren't I sexy enough for your fantasy?"
"Charlie, there's no doubt in my mind that I could make up a sexual fantasy about you and me that would curl both of our hair. You are an incredibly sexy, beautiful, naive, virginal woman. What I would prefer for us is to wait a bit, get to know each other really well, and then together make up some of our own reality plays. I'm sure we could get very good at it.
"And that gives me a chance to say what I was thinking about all those times you caught me watching you. It wasn't about sex. It was about me wishing you could be my girlfriend."
"Your girlfriend. What do you mean by that?"
"Listen, Charlie, us meeting all those years ago has nothing to do with what's happened recently. I don't know how you ended up in my class. Maybe the gods were having fun with us. Whatever, the truth of all this is that we don't really know each other. Interacting with you in class has made me want to know you better, and has made me think that you and I might do well together, long-term. I think you must have been feeling somewhat the same. But because I was your teacher and you were my student, we haven't had any chance to test our feelings.
"What I was thinking all those times I glanced at you was how great it would be to be boyfriend and girlfriend - to 'go steady,' if anybody still uses that term. We could see where each of us live, and where we grew up. We could meet each other's parents, and trade family stories about all the cute and clever things we did as kids. We could hold hands, and trade some beginner's kisses - good training for when we began to enjoy intermediate-level kisses a little later. We could walk to the movies, take drives in the country, hike up a hill, and tell each other all our big dreams for the future. If we did those things for a year or so, then I think we'd really know if we were meant to be a couple. That's my big secret - what I've been wishing for."
We both seemed to be talked out, and we just sat silently for a few minutes. Finally, Charlie linked her arm with mine. "We couldn't do that while I was in school, but is there any reason we can't do it, now?"
"I can't think of any reason, if we both want to. Do you?"
"I think very much so."
***
That all happened several years ago. A lot has happened since, most of it the result (at least, indirect result) of Charlie and I becoming girlfriend and boyfriend. It was an amazing experience.
Now, I was no stranger to high school girls. In my own time, I had quite a few friends of the female sex. I liked them - maybe not better than my high school buddies, but for entirely different reasons. (You're probably imagining my "reasons" right now, but you'd be wrong.)
Teenage boys are clones of one another. If we all loved football, we reveled in playing football. If we liked to camp out and climb mountains, we committed ourselves completely to the sport. Same thing if we liked listening to loud, heavy metal music. We all listened as if we were one organism.
But what we seldom shared - and certainly never with the whole gang - was what kinds of books we liked, what the family did on Sundays, how we thought about the future... What I'm trying to say is we had a shared male life, but we also each had an existence largely unknown to one another, largely off-limits to even our best male friends. This wasn't a planned thing; it's just the way teenage boys are (and the way that most men continue to live).
Girls, I had found, were different. They talked about everything to every other girl. Well, they didn't broadcast their biggest dreams or deepest secrets to everybody, but most had a best female friend who did know all those things. Among girls, no topic seemed to be off-target, no questions taboo.
What most boys never knew is that most girls would have been willing to share that way with most boys. The boys didn't want to know girls on that level, or - more likely some of the time - they didn't know it was possible. I think I mentioned way back at the start of this story that I had some kind of a "gift" that let me talk to anybody, with no barriers due to age, sex, or anything else. That's the way I was with girls in high school. We did all the usual stuff, like meeting for cokes, going to the movies, dancing at proms, listening to music together, holding hands, and such. (I think there may have been a little teenage-grade kissing in there,, somewhere.) However, what we mostly did - and what I think I enjoyed the most - was that we talked, and talked about personal things. More than one girl knew that I worked crossword puzzles with my mother, and that my father didn't believe I'd ever learn to shift the gears properly in his old Buick. Some girls knew that I played chess with my sister - and I wasn't embarrassed for them to know that Amy beat me as often as I beat her. Obviously, there was some sexual attraction - after all, we were boys and girls with raging teenage hormones - but for me that was just icing on the cake, not the cake, itself.
That was all good, and I'm sure helped me develop into the person I have become. Still, it took "going steady" with Charlie to make me realize that I had barely scratched the surface of the man-woman puzzle. Further learning seemed to be progressing at break-neck speed. We did everything I had on my initial "going steady" wish list. We met each other's parents, and were relieved to find that everybody seemed to like everybody. We wandered our neighborhoods, and described the things we did as little kids, and then as older ones. We went to the movies, went on drives and hikes, and spent a lot of time in little coffee shops. Mostly, we talked and talked and talked - a seemingly endless stream of things we wanted and needed to share. It was exhilarating.
Also exhilarating was brushing up on our high school kissing skills. It turned out that we remembered them so well that we quickly graduated to a Level Two version, and before long reached Level Three. I think we both began to wonder what Level Four would be like, and I think it's about then that the subject of "sex" began to creep into our discussions. I don't think one necessarily had anything to do with the other, but it may not be entirely coincidental that it was about the same time that we began to talk about getting married. The thought of having a place we could stay with one another day and night grew more and more appealing.
***
So, just to fill in the blanks, and bring you up to date, I taught the Senior English class one more year, while Charlie worked retail to bring in a little money for her folks, and a little for her own "nest egg." At the end of my teaching year, we both enrolled in college. We don't know what exactly we're planning for, but it's one thing we can do to keep options open. Obviously, we can't afford to go to college, but it's becoming pretty clear to us that nobody can really "afford" anything, so we're just going to do it.
We're not married yet, but it's definitely in the plan. Like going to college, we won't ever be able to afford to get married. We've known that since the day we learned that two cannot leave as cheaply as one, and we've never yet heard of any couple who managed to live on love, alone. Still, we're going to give it our best shot, and I know we'll make it. We're a little anxious about the wait - because we'd really like to be living together - but the only thing the wait is really holding up is our graduation to Level Four kisses. Oh, we know we don't have to wait for that, but we've just decided that's going to be one of our wedding night surprises. I suspect it won't be the only one.
Charlie still insists that our future was decided (another way of saying our fate was sealed?) when I carried her bicycle for her when she was twelve years old. I can't buy that, but just try to argue it with a force of nature, like my girlfriend. What really matters to me is that we're together and very happy, and we intend to be together and very happy for a long, long time.
***
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