Memory Bank (part 6)

At sixteen years old there were certain things I was sure of. I was absolutely certain my dad would skin me alive if I did anything illegal, I knew my mom expected nothing short of absolute lady like behavior, and I was positive there were boys somewhere around the beach. My world back then was so small. It’s funny how big everything seemed at the time, and now how, looking back, it was all so very small. Even I was so much smaller. I had barely broken a hundred pounds, and considered myself to have very large thighs. I never bothered to stop and really look at myself in any real sense, seeing that I had muscular legs, not fat ones. I saw every pimple, every stray hair, and every mole every single infinitesimal thing that could be viewed with the naked eye, then actively decided to dwell on my imperfections rather than the positive aspects of who and what I was. I was still more tomboy than girl, liking to play rather than date. I had had boyfriends, but found myself stunned at how much they wanted of me and how fast they wanted it. It was all about making out and acting like I didn’t want to, which now I see how I felt forced at times to be more woman than I probably was ready for. I have seen it in my girls, as a mother, too, all this pressure to be more adult than one wants to be. I was free from boyfriends at this time, not really wanting the hassle of having to keep up the appearance or the maintenance of a relationship, but I felt lonely often too. I guess it remains true throughout our lives that we always want what we don’t have. After all the initial arrival procedures were taken care of, I was free to wander the campground and see who was there, and by who I mean males, the red blooded surfer types who often showed up, tanned, blond and searching for a summer fling. In those initial moments of coming back to our favorite place for the last time, I was thinking a fling, a summer romance would be perfect for me. No strings, no long term anything, just a few days of summer sun, a few nights of star gazing and a little kissing if it seemed right.
Kim, my older sister, and I went up to the store that housed laundry facilities, snack food and a few pinball games to catch any other teenagers who might be around. We walked in and looked around and saw two guys. I say guys because they weren’t really boys, they were college students and they looked older. One was fair haired; the other had dark hair and brown eyes. We sized each other up and right away I could tell the fair haired one was looking at Kim. To be honest most boys or guys, looked directly at Kim and didn’t even notice I was in the room. Noticing they were more mature, I figured they would vie for her attention, leaving me to play pinball and remain ignored. I was used to being invisible in rooms with males when my sister was present. Where I was goofy, smirking, with a thinner, flatter, more boyish body type, not popular among young men, my sister was athletic and curvaceous. She filled out her bikini with ease while I had to keep mine from riding up my straight frame. Kim had naturally curly hair that wound loosely around her face, while mine was poker straight, much like the rest of me. When we traveled together, boys immediately noticed Kim. I could be standing right next to her completely engulfed in flames and they wouldn’t have flinched. Seeing the guys, I figured I might as well busy myself up with doing anything else rather than making the effort to talk to them since Kim would be the object of their affection. We all briefly said. “Hi” looking awkward, when I noticed the most incredible thing. The dark eyed boy was looking at me. I stood in front of him looking at his face for the sign of boredom that usually showed up right after the initial greeting. He held my gaze. He began talking to me. In my head I was wondering what he wanted, if he thought by talking to me it would increase his chances with my sister. I had lived through plenty of that also, where boys would befriend me in hopes of getting to her. We talked, laughed and joked, when he smiled this incredible broad smile showing all of his perfectly straight teeth. I’m a teeth person, so I noticed it right away. Big white smiles are so sexy to me. Even dating much later in my thirties, teeth and hands were my thing, the stuff I noticed right away. I think it has something to do with hygiene. My dad was meticulous about his hygiene, so I always looked for the really clean guy. The dark haired boy had the nicest smile I had ever seen. There was something so warm about him, too, the way he looked right in my eyes, they way he spoke to me saying funny things making me laugh, when I felt so awkward. My other big knee melting weakness is smart. If the guy is borderline nerdy smart, then I melt like a pat of butter on a hot skillet. The dark haired boy was smart, I mean really smart, the kind of smart where I had to ask several times to what he was referring. I knew even then, what I am most definitely certain of now, that one can only be truly funny if one is smart. The dark haired boy had a razor sharp wit, this abundant intellect that had my jaw open and possibly drooling. While I could plainly see he was handsome, what drew me in was how funny he was, how intelligent he sounded, how incredibly unique he was. What I was witnessing, what I was encompassed by, was what I like to call a lightning strike, when something so rare happens, I know in that instant it might never happen again. I felt the electricity between us, so raw, so real, so intoxicating, I didn’t even notice when my sister and the fair haired boy took their leave.