It Started With A Kiss---Take Two
Without Prejudice
It had been hot all week. A scorcher that day, a time for drawing the blinds and cranking up the air conditioner to its highest mark. I wasn't in the best of moods. My foster daughter had come to stay fleeing her husband but leaving behind her kids. Another love had come into her life. A former neighbour she doted on and he her. I had a feeling it was all going to end in tears.
A knock came at the door and I peered through the old fashioned Amber glass at two figures standing there.
" What now ? " I thought,
I had one daughter about to give birth to her sixth boy, and she was not a happy pregnant. The said Foster daughter moving in and she was everywhere and nowhere and it had just been my Birthday. At that time not a great thing. I sighed and pulled open the door as the bell was now pealing throughout the house.
There stood my brothers best friend from long gone days. A delightful fey wicked Peter Pan character
who loved a drink, a smoke, a gamble and women in that order. Tucked under one arm was a six pack of beer, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Beside him stood a tall figure, standing to one side as if shy.
I was teaching a child English at the time. The novel, Of Mice And Men. The book came to mind for some reason.
" You remember Clint, my nephew" said my brothers old friend.
I nodded and rapidly shut my dropped jaw with a snap.
My foster child came out took one look at the two men and turned on her heel and rushed to the bathroom,
I ushered the two men through to the backyard and we sat in the glorious sunset chatting and drinking. My foster daughter joined us greatly refreshed and smelling of newly applied perfume. She joined in the desultory conversation and we were all getting along famously.
The nephew I had last seen as a three year old.
I couldn't take my eyes off him as the man child had grown into a six foot two man. Handsome, strong, built. It took some adjusting on my part to relate child to man, the child having been cheeky and bold, born after ten years of barrenness to an old friend. The last memory I had of him was him throwing a toy at me and hiding in his room when I tried to get him to play.
It had been the late seventies, a BBQ at Clint's parents house. A big celebration for two small boys, Clunt and his younger brother. A birthday, probably Clint's, the twelfth of the twelfth. I know it was very hot. Two boys born ten years after their older sister. Ten years of no more kids and then out of the blue, two boys in rapid succession.
Cheeky, naughty, indulged little boys who ran away as soon as you looked at them. I can remember Clint peering out at me from behind the door, inquisitive, one eye just peeking and laughing. I wanted to pick both of them up, but they were like wildlings. My four girls sitting demurely at the table outside squinting into the sun and eating.
Grace their Aunt was there moaning about something as was her way. I had known Geace since she was 12. We had all lived in Oakleigh then. They were a large Croatian family with only Clint's Mother, Suzanne, stepping out of tradition and marrying a New Zealander, Dennis.
A larger than life figure who was to die young at 48. Diabetes complications. Apparently he was type 1, not diagnosed until he was 43. He took medication for a year and then stopped. Turning to his Seventh Day Adventist church instead.
As my nursing Sister, Helen says,
" God also created Doctors and medicine "
My Foster daughter changed her mind about not going on her date after all and readied herself to leave. I followed her to the front door asking why. I thought she might be interested in Clint, she and him being of similar age. She was always fighting with her ex hubby and new married lover. The kids being the losers.
" He's not interested in me Janette, he's interested in you", she said and fled to her date in a car park, such is the meeting place for the furtive.
I was shocked at what she had said and was mindful to take no notice. He was far too young to be interested in me.
I wasn't to see him again for two months.
It was Cup Day and we as a family all dressed up, drank champagne and ate chicken and strawberries. Bored after everyone left I wandered up to my old friend house dressed still in my black silk dress. Clint was there at his Uncle's and we all made merry in the backyard until the darkness enveloped us.
Clint offered to walk me home. The night black and velvety, soft breezes dancing around my bare legs as we walked past " The Violent Alcoholics " house. The V.A. Fought with his neighbours, screaming out insults at the top of his lungs and smashing their brick fences down with his car. We stopped at the lamp light near my house and together gazed up at the full moon.
Clint leaned down and kissed me, not like a child, like a Man. It should have been such a tender moment but I pushed him away.
" What are you doing? I asked and confused ran inside the house.
I was flushed and hot and a bit tipsy. I peeked around the bedroom door and there stood Clint. He had followed me in. Grinning as if in triumph. The roles were now reversed. But I didn't throw a toy at him.
That was seven years ago this Cup Day. My very own Channing Tatum in track pants and tee shirt. Hope he can dance.
Lol Nette
It had been hot all week. A scorcher that day, a time for drawing the blinds and cranking up the air conditioner to its highest mark. I wasn't in the best of moods. My foster daughter had come to stay fleeing her husband but leaving behind her kids. Another love had come into her life. A former neighbour she doted on and he her. I had a feeling it was all going to end in tears.
A knock came at the door and I peered through the old fashioned Amber glass at two figures standing there.
" What now ? " I thought,
I had one daughter about to give birth to her sixth boy, and she was not a happy pregnant. The said Foster daughter moving in and she was everywhere and nowhere and it had just been my Birthday. At that time not a great thing. I sighed and pulled open the door as the bell was now pealing throughout the house.
There stood my brothers best friend from long gone days. A delightful fey wicked Peter Pan character
who loved a drink, a smoke, a gamble and women in that order. Tucked under one arm was a six pack of beer, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Beside him stood a tall figure, standing to one side as if shy.
I was teaching a child English at the time. The novel, Of Mice And Men. The book came to mind for some reason.
" You remember Clint, my nephew" said my brothers old friend.
I nodded and rapidly shut my dropped jaw with a snap.
My foster child came out took one look at the two men and turned on her heel and rushed to the bathroom,
I ushered the two men through to the backyard and we sat in the glorious sunset chatting and drinking. My foster daughter joined us greatly refreshed and smelling of newly applied perfume. She joined in the desultory conversation and we were all getting along famously.
The nephew I had last seen as a three year old.
I couldn't take my eyes off him as the man child had grown into a six foot two man. Handsome, strong, built. It took some adjusting on my part to relate child to man, the child having been cheeky and bold, born after ten years of barrenness to an old friend. The last memory I had of him was him throwing a toy at me and hiding in his room when I tried to get him to play.
It had been the late seventies, a BBQ at Clint's parents house. A big celebration for two small boys, Clunt and his younger brother. A birthday, probably Clint's, the twelfth of the twelfth. I know it was very hot. Two boys born ten years after their older sister. Ten years of no more kids and then out of the blue, two boys in rapid succession.
Cheeky, naughty, indulged little boys who ran away as soon as you looked at them. I can remember Clint peering out at me from behind the door, inquisitive, one eye just peeking and laughing. I wanted to pick both of them up, but they were like wildlings. My four girls sitting demurely at the table outside squinting into the sun and eating.
Grace their Aunt was there moaning about something as was her way. I had known Geace since she was 12. We had all lived in Oakleigh then. They were a large Croatian family with only Clint's Mother, Suzanne, stepping out of tradition and marrying a New Zealander, Dennis.
A larger than life figure who was to die young at 48. Diabetes complications. Apparently he was type 1, not diagnosed until he was 43. He took medication for a year and then stopped. Turning to his Seventh Day Adventist church instead.
As my nursing Sister, Helen says,
" God also created Doctors and medicine "
My Foster daughter changed her mind about not going on her date after all and readied herself to leave. I followed her to the front door asking why. I thought she might be interested in Clint, she and him being of similar age. She was always fighting with her ex hubby and new married lover. The kids being the losers.
" He's not interested in me Janette, he's interested in you", she said and fled to her date in a car park, such is the meeting place for the furtive.
I was shocked at what she had said and was mindful to take no notice. He was far too young to be interested in me.
I wasn't to see him again for two months.
It was Cup Day and we as a family all dressed up, drank champagne and ate chicken and strawberries. Bored after everyone left I wandered up to my old friend house dressed still in my black silk dress. Clint was there at his Uncle's and we all made merry in the backyard until the darkness enveloped us.
Clint offered to walk me home. The night black and velvety, soft breezes dancing around my bare legs as we walked past " The Violent Alcoholics " house. The V.A. Fought with his neighbours, screaming out insults at the top of his lungs and smashing their brick fences down with his car. We stopped at the lamp light near my house and together gazed up at the full moon.
Clint leaned down and kissed me, not like a child, like a Man. It should have been such a tender moment but I pushed him away.
" What are you doing? I asked and confused ran inside the house.
I was flushed and hot and a bit tipsy. I peeked around the bedroom door and there stood Clint. He had followed me in. Grinning as if in triumph. The roles were now reversed. But I didn't throw a toy at him.
That was seven years ago this Cup Day. My very own Channing Tatum in track pants and tee shirt. Hope he can dance.
Lol Nette
