It Happened on Maple Street

“What?”

“What we did together, the physical stuff, did it mean anything to you?”

“Of course it did!”

“You weren’t just a guy out for sex?”

“No!”

“Have you told . . . anyone . . . what we did?”

“No.”

“Have you done anything like it since? Have you been as intimate as we were?”

Those blue eyes were gazing up at him, and they weren’t part of his life anymore. “No.”

“So we were special to you?”

What did it matter? “Yes.”

The answer seemed to satisfy her.

And he was glad he’d stopped by.

Eleven

I WAS EIGHTEEN AGAIN—STARTING COLLEGE AT WRIGHT State and fantasizing about my great-hair guy. For the rest of Christmas break I thought about Tim. I kept watching for him to show up again. Every time I left the house, the first thing I did upon my return was ask my mom if there were any calls for me.

And just like in the past, I lay in my canopied bed—the one I’d once sat on to play guitar for Tim and cried myself to sleep the night before I headed back to college.

Tim hadn’t contacted me again.

I told myself I was done with him, but I knew it wasn’t true. During the long ride back to school—a ride that extended from the usual twelve hours to seventeen hours due to inclement weather—all I did was think about Tim. I analyzed everything he’d said.

And everything he didn’t say.

He hadn’t sounded all that excited about this Emily person. He’d been hesitant. He thought maybe there’d be more. What I knew was that if it were there, he’d already know it.

But what kept me going, what had me hooked, was the fact that he’d come by at all. He’d wanted to know about the card I’d sent. About the signature. He cared.

I couldn’t wait to get back to school to my bunk in my dorm room and write to Tim. I had pen in hand before I’d even unpacked. Wrote for a bit, but I didn’t sign off. I couldn’t end my conversation with him.

Hello, Babe!

I know this is strange, but I felt really super seeing you last week and I want to stay in touch. I’d love to have a place in your busy schedule.

It was a long letter, a week in the writing, filled with every minute of my days. I tried to keep things light so I didn’t cramp him or push him away. I described my room to him, the classes that were starting the following day. I talked about the pizza I’d eaten, meeting up with my roommates and friends again. I talked about the weather, the long drive back. I asked him how his classes were going. I told him that they’d announced that due to the cold, girls were going to be allowed to wear pants to class instead of dresses. I was most definitely not a dress person. And in between the news, I added the things I most needed to say.

Like,

Please be sure you’re alone when you lift your weights.

And,

I really wish that I’d met you now rather than last year, though I do have lots of fantastic memories that I’d like to keep!

Toward the end, I got really serious.