It Happened on Maple Street

I had to take care of me.

I might be lost. Changed. Different. Scared to death and confused. But one thing was very clear to me. For the rest of my life I had to take care of me. There would never, ever be anyone else I would trust to do that.

Fourteen

BY THE SUMMER OF 1980, EVERYTHING ABOUT TIM’S life was settling into place nicely. He and Emily were a couple, invited to each other’s family events. School was fine; he was on track to graduate in a year. So why was he thinking about Tara so much? It had been a year since Emily had given him the ultimatum—go see Tara for lunch and we’re done. He hadn’t heard from or contacted Tara since. And he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

I was home for the summer. I hadn’t seen James since classes let out in May. I missed him. He was the only one who knew the real me, now.

I loved living at home again—being welcome there. A member of my family. Being back with my mom.

And I felt like such a fraud. No one had guessed what had happened on that dark country road that night in April by looking at me. And I wasn’t talking about it.

But it was there with me every second of every day. I’d graduated. With honors. My folks were there for that, too.

James hadn’t touched me again, other than to hold my hand. And give me chaste kisses.

“I’m okay now,” he’d said once. “You were a good girl and took care of the problem you’d created. I can withstand the temptation of you now until we get married.”

He could withstand it for two more years?

And after we were married, then what? Would I like sex any better? We could do it normally then. But every time I thought about any man ever touching me again, I wanted to die.

I’d get over it. I knew I would. I had to. I wanted children. A family. James loved me. Really loved me. He’d stood by me. He would stand by me through anything.

He still wanted me.

No other man ever would.

He’d been incredibly kind, attentive since those minutes when everything had changed. He worshipped me. Spoiled me.

And I really did make him happy. That meant a lot. It might take a while before I felt real joy again. But at least being with me made him happy. That was huge—to be able to make someone happy just by being around them.

That meant I was worth something.

As Tim and Emily got closer to a time when they might seriously think about getting married, he thought more and more of Tara. Was it ego because she’d asked for her ring back and he had some perverse male need to prove that Tara still wanted him? He’d like to think so. But the truth was probably a lot more simple. He was still in love with her.

She defined him, made him feel things that he’d never felt before or since. And when she’d written I love ya in those letters from Armstrong, she’d been feeling the same way, too. He had a couple of years of growing up behind him. A year in a relationship with another woman. He’d learned a lot.

How could he have been so blind? So closed off?

And how could he be with Emily, have her waiting for marriage, if he had a chance with Tara?

He had to call Tara. To set the past straight before he could move on to his future. She should have graduated in May. Chances were she was back living with her parents. School was only twenty minutes from her house. Maybe they could meet. Talk. Resolve things between them once and for all.

The phone only rang a couple of times, but his heart was still pounding as he stood at a pay phone in Dayton.

“Hello?” Her mom answered.

“Mrs. Gumser? This is Tim Barney.”

“Hi!”

“I’m not sure you remember me, but . . .”

“Of course I remember you! Ho

w are you? Did you graduate from college?”