"You don't want to do only the things people your mother's and my age do," I remember him urging that morning after their return. "Wind surfing is for people your age."
"But you said you were just doing it a great deal an Maui." I reminded him.
He laughed. "Well. Grace," he said, nodding and looking so coy, "I can see I can't be dishonest with you I've always tried to be younger in spirit, sometimes, I'm afraid, too young."
Mommy laughed to indicate they shared some intimacy about that. Whatever it was had something to do with their sex life. It nearly made me blush.
"But," he said, holding up his right forefinger. "a wise old man once told me, youth is a matter of mind over matter. Think young, and you'll be young. Doing things with you will keep me young." he declared, and then looked at Mommy and said. "and that is the way you want me to be, Right?"
"Absolutely," she said. laughing. "I have too many senior citizens in my life as it is."
With this emphasis on youth waving like some new flag over our lives. I found it more and more difficult, if not downright impossible, to withdraw to my safe solitude. Reluctantly, with Mommy cheering me on. I finally succumbed and got into the new bathing suit Kirby had chosen for me. Then he and I went down to our private beach where he began to give me lessons in wind surfing. The ocean wasn't as calm as it could be that day I first tried it, but Kirby thought it made for more exciting rides,
"You've got to take some chances. Grace. It makes everything more exciting and more
worthwhile."
He had so much passion in his voice my heart skipped beats.
Kirby demonstrated all the instructions first while Mommy and I stood and watched him glide and jump with the waves.
"Look how graceful he is." she declared. "how athletic, those muscles gleaming,"
Her lack of restraint in revealing her admiration for Kirby's body and, at times, his animal sexuality embarrassed me. While we had never sat and had a frank conversation about sex and men, time and our experiences had carried me from that almost asexual world young girls exist in to a world of sophistication and awareness, especially awareness of your own body and the feelings that flow through it with an almost radioactive frequency, stirring your
imagination and your most secret fantasies. I don't remember when exactly Mommy stopped looking at me as her young daughter, her child, but sometime after Daddy's death and her dating Winston I found our conversations and the references she made far more revealing about her own sexuality. She had come to accept me as her sexual equal, and truthfully I wasn't as comfortable about that as she assumed. Even years later I still wasn't, and, for some reason, especially when it was in reference to Kirby.
He came back ashore with the board and guided me out on mine to practice the techniques he had just taught me. Soon I gained confidence. and I was out there doing it. He joined me, and we rode the waves together. Just as he had said, it was exciting, and I had a wonderful time Mommy waved and screamed encouragement. She soon became bored with just watching us and retreated to the pool. On the way back to shore I took a bad spill. Kirby was by my side almost instantly, leaping into the water to be sure I was all right. He held me at the waist so I could catch my breath. It took a moment or two. but I did, and then I also realized that the abbreviated bathing suit top had been pushed off by the water. I was topless and turned away as quickly as I could.
He said nothing about it. which I appreciated. He let me think he might not have seen what had happened. although I couldn't see how that was possible.
After that. whenever I did go wind surfing. I wore a one-piece. Eventually I gave in and went sailing with him as well He was good at it and, unlike Winston, wanted us to go faster, take more chances. In fact. everything I did with Kirby was on the edge in some form or fashion, even riding in my convertible. If he drove, he drove like a race car driver, usually getting me to scream caution and then laughing at me. It was difficult to deny that it was exciting and fun to be with him.
However, there were quieter times, too, like the nights they had nothing special to do and we would all play cards. He was always funny and charming. To my surprise he was even a good pasta cook and made us dinner occasionally. Whenever he did anything, he insisted I help and learn something.
During this very hectic and active first year and a half Mommy and Kirby took a number of holidays between their parties and events, each time trying to get me to go along. I refused no matter how Mommy pleaded.
"I'll only feel like a third wheel," I told her, which was a reason she at least understood and appreciated.
"You've got to get out of the rut," Kirby would say, but he didn't push and try to get me to go to events where I would meet young men. He even advised Mommy to do the same: Back off. "She'll find herself" he would say.
"Winston used to say that," she would reply softly.
"Well, he was right," Kirby insisted.
In the end I began to feel I had misjudged him. He had been right to plead for a fair appraisal. Mommy and he were far too extravagant, but I couldn't blame that entirely on him, and he did always seem cognizant and concerned about my feelings, no matter what they did or what was suggested.
Maybe, I thought, we were becoming something of a family again after all. Was that too much to hope?
.
Almost two years after Mommy and Kirby eloped I began to reconsider my decision about not continuing my college education. I sent away for university brochures and perused them and the different programs each school offered. I was still considering a career in teaching.
Kirby often came by and looked in whenever I left my door open. He would stop to talk about almost anything, just, it seemed to me, to make conversation. He never stepped into the room without asking or saying. "Hey, how you doing? Can I come in a minute?"
Twice I had left the door open when I was half dressed and caught sight of him standing there. He moved an quickly without saying a word or knocking on the opened door to pretend he hadn't noticed,
"Hey, what are you reading now?" he asked this time, "Can I see?"