His name was Rob
I was 13 and he was 18. He had crystal blue eyes, and white blond hair
so thick and curly that I swore it never dried between washings. When he smiled
his eyes lit up and my heart just stopped.
Jail bait. Well, hell yeah.
He was a first year college student and I was maybe in 8th grade? Surprisingly
that warning never came from my parents' or from Rob. I laugh now, wondering
why my parents' only concern was he was too old for me.
We never officially dated but
some of my girlfriends were older and hung out with him so I got to tag along.
He said I was cute and funny. I thought the sun rose and set with him, and
while I was growing up we remained friends. He was still playing the field. I figured
I still had time to catch him.
Then one day he told me about
a woman he'd met in a neighboring town. By then I was a freshman in college.
Looking back, I can't imagine why I would have actually cared about who he was
dating. We'd hung out and had a few beers every now and then but nothing more.
Yet somewhere in my heart, Rob held that special spot as the first guy I loved.
He'd promised he'd wait for me and I was foolish enough to think that actually
meant something.
A few months later, I was
walking downtown and he pulled to the corner. As usual, I was happy to see him.
He rolled down the window. "I'm getting married." It turned out the
woman he'd told me about had gotten pregnant so they were heading down the
aisle.
I remember not knowing whether
to laugh or cry, but I do remember telling him he promised to wait for me. The
stupid fantasy of a little girl had never evaporated. I learned her name and to
this day, I remember her whenever I hear it.
Rob got married and their
child – a son – was born with significant birth defects. The baby died before
its first birthday and that left Rob reeling. A marriage he didn't really want
in the first place, the child now gone – "Maybe it's time to walk away
from my wife too?" he asked me that over a beer one night.
But the tug on my heart was
gone. I told him to go home to his wife. And he did. Isn't it funny how the
right choice becomes clear sometimes? They had other children together and I
saw his son's graduation picture a couple years ago. The spitting image of his
dad.
I don't think I ever saw Rob
again after that – decades ago now. He stayed in the same town I grew up in and
for the hundreds of times I've visited, our paths never crossed again. My picture has been in the local paper and
I've been a guest at public events. I still wonder if he ever thought about
coming by to say, hey. I would have.
Find out more about Margie
Margie's blog: Romance With SASS
Thanks for letting me stop by. I hope your guests enjoy my post.
ReplyDelete