Finding Christina’s House – April 1989
Jerry cruised down the street of Old Towne, the
radio waves belting the tunes of a remake of Tommy James and the Shondells, “I
Think We’re Alone Now,” by the teen idol, Tiffany, who tugged at the hearts of
teeny boppers. Jerry felt as though he was back in high school, reflecting on
his first girlfriend—puppy love. Not as a desire for her, but rather that his
heart had opened wide to the sincerity of Christina, a heart that reached out
as though he was in a familiar space and time. Their first meeting in the
coffee shop, he felt as if he had already known her, searching her face for any
bit of familiarity. He found some, glimpses of high school flames that he never
really met, just knew in passing through the halls. Was she a collage of every
good memory he had? The midnight blue of her hair, their waves catching the
light, reflected surrounding color that mixed like the depth of the sea
perceived hundreds of feet below.
Arm hanging out the window, his had drummed the
beat against the door as he felt the freedom of spring air rush across his
face. Tiffany rocked the radio—
Running
just as fast as we can, holding on to one another hands
Trying
to get away in the night and then you put your arms around me
And we
tumble to the ground and then you say
Flipping his phone, he hit speed dial—Swansong—the
image he held in his mind of her ballet dance finale.
“Hey, why are you calling me?” Christina said,
quite frantic. “I just got home from dance practice. Dress rehearsal ran long
before tomorrow’s opening. How far away are you?”
“Don’t really know. Your directions seem to be a
bit off. Turn right at Benson Parkway?”
“No, left,” she said in between brushing her
teeth.
“Oh, that makes sense. Numbers are getting
smaller. 7446, right?”
Long pause as she swished her mouthwash, looked
in the mirror, nodded yes as she deftly lined her eyes.
“You there?”
“Yeah,” she said after remembering to spit
first.
“Turning around now. Don’t think I’m far off,”
Jerry said smiling, totally oblivious of the panic running through her.
Tiffany totally distracted him as he drove by
her driveway.
I think
we’re alone now,
There
doesn’t seem to be anyone around
I think
we’re alone now,
The
beating of our hearts is the only sound
“I think I passed it again. Your number on the
mailbox?”
The deep blue eye shadow, a surrounding contrast
to her topaz eyes, “Oh,” she peeped, prancing to the bedroom window to look
down the winding drive of this rare find, a country home that she and three
girls rented. She ran her hands through
her hair, hoping to bring the natural curls up to give it body.
“Is that you in the white Firebird with the big
bird on its hood?”
“Yep.”
“Just passed me. I see you from my bedroom
window. Turn at the drive that says, ‘Hay For Sale.’ ”
“Really, you have hay? A loft, too?”
“Silly . . . my landlord. See you in a bit, but
I don’t have any makeup on,” she said smiling. Better to bring down the
expectation.
“I like the natural look.”
“See you soon.”
† † †
She answered the door promptly. No sense messing with my hair, she thought
as she glided to the door, her natural, blue-black curls bouncing off her
shoulders.
Topaz and blue eyes, two faces meeting as if for
the first time, alone. She smiled and then blushed, an impression awry? Eyes
like magnets, they absorbed each other, he wanting to hug her, long lost
friends it did seem, yet wanting to kiss her passionately, her lips to his. She
put her arm round his waist, she did snuggle, a cue to hold her, his arms her
desire. He wrapped her shoulders, tucking her into his chest. He buried his
face in her damp hair, one hand gently gripping her nape.
He held her for what seemed a very long time,
pressing her heart into the wanting of his. Then, he thought to let go, but her
arms would not, as he looked into her eyes. Her eyes searched into his, lips
hovering over hers, softly touching, a cushion sublime. Deft with her tongue,
she slid it in; alike he caressed her delectable probe. Their passion swelled,
oh, he did moan, deep emotions of longing for this one alone.
Who could this be who seemed so familiar, yet
aroused within him a fresh spirit of love? Their many kisses completed, that
which they avoided, a spiritual love coupled with burning desire. She would not
let go, strolling through her home, her arm round his as he held her close, his
own, like they had known. Another
lifetime? Grade school sweetheart or high school love? They could not let
go of what they missed, those times before. His fingers, a comb, swept through
her hair, tilting her head back as his lips met hers.
He had never before felt a kiss last forever,
nibbling and brushing, their lips did dance, tantalizing each other, they drew
in deep breaths, pulling together, they felt their hips press, the swelling
between them that expressed their growing sexiness.
† † †
It was liberating for Jerry to be with
Christina. He didn’t feel his worry about the future, the burden of—Who am I? Or, When is the big opportunity in my life going to come? He could now
forget all that and play with Christina and have fun, like he did in high
school. Breaking from the, I’ve got to
figure it all out, mentality, he was able to let go and believe that when
put in the right hands, his destiny would unveil in God’s time. Right now, he
felt the rush of love that took his breath away.
They toyed with thoughts of sex, both of them as
they pressed in, then released, knowing there was a boundary that if crossed
would lead to their clothes on the floor and bouncing in bed. Christina’s last
was the shit of a jock that took her as queen, leaving her to defend her
reputation after he made her name locker room trash. Could or would she trust Jerry? Times were different. Or were they?
Boys will be boys, whatever their age. She was not at all trying to attract
Jerry, quietly reading a book in the corner of the coffee shop, and not now, or
was she? Greeting him at the door with her hair wet from a shower was sexy in
of itself, the allure of where she had just been moments ago, and the look,
yes, she had done her eyes, made them pop and sparkle.
She was like a magnet, Jerry, a rod of steel.
Drawn to her, brought to life, a new flame burned within, and not just one of
the flesh, desiring her as his own. He felt her spirit, even while talking on
the phone, late nights to early morning hours they shared their pasts and
dreamed of their futures. She understood his frustration, to have faith in his
calling, not knowing when or how it would come about. His candid, heartfelt
remarks to her, like he was talking to God in his thoughts, I know this God, but how do I make this happen?
Lead, teach, and heal? Okay, God, like I’m twenty-something, what does that
mean? Why did you tell me this without a road map?
She also sensed another frustration. She knew
her next steps would be to spend the summer traveling on the Mercy Ship to
far-off lands to devote her compassion and nursing skills to those who had
never seen medical care, while he spent the summer . . . finding himself.
† † †
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Copyright 2017 © Jeff Cambridge
Excerpt from PURSUIT, a novel by Jeff
Cambridge, a writer of transformational fiction with real characters in
real-life tell stories that change lives in the readers as the characters
transform.
This is a
pre-published scene.
To read the
scenes sequentially, begin with
“PURSUIT: A
Novel – Prologue”
You will find
the previous episodes in the monthly archives. Click on them and enjoy.
Your comments
are welcomed and appreciated. Simply check one of the reaction boxes below,
write a comment, or email me at bycambridge@gmail.com.
This novel is a
work of fiction. Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, and
locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and
authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
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