Don't You Remember

by Lana Davison

  “Of course you can. Try it on.”

  I pulled my tank off and removed my shorts, revealing my underwear. I placed the black dress over my head and pulled the bottom down over my small curves, then fiddled with my hips to get the dress to fall right. I felt my bottom, around my hips and then down my thighs, looking down at my lower half.

  “It’s exquisite, absolutely stunning, Johnny,” I said, standing on my tiptoes and walking over to him. I brought my hands to his face and pulled him forward slightly to give him a thank you kiss.

  “Nothing but the best for my girl.” Johnny put his hands on the side of my hips and pulled me forward and kissed me again. “Now let’s take this off,” he said, bending down to my feet and pulling the dress up and over my head. I was left standing in my knickers and bra. “Now, let’s see,” he said moving away from me for a moment, to see my silhouette.

  “I’m cold now,” I announced, biting down on my bottom lip, even though I wasn’t. I said those words so he would wrap his arms around me. He understood my thinking and hungrily looked into my eyes, then placed his perfectly shaped arms around my body. “Now, that’s better.” I said nuzzling into his chest.

  Johnny turned off the light, undid my bra and walked me slowly backwards to the bed. I jumped under the covers and patted the sheets inviting him to join me. He slid in next to me under the covers, took off his boxers and tossed them onto the carpet. We began to kiss intimately. I liked the taste of his mouth, I loved the feel of his body up close and I could tell he felt the same too. We both panted, waiting to see who would be the first to take things further. I could hardly contain myself as I bent my leg and brought my knee up to his waist, my breathing becoming heavier from excitement. Johnny felt the rim of my knickers and flicked it.

  “Take these off,” he mumbled, still kissing me. Eventually I pulled one leg free and then used my foot to push the other side free, brushing the knickers over the side of the bed and onto the floor. I held his lip gently with my teeth as I straddled myself on top and pulled the covers over my back. My hands rested on his chest as I began to move up and down and then in a slow rotation. Johnny touched my body working his way up from my hips to my breasts, taking all of me in with his eyes as he felt his way around. I slid off him and worked my way down his body kissing him softly as I moved southwards, stopping when I reached his groin.

  “You’re so good, so filthy good,” he said, moving his hands through my hair, enjoying the sensation.

  In full pleasure he sat up to watch me work my magic. He took my face in his hands and brought me up to meet him, quickly flipping me over onto my back, completely taking charge. He thrust inside me, moving his body up and down, keeping the pressure and timing exactly the same. “Don’t stop,” I moaned, ready to explode. “I’m almost ready,” I cried out, “Almost, almost… now,” I said releasing myself at the same time as Johnny. If sex was this good, I wondered, why I had waited so long? Although I knew the answer – I simply hadn’t been ready.

  *****

  Graduation day arrived and tonight Johnny and I were going to the Prom together. At home I left myself lots of time to get ready, face mask, pluck, shave, shower, wash my hair, wash my body, moisturize, deodorant, perfume. While I waited for my facemask to dry, I read my Teen Queen magazine which had a make-up application special inside. I proceeded to get ready adding some mousse to my hair wishing it more volume. I put my dress on and admired the snug fit that made me look so womanly. Next, I applied concealer, foundation and some powder then brushed a little blush onto the apples of my cheeks. I wasn’t very confident applying eye shadow so I decided to omit it and used only mascara on my eyes. I added some lip-gloss and decided that would do. I tip toed back to my room and collected my black heels and looked at myself wearing the dress in the mirror, pleased to see my cleavage showing just the right amount.

  I walked out of my bedroom and tied my strappy sandals to my feet quickly in the hallway, holding onto the wall as I did so. My father stood at the other end of the corridor with his jaw wide open.

  “What?” I asked, placing my feet back on the floor and fiddling with my dress again.

  “You look stunning,” my father declared. “You are absolutely beautiful, Jennifer.”

  “Yes, well, I’m off to the Prom with Johnny.”

  “He’s very lucky to have a date like you.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “It’s true,” he said, opening a can of lager.

  “Have a good night,” I said, as I dashed out the front door. The moment I stepped outside and onto the porch, Johnny was there. He looked so smart, so handsome wearing his black tuxedo. We stopped and looked at each other for a moment, before continuing down the porch stairs and meeting up exactly half way.

  “I didn’t get you a traditional gift, like a corsage. I didn’t think it was quite you.”

  “That’s OK. You’re right, it’s not me.”

  “But I did get you something.” He handed me a small box.

  “Oh, Johnny, you shouldn’t have spent your money on me. Really you shouldn’t have,” I said, holding the small black box in my hand and looking up at him.

  “Open it.”

  I opened it and inside was an elegant diamond pendant necklace. “It’s beautiful,” I gasped.

  “You’re beautiful,” Johnny said, taking the necklace from the box and putting it around my neck. He stepped back and nodded in approval. “Jen Redman, you’re the one and you always will be.”

  I smiled, holding the pendant with one hand stroking it with the tips of my fingers and thoughtfully touching his cheek with my other hand.

  There was something in the air that night; a feeling of the end and, also, of the beginning.

  The Prom party was held in the school hall, a large room decorated with streamers and a huge banner flashing the words ‘Class of 85.’ Johnny wasn’t overly concerned about hanging around at the prom, preferring to spend his last three nights in Rushton with me. We made our entrance, got our photo taken and socialized a while. A slow song played on the stereo, and Johnny wasted no time taking me to the dance floor and holding me tight around the waist. We danced slowly, gazing into each other’s eyes, our bodies moving slowly to the music. Johnny moved my head slightly over to the side and kissed my ear lobe. With both my hands placed on his cheeks I slowly kissed his mouth while he rested his hands on the top of my buttock. We were so into each other we didn’t notice there were other people around us – we only saw each other; we only wanted each other. The song ended and Johnny took my hand and led me outside, where he placed one strong arm around my waist and pulled me close, then using his other hand, he brushed my cheek and kissed me long and slow, tasting my mouth, enjoying my lips.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested.

  “Let’s,” I agreed.

  Johnny drove the car to the paddocks behind Raven Lake finding a dirt track which led to a secluded area behind the lake. The heat of the night made Johnny take off his tuxedo jacket and bow tie. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt at the neck to allow freedom. We parked, opened the car doors and walked to the bonnet, jumping onto the hood to enjoy the night-time stars and the heat of the night. Johnny remembered he had a blanket in the boot and collected it to lay over the warm bonnet. We lay back watching the stars and dreaming about the future. Johnny was due to leave in exactly three days’ time and the next few days would be spent helping him pack for the future. He had managed to get a bar gig in Westville, in a little bar in the centre of town. It was only for one night and then he would be off again to find something else. Johnny didn’t feel any pressure about the future, but was instead excited about what might happen, believing if you want something you’ve never had, you have to do something you’ve never done.

  We lay in silence, both of us in deep thought. “Jen, you know I’ll write always,” Johnny said eventually.

  “I know,” I said solemnly. “It just won’t be the same that’s all. We knew this day wa
s going to come around, it’s just come sooner than I wanted.”

  “The sooner I get started the sooner I will be set up for you to come and join me. Stick to the plan, remember, we might actually get to where we want to be if we stick to the plan.”

  I nodded, staring into the night sky.

  He played with my long brown hair. “Two years will go so fast.”

  “Mmm, yeah, I guess,” I said reluctantly.

  “This is not the end of you and me,” he promised.

  I looked into his eyes searching. “I guess I’ll look at this separating as setting you free.”

  “You don’t need to set me free. I’m with the person I want to be with.”

  “I know,” I said, turning to face him and holding him close.

  “It will be all right,” he said squeezing me tight and holding me near. “I could never live without you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t want anyone else. You’re my first love and you’re the last. Know that.”

  “Just hold me,” I said, putting my finger on his lips. I didn’t need any more convincing. I was in this relationship too, and I felt everything he felt.

  We gazed into the night, holding each other and realizing our time together, as we knew it, was almost over.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I put the last pile of t-shirts into the boot of Johnny’s car where there were mainly clothes stacked up in neat sections, a toiletries bag, a sports bag, his music and his guitar. Johnny shut the boot and stood facing the vehicle taking a deep breath.

  “All packed and ready?” I asked, standing behind Johnny and holding onto his jean waist playfully with one hand. My head bent slightly resting between his shoulder blades. I, too, took a deep breath, taking in his imminent departure.

  “This is it,” he said, turning around and rubbing my shoulders. “My ticket out of here.”

  I smiled, understanding his words. “I’ll miss you.”

  “I won’t forget you,” he promised, walking with me to the driver’s car door.

  “I’ll be waiting for you to write,” I assured him, standing by the car door window as he started up the car.

  “Miss you already,” he vowed reaching for my hand and giving it a quick squeeze. Johnny revved the engine and sped off.

  I stood watching the car drive off into the distance even long after it had gone. Suddenly, I felt overcome by knowing I would not see Johnny again for some time even, maybe, for two years. I had to believe our love would be strong enough to hold us together until we could finally be together again.

  I spent the rest of the day in my room, trying to find things to do – no school, no Johnny, too much time on my hands, equalled a bad frame of mind.

  The evening was the hardest of all. I had been sleeping at Johnny’s for almost six months and had become used to it. Sleeping on my own made me feel lonely. Out of sorts, I tossed and turned and wondered what Johnny was doing. I told myself I would get use to living without him, I had to learn to survive and carry on. I needed a plan, something to help me pass the time. I got out of bed and sat at my desk collecting some paper and a pen. The pen twirled around many times in my fingers as I thought about what I should write. I decided to write about Johnny and me, about our life and our time together, so that I would never forget that intoxicating feeling of surrendered ecstasy he had bestowed upon me the moment we got together.

  I began writing and couldn’t stop; there was so much to put down on paper, to articulate into hard copy. Writing it all down made me feel much better. I was completely engrossed in the moment, in the here and now and at the task at hand. It was when I put the pen down I became aware of my reality. I fought with myself to stop feeling melancholy, reminding myself that this was the beginning not the end. Perhaps the nights were just as hard for Johnny.

  I was not able to sleep for what seemed like hours. My heart was giving me pain, like the pain of someone losing a true love. Life would be hard, every day a battle to get through. I wasn’t looking forward to the immediate future.

  Every morning I woke up reaching for Johnny’s hand but am reminded that he has gone. I ached, my heart felt sad, as if it had been broken. I was having a hard time letting him go, wishing he was still here with me instead of pursuing his dream. How I wished to God he was still here.

  The post arrived on Wednesday morning, delivering the first letter from Johnny since he left on Saturday afternoon. He told me about his first gig and how it had gone so well he had been asked to stay on for three additional nights. He was writing from a roadside café on his way to his next destination, Memphis Tennessee. He wrote how much he missed me. He found the nights the worst, saying he had become use to me being a permanent fixture by his side last thing at night and first thing in the morning. He was sleeping in his car, showering at campsites or at the venues he worked in. He knew making this break from me wouldn’t be easy but he had to go and make something of his life, like a husband burdened by the financial woes of looking after his family, Johnny wanted to look after me, I was his family. He gave himself a time frame of two years to make something of himself, knowing I would be able to join him then. Johnny was prepared to work hard, unafraid; failure was not an option and he would do whatever it takes. I kept Johnny’s letter on my bedside table reading it over and over again.

  *****

  Two weeks went by. Johnny had called four times and sent three letters with another letter on its way; every time he called my heart ached even more. No matter what I did, I couldn’t escape my longing to be with him, feeling there was nothing for me but this dull ache constantly embedded in my heart. I could barely eat or drink and spent most of my time reading in my room trying to find escapism in a novel, something to pass the time. I would do anything to just feel better, but there was nothing that would sooth my heart at this stage. It was during this time that I had first noticed my father was sober.

  My dad knocked lightly on my bedroom door. “Jen, can come in?”

  “Yes, come in.”

  He perched on the side of my bed while I lay on my back reading. Using no words at all my dad combed his fingers through the top of my hair looking out of the window. I registered this was his way of caring, he felt for me, for my pain. I was surprised he had even noticed.

  He looked down at me. “It gets easier,” he said, getting up and leaving the room.

  I must have stayed in my room for hours, reading, crying and sleeping from exhaustion, from trying to fight my heavy heart. My father had returned with a bowl of tomato soup he said he had made himself.

  “You must eat, Jennifer. Try and get something in your stomach,” he said patting me on the head like a pet owner pats their animal for being good, for doing as they say. I shifted myself into a seated position, took the soup bowl in my hands, picked up a soon and sipped on it slowly. I looked at my dad, my eyes expressing the thanks my mouth could not.

  “It is OK, my love,” he said, understanding.

  It had appeared to me that my parents had not even noticed I had been in a relationship with Johnny. Their wild, partying ways continued without any consequence for me. What had made my father sober up? What had made him change? Too tired to venture from my room, I placed my soup bowl on my bedside table and returned to bed, lying on my side curled up, looking out the window, at the pouring rain. I shut my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  The days and nights were long, longer than I had ever known them to be. I wished the days to go faster but it was like watching a kettle boil, the more you watch the time pass the longer everything takes. My father visited my room at meal times, bringing me food to make sure I was eating. I managed a few bites of each meal, trying to keep my strength up, but I just didn’t feel like food at all.

  One morning my father announced he was going to cook me salmon for dinner. This roused me from my melancholy – I was interested in his sudden change. My mother, on the other hand, remained the same, drinking herself silly before passing out.

  “Dad, what
is going on with you? You’ve not touched a drink for a couple of weeks,” I said, finally venturing out from my bedroom and into the kitchen where my father stood drying the dishes.

  “I’m turning over a new leaf,” he said, walking over to me and squeezing my arm gently. “Jen, I want you to know I’m here for you.”

  “Why the new leaf?” I asked bewildered.

  “Because I can’t stand to see my petal sad. Looking at you the past couple of weeks has broken my heart.”

  “How did you know?”

  “It doesn’t take the brightest mind to see you are dealing with a broken heart.”

  “I’ll be all right,” I said, shrugging off my depression.

  “I don’t want you to just be all right. I want you to be happy,” he remarked as matter of a fact.

  “I will…” I said, thinking about how I felt. “It’s just too soon, but I’ll get there. I have no choice but to get there.” I smiled a little, realizing I had just spoken the truth. Things would get better in time.

  “Well, if you need anything, you let me know. In the meantime I’m going to look after my little girl, make her a nice meal, because she deserves it.”

  “I can’t remember the last time you cooked for me. It must be years.”

  “Yes, well, I’m ashamed about that. Things will change.”

  “So, are you are going to get a job?”

  “Yes. I am going to try.”

  “And if you can’t? Will you start drinking again? Like you have done so many times.”

  “No. I will get a job, Jen, I promise you that. Remember, a new leaf.”

  “No offense, Dad, but you have said that before.”

  “This time is for real.”

  “What about Mum?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s still drinking. Can you do this on your own?”

  “Yes, I can. Because of you.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t need to get it, you just watch me.”