Between Two Seasons

Scene: Forest Park in present day St. Louis, Missouri

         
"This isn't happening." I said, drawing an imaginary borderline between us.

"Yes it is." William insisted and advanced. "I want this, so do you. I don't see a problem."

Any passerby in the park would've assumed I was having an argument with my son. The real situation was this: the boy just professed his feelings for me.

"William," I pleaded, "you're only twenty-three."

I stepped back and tried to see him as his age and experience only; a young man who had attended college on a swimming scholarship, who lived with his parents; he probably had to be reminded to pick up his socks off the bathroom floor. Inexperienced, greener than spring and whose shoulders hadn't had to carry one burden of life...yet.

"It's an infatuation," I continued. "It'll pass like gas and in six months you'll laugh about this. I know I will." I tried to laugh, but it came out as asthmatic wheezing.

"No. It's the truth, no matter how you want it. I love you."

William stood close, raised my hands to his mouth, kissed my fingers and palms and working his way down to my wrist, looked at me out of the corner of his hazel eyes to gage my reaction. I hoped I was stone-faced. I didn't want him to know his touch was thrilling; his company calming, like coming home. Love is a complex emotion.

No! I jerked away leaving William with empty hands.

"It's lust." I reasoned, wiping my hands on my coat, afraid someone had seen his display. "It's garden variety, nearly middle-aged, hormone induced lust. I'll eat chocolate and buy a vibrator; I'll be fine."

William wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close, I wrestled myself free of his grasp and heel and toed it toward my car. There was twenty feet of distance between us when I heard him call out:

"Why get a vibrator when you can have me?"

I couldn't kill him, there were too many witnesses.

I turned around and saw him slowly approach; which was good, it gave my skin time to revert from crimson to its natural color. He was covering his mouth, but I could tell from his raised cheeks and shaking shoulders that he was finding humor in my public humiliation. He stopped in front of me, just out of arms' reach. Smart boy.

William offered a genuine apology when he noticed that people nearby were staring and pointing.

"Can we go someplace and talk? Your apartment maybe?" He asked.

"No, not there!" I insisted. It's not that I didn't want anyone to see him, I didn't think I had the strength to refuse his advances. I spied a bench across the street overlooking Art Hill; we walked there in silence, I thrust my hands deeply into my pockets so William wouldn't be able to touch me. I sat down on the bench and watched the pond at the bottom; William was quiet while I gathered my thoughts. It's easy to be quiet with him.

"William," my argument began, "I don't think you realize how big the problem is."

"How big?" He replied, sounding unconvinced.

"Twelve years!" I hissed, afraid the Cradle Robbing Cops might hear. " I'm thirty-five, you're twenty-three. There's too big of an age difference between...you and I." I was not going to give him hope by saying "us." "At least if you were older, we'd have lived through the same time period; share a history." I was trying to sound logical.

"That's important?" He asked.

"It gives...couples..." I was trying to use the word hypothetically, not to apply it to this situation. "Something in common."

"And we don't?" He stretched his arm on the bench behind me, wrapped strands of my hair around his fingers and smiled.

I faced William and asked, "Where were you when Jim Henson died?" There was silence for a moment, then he replied:

"Kindergarten."

"Exactly. Have you thought," I asked slowly, "what other people are going to think of your dating a woman who's old enough to be your mother? Your friends will think I'm using you for..." I darted my eyes around for witnesses to the whispered last word, "sex."

William laughed like he'd been told a dirty joke, then said matter-of-factly," First, unless you got pregnant when you were eleven, which isn't approved of even in Arkansas, you're not old enough to be my mother and second, I'll tell my friends that we love each other. After that, if they can't handle our relationship, they won't be my friends."

His unselfishness and maturity took me by surprise; but friends were one thing...

"What about your parents?" Surely parental disapproval would convince him to change his mind and walk away. "You can't drop them like you could your friends."

"True," He replied, sounding almost convinced.

William's phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and answered it, he spoke to the person on the line while looking at me.

"It's going to be a while. Go on in and we'll be there as soon as we can."

A suspicion started to form, I pulled my gaze from William, turned around in my seat and looked at the art museum with dread.

"Who's waiting William?" Please let it be an executioner, an auditor, a dentist, anyone but...

"My parents...now don't..."

Too late, I held my breath under a wave of panic. My lungs fought to get air, my skin was hot, cold and clammy and spots were blocking my view of William, who looked concerned.

"Genevieve, honey, breathe!"

William slapped me hard on the back. I inhaled deeply, my burning lungs were grateful for the air and the huge spots slowly faded. William wrapped an arm around me and I allowed my aching head to fall against his shoulder.

"What's really bothering you?"

"I'm afraid." I started.

"Is it the age difference?"

"Yes, and being judged for it." I opened an emotional gate and my fears fell over each other to get out. "I'm afraid this is one of those double standards that will last forever. Your parents won't understand; just like my relatives."

"You didn't tell me you told anyone." Williams' large eyes opened wider with surprise. "I take it the idea was met with resistance?"

"Try snickering and disgust." I took a deep breath, "My brother said he'd invite us over for dinner, but he doesn't know what brand of baby cereal you like."

William tilted my chin so our faces were inches apart and said gently, "Your brothers' an asshole." Then, "Don't worry about my parents; they'll understand that I'm happy, I've got someone to like and love who reciprocates those feelings--don't you?"

I nodded and said, "This is happening isn't it?" William kissed me and I allowed it for all the people in the park to see.

"It will if we ever get off this bench," he replied.