| General Non-Fiction posted May 9, 2021 | Chapters: |
...4 5 -6- 7... 
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charmed but not a charmer
A chapter in the book Fifty Days of Friendship
Vera
by Bill Schott
When I think of love stories, they follow the same scenarios that we all watched on television growing up. First there's two people who find one another and fall in love immediately. Happy together, end of story. Later plots start out where two people dislike each other, but through the course of events they discover they are actually in love. Then, there is Vera, and how my relationship with her evolved over time.
Girls, generally, never made a dent with me when I was young. I enjoyed games and parties, but I never made much of a distinction between the kids I played with. We played hide and seek, football, baseball, etc. with little regard for whether we were boys or girls. Maybe we just had tough girls and so-so boys in my town. We all seemed evenly matched.
Vera was a girl that I began to notice when I was twelve or thirteen. She had always been friendly and funny, but I was now beginning to see her differently. She was skinny, blond, freckle-faced, and constantly smiling. I imagined that she might like me more than other boys.
One night we were all playing hide-and-seek around the episcopal church. There were a dozen kids running about and -- well, I don't need to explain the game to you. Anyway, after using many hiding places alone, I eventually found myself in a shadowy vestibule with Vera.
I come from a long line of romancers. That may be a bit of either an exaggeration or misnomer. My oldest sister and brother married the first persons they dated. The next oldest sister was a party girl who dated frequently. Next oldest brother was a randy dog off the leash. His reputation was widespread and mirthfully scandalous. Now, since my next older brother was dating a girl from out of town, and playing slap and tickle with Vera's older sister, I figured the time was right for me to make a move.
In the darkened vestibule I leaned in for a kiss. Even in the low light of the entrance to God's house I saw the proverbial "if looks could kill" stare. I had taken a step that took me off Lover's Lane and over Dead Man's Curve.
That summer zipped by after that and the thought of Vera had been burned out of my brain.
When I think of love stories, they follow the same scenarios that we all watched on television growing up. First there's two people who find one another and fall in love immediately. Happy together, end of story. Later plots start out where two people dislike each other, but through the course of events they discover they are actually in love. Then, there is Vera, and how my relationship with her evolved over time.
Girls, generally, never made a dent with me when I was young. I enjoyed games and parties, but I never made much of a distinction between the kids I played with. We played hide and seek, football, baseball, etc. with little regard for whether we were boys or girls. Maybe we just had tough girls and so-so boys in my town. We all seemed evenly matched.
Vera was a girl that I began to notice when I was twelve or thirteen. She had always been friendly and funny, but I was now beginning to see her differently. She was skinny, blond, freckle-faced, and constantly smiling. I imagined that she might like me more than other boys.
One night we were all playing hide-and-seek around the episcopal church. There were a dozen kids running about and -- well, I don't need to explain the game to you. Anyway, after using many hiding places alone, I eventually found myself in a shadowy vestibule with Vera.
I come from a long line of romancers. That may be a bit of either an exaggeration or misnomer. My oldest sister and brother married the first persons they dated. The next oldest sister was a party girl who dated frequently. Next oldest brother was a randy dog off the leash. His reputation was widespread and mirthfully scandalous. Now, since my next older brother was dating a girl from out of town, and playing slap and tickle with Vera's older sister, I figured the time was right for me to make a move.
In the darkened vestibule I leaned in for a kiss. Even in the low light of the entrance to God's house I saw the proverbial "if looks could kill" stare. I had taken a step that took me off Lover's Lane and over Dead Man's Curve.
That summer zipped by after that and the thought of Vera had been burned out of my brain.
Girls, generally, never made a dent with me when I was young. I enjoyed games and parties, but I never made much of a distinction between the kids I played with. We played hide and seek, football, baseball, etc. with little regard for whether we were boys or girls. Maybe we just had tough girls and so-so boys in my town. We all seemed evenly matched.
Vera was a girl that I began to notice when I was twelve or thirteen. She had always been friendly and funny, but I was now beginning to see her differently. She was skinny, blond, freckle-faced, and constantly smiling. I imagined that she might like me more than other boys.
One night we were all playing hide-and-seek around the episcopal church. There were a dozen kids running about and -- well, I don't need to explain the game to you. Anyway, after using many hiding places alone, I eventually found myself in a shadowy vestibule with Vera.
I come from a long line of romancers. That may be a bit of either an exaggeration or misnomer. My oldest sister and brother married the first persons they dated. The next oldest sister was a party girl who dated frequently. Next oldest brother was a randy dog off the leash. His reputation was widespread and mirthfully scandalous. Now, since my next older brother was dating a girl from out of town, and playing slap and tickle with Vera's older sister, I figured the time was right for me to make a move.
In the darkened vestibule I leaned in for a kiss. Even in the low light of the entrance to God's house I saw the proverbial "if looks could kill" stare. I had taken a step that took me off Lover's Lane and over Dead Man's Curve.
That summer zipped by after that and the thought of Vera had been burned out of my brain.
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