A River Path to Love

“I know it’s hard,” he said speaking quietly, “but it might be best if you waited till she came to you.”

“If she ever does, Stephen, I dread to think what sort of condition she’ll be in.”

“I know, Linda. I think it’s a bit like alcoholics. I read about it in a magazine. Most of them won’t try to do anything to help them selves until they’re right down the bottom. You know, sitting in the gutter vomiting blood.”

I didn’t care for his imagery very much, but I could see the truth of what he was saying.

There was one thought that had occurred to me over and over again, and now I voiced it.

“You know, Stephen, there’s one thing that has puzzled me about Lisa and that boyfriend of hers. He stinks and he’s what in my teenage years would have been called a ‘yob’. I don’t understand the attraction, do you?”

Stephen gave a grim laugh. “I’m not sure,” he said, “but I think it’s to do with freedom.”

“Freedom!”

“Yes. A girl sees a bloke who seems to have broken free from all the adult restraints, even broken free of legal restraints. He’s a sort of modern buccaneer, swashbuckling his way through life. He’s leading a rebellious society-defying existence and she loves it. At least, she loves it until the raw reality catches up with her.”

“You told me that this Gig guy is on the dole, and I suppose Linda will be getting some social welfare money by now. If they’ve got a drug habit, their little bit of income won’t go far on the drug market. One of them or both will start stealing – snatching handbags, breaking into people’s houses, things like that, then they will probably end up in jail.”

He paused and I tried to assimilate his awful depiction of what might happen to Lisa. I suppose it was nothing worse than I had thought of for myself, but to have someone else put it into words was confronting.

Stephen, possibly sensing my distress at what he had said, added hastily, “Of course, I hope it doesn’t work out like that and Lisa comes back to you before it goes that far. What does your husband think about it?”

He caught me unawares with his question. I had said nothing to him about the relationship, or rather non-relationship between Jeff and I, nor had I mentioned Jeff’s “philosophic” approach to Lisa’s departure. I tried to think up a neutral answer that would give nothing away.

“Oh, he seems to think a bit like you. We have to wait until Lisa makes the move to come back.”

Stephen said nothing for a moment, then asked thoughtfully, “You told me about your visit to Lisa, but you didn’t say your husband went with you.”

“No…well…he was…he was very busy at work,” I said lamely.

“Oh, I see.”

He didn’t pursue the matter any further and our conversation lapsed for a while, yet neither of us seemed to want to move.

I changed the direction of our talk by asking Stephen about himself.

“I was seventeen last week,” he grinned, “and I’ve been having a bit of a think. Next year will be my last year at high school, and what I’d really like to do is to study veterinary science. Only trouble is, it’s a long and expensive course. I know my stepfather won’t help out financially so if I do go ahead I’ll have to manage on the student allowance.”

“Another thing is, I couldn’t do the course living where I do now, and I’d have to get closer to the city. I’ve talked with grandma and grandpa, and they say I could live with them, but I don’t think it would work out.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Well, they’ve only got a small place. It’s big enough for them, but doesn’t really have enough room for another one. Besides, they’re in their seventies now, and I don’t think most people of that age would want a teenager around.”

“A very mature teenager,” I commented.

He gave a laugh then went on, “Perhaps, but I’ll work on it over the next year.”

We parted soon after and I felt sorry I had not known it was his birthday recently, I would have liked to get him a birthday gift. I resolved to ask Ken or Delia if they knew what he would like and I could give it to him as a late gift.

It was getting close to the end of the school year and I didn’t see anything of Stephen again until his school year did end. I found he was increasingly on my mind, more so as I seemed to be missing seeing him rather badly.

Grateful as I was to Stephen for his listening and his concern about me, he had added one more problem to my life, an aroused sexual hunger.

I began to dream about Stephen and they were not virtuous dreams. Night after night I jerked awake from a dream in which we were together naked, and he was just going to enter me sexually.

I should explain something of what had happened to my sexuality since Jeff and I had ceased to cohabit in the sexual sense.

His interest in me tailed off over time until I felt that he was simply “servicing” me to keep me quiet. I had maintained some contacts with a few people in his department – people I had known when I worked there. It was one of them that informed me of Jeff’s philandering with young women, mainly from within the department.

I must have been very naïve because I was utterly shocked. There was an almighty row with Jeff who tried to get me to divulge who it was that had told me of his behaviour. I refused to tell him, and he refused to give an undertaking that his extramarital love life would cease. It was at that point I moved out of the marriage bed and into another room.

I was utterly humiliated, as many women have been on learning about their husbands infidelities. We all have different ways of coping with such a situation. Some women set out to have affairs in the hope of punishing their husband. Over the years I had received plenty of offers to engage in “meaningful relationships,” but I had no interest. Other women head straight for the divorce court. When I knew about Jeff, I could have gone down one of those tracks, but I elected to do otherwise.

I “shut up sexual shop.” I had been so deeply hurt I decided I would not risk exposing myself to the chance of being humiliated again. I claim no virtue for my decision, it was simply a way of protecting myself.

As for divorcing Jeff, there was a definite selfish motive for not doing so. As I have already said, at least Jeff was financially generous and this did not cease with my departure from his bed. Perhaps it was an attempt to assuage his guilt, I don’t really know, but I decided I liked the life style his money provided, and besides, there was still Lisa.

At that time she was still a healthy young girl and displayed none of the hot-tempered abusive behaviour that was to emerge in her teenage years. I tried to keep from her the break that had taken place between Jeff and I. When she questioned me about our sleeping apart, I made vague excuses about not being able to sleep properly when we were together.

So, not to put too fine a point on it, I wanted Jeff’s money to keep us in the style to which we had grown accustomed.

Thus my sexual life had been nil for years. I had buried that aspect somewhere deep within, but however deeply one buries it, sex is there like a sleeping giant, a giant Stephen had awakened.

However much I told myself I was being ridiculous, berated myself for thinking lasciviously about a boy years younger than I, the giant continued to stir from sleep and could not be induced to slumber again.

I tried to tell myself it was my mothering instinct. He was the son I had never had and had so desired. I endeavoured to persuade myself it was gratitude to a nice young man who had listened to and comforted me. All my attempts to convince myself that sex did not enter into the situation failed. From the moment he had held my hand and put his arm round me, the giant had begun wakening.

Try as I might I could not deny the wetness between my legs and the firming of my nipples when I thought of him. I resorted to the practice of masturbating for the first time in an attempt to relieve the sexual tensions. It had no more than a brief temporary affect. I was beginning to frankly lust for Stephen.

My first resolve to combat this lust was not to see Stephen again. It was a resolve quickly broken. During my morning walks with Arnold, now a lumbering old chap, I searched the path for Stephen. To see him and to be with him, however briefly, made my heart sing and it put a spring in my step for the day, only to cast me into a pit of sexual frustration in my lonely bed at night.

Of course, I expressed nothing of all this to Stephen. Apart from his detailed scrutiny of me in earlier days, he had given no hint of a sexual interest in me. I even managed to provide myself with a private hell by imagining him with a girl, making love. It was after all, the most likely scenario, that he would be meeting his sexual needs with someone his own age.

During the school holidays I saw Stephen frequently. He seemed to be spending more time with Ken and Delia, no doubt through a joint effort to keep him away from his ever criticizing stepfather. That gentleman had now taken on another woman who came to him with three children. This left Stephen on the outer even more.

When Stephen and I were alone I kept a tight rein on my feelings, and made sure that conversation was steered into non-threatening channels as far as possible. He continued to ask about Lisa, and since I still had heard nothing, there was little to tell him.

As Christmas day approached I made another attempt to see Lisa. I took a gift for her, but my knocking on the door received no answer from within, but it did get a response from further down the passage.

An ancient grizzled head appeared round the door frame and asked in a querulous voice, “Yer lookin’ fer them two?”

“I’m looking for Lisa. I’ve got something for her.”

“Ah, well they ain’t been around fer several days. Nothin’ unusual in that though. If yer like ter leave what yer want to give ‘er with me I’ll see she gets it.”

I doubted that if I gave it to the woman Lisa would ever see it, but since there seemed no alternative I left it anyway. For all the cranked up joy and hullabaloo around Christmas, for many it is a wretched time of year, as witness the increased suicides and overworked counselling and psychiatric services. Perhaps it is the joy one felt in childhood contrasted with what one has become in later years, that brings about this situation. I do know that for me Christmas had become and even lonelier time, especially since Lisa had entered her teen years.

I received an invitation from Ken and Delia to come and have a drink with them on Christmas Eve. The invitation included Jeff, so I had to make some feeble excuse about his having a work function to attend.

I went myself hoping desperately that Stephen would be there. He wasn’t.

I asked about him and Ken said, “He’ll be coming down tomorrow.”

It was the first time I had been in their house. It was very small, and when I asked were Stephen slept when he was with them, I was shown a room that was referred to as “Delia’s sewing and computer room.” Stephen’s bed proved to be a sofa that opened out into a bed.

Ken had told me that he and Delia always attended a Christmas Eve service at the local church, and suggested that if I liked to join them I would be welcome. I had not been near a church for years, but decided to go along with them.

It was not a very sophisticated gathering but it was enthusiastic. The service consisted mainly of the uproarious singing of carols, and I found the sincerity of the people, and the welcome I got, rather touching. I said so to Ken and Delia afterwards, and Delia pointed out that there was a more decorous service in the morning and, “Why don’t you come with us?”

Jeff had invited people for the afternoon during which he and I would play the happy couple, but the morning being free I decided to go with Ken and Delia. I was inspired to accept the invitation, less because of religious devotion and more because they told me Stephen would be present.

I woke on Christmas morning filled with anticipation. However wretched the afternoon and evening might be, I would have a lovely morning. I joined Ken and Delia at their house. Stephen was there already. I felt foolishly like an eager young girl and I noticed as we left for the church Stephen manoeuvred so I was with him in the car, and he was beside me in the church.

I was so aware of his presence that I barely heard a word of the service, and afterwards we went back to Ken and Delia’s place for a drink. It was here that Stephen almost reduced me to tears.

He produced a small cardboards box and handing to me said, “I made something for you.”

I opened the box, and nestling in tissue paper was a beautiful Celtic cross embedded with red and blue stones and suspended on a silver chain.

“You made this?” I gasped.

Ken chipped in, “A hobby of his. He started when he was about nine and has got better and better.”

Delia displayed a ring made in a similar style to the cross.

“But it’s beautiful,” I said, as I struggled to put the cross round my neck.”

“Glad you like it,” Stephen said, his face flushed with pleasure, “Let me put it on for you.”

I thrilled to the touch of his fingers on my neck and felt a ticking sensation in my clitoris. Had it not been for the presence of Ken and Delia I think I would have lost control of myself and tried to seduce Stephen.

I had been so overcome with Stephen’s gift I had not considered that I had come empty handed. I felt embarrassed when the thought did strike me, and I stammered out an apology.

Ken cut across my apology saying, “It’s all right, Linda. You weren’t to know we would invite you here, and any way, it’s sufficient that you are here. In fact, it’d be nice to see you here quite often, wouldn’t it Delia?”

Delia concurred with Ken, and then it occurred to me that the right thing to do would be to invite them to my house some time. I made a mental note to do that, and would make sure it was when Jeff was not around.

I don’t think they had swallowed my story about Jeff being busy with a department activity, and had probably sensed a problem, because “my husband,” never thereafter came into our conversations.

It was now late morning and as usual in Australia, the sun was beating down despite the Christmas cards that still insisted on snow and eighteenth century inns and stage coaches. As Delia and Ken set about preparing lunch, Stephen and I went out to sit under the shade of the veranda.

Out of sight of Delia and Ken, we sat and he took my hand. “I’m afraid we won’t be seeing so much of each other in the coming year,” he said.

I felt a painful stab shoot through my stomach. “Why not, Stephen?”

“I’ve got a heavy year of study in front of me. I must do well if I want to get into the College of Veterinary Science.”

He had said this in a sad tone of voice, but he brightened again. “If I do start at the college I shall have to come and live in town. Perhaps we could see more of each other then?”

I looked at him, trying to gauge what he meant by “see more of each other.” Along the path with our dogs? Or was it more than that? I couldn’t discern the content of his words.

I played safe and said, “I’m sorry we won’t be meeting very often, but I’ll look forward to your coming to live closer.”

It was time for me to leave for the afternoon’s boring event, so still out of Ken and Delia’s sight, I thanked Stephen for his gift, and kissed him on the lips, trying to put the kiss somewhere between a simple thank you and one that promised something more.

Stephen blushed and stammered, “I’m so glad we met all that time ago, Linda.”

“So am I, I whispered,” and then departed hastily.

The afternoon was just as I expected it to be. The guests were made up largely of Jeff’s sycophantic sub-department heads and sub-sub-department heads, and their mainly overblown wives, plus a sprinkling of what I suspected were Jeff’s inamoratas. I played the devoted hostess while I listened to talk of “policy,” “department budgets,” and who was up and who down, who was in and who out.

As far as I was concerned there was only one sparkle of light during the afternoon.

At one point a galleon in full sail bore down upon me, “Darling,” she squealed, “What a lovely Celtic cross, where ever did you get it. I simply must have one.”

“It was a gift from a friend,” I replied.

Jeff was at extreme range across the room, but like most CEO’s, he had well attuned ears. I saw his head turn, and he stared across at me. I smiled a sweet vitriolic smile at him, and said to the galleon in a voice that I made sure carried clearly to Jeff, “He made it especially for me.”

The galleon puffed out her sails and gusted, “Oh, I see,” and turned away to engage in a more interesting discussion concerning “whatever happened to” so and so.

It was not until after the guests had left that Jeff bore down upon me, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Who made that cross for you?”

“A friend.”

“I know it was a friend, I heard you tell that awful woman. I want to know what friend.”

“Why?”

“Well, I…”

It is a strange phenomenon that husbands can often engage in extra-marital affairs but if they so much as suspect that their wives might be doing the same they get rather offended. I was not submitting to that.

“Jeff, it’s none of your business who my friend might be. You want to have your ‘friends’, as you call them, without my asking anything. The same applies to me. Now, thank me nicely for being so gracious to your boring guests.”

To give him credit, he grinned and said, “They were rather boring, weren’t they? Still, one must keep in touch.”

“Yes,” I thought, ”But why oh why do I have to keep in touch as well?”

During the following year I saw a bit more of Stephen than I had expected. He was, however, rather introspective, obviously very concerned with his studies. I made no attempt to break into this, and our talk focussed mainly on his hopes, with occasional queries about Lisa.

One delightful aspect of that year was the development of my relationship with Ken and Delia. I got frequent invitations to “come round for a drink,” and after so many years during which I felt myself to be isolated, I began to enjoy life again. I even got around to having them to my house for a few afternoons.

Their invitation to join them at the Christmas church services had also born fruit. I don’t think they set out to evangelise me, but I did begin to attend the church. I think it was not so much the religion I wanted as the companionship, or is that the same thing?

I felt myself to be “freeing up.” I had surrendered to my feelings about Stephen, and as I did not need to try and deceive myself any longer, to that extent I became liberated.

I made another attempt to see Lisa, but the grizzled head round the door frame informed me that, “They’ve gone, lovey. Been gone for three weeks. Don’t know where, so no use askin’ me.”

I did think of trying to increase my employment to fulltime to try and take some of the slack out of my life, but I was deterred by the thought that I might miss seeing Stephen or having time for him.

It was Stephen who continued to be the focal point of my day to day living. I no longer questioned what he might feel about me. It was enough that I loved him. Yes, I loved. With Jeff I had lusted and mistaken it for love. With Stephen it was a love in which I would be whatever he wanted me to be to him.

This too was freedom. I loved unconditionally.

I don’t know where that year went it seemed to pass so quickly. Christmas approached once more and Stephen had sat his last exams. He was spending more time with his grandparents, and we met often on the path.

No word of my love and desire for him had ever escaped my lips. He had not even by implication suggested any sexual attachment to me. What we had might be described as “a deep friendship.”