Time Wounds All Heels

"But...I never stopped feeling dirty and used. I finally figured it out. It took me about three months. It was all for him. He really didn't care about me. It was my helplessness, the crippled girl fantasy that he could force to do anything that he wanted. He wanted a victim. I don't know that he would ever have hurt me. But when you're tied down, who knows?"

The loud moans from a nearby car caught both of their attention. Both of them couldn't help laughing.

"So, a week later I tossed HIM out and that wrapped my third marriage. I am now officially the Poster Girl for Bad Marriages."

"Nothing is on you, you know that, don't you? You're guilty of nothing more than attracting twisted men. You didn't deserve to be beaten, or raped. Nobody does. They were the assholes."

"I know. But it was my fourth marriage that opened my eyes."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"A lot less dramatic. About eight years ago I met Eric. He was a rescue EMT with the county. We worked together a lot and he volunteered a lot. We just - we found ourselves together a lot and we wound up in bed. No big deal, it just happened. He was smart, kind, easy going and he liked plain old fashioned sex. He was 40 and ready for marriage, for stability. He had to talk me into it. So, we tied the knot and he moved in with me.

"After two years, one night he just sat down across from me and told me he wanted a divorce. I asked him why and he said he was tired. He hadn't realized what was involved in being married to a cripple. He didn't use that word, but that's what he meant. He said he never realized what it meant, that he couldn't see being a – babysitter - for the rest of his life.

"So, I let him go, to find a normal life, with a woman who could move with him when they were having sex, who could walk down the sidewalk holding his hand, who could give him children. I understood him - he wasn't a bad guy, but that's when I realized - there will never be anybody – any man – for me."

"You're too young and attractive to give up on sex."

He could see her white teeth gleam in the moonlight as she smiled.

"Oh, I haven't given up on sex. There have been guys I've seen. Right now I see one of the associate Deans at St. Johns River Junior College, when we're free and both in the mood. He's married so he's not interested in anything permanent."

"Married?"

"He's Catholic, true Catholic. His wife had a stroke when she was 37. She's been in a vegetative state for six years at a nursing home in East Palatka. She's never coming out but he can't divorce her and they have kids, so we help each other out."

More moans came from nearby.

"She is definitely a screamer," Kincade said. "It's pretty bad when the sex is so loud you can't hear the crickets."

"You ought to be here on Prom Night."

She sensed something but didn't know for sure.

"So now you know everything about me and I know shit about you. Tell me something intimate about yourself."

"I told you I'd been married and divorced. I was married for five years. She was a pretty girl, a nice girl. She was a reporter for the St. Augustine Record before we married and she transferred up to Jax. We never had any great passion but we liked each other, we liked the same things, we loved newspapers, and we were pretty good together in bed."

"What happened?"

"We woke up one Sunday morning. We weren't church goers. We didn't have any family. I don't play golf and we weren't country club types. We could have gone out garage sale-ing or out to dinner. We had a king-sized bed. She was on her side and I was on mine. It was in December, pretty cold outside. I was going to get up and turn the thermostat up when she said, 'What are we doing here?' That one moment made me a believer in telepathy. I looked back at her and I knew! I said, 'I don't know. How did we wind up here?' I sat back down and we started talking. I was in a new apartment that next weekend."

He watched the moon drift out from behind night clouds to gild the river with extravagant shadows and remembered how the leaping flames from an inferno had turned the riverfront into a portrait of hell.

"Not anywhere as dramatic as your stories, I'm afraid. We just realized we'd taken a wrong turn, and to continue down that road would only take us further from where we should be."

"You never remarried? You're not a monk are you?"

He smiled at her.

"No, I'm not a monk. I'm currently unattached. I've never found anyone I really wanted to marry again, but I still believe in women, and love, and hope."

"But you're alone, just like I'm alone - yet all around us, people are coupling – literally tonight – and in bed with their spouses and their children are sleeping in beds nearby. What did we do wrong?"

He placed his hand over hers again where it remained on the steering wheel.

"Nothing. It's just the lottery of life. Some people win and some people don't."

"Sometimes - just sometimes - I think I'm being punished."

"For what? What terrible dark secrets are you still hiding?"

"You don't think I have terrible secrets?"

"Honestly. With what I've learned I have a hard time believing that."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

****************** ******************

"He will never show up here, Johnny."

Buster Snow grabbed one of Jessie's mother's famous stuffed mushroom caps, stuffed it into his mouth and said, "The little turd is crazy, Jess. He will show up here. I've got $50 riding on it."

As her mother popped her head out of the kitchen and smiled at the heavy black boy who had made a defensive reputation protecting her daughter's boyfriend from opposing tacklers, Buster waved and said, "You outdid yourself Miss. Longmire. You have got to give my momma the recipe for these. She told me to ask you for it."

Mildred Longmire gave him a little bow that demonstrated the long legs and heavy breasts that had made her daughter a legend since 7th grade in Palatka schools and said, "Your momma knows that secret will go to my grave with me, just like her recipe for Pumpkin Cobbler will be buried alongside her. When she's ready to swap, have her call me. Anyway Jessica, all BS aside, why aren't you getting ready to leave for the Prom. It will be starting in 45 minutes and it will take you 30 just to get to the Azalea Gardens."

Jessica Longmire looked at her mother and forced a smile. She would never, could never, tell her why they were waiting here. Johnny, Buster, four of their teammates and all their dates, waiting to see the punch-line of a joke, but they'd have to leave soon, no matter what.

"Johnny just wants to be fashionably late when we walk in, Momma. You know how conceited he is, thinks all the girls will be panting for him."

"You know there's not a conceited bone in my body," he said out loud to his girlfriend's mother, while under his breath adding to Jessica, "Except for that big hard one that's going to cum all over your mouth and tits tonight," as he reached out with the hand Mrs. Longmire couldn't see to strum the blonde girl's naked pussy and hear her gasp.

She pulled herself away from Johnny, although there was a large part of her centered between her legs that didn't want to. He was just that big and hard and so gorgeous that every other girl in the Civic Center would be hating her when they walked in together. They hated the fact that not only did he LOOK that good, he actually WAS that good.

As she squirmed away from him so that her mother couldn't see that her panties had vanished, she told him, "We have to go, Johnny. He isn't coming. I knew he wouldn't. Nobody could be so stupid. He had to know I was joking, teasing him, when I said we'd had a fight and that I wanted to go to the Prom with the smartest boy in the school."

Johnny rose to his imposing height of 6 foot 4, his eyes already a little glassy from the alcohol he'd consumed in the four previous hours, and said, "He is that stupid. He thinks he's so smart and he has the hots for you so bad. I watch him sometimes when you're around. He can't keep his eyes off of you. He's a pervert. He'd give both balls just to see your pussy. Wonder what he'd do if he could see me pronging you, hear you screaming when you cum."

"Johnny," she almost screamed, remembering at the last moment to hold her voice down. "You son of a bitch. This is my house. My mother is only a couple of rooms away. As much as I love you, if you ever say that again out loud in this house you can go to the damned Prom by yourself."

He looked like he was going to say something, then caught himself and bent down to kiss her.

"I'm sorry. The little turd just irritates the hell out of me. But you went along with it so don't get cold feet now."

She had gone along with it. It had seemed like a stupid thing to do at first. They had been making lists of all-time Palatka losers when somebody came up with the name of Kenny Bishop. It wasn't just that he was short, had that blotchy complexion that had never cleared up, didn't play sports or hang with the nerds, and wore those damned thick glasses. Or maybe that was it.

But for her that wasn't it. Johnny had been right. Kenny stared at her. Sometimes when he didn't realize she could see him in a mirror or compact, she'd glance up and see him looking at her. The hunger in his eyes made her cringe a little. She had seen that look in a lot of guys' eyes since she started developing. But most guys, even the shy ones, eventually did something. They tried to talk to her or buy her lunch at school when she came up short, or volunteer to help with her school work.

But not Kenny, he just - hung out there, at a distance, watching. There was a time when she really started to get nervous that he was one of the crazies, that one night she'd be coming home late for a date and he'd be standing in the dark waiting for her, with a knife in his hand like in all the slasher movies.

Eventually she'd realized he just didn't give off that kind of vibe. Even though he was a loner, there were people who knew him. Knew about his screwed up family life and the father that had beaten up his mother until she threw him out. Knew that he walked the fat girl who limped home from school sometimes and made her laugh. People joked about them for awhile until she found a fat college freshman at St. Johns and suddenly she wasn't alone any more. But Kenny was.

He wasn't a crazy. He was just a loser. A scared, cowardly loser who would stare at her but never open his mouth. Why that bothered her she couldn't explain, even to herself, but it did.

Then the doorbell was ringing and CarolAnne, who'd been at the picture window, gasped and said, "Jess, you've got to come see. He's here."

She found herself drawn to the window with the sick fascination of someone watching a horrific head-one crash. Not wanting to see but unable to stop herself.

"Who is that?" her mother called out.

"Nobody. Just someone else going to the Prom."

She opened the door. He stood there on her porch, dressed in a god-awful tuxedo that looked like something from an old movie. His unruly hair had been slicked back. The blotches and pimples that girls laughed about as he walked through the halls of Palatka Senior High stood out like a relief map of a volcano zone. His eyes gleamed behind those thick glasses.

"Hi, Jessica."

She thought his voice actually cracked and then she saw in his hand, which he held out to her – Oh, God, no – a corsage. Which he intended to pin on her dress. He was the joke of the 1985 High School Year, and he had brought her a corsage, as if he really thought she would go out with him.

"What are you doing here?"

He just looked at her for a moment as if he couldn't comprehend the words.

"I – I'm not late. I know we have time. I borrowed my mother's car."

He pointed to the 1977 station wagon sitting in front of her house.

"I mean, Kenny, what are you doing here? I'm getting ready to go to the Prom."

"I know. We have time."

He would NOT understand. He simply refused to play the game, realize he had been humiliated, and slink off, allowing her to avoid this.

"I'm getting ready to go to the prom, Kenny. With my date. What are you doing here?"

Johnny stood in the doorway behind her, putting an arm around her shoulder and casually palming one breast.

"Yeah, Kenny. what are you doing here? Why aren't you at home jerking off to Jess's picture in the Annual? My girlfriend and I are on the way out."

He looked from one to the other and then saw the others standing behind them.

"But, you said - you had broken up with him. You invited ME to the Prom."

"It was a JOKE," Johnny thundered, stepping forward to grab him by the lapel. "She was making a fool out of you, moron, which wasn't hard at all."

Then he pushed and Kenny fell backwards onto the sidewalk.

Their friends were doing their best to keep her mom away from the door while the pimply loser in the laughable tux lay on his back and looked up at her, asking, "Why? Why would you do that?"

She couldn't understand the anger that suddenly rose in her as she stepped forward, "Why would I do that, Kenny? Why would you believe that I would ever, in this world or any other, if you were the last man on earth with a working set of balls, ever even think of letting you touch me? Would let anyone else see me riding with you? Dancing with you? Did you think I would ever let anybody laugh at me the way everybody laughs at you? You are a joke. You have been a joke as long as anyone has known you. No one likes you. And yet you keep creeping around staring at me with those little mouse eyes. I feel like taking a long hot shower every day when I come home from school to get the feel of you off of me. If I ever let you really touch me, I'd have to kill myself."

He gave her a look that she would never be able to forget and was running toward his mother's station wagon and then he was in it, pulling away while their laughter rang behind him.

Johnny shouted out, "That's it, coward, run away. You fucker. Run home to mommy. Maybe she'll fuck you."

Jessica's mother pushed through the crowd and watched Kenny's car pull away from the curb.

"What is going on here, Jessica? And what kind of language is that, Johnny Miller?"

He placated her, saying, "That was Kenny Bishop. He's this weirdo that goes to the school. He's always had this weird crush on Jess and he actually thought she was going to ditch me to go to the Prom with him. I had to convince him she was going with me. He didn't take it too well."

She woke up at 5 a.m. at the Putnam's Shady Rest motel wrapped around Johnny's warm body. She extricated herself, went in the bathroom and peed, brushed her teeth and slipped on shorts and a blouse she'd brought with her, and then stood in the open doorway of the East Palatka motel looking out at the rolling green hills in the dim light of almost morning.

It had been a wonderful night. She had had fantastic sex with the man she loved, the man she was going to marry who would play professional football and make tons of money, the man who would father her two or three children. She knew her parents knew what she'd done, but they would never say anything. They liked Johnny. It had been a wonderful night - the culmination of her childhood. She felt like an adult at this moment.

Yet, somehow, it didn't feel right.

That morning, after Johnny had brought her home and she'd exchanged embarrassed and yet proud glances with her mother and father, she took a shower, changed into a skirt and blouse and borrowed her mother's car. She knew where Kenny Bishop lived and parked in the driveway. She sat there unmoving for ten minutes, seeing his expression again in her mind's eye.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair. It had been a joke, one that ANY other human being would have recognized as a cruel practical joke and just walked away from it. Then she could have forgotten it and gone out with her future husband and her friends to enjoy the best night of her life.

Finally she made herself get out of her car and march up to the front door of the plain two-bedroom house in West Putnam. The station wagon was parked in the driveway and there was no movement or sound from inside the house. She made herself knock and then knock again, and again, and again. Finally the door opened and a tired looking women she knew was Kenny's mother stood there looking at her, not saying a word.

"Is Kenny here? Could I speak to him."

"No."

"No...? He's not here. Or I can't speak to him?"

"No to both."

She turned to walk away.

"Mrs. Bishop, I...need to talk to Kenny."

"Why? You did all the talking you needed to yesterday."

"You're wrong."

At that the older woman stopped and looked back at her.

"I talked to him, yesterday. But I didn't say everything to him that I should have said."

"He told me. You know, or maybe you don't, that he's had a crush on you for years. And when he told me that you had invited him to Prom I told him that you were just playing with him. Girls like you don't get involved with boys like Kenny. Good, kindhearted, loving boys. You prefer the flashy ones like Johnny Miller. The kind that will get you pregnant and then find somebody else they'd rather be with. Younger and prettier and with better boobs.

"If you were smart, you would see through to the value of a good man. but your kind never does. Just like I didn't when I was your age."

The two women stared at each other across the gulf of a generation.

"Mrs. Bishop, I need to talk to Kenny. I did not mean to hurt him like that."

"But you did. And you can't talk to him because he's gone."

"Gone? Where?"

"That's none of your business. Beyond where you can hurt him anymore. Where he can recover from what you did. Where he can forget you ever existed."

******************* ************************

"I guess, in some way, I've always thought when things started going bad, it was God's way of punishing me. I destroyed a boy whose only sin was having a crush on me. It's like the old saying, 'Time Wounds All Heels'."

Kincade looked at her with a strange expression on his face.

"It's not a mortal sin, Jessie. Maybe you broke his heart, but that happens to a lot of guys. They usually survive."

She gave him a sad smile.

"I go to church a lot. You probably know that. I've heard a lot of sermons and thought a lot about what I did. I was guilty of the great sin that led to the downfall of Lucifer in Heaven."

At that she saw the smile appear on his face.

"Aren't you kind of putting yourself in rarified company? You're in the league of Lucifer who rebelled against God?"

"I can see you are not a real student of the Bible, Mr. Kincade. Lucifer's great sin was the sin of pride. He could not admit that God was his Master, that there was One greater than he."

"And that relates to you, how?"

"My pride was offended by having this short, nerdy guy dare to cast his eyes upon me, to dream that he could be worthy of having my love and affection. He should have known that I was too good for him and he didn't. So I punished him for trying to rise above his station. That was why I was so angry at him that day. He really thought he might win me."

"Trying to rise above his station? I don't think I've ever heard anybody – in this country at least - use that expression."

"Don't make me feel more like a shit than I already do. It took me a long time to figure out what happened, and why I went along with Johnny and the others, besides my being a stuck up hottie teen who didn't have her head on straight."

She looked back out at the river and the sky above it where clouds had moved to reveal stars in the darkness.

"That's why when I'm counseling these young teens who have their heads up their asses that I don't get all Holier-Than-Thou. I've been where they are, and done worse than they have. They can all change."