The Story of Carol and Charlie-Reposted

My name is Charlie. I’m a 65 year old widower, living in an assisted care facility. I have lived here ever since I suffered a stroke, and now have only three months or so to live. They found I had lung cancer about a month ago. I had let it go for so long that, by the time they discovered it, it has spread throughout my body, causing my stroke, and leaving me an invalid in this house. So they said to make any arrangements I needed to make and gave me three months tops.

I know I should’ve quit smoking years ago. I tried, but to no avail. After my wife of 40 years passed away four years ago, I guess I just let myself go and really didn’t give a shit any longer. Well, I guess, now I have to pay for it. As my Pastor says, “Charlie, you’ll quit some day, even if it’s after you die, you’ll quit.”

Needless to say, I’ve done a lot of soul searching this past month. Hell, I can’t do much else. I sit here at this computer, typing slowly with one good hand. It is tough having to capitalize and stuff like this with one hand, but I want to tell you a story about my youth and I want it to be accurate. You see, as I was reminiscing and soul searching about all of my experiences as I was growing up, my mine settled on the first time I had a sexual experience and I wanted to share it with you.

I was 14 at the time, full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the world. It was the year I started smoking, so you know how dumb I was. I had just immerged from puberty and though I was hot shit. I would stroke it with ol’ Rosy Palm at the slightest twitch and at 14, that was quite often. But my first real live “Put it in a girl” experience was that summer. She was a beauty named Carol.

It was at the 4th of July Town Picnic held down at the fairgrounds near the river. I ran in to Carol in the dinner line. I had secretly admired her from the first time I saw her walking towards me class in high school. She was standing there, waiting with her plate, talking to her friends, about three or four people ahead of me and I couldn’t resist staring at her. She was a beauty, I’ve said that, but a sweet, slim, tanned blonde that had a sense about her that would drive a sane man crazy. Her long locks splayed over her shoulders and down her back, framed the loveliest facial features imaginable. Her baby blue eyes sparkled like lanterns through the darkest night, radiating warmth and direction for all to see. As she smiled the broadest of smile to her friends, she slowly glanced in my direction and then quickly diverted her gaze downward. Checking to make sure I was still looking at her, she glanced in my direction again and she did the unbelievable, she smiled at me.

My heart stopped. I froze. I must have turned a violet color of red as I quickly looked down. When I looked back up, she was staring right at me and so were her friends. They all laughed a little and she turned her attention back to their conversation, but not before she stole one last glance in my direction.

She looked wonderfully delicious, like an ice cream sundae or something. She was wearing a white dress, with red and blue poke-a-dots all over it. It flared out a bit in the skirt, but came up to fit her nicely at the waist and bosom. She had on a blue belt, a red scarf and white shoes with white ankle socks, slightly turned down. The only problem with this whole scene was that she was a year older than I was. She was 15.

I had just finished my freshman year in high school. I was no longer a “freshman” but I was a long way from being a “junior” like Carol. I had shot up in height last year and was getting close to my present height of 6 feet, but I was still rather gangly at 145 pounds. I guess I wasn’t bad looking but I was no Clark Gamble either. I looked behind me in line to make sure Carol hadn’t been smiling at someone else. Nope, just the Millers, Betsy and Elmer and their five-year-old daughter were all I saw. She must have been smiling at me.

I watched Carol and her friends take their plates over to a table under the big tree. They sat down at the end of the table and proceeded to eat. Dare I go over and ask to sit with them? I choose to sit by myself on the hill overlooking the river bank. I felt safer there. As I ate my hamburger and potato salad, I was trying to generate the nerve to follow up with Carol. Suddenly from behind, came a soft, sweet voice asking, “Charlie, are you sittin’ here all by yourself?”

It startled me and as I turned around to see who it was, I knocked over my soda into my lap and it spilled down the front of my jeans. I patted it dry with my napkin as I looked up into the afternoon sun and all I saw was a silhouette. I recognized the form but I was so embarrassed at spilling my drink, I dropped my hamburger on the ground.

“O Charlie, I’m sorry for sneakin’ up on you like this,” said the soft, sweet voice again.

This time, I recognized the dress at least, by the red and blue poke-a-dots, so I responded as best I could by asking, “Is that you, Carol?”

“O yes it is, I’m sorry. I thought you knew who I was, I mean, I know you know who I am, but I…” she stammered. She walked over in front of me, out of the direct sun light and I could see that she was red as a beet in the face.

She stood there looking down at her feet with her hands in her lap, but all I saw was her beautiful legs only feet from my gaze. “I was going to ask if I could join you but it looks like I’ve ruined your meal for you,” she said, referring to my drink and hamburger.

“Well, to be honest, it wasn’t that good anyway,” I said, making an excuse to her for not wanting to eat any more.

“Mind either,” she confided, shrugging her shoulders. “Do ya want to go for a walk?” she asked.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. “Hell, yes,” I thought. “Okay,” I said.

I sprang to my feet and took my paper plate and drink can over to the trash container and asked “Where to?”

“I don’t know, down along the river I guess,” she suggested.

I fell in along side of her and we started upstream walking along the river bank. We walked in silence for the longest time and then I finally thought of something to ask her. “So, you’re going to be a junior this year, huh?” That was the dumbest thing to ask, Charlie!

“Yeah, I made it through to my junior year,” she said the obvious.