It is often said that in the repressed and carefree 1950s that kids didn’t know about sex. That’s not exactly true. We didn’t know what lovemaking was or how a baby was born, but we certainly had a primitive knowledge of sex appeal.

Little girls knew they liked boys who were “cute,” and try as we may to think of girls as “icky,” we boys knew we wanted to be near the pretty ones.

If a girl was pretty and also able to run and catch and kick like a boy too, then she was even more desirable to be around.

I had always liked girls. They were my playmates. First LuLu, then Ruthie and after Kindergarden, Nancy and Patsy and Lora. I played high/low water with my girl cousins, so I was surrounded by women as I grew up. It was when you were around boys that you learned that liking and playing with girls was yucky and being a sissy. Didn’t matter to me; I liked girls.

I lacked the knowledge of how to tell someone I liked them. What did you say? What did you do?

On a brilliant summer day at the lake I thought I found out.

I liked Joyce Hoefers. I mean I REALLY LIKED Joyce. We had been classmates since Kindergarden and I worshiped her from afar. She was one of those pretty girls who could play like one of the boys, and I always wanted to be in her company. I just did not know how to tell her.

I noticed that boys were splashing and teasing girls they liked. Sometimes a boy would grab the girl he liked and duck her under the water, a flirtatious gesture designed to show her how much he cared. Often the girl would come up for air protesting and slapping, but then the two of them would run away together laughing about the matter.

“That was it!”, I realized. I had to show Joyce that I liked her by being the tough guy. I would grab her and throw her under the water in a manly display of admiration, and then she would laugh about it knowing she had captured my heart.

I approached her in the shallows at the edge of the beach and grabbed her from behind, preparing to push her under.

Everything after that is a blur….

Just as I went to push Joyce under, she pulled free, yelled “No you don’t!”, and in seconds I was being dunked not once, not twice, but three times over. As I came up for air I could see her walking away hurling even more anger in my direction.

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen! She was supposed to give in to me and laugh it all off and she would know that I truly liked her! I was humiliated. I was destroyed.

I looked around expecting to see everyone on the beach pointing their fingers at me and laughing at my sorry self. The weird thing was, it seemed like no one had even noticed, like it all happened in another dimension; “The Embarrassment Zone.”
I picked myself up and went up to the top of the wall to sit and ponder.

How could this have happened? A girl did this to me. A girl!

But this was not just any girl and I should have known better.

I should have been myself and not have been afraid. I should have been smart enough to walk up to her and say : “I like you Joyce.” I didn’t and I got my butt kicked.

I learned my lesson that day and from then on I held a profound respect for all women.

I still liked Joyce.

I still admired her from afar.

I mean REALLY afar.

www.maddoxcorner.blogspot.com
I hope you enjoy it.
Jim Maddox

The moment finally came when my plane landed…. I seen Chris awaiting me in the distance… oh what a good time I’d have in Atlanta. The big night was near. We were considered VIP at the club that we were going too, so I was very exicted. I wore my best BurBerry tan shorts and a cute top to match. 3 inch heels…. I was confident. Everything was going swell. I’d met a lot of interesting people, had one too many drinks,and I was feeling just fine. I sat @ the bar with a few friends and Chris and I felt something warm coming down my leg, and I thought nothing of it at first… maybe a little alcohol spilled… I proceeded to have a good time and drink with my buddies, and admiring Chris at the same time. I stood up to go dance and when I looked down my leg… THERE WAS BLOODDDD dripping. OMG!!!

I didn’t know what to do! I was covered in it from front to back… (what a place to start your period) The club was filled and I didn’t know what I was going to do, or how I’d make it to the car let along to the bath room! okay, here I am standing, my whole body looking like a bloody crime scene. Would I make it to the door without anyone seeing…. It was impossible. I glanced over at Chis, and I wanted to “DIE”… I had no other choice, I had to tell him. Chris lifted me off my 2 ft, covered me with the shirt he’d taken off of his back, and walked me out of the club as if I’d had a little too much to drink when in actually, I was covered with blood…. This was humiliating. Ladies I know you feel my pain. I just thought I’d share one the most horrible experiences of my life… the best is yet to come..(lol)

Lisa

I was just about to stick my toes into the water when a boy’s voice called out to me, “Well, don’t just stand there. Try out the water!”

I turned, startled. It was a boy no older than eighteen years old. He wore a huge grin on his face underneath a mop of thick black hair. His eyes seemed to twinkle in the setting sun.

“I was about to,” I mumbled with a scowl. I snuck glances back, waiting for him to leave. He kept motioning me toward the water.

“You need to stop watching me!” I yelled at him. Suddenly, he ran laughing at me and before I knew it I was pushed backwards into the water. I screamed.

“I CAN’T SWIM! HELP! HELP!” It turns out I was just flailing like an idiot for five minutes in water that wasn’t even 2 feet deep. He couldn’t stop laughing as he pulled me out of the water. “My name is Loc, by the way,” he said.

My face was bright red the rest of the day.

Loc and I spent the next two weeks glued to each other’s sides. He was the son of one of the fishermen in the village. He taught me how to fish, how to swim, how to blow bubbles, and most importantly, he taught me how freeing love was. He gave me my first kiss in the rain.

After our parents were asleep on my last night, I met up with Loc at the secret hut we’d built. He presented me with a beautiful jade necklace. “I want you to always remember me. I’ve never loved a girl like I love you,” he said.

I hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go. I felt a warm liquid on my fingers. His back was bleeding. “What happened?” I asked in shock.

“My father beat me. I took some of our fishing money to buy you this necklace.”

I wanted to cry. I got a washcloth and cleaned the wounds. He caught my hand as I was getting up to leave.

“Ngoc, stay with me tonight… I don’t want to think about tomorrow.”

I lay down next to him on the blanketed floor. I rested my head on his chest; it felt so nice and comforting, breathing in his scent and listening to his heartbeat. “Loc,” I whispered, “I’m always here if you need me.” Somehow, it seemed so right, with the two of us lying beneath the stars and the moon and not a care in the world. I forgot that I was leaving the next morning, and that I would probably never see Loc again.

I lay there, listening to his rhythms breathing, feeling the touch of his fingers on my ribs, his salty scent drifting through my senses. I trailed my finger along the contours of his face, tracing every line, engraving it into my heart. I’d never felt this way before, like I belonged somewhere, right in the arms of this strange boy, who’d burst through my life like a giant tidal wave. Why couldn’t time have stopped? I was thinking what a magical night it was, and I thought I could even hear the stars howling above.

It was magical indeed. It was love beneath the howling stars.

The next morning I left Vietnam on a plane. I saw Loc again. It’s been five years, yet I can still smell the fish from his hands and feel his arms around me. Sometimes when the ocean wind blows by, I hear his words, “Anh yeu em,” (I love you), in my ears. And I clutch the necklace I still wear close to my heart.

Ngoc H. Le