Once Upon a Good Life

 

I'll be standing in a coffin, I'll be there

I'll be a-rippin' it up, I'll be there
I'll be calling out your name to let you know
I'll be around[1]

     Rita and I made love two more times the day her dad was gone. We probably would have continued had it not been that I told Harley I would call him in the afternoon. 

     Every opportunity Rita and I had to get together that summer we were either swimming in her pool, playing mini golf in her backyard, listening to her sister Sheila's horde of albums, or just kicking back on the seawall behind her home gazing out onto the blue waters of the Intracoastal. And it usually ended with us in the cabana entwined in each other's arms. Sometimes it was to make love and sometimes it was just to hold each other. I had never really felt anything like it before—especially the holding part. My mother would kiss me on the forehead every once in awhile, but she never really held or hugged me that I remember. As for my dad, he wasn't a hugger and I at no time saw him hug my mother . . . I don’t recall him ever saying he loved her or saying it to me either, but at the time I never really thought that much of it. I guess I assumed that’s how married people were supposed to be. So when Rita and I just held each other, I felt a comfort I had never experienced before that is truly hard to describe.   

     I think we also found pleasure in the fact that it was our little secret and knowing something no one else was aware of perhaps heightened our little charade. Although, I'm sure Nora, the maid, suspected something. We had no other worries. School and Rita's boyfriend were far away from the moments we were together. We lived each day for each other. I thought about her every day and every moment I was I awake. I often fell asleep picturing her beautiful smile as I slipped into sleep. She was the first person I talked to on the phone in the morning and last person I spoke to on the phone at night. She made me feel good about myself, like I was significant, not just the new kid: the outsider that no one cared to get to know.

     I wondered quite often if Harley suspected anything. If I wasn't with Rita, I was with Harley, and I was routinely with both of them. Harley would pick me up to go to the beach and then we'd pick up Rita. As Harley would drive, Rita and I would sit in the back of the Westcoaster across from each other, our legs close and often playing while Harley focused on the road. She would sometimes slide her hand down my leg and pop me in the crotch. I'd jump and it would capture Harley's attention for a moment; he'd turn back trying to catch what was going on, and often shift his weight and the Westcoaster up onto two wheels. I'd have to shift my weight to get the vehicle back on its 3 wheels. Harley would laugh while Rita would call him a "shit," sit back and once he was focusing on the road, again playfully tease me by rubbing my leg and crotch with her foot. Sometimes he would just turn around and Rita would quickly act nonchalant while glancing around the cab or at her nails and I'd act the cool stoic often glancing at my nails sometimes mocking Rita and messing with Harley. It was a game we played so often.

      I wondered if Rita cared if Harley knew. I asked her once. She said he'd probably laugh about it, or not really care as long as Phil didn't know and Harley got his money. But when she wasn't around, Harley once remarked, "If it wasn't for me promising Phil Paderas I'd keep her away from other guys, I might be hitting on Rita myself." He also added, with a laugh, "But I’m the fat kid that never gets the girl anyway." I remember I considered laughing at his joke because he was my best friend, but I didn't, perhaps fearing a punch to the gut or headlock with a knuckle to my skull. Maybe it was I just loved my friend.      

      Harley may have been the youngest extortionist I had ever met, and could fight like a pit bull, but if he was your friend, he was your friend no matter what the circumstances. And perhaps that is why I never told him about Rita. I don't think he would have kicked my ass if he found out at least from me but if he found out some other way it may have hurt him enough to punch me a few times in the face and perhaps never talk to me again. I wanted to tell him, but the time never seemed right . . . Although, towards the end of that summer, I would come close.

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[1] Writer(s): Charles B. Simmons, Bruce Hawes, Joseph Banks Jefferson, Joseph B. Jefferson, Phil Hurtt, Phillip Levi Hurtt, Thom Bell The Spinners