Nantucket is ten miles long with one central town. I worked in a
restaurant on the main street. The following day I saw her stop at a
bakery/cafe which became my hangout. When she came in again, my throat
went dry and my knees shook. I don't remember what I first said to her,
but she responded to some sort of signal. She was willing for me to pay
more attention. We began to meet in the cafe.
It is hard not to put what I know now into what I knew then. I
presented what plumage I had--no money, but a small currency of
integrity. I had survived childhood by learning to please. Eventually,
I could no longer do that and I started over, was reborn at nineteen.
While I was only five, by that count, when Jamie (her name) pedaled up
the main street of Nantucket, I was uncompromised; I offered myself for
whatever waited inside that white blouse.
One wet morning, she agreed to a picnic on my next day off. I stood in
the bakery entrance and listened to water running from the roofs and
downspouts, down the sidewalk and street. It didn't matter that I would
be soaked by the time I got to my room. Nothing mattered except that we
had a date. Because we had a date--were together already, really--the
universe made sense. The rain fell equally on us all, rich kids with
Jeeps, waitresses, cooks, masons and roofers, the young and the old.
It's raining, I said to myself. The words meant more than they did
before.
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