Grimmy’s Girl

My brain begins its final descent from an exhausted sleep. Memories of the prior night invade my calm. My tongue is thick and thirsty. Overindulgence has left its nasty reputation behind for me to bear. I try to convince myself that I’ll never do this to myself again: Yeah, right.

Eyes still closed, I sense that I am not alone. Grimmy is beside me, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, snuggling me close. I welcome his warmth, but am careful not to wake him. We are still in the “platonic” stage of our relationship, but playing a game of cat and mouse. I glance over at his sleeping face, thrilled with the knowledge that I will let him catch me — eventually. Until then, I will let him enjoy the chase.

Although we are not yet “official,” it is clear to all that I am Grimmy’s girl. This point was made one night under an onyx sky sprinkled with tiny bursts of light. The campfire, rising from a sandy pit and guarded by large rocks, provided either comforting warmth or scorching heat, depending on where you were sitting. It was in this setting, with alcohol free flowing like the Mississippi, that one of his friends made a noted mistake; he tried to woo me away. Grimmy did not take his friend’s trespass lightly and ended up yelling and violently punching his old beat up truck. From that night forward, I was labeled as “off -limits” to the rest of the boys.

The midmorning sun, blinding at first, illuminates the room that has become, at least for this summer, our refuge. Devoid of parents, pressure, or rules, our paradise is Smiley’s basement, complete with a wet bar and sliding glass door which leads to the backyard and the lake. This is where we congregate at sunset. Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning, long before the sun appears, we gather into the boat and take a ride. It isn’t a fast paced thrill ride, but a calm, leisurely jaunt. It is during these times, after drinking is done, our eyes half-mast, that Grimmy and I talk about our feelings for each other and our future. It is here that we talk of his pending departure for the Marines, and how we’ll make it long-term. It is a time where whispered promises and gentle caresses are welcome.

As I take my first deep breath of the morning, my senses are assaulted by the remnants of our wild carefree night. The room is littered with sour smelling beer, still fermenting in an endless sea of glass bottles and aluminum cans. Sleeping bodies scattered about, some on pull-out beds, while others are sprawled on the floor. Blankets are shared amongst the unconscious dreamers, twisted around legs and cocooned under chins.

I disentangle myself from Grimmy’s possessive hold, regretting the loss of contact and warmth. He mumbles something incoherent and rolls over without incident. I look around for my overnight bag, packed with toiletries and clothes. I am the only one with a place to be this Saturday morning.

Having graduated from high school the year before, I am now a full-time employee with health insurance and a retirement package. I work long hours with few breaks or days off. I am focused and responsible — eighteen going on thirty. Well, that is, until I met Grimmy.

Grimmy is everything I’m not: carefree, relaxed, and living in the moment. He is able to enjoy life in a way I’d never dreamed possible. After romping in his world for a bit, I am learning that my serious and mature nature has its place; however, not to the detriment of my youth. Grimmy has taught me that youth is fleeting and it is acceptable to indulge in it.

I make my way into the bathroom for my transformation from “party girl” to “business woman.” My denim Daisy Duke shorts with an eyelet lace ruffle and matching top are replaced by a beige pencil skirt, double breasted blazer and pantyhose. I fasten a string of pearls around my tanned neck, and then step into my navy pumps. The transformation is complete.

Opening the door and emerging in a cloud of perfume and hairspray, I hear the slapping of bare feet against tile. Rough, deep morning voices are reliving their adventures from the night before. The boys are laughing and teasing each other about their antics while inebriated. The girls complain about headaches and nausea as they try to put on their best face. Beer bottles ping together in their clean up song as people with trash bags scour for used paper plates, dirty napkins, and empty pizza boxes.

Grimmy is now awake. I see him across the room stretching his arms up towards the ceiling and making contact. Tall and well muscled, he is a welcome sight. I admire his confidence and laid back way, wishing I shared his disposition. He grabs his sunglasses and slips on his shoes. It’s time to go.

This has become our tradition; he drives me to work, then picks me up at the end of my shift. We drive in silence as my red Ford Escort charges down the freeway. We hold hands although we’ve never kissed. He pulls up to the front of my building to drop me off. Our hands drop and we look into each other’s eyes. It is understood that tonight we will return to our paradise with steaming hot pizza, an abundance of ice cold beer, and the friends we hold dear. Pressures from the outside world will not gain entry. And maybe tonight, in my Daisy Dukes and matching top, I’ll let him catch me.