Good old Charlene. The neighborhood kids made fun of her. Everyone said she was a bit strange. Tall and awkward, she was set apart by her early ripening. She didn't seem to have any friends, but maybe that was to her liking.
She seemed attracted to him, somehow. Every chance she got, she sneaked a visit. Always she had something new to show him. And he owed her something. She had given him a horny toad she had personally caught in the Gulleys nearby.
The Gulleys. An old watercourse, long since dried up by a diversion project. Left was a 200-yard wide stretch of garter-snake infested weed forest, a wilderness bisecting one of the city's more respectable neighborhoods. No one went there. Except the kids. The ones who dared.
And one day, he was there. With Charlene. She wanted to show him something. The best place to catch garter snakes, probably.
It was a cloudy August day. It wanted to rain, but that had time. Their sneakers left no marks in the baked earth between the 5-foot high milkweed stalks.
"There." He stopped at her call. "That way. Farther down. See it?" Yes, he could see several wriggling dark things down there. In the hole under the mound of earth. Where it was still moist from the last rain.
"Don't be afraid. They don't bite. No teeth." He bit his lip and stuck his hand in. Jerked it out as something slimy and wiggly touched him.
Laughing, she reached in and pulled out... something dark green.
"Put it in your hand. It'll cuddle up to you." He did and it twined itself around his finger.
Delight flooded through him. He had discovered a new world. He could play with snakes, hold them in his fist. Control them. Own them.
But Charlene wasn't looking. She was off to one side, sitting down. Was she crying?
"Come on, Charly, look at this neat snake. He..." But she grabbed him by the pants leg and pulled him down until he was squatting beside her.
"Look. I'm going to show you something better than a snake. A whole lot better.
"But it's a dark secret. You have to promise not to tell. Anyone." She made him swear on his life, his honor, his word as a gentleman.
"Do you know what a momma and a poppa do when they want to make a baby? The poppa has a special thing and he puts it in the momma's thing and... Here. I'll show you." She unzipped her dirt-streaked jeans, got on her knees to slide them down over her hips.
"But where's your...?" He had said something stupid. He could tell by the expression on her face.
"Man! You really don't know anything. But that's o.k. I'll show you everything you'll ever need to know."
He was staring. Maybe his mouth was open. Maybe his face was red. His whole concept of reality had just been upset.
But now she had him by the wrist. "Here. Touch me. Feel it." He did. It was prickly, maybe wet. Kind of like the garter snake.
"Now I'm going to touch you. Yes. There. Don't be afraid."
"Look. You're shaking." He was. It felt - not bad, he didn't know. Strange. Like in a dream once. Cold and shivery, no, burning.
"Come on. Don't be so shy." She was unbuckling his belt.
"Here. Rub it on me. Touch it against me. Come on. You want to find out, don't you?"
Yes. He wanted to find out. What?
And she kissed him. On the lips. Maybe it was just an impulse. And something happened to him. He got strong there. Hard where he had always been soft.
But she grabbed him with both hands and he slipped. Into her. Inside. Lost.
And he forgot the rest.
He still doesn't know how he got back from the Gulleys. Because Charlene wasn't with him. He doesn't even know what happened.
She left the neighborhood shortly after that and disappeared from
his life. But the touch lingers. The look in her eyes haunts him.
New York, 1977