Jenny
adjusted the chin strap of her pink helmet. She checked the map one last time
and put it in the back pocket of her cut off jeans. She checked her watch. It
was 3:20 pm. Good. She had enough time to go where she wanted and get back
before her parents got home. Then she kicked-started her pink motor scooter,
shifted into low and sped off. She drove through the tree lined streets of her
Minneapolis neighborhood and out to highway 12. Then she headed west. The wind rushing
past her face felt clean and refreshing. Her scooter's top speed of forty-two
miles per hour gave her a feeling of power. She loved it. The freedom of being
on the road was what she needed. It felt good to getaway.
Forty-five minutes later she stopped
at the only stoplight in the small town of Long Lake, seventeen miles west of
her home. She paused a moment before taking a right and driving down a short
street to Lakeside Park. She got off her scooter near a clump of lilacs, took
off her helmet and shook out her long blond hair. She clipped the helmet to the
handlebar and walked across the sandy beach to the lakeshore and out to the end
of the public dock. She sat down and took off her socks and black boots and set
them aside. She dangled her feet in the refreshing water and looked around,
feeling herself finally relaxing.
The lake wasn't too big, maybe a
mile long and a quarter mile wide. There were fishing boats, sail boats and
even a kayaker or two out on the sparkling blue water. Overhead, a few gulls
floated on a light breeze. Nearby, some ducks swam in circles, looking for
food. Watching the scene, Jenny felt herself calming down even more. She lay
back on the dock, it's wooden planks warm against her shoulder blades. She
rested. But not for long. Soon her memories returned.
Damn him. Damn that friggin' Randy. Why
did he have to do that? Jenny suddenly sat up and reached in her pocket. She
took out her wallet and opened it. Inside was a photograph of her boyfriend. Check
that. Former boyfriend. The jerk had the audacity to come up to her at lunch
today with his arm around that skanky Belinda and say, 'Sorry, Babe. It's
over.' Or something like that. All Jenny remembers now is his smirky smile and
his friggin' red lips, the lips that kissed her so passionately just a few days
earlier on Saturday night. Well, to hell with him.
Jenny took the photo of her now
former boyfriend's smarmy face and methodically ripped in two. Then she put the
pieces together and ripped them in two. Then, again. Then she dropped them in
the water and watched as a school of sunfish quickly swarmed to them and
nibbled at their edges, then, just as quickly, finding nothing of interest to
eat, they darted away and disappeared.
Jenny laughed, "Yeah, go ahead
and take off. I don't blame ya'."
Feeling much, much better, she
checked her watch; 4:50 pm. Better get going. She went back to her scooter, put
on her helmet and started it up. She drove up to the corner and took a left, heading
for home, narrowly missing an old lady in a burgundy Prius. "Damn, better
watch myself," Jenny muttered as she gunned the motor and drove away. She
had begun thinking about that new kid in class, Jeffrey something or other. He
was tall, had long hair and a smile that seemed to look right inside of her. "Now he's someone I can see myself
with," she smiled to herself, "It might be fun getting to know him,
maybe even take him for a ride sometime." She twisted the throttle to get
as much speed out of the little scooter as she could and leaned into the wind. Her
thoughts were consumed with that new boy, Jeffrey. She couldn't get home soon
enough.
Freja Ann Jorgenson gasped as the
young girl on the pink scooter sped by, narrowly missing the front bumper of
her newly washed car. "My Lord," she said to herself, her right hand
resting on her chest just above her heart, "That young lady almost ran
into me."Freja looked in the review mirror and watched as the little
scooter disappeared down the road. Kids these days. What can you do? She smiled
and shook her head with a forbearance toward youth that came with age. That
might have been her at one time. After all, she'd been young once herself .
The light changed and she eased the
accelerator pedal down. She was heading home after working her shift at Great
Harvest Moon coop. She had some fresh free range eggs she wanted to cook into a
nice omelet for dinner for Ralph. Her mouth started watering just thinking
about it. "Maybe I'll have some, too," she thought to herself. "Add
in some mushrooms and fried onions; a little cheddar cheese, too. That would be
good." Her mouth began watering even more.
She pulled into the driveway, parked
the car, crossed to the back patio and went in through the back door. Their
tidy, bungalow felt cool to her warm skin. A secure feeling. She smiled a
contented smile, "I'm home," she called out, "Ralph, are you
here?"
"Downstairs."
"What're doing?"
"Looking through some old
photos."
Again? She smiled and shook her
head. Oh, well. They were both seventy-six years old. They'd been married for
fifty-five years and had lived in their home for the last fifty of those years.
They knew each other as well as two people could possibly know each other.
There were probably worse ways he could spend his time. "I'll fix us some dinner,
okay?"
"Sure. What's on the
docket?"
"I've got fresh eggs from the
coop. How does an omelet sound?:
"Sounds fantastic. Need any
help?"
"No. I'll give you a yell when
they're done."
"I'll be here."
"Funny," Freja thought to
herself and went about preparing dinner.
Half an hour later, they were
finishing up their evening meal, each of them savoring the omelet Freja had
prepared, not to mention her homemade strawberry jam she'd brought out to go
along with the fresh muffins she'd decided at the last minute to whip up. Ralph
dabbed the sides of his mouth with his napkin, sat back, sighed a satisfied
sigh and asked, "So how was work today? How was the coop?"
"It was fine, but driving home
was a little scary. I almost had an accident."
"What! What happened?"
Ralph exclaimed and leaned forward, concerned, "Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, yes. I'm fine."
Freja waved a hand to indicate she really was fine, "It was down by the
lake. At the stoplight. A young girl pulled right out in front of me. Land
sakes, I almost hit her."
"But you're okay, right? You're
sure?"
"I'm fine. I was a little
shaken, but I'm okay now."
"That's good." Ralph sat
back and was quiet for a few moments, thinking. Then he asked, "What kind
of a car was she driving?"
"It wasn't a car. It was one of
those motorcycle things. Small."
"A motor scooter?"
"I guess, yes. A motor scooter.
It was pink. A pink motor scooter."
"Pink?"
'Yes. Pink."
Ralph looked at his wife fondly. She
watched as his eyes moved away from the present to somewhere back in time, "Remember
when we first started dating? I had that light blue scooter? That Vespa?
Remember that?"
Freja cast her memory back with her
husband to those long ago years. Back when they were young and lived just down
the road from each other on their parent's west central Minnesota farms. Back
then Ralph was tall and thin and handsome and strong. He could work his
father's field all day long and still find time for courting her late into the
night. They had been friends in grade school, sweet hearts in high school and
then husband and wife before either of them finished college at the University
of Minnesota. Freja had been a third grade teacher her entire working life.
Ralph had been an engineer in Minneapolis at Twin City Tool and Die. They'd
raised four children. They were grandparents to seven boys and girls. Life had
been good to them.
"Yes," she said,
"Yes, I do remember that scooter of yours. I even remember that you let me
drive it sometimes. It was fun. Whatever happened to it?"
"Don't you remember? I sold it
after Eddie was born. We used some of the money to help us buy this
house?"
"Oh, yes. That's right."
Now she did remember. She remembered
riding on the back of that scooter, arms around Ralph's waist, holding him
close as the fresh summer night breeze cooled their warm, passionate bodies.
She remembered the ticking of the engine as they lay in the grass, deep kisses
leading to deeper passion. She remembered it all with the warm fondness of a lifetime
love still cherished.
Ralph watched the change coming over
his wife and had an idea. "Do you want to see some photos of that old Vespa?
I've got some downstairs."
Freja came back to the present and
smiled at her husband, "Yes, Ralph, I'd like that. I'd like that very
much."
"Good," he said, rising
from the table, "You stay right here. It's my turn to do the dishes. Let
me get them out of the way, then I'll go get the photo albums. I'll bring them
up here, okay? We can look at them here on the table."
Freja sat quietly remembering the
past while Ralph cleared the plates. In her mind she saw the two of them
together so many years ago, young at heart, riding that light blue Vespa down
those old dusty farm roads. Her memories came flooding back. She smiled.
Suddenly she stood up, "Let me
help with the clean up tonight, Ralph. Then you can get those photos while I
get us some ice cream. A little treat for us. How's that sound?"
Ralph smiled and gave his wife a
hug, feeling in her warm embrace the years of their marriage ever present, his
love for her just as strong as it ever was."Ice cream sounds wonderful,"
he said. She hugged him back. They set to work on the dishes, both of them pleasantly
drifting back in time, riding down those dusty back roads, already reliving the
memories they'd had with that old blue Vespa.
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