A Different Version

(March, 2012: Working on indexing/categorizing pieces I've blogged. Transferring this piece from my once-public blog, versions.)

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AWW: 9/24/2009
Non-subject: "a different version"

Version. Virgin.

Dictionaries. Bibles. Translations. Stories.

The first time a story is lived is its maiden voyage; it's maiden version. Every maiden is first a virgin, a version of her later years.

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July, 2007.

As my life was being revealed to me, I became bothered that I couldn't remember the event of losing my virginity. I know the boy. I know my age. But I don't recall the actual event.

Janet, my therapist had been working with me in other areas. Abandonment. Abortion. Grief. I would bring up how I don't recall losing my virginity. I had brought it up with Dr. McColloch too. But nothing, nothing. I had decided that if it is something I was supposed to remember I would. Maurice was dead, so I couldn't ask him. I had thought about it. If he was only alive I could get in touch with him and ask about it, that year we were both 13 years old.

I recall writing love letters to him, about the size of his penis. And drawing pictures. I recall that I was going to marry Maurice. We would sneak out and meet in the woods, sometimes with a radio as Roberta Flack would sing "Killing Me Softly" through the air waves. Sometimes I'd sneak into Maurice's house late at night and hide in his bed with him. I'd sneak out and be back home in time for school the next day.

I was a latch key kid, so Maurice would come to my house after school. We'd make love in the den, in the back of the house. If Mom would happen to come home early, she'd always ring the doorbell before entering. She'd wait enough time so that Maurice and I could get dressed. She and I never discussed sex; but I thought it was cool that she gave us time to get dressed.

I loved Maurice. He was a drummer and his family had money. His father used to look at me with such tender eyes; I felt like he was a father to me. Every moment I had free, I spent with Maurice. He was handsome with an effeminate side. Maurice mom, Ria, was usually drunk or high on something; her speech would slur. I used to think Mr. Morgan, Maurice's dad, was running around on Ria.

Maurice had baby blue eyes and wavy hair. He was so tender. But I don't remember our fist time. What was it like? Did it hurt? I wish I could remember. Certainly Maurice was the first. Sometimes I wonder; I draw such a blank. The nothingness. I can't dwell on it much. If I do I don't seem real, or I feel like I make things up.

At 48 years old, 34 years after my 1 year of love with Maurice, I attend my 30th high school reunion. It's the first reunion I've attended. I'm a bit nervous; not sure how to act. But my husband is with me. Two of my old boyfriends are dead. Others are older than I so won't be at the reunion.

The evening is a wonderful time. Debbie and I sit together. She tells me about going to boarding school her senior year of high school. I don't remember my graduation, other than I drove home alone and threw up on the way up the mountain. I was living in Taylorsville with Wayne at the time. He was 24 or 25 and I was 18. He didn't come to graduation. I guess my parents came, but I'm not sure.

Anyway, Debbie came to the reunion because she would have graduated with us if she hadn't been sent to boarding school. Debbie and I were friends in elementary and middle school, before I got so involved with drugs. I never knew Debbie became so wild; I had moved beyond my 'wild' side by 11th grade.

The reunion evening was filled with chatter, good food, great music, drinking and dancing. There were at least a couple hundred people in attendance, maybe around 400.  I love to dance, so John and I hung through the last song. Most folks had exited the hotel ballroom. The band was packing up. It was after midnight.

Across the room Andie sat at one of the round tables. The tables were covered with burgundy table cloths; I think it was burgundy, with some sort of elegant center piece. The evening had felt rich. Each table could seat 8 people. There must have been 50 tables in the room.

"Carol," Andie called to me. My husband John went on out of the ballroom. I walked over to Andie.

"Carol I want to introduce you to Martha. Martha this is Carol. She was Maurice's first girlfriend back in the day."

Martha and I exchanged greetings. "So you were Maurice's first girlfriend?" Martha said to me.

"Yes," I answered curiously. What the fuck was this about. I hadn't told anyone I'd been wondering about that year with Maurice some 35 years ago, perplexed and blank about the details of my life at the time, wondering about something as significant as my first love and losing my virginity.

Martha's husband was a drummer. He and Martha had been friends with the Morgans. Her husband and Mauricehad played together in different bands.

"I thought you might be interested to hear what Martha knows about the Morgans. She used to spend time at their house." Andie began filling me in.

Martha looked at me. "Do you know about Maurice's dad, Wilson Sr.?"

"Well, I always felt he was a womanizer." I had heard that Mr. Morgan had died some years back, I think he died after Maurice. Apparently Maurice had died in his own vomit when he was 33 or 34. Mr. Morgan had died probably in his 60's, from what I'm not sure.

One of Maurice's older brothers had been a wife beater, so I'd heard. I didn't doubt it. Anna, his wife, had died of an aneurysm I think.

I had wondered about Maurice's dad, wondered if he ever hit Ria. He seemed to get irritated when he drank.. When I was in high school Ria had died from a fall down the stairs. I had wondered then if it was a suicide or a drug overdose. Another one of Maurice's brothers committed suicide while I was in high school; blew his brains out with a pistol while at the beach. I think he was at the beach. Barne. That was his name. Sometimes Barne and I had gotten high together. He and my boyfriend at that time would sometimes deal drugs together. Barne had those same tender baby blue eyes, but Barne was overweight.

Martha looked at me and said, "Wilson Sr. was a child sex offender. Maurice followed the same pattern as his dad."

I felt nothing. I just stared at Martha.

I don't ever recall Wilson Sr. touching me inappropriately. But then I don't recall much regarding that time, other than the woods, the letters, my house and Maurice's house.  Barne had to come get Maurice and I from the woods once; we had slept till sunup and needed to sneak back in our rooms. I remember wondering how Barne. knew where Maurice and I were.

"Wilson Sr. used to get young teen age girls, ages 15 and up, to come home and have sex. Maurice joined in the fun. Sometimes when we'd go on the road Maurice would bring young girls to the hotel where the band was staying. He was almost 30, the girls would be 14 and up. We told him it was wrong. He said that the girl's wanted it. We eventually had to split; we couldn't be responsible for that stuff."

"Wilson Sr. used to beat his 2nd wife. Did you know about her?" Martha continued.

I did know about her and that she and Wilson Sr. had a child. Martha and her husband had heard Wilson Sr. beat his second wife, when they had visited the Morgan's home. I don't recall now the rest of the story in regard to that.

As Martha relayed this information I pondered searching my mind and my body. Had sexual abuse taken place in the family, when Maurice and I were 13? I mean Barne committed suicide a few years later. I'd always felt Ria's death was a suicide or an overdose. Was Maurice molested at a young age? Did he approach me to have sex, or did I approach him? Did he teach me things? When was the first time? How? Where?

A blank. All I draw is a blank.

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