Young love avoided.

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Early autumn in the rolling hills of northern New Jersey is a beautiful time of year. The grass is dense and a deep green, the leaves are just starting to turn colors and swirl underfoot. The air is cool and crisp like the juicy red apples hanging from the trees in the orchards lining our hills far into the distance. The night I saw Eric from across the room I remembered him clearly. He’d been an All-State Wrestler in his senior year of high school a few years earlier. He came over to talk to me at the local bar and grill one night after work and I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you my heart skipped a beat.

“Hi, Linda, isn’t it? I’m Eric, I remember you from high school.” This incredibly cute young man said to me as he sat down. I sat up just a bit straighter while my girlfriend kicked me under the table and turned back to the others at the table. “Yeah, I’m Linda. I remember you, too. You hung out with Melody’s older brother. How are you, I thought you were away at school?”

“I’m still in school. I’m going to Rutgers now with a group of guys you probably know,” he said. After catching up he asked “Hey, would you like to go for a drive next Saturday afternoon?”

“Sure, that sounds nice. What time were you thinking?” trying to sound casual but my heart was pounding in my ears while giving him my best smile, glad I was between boyfriends at the time.

“How about I pick you up at 4? Here write down your address for me.” He said with a smile of encouragement. I probably mumbled a response while my heart felt like it was coming out of my chest.

“Looking forward to it.” He said as he walked away and rejoined his table of friends. So, I had a date with a good looking guy with a head of messy blond hair, green eyes and freckles across his nose. I didn’t know why he’d asked but I was willing to find out. I went right out and bought brand new jeans; washed, hemmed and ironed them including the crease down the front. I was so excited I couldn’t eat for days. That afternoon I showered, put my hair in electric rollers, and did my makeup with perfection. I was more than a little nervous.

He picked me up at my house on one of those glorious September days. He drove a little green convertible MG Midget sports car and had the top down; no back seat, only a stick shift between us. We drove through the quaint villages of Hunterdon County winding along narrow roads beside streams and over covered bridges. Miles of white fencing of the horse farms of the Colgate and the Johnson families were draped over the rolling hills like flowing white ribbons. Antique shops and churches with sparkling white steeples whizzed past. We talked over the wind with my hair whipping about my face.

We stopped at a small local market and he let me to wait in the car while he ran in to get a few things for dinner. He’d planned on cooking for me. Back in a flash, we drove another 20 minutes or so, up and over a hill, horses on the left side of the road, rows of apple trees on the right beyond a low stone wall. Slowing down in front of a pale yellow farm house he turned into the gravel drive and asked me to sit for a minute while he calmed down his bounding Golden Retriever. Everything about this day so far was perfection. I was relaxed and excited all at the same time.

Eric came to my side of the car and opened my door to help me up and out across the crunchy gravel leading to the wooden front porch. A beautiful two story house with a Dutch door painted black and slightly off kilter shutters framing the front windows. Worn Oriental carpets covered the wide plank flooring of this farm house with low ceilings built in the 1700s.

We entered the kitchen and put our things on the long bench near the door. A simple family kitchen with a large walk-in fireplace once used for cooking and the long warn wooden table sitting in front of it always offering room for one more. At the table sat two of his friends and roommates. One was playing guitar and the other was trying to write down the words to a favorite Lynyrd Skynyrd song, Free Bird. I loved that song and to this day when I hear it I think of this beautiful sunny Saturday night in late September of 1974. I sat with his friends and helped with the words while Eric cooked our meal.

Free Bird

If I leave here tomorrow Would you still remember me? For I must be traveling on now

‘Cause there’s too many paces I’ve got to see.

He put the plates of food in front of us along with a knife, fork and cloth napkin taken from a basket on the counter. He was chatty. He went on and on about life at college and the old days at high school and told me about his job he was starting. I can only hope I was at least some form of my natural self. Our dinner that night was a London Broil served with root vegetables, and red potatoes rolled in butter and parsley; a simple and beautiful New England supper. As soon as the food was ready the other two guys got up and left, not invited to join us; not expecting to be. The London Broil was cooked exactly the way I like it. Crispy and charred on the outside and a juicy red on the inside. I cut a piece of steak and put it in my mouth while he told me a story....I chewed and swallowed. Then I tried to swallow again. It wouldn’t go down. It wouldn’t come up. I was choking. The piece was too big and I hadn’t chewed it enough and had swallowed it too fast due to the fact that I was so incredibly nervous and out of my element. Finally, he looked up and saw that I was choking. This is before the Heimlich maneuver was discovered so neither of us knew what to do. He pounded me on the back, then threw me over his lap and again pounded my back. No amount of pounding was working. Then he turned me over and cradled me in his arms and put his fingers down my throat and yanked that big ol’ hunk of meat out of my throat. A gentleman to the end he scooped me up and carried me to the couch in the small ‘keeping room’ off the kitchen. There he perched at the edge of the couch and stroked my head ‘till I calmed down, where he repeated, “you’ll be ok” over and over in a soft and gentle whisper. Eventually, without much fanfare he murmured “Come on, I’ll take you home.” We listened to the radio on the drive home, Eric watching the road while I watched the stars above winding through the country roads. “Don’t worry about tonight” he said, “I’m just glad you’re ok” “I know, that was really scary. Thanks so much, I had a good time and I’m sorry I ruined dinner.” As he got out and came around to open my door he whispered “Don’t worry, take care.” A goodnight kiss on my cheek and off he went, shifting gears as he climbed the hill on his way home. A few months later, I saw him at the same local hangout and he was with a girl around my age wearing an engagement ring. We saw each other at the same time and as she was chatting away, he winked at me. I blushed and without skipping a beat, continued my conversation as if nothing had happened. But it had. He’d been looking for a wife and I wasn’t ready yet. I was a Free Bird and there were still too many paces I had to see.

By Linda George Brown

From: United States

Website: http://1hoonoo.blogspot.com