Floy

I don’t remember when I first saw her. I think she was a friend of some girls from my High School but she hadn’t gone to the school. She was a stranger in town, a mystery woman without a family or connections. That and her long blonde hair and bright blue eyes were magnetic.

            I had finished high school and was starting my career as an apprentice in the large factory. Most of my high school friends also worked in the factory. It was the kind of place where a father got his sons in as soon as they finished school. In those days the company sponsored apprenticeships in many of the trades and technical skills they needed so it was a win-win situation. 

            Somehow I managed to meet Floy. I suspect my knees were shaking at the time although in retrospect I was a pretty confident guy but definitely not a ladies man. There were places where the girls went to meet the guys and then go to Saturday night dances at the summer pavilions nearby or a hall in the cooler months. I probably asked her for a date and she must have said yes because we became friends. I don’t remember how it happened but I remember pursuing her by phone when we weren’t together.

            She worked in a Bank and I found time to leave my work station to call her even during working hours. This was not a good practice but when the heart is involved a guy will do such things. I learned that she had moved to town to get away from a boy friend. Her parents lived in Toronto where her father was a teacher and were planning to retire to a house in a village on a river about fifty miles away. It was an old house with a wide veranda looking at the river across the street. As I recall it was a lonely place, a little spooky inside and her parents were seldom there. It was perfect for young lovers to get away from the crowd and by then we were lovers. Floy was the first woman for whom I felt something other than lust or curiosity. I think she felt the same for me because she gave herself to me generously.

            The spring and summer of that year saw us at that house by the river many times. Her parents didn’t come often so we had the run of the place. I usually arrived in the evening and drove home during the very early hours of the morning. It was fortunate that the road was relatively straight and in those times not busy. I have vivid memories of struggling to stay awake as the shadowy trees along the road took weird shapes like monsters reaching out to pull me into the ditch. It was probably more good luck than skill that allowed me to survive those nights but young love was worth it. Of course, there was also a risk to remaining effective in my work. I was lucky there too and managed to do my job to the satisfaction of the department head.

            Summer was nearing its end and the trees along the river were taking on their fall plumage. One of us had an idea that it would be an experience to take her fathers motor boat and cruise up the river to the lake where duck hunting season was opening. The motor boat was beautiful launch with open cockpits surrounded by a varnished wood deck built years before for dignified cruising in the Muskoka Lakes. The inboard engine was finicky but once running was reliable if not fast.

            I stayed over night because we planned to leave before the first light of dawn. Another couple joined us and we had a wonderful evening but I think the best part was snuggling in bed with my darling. She was warm and giving but time blurs the memory of the physical pleasure so I can’t go into detail. 

            We woke while the grip of night was still tight although maybe we didn’t sleep. It was cold and damp as four sleepy people made their way to the boat house. Stars shone brightly and reflected in the ripples on the water. The motor coughed once and then kicked into life. She engaged the gears; we pushed out into the current and moved slowly up the river. I scanned the banks looking for the buoys that marked the channel. There is nothing as mysterious as being out on the water in the dark of night and it was exciting.  The almost invisible red buoys are on the left when going against the current and green on the right, stay between them or close to one or the other and you won’t go aground, and so we slowly made our way toward the lake. As the first hint of light appeared in the eastern sky a low rumble like thunder began to echo between the hills and down the river. The hunters must have stayed in their blinds all night. The noise became louder and soon we were on the lake itself. The sky was quite light now and flocks of ducks were circling overhead or rising from the reeds along the shore. We cruised out to the middle of the lake far away from the blinds from which a stray load of buckshot could rake our boat.

            The water was calm and smooth as glass.  She turned the engine off and we coasted as the new day brightened and the suns rays found the hills on the far shore bathing the trees and fields in an orange glow. It was magical just drifting on the water and listening. After awhile the shooting stopped and flocks of ducks swooped down to settled in the middle of the lake far from the danger that lurked in the reeds along the shore. I don’t remember how the day ended. I suppose we went back to the house and cooked a feed of bacon and eggs for breakfast. Every romance must have memories good or bad and there is one other memory of Floy that I like to think about on rainy nights.

            It was raining that night and we were in a house in town. I don’t remember but I suspect she boarded there. We were in her room, the window was open, the rain was beating on the shingles and the leaves of an old maple tree just outside. Her bed was soft and we snuggled under a down comforter wrapped together as if one person listening to the rain. Strange, I remember the rain even though her warm young body would have provided plenty of memories itself.

            Are two memories of a beautiful first romance enough? Many times we don’t have any memories of past love so I’m happy. What happened to Floy?  My job took me to another city and I had to leave her. I later heard her old boy friend took her away. Maybe yes, maybe no, I never saw her again but I missed the loving for a long time after.

The end of the beginning

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