Reflection

No Dirty Words — April

Elizabeth looks lovingly at her 12 year old granddaughter, Amanda. Picking up a hairbrush she says,

“Amanda, sit here in front of me, and I’ll brush your hair, dear.”

Amanda loved to have her grandmother’s attention so she didn’t hesitate, but dropped down on the rug and leaned back, intending to take full enjoyment from this treat. Her long chocolate brown hair dropped past her shoulders and as beautiful as it was Amanda was not keen on caring for it herself. Elizabeth draws the brush through the long strands slowly and rhythmically, alternating with her other hand as the hair beneath the brush undulates and she becomes thoughtful. “Such a beautiful child; her whole life ahead of her”, she thinks as she simultaneously begins to comb through the memories in her mind.

At 16, Elizabeth had been a shy girl who barely lifted her hazel eyes; most of her time was spent in quiet contemplation, tucked away in her room. Her constantly changing body had become a mystery; it now had a waist and breasts, her hair grew long and shiny, her legs shapely. What soon became clear was an increasing interest in boys, specifically Billy, who lived next door, and she thought of him often while she explored the parts of her that felt excited and new. She didn’t know why she thought of Billy, he seemed to have little interest in her though she was sure he had stared at her when she wasn’t looking his way.

Billy, embarrassed by his narrow frame, breaking voice and feet he felt were too big, was mesmerized by Elizabeth’s transformation and equally terrified of it. Still, he found himself creating opportunities just to look at her and wonder what it might be like to run his hands through her hair, touch her and perhaps more. All that thinking led him to walk away; he was not yet proud of what happened when he entertained those thoughts.

One day while his eyes were full of her, Elizabeth unexpectedly turned hers in his direction and there, in pools of liquid soul, they recognized a mutual urgent need they could not ignore and with new courage Billy took her hand.

“Elizabeth…” he began.

“Call me Beth,” she shyly murmured.

Their first kiss, tentative and chaste, released a flood of unspoken emotions and curiosity. Convinced that Elizabeth would break like a china doll, Billy resisted the urge to grasp her tightly but leaned into her space, the light touch of his lips on hers causing a reverberation like a fingertip touching the surface of water. She shivered as the current traveling along her spine bounded back and forth touching every nerve along the way. For a while these sensations were enough, but the floodgates were now open and each had questions about what else might be ahead. Over the next few months and then a year they explored new emotions, caresses and kisses and eventually discipline and patience ran out; it was time to confront their desires.

Under a ceiling of fireflies one warm August evening their final questions were answered on a soft blanket while a concert of crickets and cicadas pounded a continuous beat. Elizabeth’s eyes were open wide as she watched Billy unwrap her clothing piece by piece; her fear surpassed only by her trust in him. As she tugged at his waistband releasing him from the confines of his summer pants, she moaned, unable to hold back her need. Billy could think of no description for the beauty that he found in the untouched precious flower Elizabeth offered and he was driven by it, his mind now taking twists and turns he could never have predicted nor could he understand. Unbearable sensual overload pushed them forward as they touched and tasted each other, tentatively at first then more boldly as they each reassured each other of their beauty and value. Relying on nothing more than instinct and desire he took her slowly at first hoping to ease her pain, for it wasn’t pain he wanted for her but pleasure; beyond the obstacles they began to move in tandem, their bodies communicating on some distant level demanding mutual completion. Abandoning all caution they were together lost now in some primitive dance, their hearts pounding and blood rushing as they spiraled out of control under a now black sky. Elizabeth threw back her head and screamed Billy’s name as she threw herself blissfully into release and her body twisted with uncontrollable muscle reflexes; it was the impetus for Billy, those tremors now sent him to answer her call and spill his seed into her depths, his guttural groans echoing off the leafy trees. Lying spent; a breeze cooled their heat as they lay in each other’s joyful embrace, waiting for the dawn. Elizabeth covered Billy’s face with tiny childlike kisses while he possessively drew her near; she was his woman now.

Returning to reality, Elizabeth continues to brush Amanda’s hair. She strokes it time after time until it shines and in the mirror of that shine she sees more of what she hadn’t looked at in many years.

Billy’s hands had been shaking as he slipped a wedding ring on her finger. In the dawn of their marriage, Elizabeth and Billy made promises and plans; their days were fraught with desire and the nights were filled with murmurs and passionate cries. He would bury his face in her hair as his hands would comb through the silky strands spread out on the bed. They would wake in a tangle of arms, legs and bed sheets, nuzzling and breathing in each other’s air. Billy dedicated himself to this woman and as a responsible man he would never abandon her; soon, he would become a responsible father.

The letter came one Monday morning; Billy was called to serve his country on the other side of the world. The night before he left he brushed Elizabeth’s hair while he whispered his devotion and she silently cried. Their lovemaking, though passionate, was a pious ceremony celebrating not only their love but their mutual respect and honor. The next day, packed and ready to leave, Billy took Elizabeth in his arms, wiping away her tears and choking back his own he said,

“I will come back, I will never leave you. Never.”

She stood in the doorway watching until his figure disappeared in the distance. The unborn child in her womb was restless and Elizabeth unconsciously stroked her small but growing belly. Over the following months Elizabeth lived on her memories and letters from Billy full of current events, hopes and dreams, all helping her feel she was still a constant in his life and there was a future for them and their child when he finally came home.

But Billy didn’t return. Elizabeth was informed of his death when two soldiers appeared unexpectedly at her door. She knew, of course, why they were there; she thought if she didn’t open the door she could shut out their message, deny any truth, postpone any knowledge. But some life events can’t be put aside and ultimately the soldiers did their duty and left her with a chasm of grief. She had no other thought than to be with him, to follow him where ever he was. She would have if not for the child she carried; she was so certain that even in death their commitments would endure. She cried, not just for the loss of her husband and lover but for the loss of the future they had planned and the father their child would never know. Walking the floors through the solitary nights she railed against the finality of death and the helplessness of despair. Folding herself inside her widowhood, she waited for the birth of their child, a daughter, which occurred just 2 months later. Then she took scissors and, sobbing, she cut off her long hair.

Their lives had been cruelly interrupted, but a new life was begun from them and Elizabeth devoted herself to their child. Though the door to Billy’s life had been closed, their daughter entered through another and over the ensuing years she grew into a woman and had a daughter of her own, Amanda.

Returning her attention to Amanda, Elizabeth begins to weave her granddaughter’s hair into braided plaits woven with ribbon. She knows the precious gift of a granddaughter originated with Billy; his seed fulfilled his promise to never leave and she loves him even more for that now as she watches Amanda grow.

Somewhere in the distance a phone rings drawing her out of her reverie as Amanda runs to answer it.

“It’s for you grandma,” she says, “It’s some man.”

Elizabeth takes the phone, still trying to focus her attention on matters at hand, and when she places it to her ear she hears a voice that whispers a single word.

“Beth.”

She knows the voice, how could she forget? After all the tears she cried there is still one left and it slides down her face as, shaken, she stammers,

“Billy?”

She holds the phone in place while she waits for what feels like a year of silence but… no one is there.