Dare The Devil
“Got a little
hideaway we go to, place we go on special days…”
--Leon Russell, Will o’ the Wisp
Of course you never do forget your first love.
How could you?
The happiness, the wonder, the warmth, as hope and
expectation swell to disbelief and then unimagined joy…Oh no, I could never
forget Lori the little makeup girl who would win my heart and change my life.
I remember…Our first date, going to the Straw Hat Pizza
Parlor across from the South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa…being most surprised
not by how ravishingly beautiful Lori was, nor the astounding miracle that she
was actually sitting here wanting to talk to me and even liking it, but being
most surprised at how cool she was, just like a guy friend, not at all like the
airhead girl-toys I had amused myself with in the past.
I could talk to her, and she understood me, could relate to my strange
family life and being relocated, and she liked the same records and had many of
them and had been going to Church for years and even Calvary Chapel and
considered herself a Born Again Christian just like me…She had some
reservations about the whole end-of-the-world-thing, but basically believed it,
just like me…and she played the piano, had taken lessons for
years…and…wow.
Who knows what true love is? Where does the narcissistic projection of one’s self stop
and genuine love and concern for the other begin?
I don’t know, and I certainly didn’t know then, but I did know that
we had soooo much in common, I had never even imagined anything like it.
And I remember hugging her and kissing her after our first
date, and everything was so different, because it wasn’t at all like the other
times I just wanted to grope the girls, I really really liked her and
thought she was just about the neatest person I had ever met in my life.
And she liked me…That was so amazing…She would make
sure we had lunch together at school and would call me at night and told me she
missed me and I missed her too I really did I wasn’t just saying that it was
true, because when I was with her I felt different, different about myself and
the world and everyone around me. The
silly games like acting-star-of-the-year and
yes-I-have-5-pencils-in-my-pocket-but-no-you-can’t-borrow-one-because-these-are-mine
seemed so pointless and stupid.
And I remember…she didn’t need to have me say goodbye
to my friend Richard, was happy to hang around the two of us and just talk or
play ping pong or whatever.
I remember…Going over to her house for dinner, and having
a front-row-center seat for what she said was pretty much a nightly show, where
her brother or sister would do something wrong or say something wrong like they
don’t want any more stinking peas they’re gross, and her dad getting really
mad and yelling and they would yell back until somebody would throw something or
hit somebody…I remember like it was yesterday, no, today, even now the
way we walked out onto the front porch together as it was time for me to ride my
bike home, and she hugged me, and cried, because it was all so sad, and she
whispered into my ear “Please love me, I need your strength,” and I cried
too, and I think she thought it was because I was sad for her about her family,
which I was, but more so I was completely overwhelmed by the intimacy of
it all…It wasn’t about bodies or hair or high school games, it was about a
person, a person, with a soul and thoughts and feelings and hurts and
wanting, needing someone to share her life with.
She wanted me in her life.
Needed me.
And I remember standing there on her parents’ porch with
our arms around each other, thanking God silently for this incredible miracle,
and swearing with all the resolution I had that I would never forget the
incredible gift He gave me.
I remember...When she played the piano for me and sang
“Morning Has Broken” so sweetly that I actually wept.
I remember…One night I visited her while she was
babysitting. I asked her what she
felt about me. “Well, if I just
wanted somebody to make out with I wouldn’t have picked you.”
And yes it was a backhanded compliment and yes I knew I wasn’t the most
handsome or muscular guy in the school, but it also meant she saw me as more
than just a body, that she valued our conversations and fellowship and
friendship. And liked kissing me.
And I remember…When she was house sitting for some
friends, and she invited me over, and Leon Russell played on auto-repeat all
night long, and no we didn’t do “it” but I remember like it was yesterday
that night, that precious night, the first night I ever spent sleeping, yes,
sleeping with a girl, hugging her so tight, never, ever wanting this to end.
And the time she gave me a card that said, “There is a
place reserved for you in my heart, where no one else may enter.”
And I cried again. Crusty, tough-exterior, I-don’t-care-what-you-think-of-me
walls crumbling down with the tender acknowledgement of this one, precious,
darling human being.
And the conversations about getting married, partly because
the world was about to end anyway, but also because the feeling and experience
was so wonderful that I never ever wanted it to end, and when you are young and
silly and in high school, talking about getting married is just one of those
ways you say “Wow, I never want this to end…”
It’s almost beyond memory, so vivid is my recollection of
the night she first said that because she liked spending all of her time with me
and thought about me when we weren’t together and how much we had in common,
that she figured that meant she really did love me. “I love you, Sam.” “I
love you, too, Lori. So much.”
And I cried, I mean really deep, shoulder-heaving-gasping-for-breath
sobs, because that was the first time anyone other than my Mom, Dad or
Grandparents had ever told me they loved me in my entire life.
And it was so perfect. And I
did love her so much. “More than
word can wield the matter,” as Shakespeare said.
Sometimes I thought, really had the uncanny feeling, that I
had met my literal soul-mate, the other half of me that had been torn from me
before the world was made, and was looking at and talking to my other half, the
rest of me.
I remember…helping give her bedroom a fresh coat of
paint, helping-out just like a part of the family, and yes it was hot and no
there was no air conditioning because Irvine was only 10 miles from the beach
and you didn’t really need it but still it was hot, and I slept on the floor
so we could get a really early start the next morning before it got too
unbearable, and she spent the night next to me, and her parents knew and it was
OK because I was like a 4th kid and yes, sure, OK their family was a
bit dysfunctional but who’s wasn’t and they loved me, yeah, even her
parents, because they saw how happy she was and how perfect we were together.
So perfect.
And I painted all 12 paint-by-numbers Signs of The Zodiac
and gave them to her…Not astrology, that was wrong, we knew that, but the
Zodiac, the 12 constellations in the sky that symbolize Christ’s life and
ministry and we had read The Witness of The Stars together and the paintings
were on wood and each one took about 5 hours but that was OK because I loved her
really LOVED her and would have done anything, anything at all for her,
and those 12 beautiful paintings were so perfect on her new wall and she loved
them so much…
I remember the time I had to play the organ at my
cousin’s wedding, and I had to make the 50 mile drive early so I could
practice and all that, and she went with me, wanted to go with me, even
though a lot of the time she would just be sitting there not doing anything but
we were together and I played for this wedding and it was so romantic and she
sat on the organ bench with me and we kissed each other as the bride and groom
kissed for the first time…
And I remember the day one week before my 18th
birthday when we gave our virginity to each other, and I didn’t bring it up,
she did, because she said she didn’t want me to be 18 and still a virgin and
besides we loved each other so much and it was not about bodies, it was about
souls uniting, getting as intertwined and close as humanly possible, and as I
was in her I prayed out loud
thanking God for the unnamable beauty and grace who was Lori, just like in the
movies but even better because this was real and so beautiful and so perfect.
And the dinners and the Bible studies and the Leon Russell
concert and the Senior Prom and my Grad Night at Disneyland and making love as
the sun came up on the new day when Sam was an inaugurated Graduate, and it was
so loving and a gift of God and so perfect…
So perfect…
Except…
Except…
Except that she didn’t know the whole story….
Didn’t know she was giving herself to the Future
AntiChrist…
Didn’t know about Real Communion, not the silly thing the
sheep do in Church, but the Actual, Genuine Communion that the Voice used to
teach me about leaving my body to complete my Powers, oh sure I smoked weed with
God’s gift, did it all the time, but I was in control by this time and the
Voice never showed up ‘cause I didn’t want it to…
And in my own way I thought I loved her and in a manner I
guess I did except that my own way was not perfect, oh no, it was not perfect at
all, it was wrong…
so very wrong…
as Sam the 18-year-old college-bound adult male continued
to commit statutory rape with his 15-year-old sophomore girlfriend, Thanking God
as he abused the Sacred Trust which was her heart and soul and body, looking and
watching and waiting for…
exactly the right time to…
show her…
something…
wonderful he thought was wonderful but it was really
wrong…
oh so wrong…
and let her hear a Voice…
And take Communion for Real,
for the first time…
All will be revealed.
Good Boy.
