It's Been Such a Long Time

Somerset, WI—Late July 1979 I rolled off my inner tube and hit the cool clear water of the Apple River with a mild kerplunk. Most of my classmates had already cleared the final bend and were already on the shore. Some were standing around chatting, with beers in their hands. Others were more active playing catch or Frisbee. A few had even organized a slightly drunken sand volleyball match. I squinted against the glare of the sun on the gently rippling water as I stood knee-deep in the river wringing my hair out. Before I finished, Brad was already behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and nibbling on my neck. “Get a room,” someone hollered. Brad didn’t look up but did raise his middle finger in the general direction of the voice. A wave of laughter and heckling ensued. “Don’t let your tube get away, lover boy.” I twisted around in his arms to face him, draped my hands over the back of his neck, and grinned. “You’ll lose your deposit.” “s**t!” Brad exclaimed and went splashing off after it. I waded through the shallows and onto the muddy riverbank, my toes squishing in the cool muck until I crested the rise to stand on the grassy shore. Some girl I didn’t know took my tube in exchange for a towel, and a guy I assumed was her boyfriend handed me a beer. Brad eventually caught up, with his tube slung over his shoulder, and was treated to the same. “Hot dog or bratwurst?” someone called out. I looked up to see my across the street neighbor, Kevin, looking my direction with a pair of tongs raised in the air. I’m not sure who appointed him master chef, but for every outing this summer he was the guy with the grill and the charcoal. “Brat,” I hollered. “Make it two,” Brad said, and then turned to me. “Grab me a bag of chips babe?” “Sure.” I smiled and dug two vending machine-sized bags of Lays out of a grocery bag while he went to find us a place to sit. I threw my leg over the wobbly wooden picnic bench and lowered myself to sit. The late afternoon sun quickly banished the remaining droplets of water from my skin and made my bikini top feel a little less clingy. Brad deposited two paper plates holding brats in buns and sat down beside me. “Your shorts are all wet,” I complained. “Don’t get too cozy.” “I like to make you wet, babe.” I rolled my eyes and mentally groaned. Brad and I had been dating all through our senior year and he’d been trying to get into my pants the entire time. So far, I had resisted his charms, if you could call his latest attempt at innuendo charming. Though now that we were sharing a tent on our last big bash of the summer, I figured I might finally have to give it up for him. Despite his cheesy adolescent male pick-up lines, Brad was actually a decent guy and if I was going to put out for someone, he wasn’t a bad choice. I wasn’t completely convinced it was going to have the same appeal for me as it did for him, but it’s not like I wanted to be the only virgin when I went off to college in the fall. “Maybe we can zip our sleeping bags together and I’ll let you finger me,” I whispered. Brad’s face lit up, so at least one of us was excited about the prospect. Strains of electric guitar were wafting through the air from a boombox somewhere while I took my first bite of dinner and watched another couple emerging from the river. It was Marianne and Tom. Like Brad, Tom had elected to float down the river in an old pair of cut-off jean shorts, and river water continued to stream down over his legs as he walked onto the shore. Marianne on the other hand, was sporting an electric blue Lycra one-piece racing suit that glistened in the sun as it dried and did very little to hide her broad shoulders and narrow hips. I wondered what she would look like in a little red two-piece like mine and quickly decided that the sporty look suited her much better. Tom and Marianne had been dating for as long as I can remember and made a cute couple. They were also both rather quiet, and after a full day of shenanigans on the river that was just fine by me. I motioned them over and they ambled up with paper plates and beers in their hands. Tom was in a couple of my classes this past year, so we got along fairly well. Marianne I hardly knew. Even though they were always together outside of school, she had a different schedule during the day, and as a result I mostly knew her as the tall, shy girl on Tom’s arm at social occasions. “You look a little pink, Tom,” I said. “Better put some aloe on that or you’ll be hurting later.” “Yeah, I suppose.” He grinned. Marianne didn’t say anything, but I wasn’t surprised, she really never did. She just sat down and tucked into her dinner. “You decide what you’re going to major in yet, Marianne?” I asked her between bites, trying some easy conversation to make sure she didn’t feel left out. “Not really,” she said. “Not even sure where I’ll be going to school.” “Seriously? You’ve only got about a month to figure it out. I guess I figured you and Tom…” I paused. Marianne wasn’t looking at me. Tom wasn’t looking at me. And I felt like I had just stepped in something. Maybe they weren’t as solid as I thought. I didn’t get a chance to ask her about it though. “s**t! Look out!” I heard, but too late. Some guy was running after a volleyball that just so happened to bounce right smack in the middle of our table sending Marianne’s beer can over onto its side with the contents ending up as a puddle in her lap. “Sorry!” the guy yelled as he ran past, still chasing after the ball. “Ick,” was all Marianne offered. “No kidding,” I agreed. “I’m gonna need a shower,” she said and got up from the table. “Hang on, I’ll go with you,” I said. “Got to rinse this river muck out of my hair or I’m going to be smelling like a dead fish all night.” I didn’t want Marianne going off alone in an unfamiliar place, but selfishly, I was kind of interested in what the heck was going on with her and Tom.