Kelly’s
Mother
By Krysta Walker
Two
summers ago, the summer of my junior year, was the summer I dated Kelly. That
was also the first summer in ten years that the Lincoln Township Bobcats went
to regionals for golf. I was a caddie that summer. That’s how I first met Kelly.
Her team was out on the green. She was in a pleated mini skirt with long argyle
socks stretching up to her knees. She looked like something straight out of the
Lacoste catalogue. She had excellent form, almost always hitting the ball
directly in the hole, no matter the distance. A regular 17 year old Arnold Palmer.
I couldn't take my eyes off her knees. Pale,
knobby; I was strangely obsessed with those knees; touching them, kissing them,
pinching them. I guess you could say that those knees were the real reason I
dated her in the first place.
I waited until she came to the range for the
fourth time before making my move, smoothly complimenting her back-swing as I
handed her a new club. She smiled warmly thanking me. She had cool blue eyes;
cool like the swimming pool in her back yard that we spent most of our time in
that summer. Those eyes looked over my face, seeing if I was worth her time.
She told me her name; I asked her out to lunch.
She wore her argyle
socks to our date. She giggled as she nibbled
at French fries and sipped delicately at her milkshake. We discussed our
favorite things: golf, swimming, little Richie. She slipped out of her tennis
shoes and touched my leg. She blushed. I touched her wrist and we were
boyfriend and girlfriend.
In the second week of
our relationship, she took me to meet her parents. Her father shook my hand genuinely.
I subconsciously noted how sweaty my palms were. He slapped me on the back and
welcomed me to his home. Her mother smiled at me and said my name, trying to
remember it. It sounded strange on her tongue. Kelly took me to her room. Her
walls were void of posters and other girly paraphernalia, similar to Kelly
herself. She sat me down on her white duvet. While she kissed me, I stared at
the calendar behind her bed. She had a test on Monday and a tournament on
Wednesday. She kissed me and I touched her knees.
At dinner, her parents
asked about my plans after college. I made up a respectable answer. In reality
I had no idea what I wanted out of life. Kelly beamed from beside me and nudged
my foot with her argyle socks. Her father cracked corny jokes and guffawed. Her
mother stared at me with a small smile on her mouth. She asked me how I liked
the mashed potatoes. I liked them very much and told her so. She said good. I
wondered what she meant.
For the next few weeks
my time was either spent working at the range or out with Kelly. We went
dancing, skating, walking. We did everything together. However, a lot of our
time was spent at her house. We lounged in the pool. We listened to records. We
kissed on the porch. Her father was usually at work. Her mother would pop in at
random times and comment on how attractive we were together. Whenever she said
this, Kelly would blush and look away. Her mother would always look directly at
me.
One evening, I went to
Kelly’s house but forgot to call. Her mother answered the door and told me that
Kelly was at a friend’s house for the night. I apologized. She invited me
inside and made me lemonade. She asked me how it was. I liked it very much and
told her so. She said good. I knew what she meant. She touched my leg. I
wondered aloud at where her husband was. She told me he was gone for the
evening. She kissed my cheek. I kissed her mouth. She took me to her room and
sat me down on her bed. I told her I thought she was beautiful. She laughed and
told me she knew.
I spent every day at
Kelly’s house. In the afternoons I would touch Kelly’s knees. In the evenings,
her mother would kiss my cheek. Her father continued to crack corny jokes.
One night, Kelly came
home early. She called for her mother as she ran up the stairs. She stood in
the doorway, holding her trophy. Her team had won their tournament. Shock dripped
down her face and onto her shirt. She ran out the room. I ran after her. She
screamed at me, raged contorted her face. Her blue eyes were ice. I tried to
calm her down. I tried to hold her. I tried to kiss her face. I tried to kiss
her lips with her mother’s lipstick still on my mouth. She pushed me away. She
threw her trophy at me. I left.
I looked at Kelly's
house from the lawn. I saw her mother standing in her bedroom window, looking
at me. She smiled.
Neither Kelly nor her
mother ever spoke to me again. As far as I know she never came back to the
driving range. I was fired about a week after Kelly threw her trophy at me. I
began work at a convenience store and starting dating a girl named Lena who
always kept her knees covered. When Lena took me to meet her parents, her
mother served mashed potatoes. She asked me how I liked them.
I told her I was allergic.
