Oh, my goodness, dry skin like I've never had before. Itchy and harsh to the touch. It may have come on gradually, but I noticed it all at once and began worrying. I've never had this condition before. What organ is failing? Where's the malignancy? How long do I have to live?
Out came the notebook computer, and I consulted Dr. Mirkin, Mayo Clinic, Web MD... this could be a thyroid condition maybe. What if my hair starts falling out? Or it could be allergies to my beloved dogs. What if I have to give up my dogs?
Better go talk to a flesh-and-blood physician. And Dr. Pringle takes all the fun out of it. "You're 54 years old. This happens. Buy some lotion. Any ordinary stuff will do. If you turn red, try one without perfume."
At least I get to go shopping. I like Rite Aid. It smells good in there. Candy, cosmetics, magazines make an interesting mix. Almost like Sprouse Ritz from the childhood days, except there is way more light. I found the lotion aisle, almost a city block of choices. Six different labels in the Jergens brand alone. I chose the Original Cherry Almond. An aunt used that one, I think, so it must be good.
After my bath the next morning, I applied as directed. And something happened. A memory.
I was 17 years old. I was dating a guy my parents didn't like very much. He was 20 years old and in the Navy. I met him through my friend, Pam, who was a bit on the loose side. She was finished with him and onto the next one. Tiny and vivacious, with huge brown eyes, Pam could get any guy she wanted, it seemed to me. I would ride along with her and watch her flirt and attract. I felt like I was invisible next to her.
But Troy liked me, and he took me out a few times. He came to my house for dinner and hung around. He was happy to be around my family, and he was one guest who didn't get intimidated by my mother's intoxicated tirades. He'd just shrug his shoulders and say let's go somewhere else now.
He came from Southern California, the San Gabriel Valley, to be specific. He thought of himself as a hippie, complained about the military order (even though he volunteered), and got written up for haircuts once in awhile. Best of all, he was nice-looking, could buy beer, and wanted to be with me. We fell in love, or something like it.
Troy and I were both broken. My family life was hellish with my mother in a sauced borderline personality mode and my father working late. His mother was a barfly and living with her 9th mate (married or unmarried, Troy wasn't sure). She tended to take in the alcoholic and the violent. The boy grew up knowing how many wine bottles could be on the porch before it was necessary to stay at a friend's house, and which neighbor would give him a bowl of cereal on the way to school.
Oh, the sweetness of teenage kisses and cuddling in uncomfortable places. In his 1958 Chevy, in my parents' living room. No real privacy for exploring each other the way young people are so compelled. But what joyful moments we had. I was his and he was mine and we were wrapped in each other. So simple.
But Mom raged on and Dad steered clear and I had graduated high school. Troy got orders for China Lake, California. Leaving me alone with Mom, and no idea of what independence was. That kind of upbringing does not produce a college student or even a convenience store cashier.
Troy had given me his news over the phone. I cried and cried. He said he'd come get me in two hours and we'd spend some time together. I waited by the window as the day became dark, quietly so Mom would forget about monitoring me. Troy pulled up to the curb and motioned for me to come out and get in the car. And we drove away, somewhere. I didn't care, really. I cried, I lamented, and worried, while he drove the car outside of town and past Heart Lake. There he took a trail into the woods and parked.
"Come with me," he said, holding a big flashlight. We were alone. It was quiet and safe here. I stopped crying.
I remember the month was June, and it was a warm night. I remember the big canvas tent, and Troy lighting the Coleman lantern. The canvas was musty and the sleeping bags a bit moldy smelling. And something else.
"When I got this stuff from Ron's house I noticed it was kinda smelly, so I stopped by the head shop and got some essential oil. I sprinkled it around some so you wouldn't notice as much."
Cherry almond.
Unforgettable.
