We Fly Too Close

We Fly Too Close

She was a Mexican girl from California. I met her at Monticello College in Alton, Illinois. Monticello was a private two-year girls school, of which there were several around St. Louis in the late sixties/early seventies. The girls at that College were typically upper middle-class, but this girl was different. She was of modest means and quite intelligent. When I asked her what her father did for a living, she said he was “in the construction business”; kind-of left me wondering whether he was a well-to-do contractor or a carpenter. But I knew the type (Mexican girl) very well, because I was a Mexican boy from South Texas. I was far away from home and family and glad to meet up with a fellow Chicano; we were Chicano before the media and government designated us “Hispanic”. She gave me tenderness and comfort when I was far from home and I regret that I may have disappointed her. We flew too close!

She was five-foot-two or so and slightly plump (llenita as Chicanos say) with short thick black hair; round face, dark brown eyes, and luscious lips that often illuminated a bright Mayan smile. She had cinnamon colored skin that was sooooooo soft. She wasn’t a classic beauty by American standards, but there is something about “las morenitas” that I have always liked. I think it is that Spanish/Indian chemistry that has created so many “Hispanics” (La Raza).

She had such a pleasant easygoing manner, unassuming and gentle in nature; soft-spoken, but with an air of confidence and independence. I was a quiet kind-of guy, with some difficulty in striking up a good conversation, but with her….. I had no difficulties. Perhaps she shared things with me and I listened or maybe we felt comfortable not speaking..….. Probably a little of both, regardless…….it was easy being with her.

I had a 1962 Ford Falcon station wagon, it was brown or rust colored, maybe it was that color from all the rust on the body…I don’t remember, but it got me around. I usually went to see her on Saturdays and Sundays; it was about an hours drive from St. Louis. I probably wasn’t a very good date because I never had any money, but she didn’t seem to mind. Consequently we just meandered around the campus…”groovin” as they used to say in the 60’s. Occasionally we would spend some time in the back seat of my Ford Falcon. We would get out of the cold, talk some, eat munchies, etc. Of course we sometimes got around to kissing a little. She had such a delicious kiss. Unfortunately, I have thin lips; consequently I am not very good at kissing….so she taught me about peaches. She said: when you kiss, just mouth the word………….. . P-E-A-C-H-E-S. You’ll see that your lips pucker “J-u-s-t R-i-g-h-t”. So I did…and they did…so we kissed a lot. I still like peaches and I indulge every chance I get.

We did do other things on occasion. I remember one particular cold winter evening we went to a party. I met her there and was impressed that she dressed so nicely. Not that she didn’t normally dress well, but customarily she was very casual with jeans and sweatshirts and no make-up. But this evening she wore a black pant-suit with a silky white blouse. Her hair was styled nicely and with just the right amount of make-up. We danced, drank beer, and had a good time. Eventually late in the evening we found our way to my Ford Falcon.

It was late February or March and still quite cold in St. Louis, but we managed to stay warm with personal body heat and a few juicy peaches. We reclined in the back seat and were quite comfortable; back seats in cars were much better back then. Her kisses were so sweet, her cheeks so warm and soft, the nape of her neck had such a tender feeling and her outfit so soft and silky. I discreetly unbuttoned her blouse and tried to unclasp her bra, but I was having some difficulty. She laughed, and with a cute sexy pout, she reached back and swiftly unclasped her bra. I moved her bra out of the way and revealed the most gorgeous bosom.I could go on describing that beautiful site, but for now I will say it was “indescribably delicious”. After a while she kind-of giggled in a devilish manner, and said: “look what you are doing to the windows”. I looked up and the whole interiors of windows were fogged-up and dripping condensation; it was freezing outside but “hot and humid” inside. She arched her back, stretched out and with her left hand traced a heart on the window with her initials; it was quite a vision. I reached over her and traced my initials inside the heart also and settled down to the most comfortable position two human beings could engage in…or at least in the back of a Ford Falcon. I rested my head on her chest and was nestled in her lovely breast. I could smell her sweet perfume, felt the lingering taste of her kisses mixed with the salty taste of her perspiration, I caressed her warm/wet skin with my cheek, and listened to the rhythmic beating of her heart. Her legs were wrapped around my midriff and her arms softly hugging my head while gently stroking my hair. We didn’t go much further in terms of physical contact because she was so skilled at controlling my advances, but what we experienced was extraordinary ……it was almost like a spiritual union. She must have felt the same thing…. Because after a few minutes, she put her lips to my ear and whispered softly………….I love you.

Being the typical 20 year old male, I was surprised to hear those words. I was startled and had a reflex action that was quite surprising; to me and surely to her: I
jerked up my torso and I supported myself on my hands and looked down at her for a moment, she also looked up at me with a surprised expression. Once I realized what I had done, I laid back down and didn’t say anything. She embraced me with a certain degree of tenderness and reassurance by hugging me, like a little girl would hug her teddy bear. My memory fails me from that moment and don’t recall the rest of the evening. What I do recall is that I never saw her again, I never called her, and our paths never again crossed. Her gentle embrace is my last recollection of this sweet girl from California.

Some months later I was in a vehicle with some friends and another girl from Monticello. I don’t recall circumstances of our gathering, but this girl turned to me and asked: why haven’t you called her?….I didn’t have an answer and remained quiet, but my "friend" from school, who was a crude insensitive 20 year old from New Jersey said: It’s cause she’s ugly!!!! Those words felt like a dagger through my shallow heart and pissed me off …..but I remained quiet. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t called her.

There could have been several reasons for my behavior: perhaps she wasn’t pretty enough, perhaps I was concerned with commitment, perhaps I was concerned with the complexities associated with a relationship…..some, or all, of these could have contributed to my poor behavior, but I know the real reason: I was freighted by the closeness.

When God appeared to Moses on Mt. Sinai in the form of light, Moses had to hide his face; He couldn’t bear to be exposed or to look at the purity of God’s spirit. This girl and I inadvertently became very close, in spirit, and when she whispered those beautiful words, I had to hide my face; I couldn’t bear to be exposed to the purity and sincerity of our mutual feelings. Moses accepted the commitment from God, but I was a coward and avoided the light.

It pains me to think that she may have waited for my call, it pains me to think that she may have thought she was unattractive, it pains me to think that she may have cried at night wondering what happened; I hope I am being presumptuous. Sometimes we just fly too close and some of us become frightened with the closeness of a midair-collision. The closeness is so marvelous and the escape such a waste, the thought of what might-have-been brings tears to my eyes 37 years later.

But not all was in vain, there were lessons to be learned and characters to improve; I think I learned about love that night. Only a handful of persons have told me they love me. I can count them on the fingers of one hand: my index finger (the first), my middle finger (the elusive one), my wedding finger (my everlasting love), and my pinky (La Chiquita). All have received my love, except the first…..The Mexican Girl from California.