Hopelessly Peared

It was the beginning of their freshman year in college, out on the quad, under the pear tree where the table for aspiring thespians sat. He’d signed up for set design, maybe a little acting. When he turned around & saw her, he looked nervous. It was cute the way he couldn’t seem to find his words, then looked down &, seeing the pencil in his hands, offered it to her.

She had smiled at him, then leaned over to sign up for acting, though she was also willing to work on costumes & props. She could feel him blushing behind her & it made her smile.

After she had finished with the piece of paper & the two students at the table, she laid the pencil down & turned to him. “Hi, I’m Heather,” she had said, extending her hand.

“Why, I’m…, I’m…,” she had to chuckle even now as she remembered the sight of him forgetting his own name. It made her feel both warm & sad. Her eyes began to tear, though she had forbidden herself to cry.

He had let out a breath as though he’d been holding it forever, shook his head, took her hand & said, “I’m Corbin. It’s nice to meet you.”

They’d stood there for a moment, holding each other’s hand & staring…, then broke down together, convulsing with laughter.

The tension gone, they’d chatted for a while in the shade of that tree. He’d reached up, picked the nicest pear he could find within reach & had given it to her. “Well…, I gotta go,” he said, just as awkwardly as before & once again blushing. “See you later?”

“Sure,” she had answered, as much to herself as to him. She watched him as he half-ran, half-walked, half-jogged toward the dorm. Yes, he was clumsy, but he was also cute & sweet & made her feel…. There was more to him than she had seen, she was sure at least three halves’ worth, & she was intrigued by what those three halves might be.

She felt the pear in her hand, firm, ripe & without a blemish. She rubbed it against her blouse, then took a bite. It crunched, just like the apples she loved, not too juicy but sweet. She reached up & grabbed another, not quite as perfect, but nice.

~~~~~~~~~~

As she remembered looking at the two pears in her hands, she became sad again. A single tear began to form in the corner of her eye, on the verge of falling to her cheek.

She remembered how she’d wondered that day, walking back to her room, “Would they become a pair?”

~~~~~~~~~~

By homecoming it had appeared to be so. They were officially dating, loved each other’s company, laughed for hours together, & enjoyed whatever they did, even when it was nothing.

But something made her uneasy. It wasn’t just that he had never kissed her. There were times he seemed distant, in a place she couldn’t quite understand & didn’t know how to reach. She would ask him something, he wouldn’t respond, she would chide him, & he would become wounded & brood.

And then there was his thing with porn, which seemed odd given his resistance to having sex. He had told her that he rarely bought it himself. He looked for what others had thrown away & salvaged it. But when the garbage cans ran dry & the urge was on….

She had tried to put it out of her mind.

By late October she had decided to take the initiative. They’d already shared a lot with one another. She had told him of the different boys she had dated, generalities about what they were like in bed (never attaching a name to any specifics, of course, except for the ones who had become mean), including the boyfriend with whom she had not yet technically broken it off.

She had assumed he would have similar stories to tell, but he didn’t. He’d never been with a woman. He wasn’t even sure he’d been out on a date. Maybe a high school game or to see a movie with friends. Were those dates?

And he’d never been kissed!

Not that he was shocked by anything she told him. He hadn’t been. It was almost as though he expected everyone to have had sex by the time they were eighteen. Everyone, that is, except him.

That was going to have to change—at least the part about “sweet eighteen & never been kissed.”

Later that week, as he parked the car to drop her off, she had turned to him & asked, “Corbin, are you serious when you say that you’ve never been kissed?”

“Yes,” he had replied casually, though with a tenderness that suggested hope.

“I’m going to teach you how,” she had answered.

Corbin had looked directly into her eyes but said nothing.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if you kiss like a fish. Most boys do,” she had reassured him.

She had then invited him to sit closer. As he did, she wrapped her arms around him & drew him near. He seemed to melt in her arms. And then their lips had met.

She parted hers just slightly & flicked her tongue against his lips.

He responded in kind, then quickly flicked her tongue a few times, each time darting back between his lips as though extending an invitation.

“What the…? Where did that come from?” she had thought with a start. But she accepted the invitation &, for the next twenty minutes, they played a titillating game of cat & mouse.

Heather leaned back, their lips still perilously close, & asked, “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Reading,” was all he had answered.

They’d never talked about it again, but they kissed a lot after that.

Still, her gnawing sense of unease had persisted.

~~~~~~~~~~

He had met her family over Thanksgiving.

She had met his over Christmas.

This was going too fast! She had to slow it down. They were only freshmen, for crying out loud!

She had begun to recognize that look in his eyes—no, not the one guys usually had when they wanted sex—the one that said he wanted to get married. She had vowed not to return it, no matter what she was feeling, not for a long while.

And she had succeeded for over two years. She found a hundred different ways to deflect, divert & avoid the subject—& she could swear she had needed every one of them. But late in their junior year….

A romantic dinner overlooking the lake, a barbershop quartet in the gazebo (likely his friends), another friend offering a choice of chocolate cake, vanilla ice cream, or both—it was dangerously adorable.

And sure enough, when she had turned, there he was on one knee, holding out a ring he couldn’t possibly afford, with such a look of hope….

Her mind had gone blank. When her mouth opened, all that came out was, “No.”

The look on his face, frozen in that moment, with no idea what to say or do, a million thoughts flying through his head, none of them making any sense. She had sputtered something about not being ready, there was still another full year of college, then graduate school… nothing! He never moved & her heart was breaking.

So, she’d made him an offer. “We could move in together.” At that moment she had seen something change in him, something had been crushed & lost. Still, he had taken her hand, without meeting her eyes, & held her. She had felt him trembling, though he tried his best to hide it. His arms were tight & stiff, the fingers of his hands stretching out as though afraid to touch her.

The tears had rolled down her cheeks as she held him as tenderly as she could, but she was trembling, too. The five friends did their best to make themselves scarce without interrupting. After what seemed an eternity, he sighed, “Okay.”

There had been no heart left in his voice & she never saw the life in his eyes again.

They had walked a bit more that night, but the few things they said fell helplessly flat. Arm in arm but emotionally spent, he had said, “I best get you home.” And that was it. No more words except for a broken, “Goodnight.” Not even a kiss at the door.

She had gone inside & wept herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Within a few weeks they had found an apartment, signed the lease & moved in. She’d kept the things she needed & sent the rest home with her parents. They still kissed & had begun making love, which seemed to lift his spirits & give him hope. And it provided the distraction she needed to forget, if only for a little while, how badly she had hurt him.

And then she learned of Clarisse. He hadn’t mentioned her before. He’d had a crush on her back in high school. It didn’t matter that she had lied about her age as a sophomore & posed for a sleazy magazine. It didn’t matter that they had spent time together senior year, not dating (she was going with a boy named Seth), just watching a movie together or going to the lake. What had mattered, & still did, was that he had purchased five copies of the magazine with her photo spread.

And he still had them over three years later.

She had asked to see them. She & Clarisse looked nothing alike. Was this what he really wanted? Did he imagine he was kissing Clarisse when they were together, when they were making love? Was she just his booby prize? How could she ever trust him or believe anything he said again now that she knew this?

She had turned to some of her close friends, some of them guys, some of them his friends, seeking advice. Sometimes they talked for hours. Sometimes they just sat there holding her hand, holding her.

When she would return to the apartment, Corbin would be back in his office reading, watching tv or playing games on the computer. (At least that’s what she told herself he was doing.) She would have to go back to talk with him, only to receive vague one-word replies. She would get ready for bed, say goodnight, & ask him if he was coming. Sometimes he did. Sometimes they kissed & made love. Most nights he went out to the living room & fell asleep on the couch.

Senior year, three more for graduate work, another two for doctoral study before he dropped out, all of it spent drifting further apart.

She’d met Patrick in the doctoral program & they had become friends. Over time they became close. The first time they kissed was while they were both working on their dissertations. Three weeks later, she told Corbin she was done & moved out.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was now five years since the day she had left. It was snowing outside, the storm they’d been predicting for several days. She wondered how he was doing. She thought about the tree & the two pears they had picked. Funny, she couldn’t remember what she had done with them.

She’d asked Patrick to marry her last month. He’d said yes. They both had laughed & cried & kissed, drunk champagne & made love that night before falling asleep, content in one another’s arms. They were happy. She was happy.

But not tonight. Tonight, she would watch the snow, remember & wonder. “Did he ever love me?”