Epilogue

And even all these years later, Ronnie and I were still happy. She was not such a stickler on her faith that she resisted birth control. And although she was one of the ultimate rare things of being a virgin when we stood in front of the congregation and exchanged vows, that was only technically.

And we did compromise on three kids, a boy and two girls. My grandfather did make it to the wedding, but died the next year. And a few years later my dad retired, then moved to Oregon so he could help his mother. Finally selling the house after she died, a few years after she held her first great-grandchild, my son.

I had put in a few searches over the years, one advantage of working for a newspaper. Asking to be alerted if any article came up with Kimberly or Patricia mentioned. And early on when the Internet became a thing I did try searching them a few times. But the only mention I ever saw was Patty’s entry into a database of her graduating class. Where she listed that she was married, and lived in Missouri. I wrote a message to her on it, but I do not think she ever even logged into that account again. The last update is now over fifteen years old.

I looked out towards the woods, hearing the rain on the roof of the car and lost in memories. The last time I had been in them was that trip after Kim had moved. I went to the tree house, the one my tomboy and I had spent so much time in. But the bottom step had new initials written on it so I knew it was not ours anymore.

I wondered if it was still there. If the houses at the end of the street had cut off all access and kids no longer played in them during the summer. Now more interested in playing their video games inside instead of playing in nature outside. And I wondered if new tomgirls would enjoy the woods, playing in them and experiencing their firsts in tree houses like Kim and I had made.

Or even if it even still existed. It was always possible it had fallen into disrepair as many of them had down in the woods had over the years. Rotting and unsafe until some storm would bring them crashing down. I thought briefly of going into the woods, to see if it even still existed.

But I smiled, and instead started the car. Turning around one last time at the end of the street. The woods so close I could almost touch them, but knowing they were forever out of reach. And drove back to the highway, turning in the opposite direction. Driving back to my father’s apartment. Where my wife was waiting. And my dad was likely playing with his grandchildren.