Chapter 1: Four Senses

Heather

Flip–flock, flip–flock

The windshield wipers are once again dancing to their monotonous beat in this heavy downpour; oddly enough, it’s keeping time with the music on the radio.

Flip–flock, flip–flock

I’ve been driving in and out of summer rain squalls since I left my downtown Chicago apartment two hours ago. The last three weeks have been hot and dry, and, of course, the day I plan to make my long drive home, Mother Nature decides to over-hydrate her parched earth – go figure. Oh well, most of the traveling is behind me, and I’m almost to the small town where I grew up.

Flip–flock, flip–flock

Mom and Dad will be happy to see me; they’re always saying I don’t come home often enough. I think I do, but according to them, I don’t. I’m sure I’ll understand one day when I have grown kids of my own.

One day, pfft, I scoff to myself. My one day was sure pushed back when I signed the divorce papers. Don’t get me wrong, it was very much needed for my sanity. But if you asked me that after a year and a half, I would still be a single woman, not to mention a woman who probably regained her lost virginity, I would have laughed in your face. Well, go ahead and laugh in my face because it’s true. It’s been a long time without a man, way too long. A woman has her needs, and there’s only so much my fingers and toys can satisfy!

Stop being so hard on yourself, Heather, I remind myself. You never were a jump-in-the-sack/one-night-stand, kinda girl. An opportunity will come along. Just be smart and not force it. As you can see, I’m really good at dishing out advice to myself, but that doesn’t do much for my aching sex drive.

Flip–flock, flip–flock

A grin forms on my face. I can’t help but snicker every time I pass under my hometown’s welcome sign that spans across Main Street.

Welcome to Standale

Home of Michigan’s First Lumber Store – Big Woody’s

It was a Memorial Day weekend tradition for high school pranksters to climb up and paint over the apostrophe in “Woody’s,” making it say “Big Woodys” as an amusing reference to erect penises. It appears that tradition is still alive and well. Woody’s apostrophe has definitely been recently painted over.

I’ll never forget how, in 10th grade, my best friend Josh and I lost a bet and were tasked with the deed of humorous vandalism. I was so scared climbing up that ladder in the middle of the night, scared we would get caught, scared I would dump paint all over myself, but Josh had my back and made sure everything went off without a hitch.

Speaking of bets, town folk used to have running bets on how long it would take city officials to notice and repaint the apostrophe; that was until the 73-year-old man Meryl, the town’s barber, cheated. He wagered it would last three weeks, and when three weeks came due, he anonymously notified the Standale Public Works signage crew about it. Everyone knows it’s impossible to keep secrets in a small town, and when word eventually got out, folks weren’t too happy. The old farts in the coffee shop berated Meryl to make good and repay his ill-gained winnings, which he begrudgingly did.

Pulling into the driveway at Mom and Dad’s, I realize I forgot to bring my house key, and they’re both at work - well damn! I suppose I could call one of them to come let me in, but I hate to be a bother; I’ll just go back to Main Street and have a long lunch at Lorna’s Grill. Besides, I have my laptop computer with me, and I can get a few work tasks caught up to pass the time. At the very least, the rain is letting up.

Ah, Lorna’s - my first job was waitressing at this dive. Outdated décor aside, it really is the most popular burger and beer joint in the area. On weekend nights, I made a killing in tips. It’s funny how much better the food tastes when you’re no longer on the payroll. This beer is hitting the spot, too, maybe because a good summer rain always leaves the air so hot and humid.

Occupied with catching up on work emails and spreadsheets, I didn’t even notice a visitor standing at my table. At first, all I see is the pelvic region of this slender, jean-clad guy patiently waiting for me. A perverted thought flashes in my brain, damn, dude, those jeans sure fit you nicely! I’ll bet you have one mighty fine package behind that zipper— Okay, knock it off! I mentally scold myself. Earth to Heather! My brain resets to some semblance of propriety so I can look up to see if the rest of this man is as sexy as—

“Heather? It is you!”

“Josh! Oh my god!” I jump up and give my old pal a big hug. “It’s so good to see you!” Without hesitation, I invite him to join me. It’s been years since we last saw each other, and we have some much-needed catching up to do.

Josh and I were the closest of friends going way back when he first moved here in the 5th grade and on through high school. Even though we were close friends, for some reason, we never explored anything more. We were always just that - friends. I would imagine he thought about the possibility of more between us. I know I sure as hell did on many occasions. Josh was always easy on my eyes.