Chapter 3

October 19th, 1983, 9.03 am

‘I have a day off,’ Marie said. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling her socks on. When they’d first woken earlier, they had made love again and then fallen back asleep.

‘I don’t,’ Conan said. ‘But I have a few hours before my next show.’

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s do something.’ Now she stood and retrieved her blouse, buttoning it up. ‘I’m famished.’

‘I don’t usually eat breakfast,’ Conan said.

‘I know.’ Marie grinned. It was rather disconcerting when someone else knew everything about you already, but Conan was going to have to get used to it. ‘Try a little something today, though?’

‘Maybe.’ Conan squinted at her. ‘Orange juice. Croissant. Easy-over eggs.’

She nodded. ‘Exactly right.’

They picked up some food for Marie and sat outside on the tailgate of Conan’s ‘82, watching their breath curl up in the chilly morning air. When he pulled out a cigarette and made to light it, she looked over.

‘You should beat that.’

‘I should beat a lot of things. One at a time, you know? Maybe I want to keep this monkey.’

‘Maybe you do,’ Marie said quietly. ‘I’ll just go over there until you’re done. It can’t be good for the baby.’

Conan’s stomach jerked.

‘What? What baby?’

‘Well, I assume, since it was the perfect time in my cycle last night... ‘

‘Shit, Marie. Fuck.’

She hit him on the shoulder lightly, and he turned to see her grinning.

‘Doofus! If you’d looked into my thoughts for just a second you could have seen I was joking. Last night was the perfect time in my cycle NOT to get pregnant.’

He looked at her evenly for a long moment and then chuckled.

‘You sure got me. I believed you completely.’

He wanted to ask if she really did want children, but he was too afraid for the answer--whether it was yes or no.

12.27 pm

They drove out to the country with the windows rolled down.

‘I really like your wheels,’ said Marie.

A few miles out of the city and the sky cleared. It was an unseasonably warm and pleasant day for October; the birds sang their happiness to the world.

There wasn’t a rush to find anywhere in particular.

Eventually they found a warm field with hay bales and spent some time climbing them like children, sliding down and laughing. Then they sat against one and ate.

‘You know, I think I have seen you before,’ Conan said. He was leaning against their hay bale with his arms behind his head, chin tipped up to the sky. The smoke from his cigarette curled lazily around his head.

Marie looked at him curiously, nibbling on a strawberry. She passed him the bottle of lemonade and said, ‘Where? I’ve never left my hometown really. How could we have met?’

Conan puffed, and then turned to look at her.

‘I remembered last night. When I was little, I had these vivid dreams about a girl called Emmie. We played in my sandbox together. She’d always steal my dump truck.’

Marie giggled.

‘I was adamant that she was real, but everyone told me she wasn’t. Eventually I dismissed it as childhood ramblings and imaginary friends.’

Marie sighed, mockingly serious. ‘You were never very generous with that dump truck.’

‘Why Emmie?’ Conan said.

‘Sandy used to call me that when she was a toddler. So I went around telling everyone it was my name until I was about eight or so.’

But Conan wasn’t fully listsning.

‘I saw you a few more times. Years apart. God, why all those years? I don’t get it.’ He drew on his cigarette. ‘It’s been ages since I saw you. Not since I was sixteen at least.’

Marie was watching him, not speaking.

‘I remember,’ she said softly, and began to colour.

‘The stars, the hill,’ he said huskily, remembering.

‘The sky was a dome of stars,’ Marie agreed. ‘And there we were, lying there on a blanket on a hot summer night under the stars.’

He looked over and met her eyes, and in them she saw the remembrance, the night, everything.

Marie had fallen into a half doze one night when she was nearly sixteen, her hands still between her legs. In her dozing dream a young man around her age had taken her hand, and they’d stumbled up a hill in the dark together, laughing, a folded blanket clutched in Marie’s other arm.

It was full dark by the time they’d reached the top, and they lay the blanket down in silence, awed by the clarity and number of the stars in the blue dark sky. They lay together, clasping hands and just looking up.

Both knew there was a reason they’d come up here.

He rolled toward her, and Marie followed suit. Facing each other. She trembled when he touched her face and his lips brushed against hers, a tentative question kiss. Gathering her courage, she kissed him back.

Soon they had opened their mouths to each other, simmering, tongues dancing. His hand had gently cupped her breast through her t-shirt for a while now, but it unhurriedly edged to the hem of her shirt, and he looked at her with a question.

Yes.

The hand disappeared first, to explore and appreciate her unconfined breasts, and then, together, they pulled the shirt off, and his too. Strong shoulders, a toned tummy, and smooth skin. Oh boy, she’d loved running her hands over his chest.

Meanwhile, his hands had been eagerly but carefully exploring her breasts. They were still kissing as his fingers softly caressed one plump, pink nipple. Marie moaned quietly into his mouth.

He sat up half way, breaking their locked lips, and captured the same nipple in his mouth. This time Marie moaned loudly, arching her back and pressing her breast to his face.

Everywhere he kissed, little tingles ran over her flesh. First her breasts, then her tummy. When his fingers looped under her jeans, Marie sat up, spooked.

‘I won’t hurt you,’ he murmured, kissing her mouth tenderly. ‘I just want to give you a little pleasure.’

Breathing deeply, Marie nodded and allowed her pants and underwear to be removed. There was quiet and no movement, and during the stillness she felt the strong urge to cover herself. Maybe there was something wrong with her down there. What on earth was taking him so long?!

Finally he spoke, huskily. ‘You’re so damn beautiful.’

Marie was surprised by this. She’d been sure he’d have something to criticize. Unlike many girls in her grade, she’d kept her curls down there. And she hadn’t seen what other peoples’ looked like, so she’d been unsure.