A Well-Lived Life - Book 1 - BirgitChapter 7: Setting The Course Of My Life free porn video
June 1977
Friday ended up being a non-event. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that there was no way on this earth I could say what happened between Birgit and me was a sin. Calling it a sin would debase it into a meaningless act. I could never do that.
And the more I thought about Jennie McGrath, the more sure I was that I couldn’t call what she did for me a sin, either. If the church was right, I was going to hell. And frankly, there was no way that could be true. So I simply omitted that from confession.
I decided that as soon as I could get away with it, I was done with church. My thinking was diverging on so many topics, that I couldn’t reconcile everything. But for the time being, I had to go through the motions.
Late on Saturday morning, Larry’s mom picked me up and we were off to his grandfather’s house. His grandfather lived on the other side of Cincinnati in Colerain Township. It took about 45 minutes to get there. Larry and I talked about Birgit, chess, and other mundane stuff. He had written Birgit a letter just as I had. We were both waiting for an answer. We figured it would take about two weeks round trip.
We pulled into a long curving driveway in front of a huge house. This was Larry’s mom’s dad’s house. She was Italian. Her brother was a veterinarian and her sister was the receptionist in his office. Her brother, Joe, was married and had a couple of kids - both girls who were our age. Her sister Alicia also was married and had two girls around our age. That meant 4 girls, ages 12 to 16. I figured this would be fun. No competition at all, because I was the only one who wasn’t a blood relative in the right age group.
We got out of the car and went to the backyard. We were the last ones to arrive. I spied four olive-skinned girls with long dark hair. They were lounging by the pool wearing modest one-piece bathing suits. I had my trunks on under the shorts I was wearing, and I looked forward to swimming with them. I had learned to swim when I was five and was like a fish in the water. Sitting on the other side of the pool, dressed in suits, were three old Italian guys. One of them was clearly Joe Grossi, Sr., Larry’s grandfather. Joe Jr., Alicia, and their spouses sat at a table next to the old guys, but were dressed in casual attire.
Larry introduced me to the girls - Connie, Sarah, Mary, and Joyce. A chorus of “Hi, Steve!” came from the girls and they all giggled, a good sign, in my book. Larry took me around to the other side of the pool, introduced his Aunt and Uncle, and then to his grandfather. His grandfather said, with an Italian accent, “These two Mustache Pete’s are Don Antonio and Don Carlo. Call me Don Joseph.”
My dad had taken me to see The Godfather when it had come out five years earlier. I was only nine, but he had no concerns with me seeing the movie. When the introductions were made, my mind went right to Don Vito Corleone. I didn’t have any clue about whether or not it was the case, but it sure sounded like the movie. And, even if it were true, it didn’t matter. I thanked Mr. Grossi for the invitation and then headed over by the girls.
About twenty minutes later, Larry’s grandmother called us all to eat. Larry arranged it so I had two girls on either side of me. What a friend! Sarah, who was sixteen, was on my right, and Joyce, who was fifteen, was on my left. The other two, twelve and thirteen were next to them. Life was grand. Lunch was grand as well - Italian cooking is the best, and boy did his grandma know how to cook. I was stuffed. When seven women are encouraging you to eat, it’s hard to stop!
After lunch, the men lit up cigars and were chatting in Italian. The girls went to deck chairs and were sunning themselves. Larry and I sat on the steps in the low end of the pool and I watched the girls. I suspected they lived on this side of town, so seeing them regularly would be tough. My driver’s license was two years away, and then I’d need a car. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me from flirting.
I pushed off the steps and swam into the deep end near the girls. They weren’t looking and I splashed all of them at once. This was met with shrieks of outrage and threats of revenge.
“Bring it on!” I goaded them.
The girls jumped into the water at the same time and I was terribly outnumbered. Larry just sat and watched, the traitor! The girls were swimming around me, splashing me. I splashed back and got to where I could stand. The girls decided to try to dunk me. This was perfect! Arms, hair, legs - everything was flailing. Defending myself I copped a feel of some well-developed breasts - certainly one of the two older girls. More shrieking ensued until Larry’s grandma came to see what was happening. The melee broke up much to the amusement of the older men.
I got out of the pool and toweled off. I sat down just as the men got up and walked across the lawn. Larry’s grandpa called to him, “Come play bocce with us.”
Larry looked at me and said in a low voice “I hate this game.”
I had learned to play bocce when we had lived in California. One of my dad’s friends had a bocce setup and I played all the time from ages five to nine. I’d only played occasionally since then.
“Larry, I love bocce. Think they would let me play instead?”
“Maybe,” he replied, then spoke to his grandfather, “Grandpa, Steve could play if you wanted.”
“Him?” Don Joseph asked gruffly. “Well, I suppose.”
I got up and joined them. Don Antonio threw the jack ball. Don Joseph handed me a ball. I smiled, took my position, and tossed the ball. It landed, bounced twice, and stopped about an inch from the jack. The three men looked at me oddly.
“I’ve played since I was five,” I said confidently, causing them all to start laughing.
We played for about ninety minutes, and no matter which older man I was teamed up with, my team won all but two rounds. When they were done, they drank sherry. They offered me some and Larry whispered I had to take it or they’d think I was rude. I had always been allowed to sip my dad’s drinks, so alcohol wasn’t totally foreign to me. Fortunately, they served me only a tiny amount. They all held up their glasses and said, “«Salute!»” I repeated the word then drank with them.
I went back to flirting with the girls, but wasn’t making a lot of headway. They were flirting back, but I was getting the impression they weren’t interested in anything beyond verbal sparring. I was OK with that and it was fun just chatting with them. We talked until it was time to leave. Larry came by and said his mom was ready to go, I bid the girls goodbye, said I hoped to see them again, and then went over to Larry’s grandfather. He stood up, thanked me for playing bocce, and said if I ever needed a favor, I could ask him anytime. That sounded a lot like the conversations that Vito Corleone had. That made it ominous, but exciting.
On Sunday, Larry and I were in Mass as altar boys. Guitar Mass again. Jennie McGrath was there, sitting a few rows back with her friend. She smiled at me, tilted her head towards the guy, and gave a brief nod. Alright, Jennie! It looked like he finally wised up and asked her out! After Mass, Larry pulled me aside and said his grandfather called him last night and wanted to know if I wanted a job.
“I’m only fourteen!” I protested.
“Yeah, but if the school gives you a letter, you can do some jobs. He has a deli in Milford where you could work. You know, sweeping floors, making deliveries on your bike, that kind of stuff.”
“Why me?”
“Because you beat him at bocce!” he laughed.
“Well, if my mom is OK with it, I’ll do it.”
“Cool.”
I told Mom on the way home and she said she’d talk to Larry’s mom, talk to his grandfather, and then check out the deli. I knew she’d be fine with it in the end because there was a strong work ethic in her family and having a job to her meant I’d be learning self-discipline and how to handle responsibility. I didn’t care why she said ‘yes’. I just wanted her to say ‘yes’.
I had an ulterior motive as well. If I could save enough money, I was going to buy a ticket to Stockholm! At this point, it was just a pipe dream, but a goal worth working towards. Convincing Mom and Dad would be a chore, but if I earned the money, my dad would probably be OK with it. He could afford to send me, but earning the money would gain respect. His respect might even help convince my mom, too.
I had a couple of weeks before Summer camp started. I figured I’d hang with Larry, play street baseball with the gang, play a bit of D&D with Kevin, and otherwise just have fun. Of course, mom would want me to do chores. I still had to go talk to the man who ran the deli for Don Joseph. I’d start after I came back from camp, assuming mom approved. She had talked to Larry’s mom Sunday night and I felt confident things would go well.
On Monday mom proved me right. She handed me a list of things to do - so much for relaxing during vacation! I set about doing the chores because arguing wouldn’t help. Of course, Jeff’s friends arrived and they messed around while I worked. Typical. He was only 2 years younger. I could understand Stephanie not having chores, but Jeff was 12. This was just my mom being herself. Fine. Everything else was good, I wasn’t going to let her get me down.
While I was vacuuming, the phone rang. Larry wanted to get together. His mom could bring him after dinner and we could play chess for several hours. She’d drop him off at 6:00pm and pick him up at 10:00pm. I asked Mom and she was OK with it. Not back-talking paid off today. Just as I hung up, the phone rang again. It was Jennifer. Same question - did I want to play chess? I told her Larry was coming by later and she said she could come as well. I asked Mom, and to my surprise, got another ‘yes’. I told Jennifer I’d see her at 6:00pm as well. I got all the chores done by mid-afternoon and plopped down in front of the TV to watch The Flintstones and Speed Racer. Stephanie sat beside me on the couch, not saying anything. We got along, so I didn’t mind the company.
After dinner, I helped with the dishes. At least Jeff had to help with those, but he always tried to find some way to annoy me while doing it. I ignored him this time. I wasn’t taking any chances. I asked Mom where Larry, Jennifer, and I should play so we weren’t in the way (meaning Jeff couldn’t cause trouble). She gave permission to use the Living Room, which was usually off-limits to the kids. Jeff gave me a dirty look because he knew he couldn’t come into the room. I ignored him again. That seemed to be the right tactic, and was meeting with success.
Given my temper, I wasn’t sure I could keep control. That was my weakness - a bad temper if I let it get away from me - and Jeff knew it. He knew just how to get my goat enough for me to lose my temper and end up being the one in trouble. But as I said, I was figuring this out. I wish I had figured this out a few years ago. Well, no time like the present, as they say.
Larry and Jennifer both showed up right at 6:00pm. I grabbed the chess set, a couple of books and we went to the living room. There was a sliding door that I pulled most of the way shut. That limited any interruptions, but being partly open, fended off any concern by my parents that something they wouldn’t like was going on. They didn’t know Jennifer, but I guess Larry being there put them at ease, because they never came to check on us.
We worked out a system for the evening. Jennifer and I would play, and Larry would discuss moves. He was good at kibitzing without directing the game. Just describing the positions that resulted and their strengths and weaknesses. The three of us were hitting it off. It was only a short time, but it seemed to me that a new trio was forming.
Jennifer wasn’t replacing Birgit, but creating a new trio based on chess. Another difference, as far as I knew and could tell, was that it was purely platonic. Oh sure, there was teasing and gentle flirting with Jennifer, but that was becoming standard fare for me. I didn’t mean anything by it and she didn’t appear to, either.
Their moms arrived just before 10:00pm to pick them up. Jennifer suggested we get together again and I said, “Just call. I’ll be here the rest of the week, but then I’m going to camp for two weeks, like I do every Summer.”
“Me too!” Jennifer exclaimed. “What camp?”
“Marydale, over in Kentucky.”
“No kidding?” she asked. “That’s where I’m going.”
I had been to Marydale four years in a row and didn’t remember seeing her at the camp mixers. But there were 200 girls and 200 boys at the camp, so I suppose that was possible. Then it dawned on me.
“Do you usually go to this session?”
“No, I usually go for the last one of the Summer. We’re going to Florida this year.”
Larry was laughing “Well, have fun, you two.”
We didn’t have a chance to get together again that week. I managed to play a bit of baseball, talked to Larry a couple of times on the phone, and had a brief call with Jennie. She had her first date on Friday. I wished her luck. Friday brought my own joy - the mailman brought a letter from Birgit.
I didn’t even take the rest of the mail from the box. I quickly opened the letter. I read every word twice. She was happy to be home, but missed me, her host family, and Larry as well. She was spending time with her friends, mostly going to the park, a coffee shop, and doing some sailing in the archipelago. It was signed ‘Love, Birgit’. I grabbed the rest of the mail and went to my room to write a reply before I left for camp. The timing was about right. The answer would come right around the time I came home from camp.
Friday was also the day to head to the deli. I decided to ride my bike, because it wasn’t too far. I pedaled there, parked my bike next to the shop, and went in. There were a few people at tables, and a few people at the counter. I was looking for Andreas who managed the Deli for the Grossis. He was behind the counter. He finished preparing an order and then asked if I was Steve. I told him I was and he took me to a small office.
“Don Joseph says you’re a good kid. Your mom said you can start in two weeks. She’ll have the work permit from the school ready when you come on your first day. During the school year, I’ll need you on Saturday all day, on Sunday afternoons occasionally, and sometimes during the week. Except for when we have a catering gig, I can be flexible about which day during the week. You’ll do a lot of stocking the display cases, shelves, sweeping floors, making deliveries, and stuff like that. You have a decent bike, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Great. I’ll have an apron for you with your name on it when you start. See you in two weeks.”
Little did I know what I was actually getting into.
I pedaled home for dinner, and some news. Dad announced that he had bought some property and we were moving as soon as the house was built. He’d already made the arrangements with a builder and he’d had an architect draw up plans. It would take about two months to build. We’d move right around the time school started.
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