It was the summer of ’41, I recall, when in the laziness of summer we relished in each other, too foolish to know when exactly the world would fall apart. It was then when Jack and I made ourselves known. In those fleeting, hot days, I held him in my hand. Before the madness of it all, in our parched throats we held the solution to all of man’s greatest woes. It was a time when I lost my innocence. Pure, unadulterated, lovely innocence, which I had retained since childhood, due to my mother, who considered it best not to talk of such subjects, just to discreetly slip a few feminine hygiene products underneath the door, and be done with it. It is not to say that I did not know of that particular intimate act engaged between man and wife, I just didn’t know the particulars, just vulgar suggestions overheard from my brother’s friends. I believe that there comes a point of time in a woman’s life …show more content…
For I died, in that summer, however blissful and unencumbered I was. Jack was was the type of man who seemed a touch cruel, but I thought I knew what hid underneath that thin facade. He brought me to the deepest grief, and others to the deepest hatred. I think it was something in the way he held himself, or the way he talked. Or maybe even the way he smiled. There was a peculiar levity in that smile, yet so much lingering depravity, as if he felt he needed to act like a wine-drunk fool. Something that I wished desperately to fix, so that I might please him, and, in due course, please myself. With all of the shadow deep within him, I felt drawn to his presence, and drawn to submit. He was a good lover, despite all of his flaws. I know now, and I knew then, there is no way to fix someone’s soul. He was a proud man, but he loved me. He loved me. To the man that seems like a callous soul to most, there is reasoning behind his sharp words and sad disposition. I knew he was a good person. That, I still