I think these hands have felt a lot
I don’t know, what have I touched
~ The Who
As promised, two weeks later, David and I escorted Lori, Nancy and Betty to that basketball game in Muskego. The amazing thing wasn’t the fact that the girls went with us; it was that my parents let me use their car. They must have figured it was safe because there were no railroad tracks on I-94 between Tremper High and Muskego.
The game was rather uneventful. Our female companions were wrapped up in conversation with some of their girlfriends that attended Muskego High School. That was okay; I don’t know about David, I was pleased to be in the company of all those pretty young ladies. That wasn’t something I wasn’t accustomed to.
The final score of the game escapes me. In fact, I don’t even recall who won the game. Tremper? Muskego? Who cared? It really wasn’t memorable to me. That’s probably because of what occurred during the ride home. Now, that was memorable. When the game ended, Lori and her friends bid farewell to their girlfriends from Muskego. It was time to head back to Kenosha.
The five of us headed for the Rebel. With me behind the wheel and David riding shotgun, the girls piled into the back. Damn, I had hoped Lori would have sat up front with me. Coming to my senses, I told myself to shut up, I had three “women” in the car with me. What could be better than that?
A short time later I found out that something could be better. Much better.
* * * * *
As we headed south down the interstate to Kenosha, the girls started babbling about being able to read palms. David and I glanced at each other and exchanged skeptical glances. When the palm reading discussion from the back seat got to be a bit unbelievable, I gave in and asked, “C’mon, you don’t really expect us to believe that any of you can read palms, do you?”
In unison, the girls proclaimed enthusiastically, “We sure can! David and I looked at each other, this time with a “What the heck?” look on our faces. With a quick look over my shoulder, I told the trio of aspiring palmists to give us their best shot. In between giggles, Lori and her friends instructed each of us to let them have a hand to analyze. Because I was driving, it was awkward for me, but I somehow managed, as did David. Lori, Nancy and Betty then proceeded to “read” our palms.
Never having had my palm read before, I was taking aback at the method being used. I assumed they would simply examine the lines on the inside of hand or, at the very most, trace the lines with one of their fingers. Nope. That was not the technique being used that evening. And I had no complaints.
Evidently the process the girls were using required our palms to be placed on their breasts and moved about in a circular motion. Apparently it was also necessary for the palm being read to periodically be moved to a different breast. The palm reading/massage session continued for a good portion of the trip home. Palmistry was clearly much more involved than I had ever anticipated.
The surprising part about having your palm read in this style is that you are never actually told what is being read. The only verbal communication was continual giggling with an occasional moan thrown in for good measure.
Time for another full disclosure. If I had known this is how palms were read, I would have had it done years ago.
* * * * *
By the time we got back to Kenosha, our palms had been sufficiently read. Lori leaned into the front seat and told me that we should drop Betty off first. I thought this was odd since I had picked up all three of them at Lori’s house. Oh well. After doing so, Lori made another request, “Why don’t you guys come over to my house?” Then she added the kicker, “My folks are out of town.”
Gulp.
Wow, now I realized why Lori wanted me to “get rid of Betty.” She was the proverbial fifth wheel. A million things were now going on in my head. And in other places. An opportunity like this had never been presented itself to me during my young life. When I took a quick look to my right, my friend David was grinning from ear to ear.
I too was grinning, but it was more of a nervous smile. A very nervous smile. It was now clear to me why Lori had me drop Betty off before we got to her house. Four is an even number. Two guys and two girls. Two couples, if you will. My seventeen-year-old mind was rapidly putting two and two together. These young ladies obviously wanted to take “palm reading” to the next level. A part of me was excited.
However, there was another part that was kind of scared. What was I going to do?
Lori broke my train of thought with a cheery, “Well, what do you think?” Nancy chimed in, “C’mon, you guys. We’ll have fun!” Before I could say anything, David said, “Sounds good to me!” Sure, I thought to myself, David wasn’t super-sized and racked with tons of Catholic guilt.
Easy for him to say that it sounds good, he wasn’t the target of that vicious locker room ordeal I had endured a few years ago. However, even with all of that in mind, I must admit, it still sounded pretty good to me. So…
“I would love to, but the car is low on gas, so we better just drop you guys off.”
Yes, that is what I actually said. What the hell was I thinking? Even if the gas was low, which it wasn’t, what was the difference if we spent some time with Lori and Nancy? It wasn’t like the car would be running while we were “visiting.”
I don’t know who was more disappointed with my rash decision, David or our female friends. After the disenchanted young ladies exited my car, I soon found out that David wasn’t disappointed. No. He was pissed. And in a major way.
I think it was “What the fuck is wrong with you?!?” that gave it away. I muttered some lame excuse, but he would have nothing of it. The last thing I heard was a sarcastic, “Take me home before you run out of gas.” That and the steam hissing out of his ears let me know how my friend felt.
Things were never the same between David and I. He always held it against me. Evidently a blown conquest trumped our friendship. That’s okay. A few years after we graduated he allegedly got some girl pregnant and unceremoniously skipped town and left the young lady and her child to fend for themselves.
I lost track of him until he returned to Kenosha for an unsuccessful run for a local political office. Ironically, he was a far right wing über conservative. Obviously me and my former friend were very different. For the most part, I am very glad of that. However, to this day I regret the decision I made.
It would have been interesting to see what would have happened. Unfortunately, the ugly memories of my junior locker room experience were still embedded in my mind. Undoubtedly, those memories left an impression on me that would make fitting in very challenging in this amazing journey called life.
