Secret Lovers

I was in our home office one evening last summer after watching a fireworks display with Chris and the boys from our backyard. Our house sits on a corner lot across the street from a park where celebratory fireworks are usually launched. The holiday doesn't matter for this story. It could have been July 4th, Pioneer Day, or our "Small Town Days" annual celebration.

It was about 9:30 PM, the office was dark and I had entered quietly so I wouldn't wake Toddler Child who was asleep in his room above the office. I wanted to check email before getting ready for bed myself. The office has two interior french doors and one french door that opens to the exterior with a full length window next to it. There's a small porch off the office and the door and window provide a clear view of the street in front of our home. On this evening, the street was full of cars. People had parked in any available space in the neighborhood and walked to the park to watch the fireworks.

I hadn't turned on any lights when I noticed a small white car in front of our house with two girls sitting on the hood, leaning back on the front windshield. They didn't see me. Voyeuristically, I chose to move closer to the window, hiding myself, but watching.

The two girls both had long hair, trim figures and were an average sort of pretty. My kids aren't teenagers so I'm not very good at estimating ages, but I would guess the girls were 15 or 16. They were chatting and laughing, sitting on the hood of the car.

The fireworks ended, people clapped and whistled, and through our open windows I could hear the sounds associated with gathering blankets, snacks, and kids. The crowd was collecting itself, and would be making its way to parked vehicles. The two girls hopped off the car and walked to the sidewalk. They were standing near the car, shoulder-to-shoulder, but not touching the car or each other and I could see them clearly. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

They seemed to be discussing something. They turned and faced each other, quickly looked around, I now assume, to see if they were still alone. Then... they kissed. They held hands at hip height, and stole a long, loving kiss.

I just watched.

Within seconds they pulled away from one another, separated and walked around the little white car so they were standing on the street instead of the sidewalk. People trickled, then streamed from the park searching for their cars. Three kids—two boys and one girl—approached the white car while smiling and engaging in horseplay. They greeted the two girls who had a moment prior secretly kissed. One of the boys grabbed the hand of one of the kissing girls. They appeared to be boyfriend and girlfriend. The couple hugged, playfully kissed and hung on each other while the group of friends likely discussed where they would go next.

I just watched. And thought.

After several minutes the street was nearly empty of cars. The kids finally climbed into the little white car in front of our house. One of the kissing girls was in the backseat with her boyfriend, his arm over her shoulder, nuzzling her neck. The other kissing girl was in the front passenger seat, smiling and fiddling with the radio. The second boy was driving and the third girl was in the backseat trying to ignore the light petting occurring between the young couple—the boyfriend and the kissing girl.

As they drove away that night I wondered what the truth was. Who loved who? Who was afraid of who? And I felt sad.