Letter Never Sent

W. H. Merklee

I felt sorry for Mr. Sorensen, always away on business with three beautiful blonds at home. Jen was platinum, Abbie was strawberry, and yours varied from time to time.

I liked flirting with Abbie, telling her that she and I would go out when she was a little older if her sister didn't mind.

Alone in your house with Jen one night, all I could think to do was teach her how to play Stairway to Heaven on the piano until two o'clock in the morning. I thought I was being a gentleman; my mind rattled with her stories about her rapacious ex-boyfriend. If I could do it over, we'd play the piano naked.

Though I coveted your daughters, I think I loved you the most, and I think you knew. We were able to talk about anything, that I was still a virgin and that you really shouldn't have worn white. I was somehow honored that I could drop by and join in your afternoon conversations with the neighborhood women. And grateful for your understanding when you found my friend Jeff and I parked in front of your house late one night smelling of blackberry brandy and talking nonsense after Jen and I had broken up.

I remember coming by after school one afternoon to ask you to stop taking my side in the break-up, and your smiling remark that we should be careful lest the neighbors start calling you Mrs. Robinson.

I still think about what might have happened had I seen the movie.

Copyright ©2000 W. H. Merklee. All Rights Reserved.

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December, 2000 Issue #56

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