I just had to sit as I stared at it. What had happened to us? Not that we had ever really been boyfriend and girlfriend, but when she was gone I finally realised that I’d fallen in love with her and that now it was too late. I wiped a tear from my eye and continued to stare. The photograph had been taken when eight of us eighteen-year olds had gone on a caravan holiday at Easter. By the end of the summer Jess was gone, but just looking at that picture of us with our arms wrapped around each other brought memories of that week rushing back. I was one of the few to have passed my driving test and have access to a car. I suspect that was why I was invited and I’d asked Jess if she wanted to come too. We took two cars down to the holiday site. The other six were all steady couples and it made the sleeping arrangements difficult for me and Jessie until I decided to sleep in the car and let her have the final space to herself. I was never sure whether she was disappointed or relieved by. I walked Mr. Swarthmore to the Cadillac and told the driver to take him to his hotel and be available to him for the rest of the day. As we walked out of the dormitory Mr. Swarthmore gestured at my underwear and said, “Aren’t you going to put on some, I mean, we’re going outside, and…” I told him not to worry. It was warm, so I was fine. Sylvia spent the weekend. The sex was great; frankly, the kissing, cuddling and intimacy were better. I went back to see Drew every day. He was still groggy but at least appeared to be thinking straighter. After a couple of weeks he was transferred to a hospital nearer his parents’ home in Arizona. I wrote to him a few times, and sent him his checks every month. Years later Sylvia and I were invited to his wedding to Janice. It was a small but pleasant ceremony. Drew, of course, was fine. I saw Mr. Swarthmore at the wedding. He remarked that he didn’t recognize me with my pants on. After these disturbing events little of note went on. I continued.
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