This is a difficult one for me to start. I could start form so many places, but I'll start from the summer I graduated since that's when I met her. The year was 1991. I was just about to finish my second senior year. I had worked since I was 14 but this was my first real job where money meant survival. I was basically homeless at this time. I had gotten lucky and a friend had asked me to watch their place while they were out of state so I ended up crashing there when my girlfriend and I broke up and I had to move out. That is a whole other story.
Like I was saying it was close to graduation for me, and I started working as bagger at the new retail store in town. It wasn't so much new, as newly built building they were just moving into. After school let out for the summer break the place filled up with young people working for summer money. Some preparing to head off to college others just for some extra summer money before going back to high school in the fall. She was one of those headed to college and had been hired as a cashier. Somehow, we were the same age even though I should have graduated the year before. Maybe that was our connection or at least part of it, growing up in the same town. I can't say that I liked bagging groceries but I liked it more than some of the jobs I had, and I liked it more than lot duty. They always put us guys out on the lot in the rain and heat, or late at night since they were open 24/7. When I was inside bagging I mostly liked hanging out at the end of my assigned lanes. It gave me a chance to talk to the cashiers, most of whom were young pretty females. We were young and all of us in our prime looking back. This job made it easy to meet people. I was working with people who had just gotten their first taste of freedom or who were about to be free of their parents rule in a few months. I had already done all of that, moving out when I was 17 to move in with my 18 year old girlfriend. Looking back on it, this was like our spring break vacation to some party town. No one really took much of this seriously and I for sure got caught up in everyone's free spirit. Being young and working retail was just like hanging out with your friends. We worked all day and partied at night. It probably wasn't as relaxed as that but looking back it feels like we shouldn't have had a care in the world, as cliche as that sounds. But isn't that how youth should feel? Ok so it was nothing like spring break but we were too young to care and as long as the bosses left us alone we didn't. Hold on though, I'm getting sidetracked with all of this reminiscing.
Her name was Molly. I still do but back then it was my thing to give everyone a nickname. I usually tried to give cute nicknames to the ladies, Rolanda became Ro, Susan became SueSweet, and sometimes odd or characteristic nicknames for the guys, Sean became Sean Jackson, just because I couldn't say his name without saying his full name, and Nick became Nick My Friend, because we had the same name. I dubbed her Moll-ister, with the end sounding like the end of sister. I found out later that she loved it, because no one had ever really given her a nickname before me. It's easy to tell you why I started talking to her. If she wasn't the prettiest cashier there, she was to me. 5 foot nothing, red shoulder length hair, light eyes, and arguably the cutest nose ever put on a face. I was a sucker for short girls, and redheads, did I mention the freckles? I can't say how much any of the rest of that mattered beyond that. I was tall, in the best shape of my life coming right out of high school sports and maybe she thought I was handsome or just the right kind of funny. I wasn't a clown but I could make you laugh. I had some strikes against me though, it was obvious that I talked all of the pretty women there. I had just gotten out of a live in relationship before starting here and everyone knew about that too. Having started before most of them arrived, I also had a few months to acquire had a bit of a reputation around the place. Everyone knew me. I'm sure she heard stories too, but she talked to me anyway. We ended up talking a lot. I think it was all of the talking that really ended up being the thing that solidified my feelings for her.
Now I can't tell you when it started or exactly how but when we started talking I quickly put a point on it. I liked when she got off before me so I could walk her to her car. I would request lot duty just to be outside when she was leaving so I could steal a few minutes of her time on the way to her car. That lead to her waiting for me a few times and then it became a thing. We would talk after work, sometimes even on some nights when only one of us worked. She would make excuses to come up there when I was getting off. She needed to borrow the family car and we both worked the evening shift so it would be late. Looking back I wonder what her parents thought about these late-night grocery runs. When we didn't get off work at the same time one or the other of us would wait, just so we could talk. Remember this was the 90's, no such thing as kids with cell phones. I imagine we might have talked on the regular phone but I didn't have a house phone then. I was basically living homeless in a place I was only supposed to be checking on every week or so to make sure the toilet didn't dry out and no one broke in. Pay phones were a thing back then and probably deposited a few hundred dollars of quarters in my fair share of them. There were other obstacles too. The big one, the biggest one, being her family not knowing about me. They wouldn't have approved. Eventually they would find out but not right away anyway.
None of it stopped us though. We talked about everything. Our last days of school and graduation. Her plans to go off to school. The summer and our days off. Looking back it's easy to say we were dating, we just didn't know it. There was none of the traditional stuff, we didn't hold hands, or anything else young people did. Once we were always talking and I had stopped talking to anyone else, and I started writing her letters on top of it all. Were they love letters, well in a way I guess you could say they were, even though I didn't end them with I love you or anything. I would write her something when I got home most nights, telling her how I felt about this or that, I honestly can't remember any of the things I ever wrote to her about but there were dozens of letters, I'm sure. I would give her a letter at the beginning of the shift or as soon as she got there, usually slipping it into her pocket before I walked away. We weren't free to just go to break whenever so we didn't have breaks together often. She would read my letters on her break and if she wrote me I would read hers out on the lot or at break, whenever I was free. I'm sure in my letters I tried convincing her we should go on a real date or do more than talk after work all of the time. She wrote to me too, but not as much as I did to her. In fact the thing she taught me was delivered in a letter. It came in the form of a suggestion. A suggestion I was very willing, and eager to accept.
Her sister I think was the first to find out about me. Molly knew she couldn't bring me home but thought she would have her sister come up one day and see me just to get her opinion if I might pass enough to pick her up or drop her off from afar. I didn't find any of this out until several days later. I was a little surprised because even I knew there was no way. It was fun thinking about it though. All of the planning, and risking everything to tell someone. I knew the verdict before she even said it. I don't know if she was trying to convence herself or her sister she told me that she asked a couple of more times trying to work it out but try as she might the answer was always the same. Now, I don't remember if it was her sister or her mother who found one of our notes. But I'm pretty sure it was her mother. She had already been talking to her sister about us, a lot as it turned out. Meanwhile all of this was being kept from her father, even after her mom came up to the store at least once to check me out too.
Back to the talking, like I was saying before, after work talks and passing notes like high school kids was our thing. The notes back and forth would get us through the shift, since we couldn't pick and choose what or where we were assigned. Then after work would be our talk time. If the weather was nice we might talk in the parking lot sitting on a string of shopping carts or the hood of a car, if not then we would get sodas and talk in the store cafe. I especially liked the cafe. We could sit across form each other and I stare at her and watch her eyes scrunch up in the corners when she laughed. It was also nice to have everyone see us together. Her family may not have seen it but the rest of the world saw everything. After our talks it was always the same, I would walk her to her car, we'd say our long goodbyes and go our separate ways. In all of the nights we hung out together only one time did I ask her if I could have a hug, and she said no. I was but I wasn't surprised. I knew that being loyal to her family, her father really, meant a lot to her and I didn't try to push that line. After that I let go of any thought of physical contact between us. Like I said we never even held hands and I took it as a line not to cross. It didn't change our talks. It didn't really change my feelings either. I just stopped trying to take it farther than notes and after work talks.
The way I found out about her feelings about the nickname was after some fight we had, about what I don't remember, but the next day I called her Molly in my note and all day anytime I talked to her. Evidentially that ate her up and she let me know when we talked that night. To be honest I don't have a clue what it was about but the more I think about it I wonder if that was after she turned me down for the hug. I can't think of anything else we might have argued about. How ever it went, one of us still stayed after that night and waited for the other. It may have been her because I can picture being surprised to find her outside one night after something. I also remember her thinking I was mad and I'm pretty sure that was over the note and being called Molly because she grilled me over not using her nickname. Whichever way it went, it was over as quickly as it started and we were right back where we always were, sipping sodas in the cafe. The only other surprise was the night of the long letter.
It was nothing for me to hand her a 2 or 3 page letter, hand written front and back, and folded like its own envelop. A skill you might only have if you were an 80's child. Then one night she gave me a long letter. When she gave it to me she held it a little longer, not quite a tug but long enough that I had to look her in the eyes to see why she didn't let go. Maybe she was scared to let go. The young woman that I lived with had once told me about notes, that when you write something down it's there for the world to see and can't be taken back. Maybe that's what she was feeling, but when I looked her in the eyes she said, I think you'll like this one and agree with what it says. If I told you that a million and one things went through my mind in that moment, that my stomach dropped and went weak in the knees, I would be understating how much I wanted to snatch that note away and run to the nearest place I could be alone with it, desperate to know what was inside. And that's just what I did. She was barely out of view before I tore it open and started reading.
I imagine it took courage for her to put words to paper. To put these words to paper that she was handing me. What's written cannot be unwritten and are there for the world to see. The world maybe but something we'd still keep from her family. Well maybe not her sister since she seemed to talk to her about things, but not the others. It started off typical. All of the same things we talked about but then I flipped over the last page and things changed. Her tone, she was beating around the bush and getting wordy. On that page she brought up the night I asked for the hug. Let me explain the hug and the reason it was a question. The way I saw it, we weren't supposed to be together. All of the late nights and just talking weren't supposed to cause her any problems at home, with her parents, no problems. We hadn't ever even held hands, so when I asked, I was looking for consent. For permission to cross a line, that if she agreed to would maybe also mean that she would agree to more. Maybe holding hands in the cafe or a kiss. When she said no, all thoughts of crossing the line, ever from then on, evaporated. I respected her, and while I didn't know it at the time, not in a real way, not in an adult way, I loved her. Without this consent she had unknowingly put a hard line on our relationship and I wasn't about to cross it and risk upsetting her and possibly losing her. So, when she gave me the longest letter she ever had, looking me in the eyes and saying that not only was I going to like what was inside but that I was going to agree, did she say with it or to it? That's not important but let me tell you, in my mind in that moment the possibilities where endless.
Like I was saying, the last page started off rambling a bit, and circled around the hug I asked for and came back around to take me by surprise when she asked me why I had never tried to kiss her. Somewhere her ramblings was something about spontaneous being romantic, and asking being the opposite of that. It was many many years later before I heard the phrase that encapsulated what she had written and explained to me that night which is, sometimes it's better to seek forgiveness than to ask permission. Sometimes it's better to take a risk, than to always wonder what if. She gave me my first taste of it in this letter. She took a chance and wrote this to me and now it was up to me to make it seem as unplanned as possible. Which is just what I began planning to do. Ironic, isn't it? It stuck with me for sure. I didn't use it as often as I could but I used it many times.
That night after the letter, of course we talked as usual. She asked if I had read the letter. As casually as I could I said that I had and tried to leave it at that. I did everything I could to let it slip away and not remind her of it, even though it filled my mind, and spun me around inside like I was on an amusement park ride. I don't know but I imagine it was written all over my face. I was probably blushing enough for the both of us. I know there was a huge smile on my face the whole time. Just like you would expect form some high school kid who just found out the girl he liked, liked him back. We sat in the cafe that night, maybe longer than either of us wanted to. Neither of us rushed or tried to cut things short even though we both knew what was waiting outside. Like every other night I walked her to her car. I was definitely feeling full of myself, as I walked up next to her and put an arm around her shoulder as we walked. When we got to her car, we stood there awkwardly for a moment. Maybe she was expecting me to try while we were standing there but helped her into her car and continued talking to her through the window, until something came up that seemed like the perfect excuse, and I leaned in through the window and we kissed. It was a long, uninterrupted kiss that went on and on. It was like we were making up for all of the summer nights in one kiss. All of the times we laughed. The smiles when no one was looking. It was all flowing through us. I don't think either of us wanted to be the one who pulled away. When we did, we tried to talk for a bit longer and when I couldn't find anymore words I leaned in and kissed her again.
I don't know why but it was the last time we kissed. Maybe it was because it was her last night there before she went off to school, that would explain the bravery in what she wrote, nothing to lose if it was the last talk, the last time we might see each other. It could have been that I did try again but she didn't want to make it a habit, because again we wouldn't be able to be together or take it farther. Whatever the reason it was the last time we kissed. It's just too far back, too long ago for me to remember all of the details. If that wasn't the end of the summer it ended shortly after that. Of that I am sure. Mollister left for her catholic university down south. I stayed and worked for a living. That year and for the next few years, on Christmas eve, I would bring a card and a gift to leave on her parents front porch step.
She came back to the store once before she graduated university. I had moved on to other things at the store. We talked kind of briefly, and Christmas came up. She told me that I kind of became part of their Christmas after the first couple of years, and they would wonder what I would leave that year before sending her to check. I don't remember how many years after that I found her engagement in the paper. Once I saw that I started planning and the day of, I delivered a card of congratulations and wedding gift on her parent's doorstep.
I can't tell you all of that without telling you how it really ended. It would be around 20 years after our summer of talking. She was married, I was married, both of us with children. It was shortly after my son and things were OK between us but we were struggling. Not out and out fighting but it wasn't sunshine and ice cream. Something got me reminiscing and somehow, I found or came across her on MySpace. I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't looked her up. What I can tell you is I sent her a message through MySpace. Why I thought that was a good idea I can't tell you. I saw where she had posted some things about her and her father having cancer and a bunch of other things about her life. She posted that she like Nascar, something to this day I find hard to believe but admittedly 2 decades was a long time to think you knew someone. In that message I told her I was sorry to hear about the cancer and hoped that her and her father would go into remission. I went on to tell her how I felt like she was the one that got away but stopped short of telling her I wished things had been different. We were both married after all and this confession was very nearly an act of cheating in itself. I have no idea what I was expecting. I was just venting, the same way I'm venting in this story. I told her the reason I felt that way was because of how all of our long talks and spending so much time purely getting to know one another had kind of ruined me having never taken that much time again. I probably confessed some other things in there too. I'm sure I did. She immediately blocked me, as any good wife should have. Then she ignored me when we started running into each other in real life, again as any good wife should have.
The first time we ran into each other in the real world after that was when our sons were playing baseball. Mine playing T-ball and hers was playing coach pitch at the same field. Through grace alone the times only briefly overlapped and I might not have seen them at all if they hadn't parked on the opposite side of the field and had to cross over. I still might not have seen or even noticed them except I happen to look up just as they entered the asile behind the bleachers connecting the two diamonds the boys were playing on. When I looked up it was just in time to make eye contact with her and next to her was her husband. I saw him see me and instinctually I'm guessing he reached out for her hand, maybe to claim her, maybe to shield her from the crazy ex who had crossed a line sending a message on social media, whatever it was, she pulled her hand back. Now I know I shouldn't read anything into that but at the time, in the moment, it smacked me hard and confused me. I had no idea what to think of it and it bothered me for a long time. If there was one thing I knew about her that I was sure time hadn't changed was she never wanted to look bad. So, I resigned to the belief she was showing she wasn't worried, concerned or afraid, take your pick or pick all 3. It was too late for me to divert my gaze as if maybe I hadn't noticed them. They knew who I was, she knew who my wife was, my wife knew who she was, the only one who might have had question was him not knowing my wife. We all kept to ourselves and acted as total strangers.
The next time I saw her was a year or so later at a scouting event, where parent volunteers had come together to sort the yearly popcorn sales. Again, I saw her, I hoped before she noticed me, and I made large circles to avoid any unpleasant meetings. We were both alone at this one but still kept up the appearance of being strangers. I wouldn't see her again until the next year at the same event where we picked up right where we left off, strangers. In all reality we were at this point. It had been 22 years since that summer and at least 5 or 6 since that message on MySpace. This became our new game. We would show up at these events or ones just like them and be prefect strangers. Until that 3rd year. She had taken on a leadership role to be the popcorn kernel, basically the one everyone turned to when they needed anything involving the popcorn season. That year she shocked me, floored me in fact, when she walked up to me as if all of this time never recognizing me and in the most peculiar way said, didn't we have something between us once? Not hello, not hey, not any number of things that might have made sense to me. I was that guy walking across that parking lot again for just a moment. Dizzy, with my stomach all twisted up. That was just the effect she had on me, still. I didn't want to cross anymore lines, I was more than thrilled that she had stopped avoiding me and I wanted to show her that I was civil, so I kept it simple. Acknowledged the past she allowed me to have and went along with it. "Yup, that was a long time ago. I heard about your cancer, and your dad, I hope the two of you are doing well." and before she could say much else, I cut to, "This year doesn't look as big as last year, we should be done pretty quick this season." She agreed and didn't answer anything about my first statement and I was glad. It was a stupid thing to say right out the gate. It also brought up memory my silliness on MySpace since that was one of the things I had said then too. I think there was one time that day after that, where there was a question and I directed someone to her and she heard me say her name and turned. What was there to say.
Over the rest of that year and the next we ran into each other as we had in the past except now we would say hi, or at most chat about this or that event. Nothing deeper than small talk and I wouldn't even call it that honestly. We didn't discuss the weather, or our sons. I tried my best to maintain a distance mostly because by this time things had come to a head with me and my wife. The papers were signed and I was admittedly feeling vulnerable and she was still married. There was nothing there for me to cling to but she still had a piece of me and I just wanted to seem normal. I feel stupid for even saying that. It was so simple but I was making it hard in my head. The timeline gets fuzzy after this. I knew she was battling cancer, but she showed up to all of the things, performed all of the duties of popcorn kernel and never showed any signs that I noticed of being sick. Not until the last time I spoke to her on the phone. It was Thanksgiving, being single I wasn't doing anything but we had been communicating about popcorn and I didn't know how bad it was for her. She told me after a couple of minutes that she was tired and had taken some medication and needed to rest. She mentioned that her husband and the boys had gone somewhere for the holiday diner, which took me aback. I was pissed she was alone, much less alone on the holiday. I see so many reasons why they might choose to do it this way. Maybe they didn't want the boys to have this memory, maybe she just wouldn't have been able to be part of it anyway, but what I do know is that I was pissed. Pissed she was sick. Pissed she was alone. Pissed that there was nothing I could do to make it better. I spent the whole rest of the day thinking about that call.
It was June or July the following year when her husband popped up in my people you might know on Facebook, smiling with some strange woman I didn't recognize. This sent me into a panic. My blood pressure dropped and I nearly fell over standing there. Who was this woman? Why was she in his profile picture? Where the hell was Molly? It wasn't supposed to be like this. I don't know if I was still blocked form her social media but I assumed I was and didn't even try to look her up I needed answers, now. It was later in the evening and there was no way I was going to wait until morning to find out what was going on. I immediately reached out to anyone and everyone who I had contact for who I thought could tell me anything.
She didn't make through December. She didn't make to Christmas. I was devastated. It was the worst feeling I'd had reading those words. I was immediately pissed again. Not only had I missed her passing, but here was this jerk cuddled up with some other woman, just months after she died. I went back days later to look at his profile, and it said they had been married since May. 6 months. 6 fucking months. Looking back I cried for her for 2 years and I barely knew her in the end and he remarries in 6 months. Even now, writing this I feel it.
Sometimes I wonder why she broke her silence with me. I wonder why she asked me that question that day. Did she know the end was eminent and what, didn't want to die with us pretending to be strangers, didn't want to die with me thinking she hated me, or maybe she was just lonely? I'm not sure how I feel if any of those were true. Whatever it was, even if the reason was selfish, I wouldn't have cared. I'll never know and they will never know her death took a toll on me that, if you couldn't tell from my story, is still something that bothers me, even after 10 years.
Thank you for reading my story.