First Love

I don’t remember how I met him but he became a very good friend. Long black hair, beard, moustache, thin as a bean pole: my Matt. He would pick me up in one of the family’s cars without notice: day or night. And, he’d drive and drive. And, finally he’d stop and tell me what was on his mind.

He took me to places I would not have gone without him: down back lanes and up old staircases to restaurants where they picked up the money and put down the cards when the door opened. Red or white? Steak or fish? There was no need for menus there.

He’d drive me to the beach and make me tackle the big waves. He gave me the pleasure of introducing me to his amazingly intriguing mother and his mad as a hatter father and his girlfriend. My wonderful Matt and his wonderfully offbeat family!

One day I called to see him at the big, rambling house and only his little brother was home, then seventeen. He warmly welcomed me inside. We were in his room listening to music when a girl arrived but he did not invite her in. Rather, she was back on her bicycle immediately after a few words from him in the garden.

“Where did she go?” I asked.

“Oh, she was my girlfriend,” he said, but I just broke up with her.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“Because, you are my girlfriend now,” he said.

You know me well enough by now. That was enough to win me over. And, Mike was my friend; not my lover. I had not had a lover.

We had a wonderful summer together; up in that loft in his mother’s house by the sea; lots of playing around the edges. Band on the Run: I can't listen to songs from that album without memories coming back of that summer: delicious meals, wonderful company, beautiful beach; spectacular sunsets; unbeatable memories.

I went onto university; he to his second try for Medical School as per his Father’s wishes.

Easter. He came to collect me from my little college room and the four of us, my first love and I, his wonderfully kinky Dad and the beautiful Luciana took off to travel on a lovely boat down the Hawkesbury River.

“Vesta?” he called from below one starry night.

“Yes? What do you want?” I called from on deck.

“He wants you ,” his Father told me gently.

And, on that boat with the stars overhead I lost my virginity to the boy with the curly hair and the crooked smile.

One day, he came to my home to tell me that he was moving on; time to explore pastures further afield. Of course, I cried and my Father assured me there was no need.

“Plenty of fish in the sea, darling.”

He was with his girl the next year when he saw me at University, but I was not yet mature enough to let bygones be bygones and I didn’t want to talk. But, at the last moment, with everyone moved away, he came up to me and hugged me tight; whispered in my ear,

“You’re still the best girl I have ever known.”

I watched him walk away, never to see him again.

Over the years, I’ve thought I’ve seen that mop of hair several times, but it was not him. I hope he is happy. He deserves to be happy. Darling boy; first love; tender; sweet.

I would not have missed it for the world.