Post by biblesalesman on Dec 22, 2008 17:33:17 GMT -5
I met her at the end of one rainy summer. Her name was Sally Ahn. (like in Autobahn) but you know everyone called her Sally Ann. We became fast friends and eventually lovers, although back then I would never have used that word. That’s was way too “grown up”. She was tall and slender, with long legs. Her hair was short and curly, and when it was wet from the surf she would shake it out like a sheepdog might.Sally wasn’t pretty in the way that movie stars are pretty, but when I walked down the beach with her, I could see guys turn from their own tanning girlfriends to look at her. She was that kind of pretty. She had a laugh that was almost funny in its own right.. It started out kinda squealish, and then turned into this big guffaw that could have come from a roller derby queen. It never failed to make me smile.
She came from a small family her Mom was Irish and her Dad was a big Swede with a taste for the grape. Her Mom worked as a nurse and her Dad worked over at Kennedy airport loading freight. It was a pretty quiet place, the Ahn place and I chose not to spend too much time there. Sally would pretty much meet me outside and say “lets go” when I rang the bell, and she answered. I had a few dinners over there and a few afternoons of Sunday football watching. Most conversations fell into the realm of ‘Them fucking Jets. They always break your heart, ya know?” Sally had two brothers , Sean and Jess and a sister , Kate. They weren’t much older but they were never home. Sean worked in Manhattan as a steelworker and lived in Brooklyn (where I was from) Kate still lived at the beach and was a teacher at Our Lady of the Waves, and they didn’t talk about Jess much, but I got the feeling he wasn’t welcome at home anymore. Her Mother was Laurie, but I found out her real name was Lorelei. She was always nice to me, and in the winter when I came to get Sally she would always fix me a hot tea, and ask conspiratorially if I wanted something “a little sweeter” in it. I’d smile and nod and she would reach into the high cabinet for the protestant whiskey, Black Bush, and pour me healthy dollop. She also would always end any visit by saying “take care of Sally. Promise me that” and I would.
Sally was always a hop, skip and a jump from trouble, but I have to admit that was part of the appeal. She knew all the hustlers down by Playland, and they knew her. It was disconcerting at times to be walking back from church with her and have a known dealer wave to her, and yell “Sally babe, what up?” But she always waved back and smiled the same smile she gave the monsignor at church. She also worked at a nursing home as an aide, and in her off time volunteered at a homeless shelter. I had worked down at the Bowery mission my last year in high school, but I had too. Sally did it because she wanted too. In the winter she helped dole out hot meals and coats, and sometime in that first winter I fell in love with her. We spent that Christmas in the city and at my parents home and she loved every bit of it. I had never seen her so excited. We went to the tree and all the department store windows and I took her ice skating, and kissed her at the top of the Empire State Building, on a night when all New York looked like one big Christmas Tree. I would take her home on the bus, along dark ride through the barrens and the ocean looming up, and her house was quiet. And she’d get quiet . I asked her where the tree was and the lights and she told me her Dad thought it was all bullshit and wouldn’t waste good money on it. She gave me a look that said “that’s the end of it, do not ask again”, and I never did.
I stayed in school and we saw each other all the time and when summer rolled around we were together everyday we could be. I worked in a factory in Brooklyn making cement, and she was at the nursing home. Her hands were soft from washing all the time, and mine were like rough shale. But she always held mine in hers. I saved my money that summer and that fall for a ring. Not an engagement ring or wedding ring, but something. something that said we were together. Soon Christmas came around and lights went up around the houses, all but the Ahn’s. We’d walk by them on the way home and she would glance at them and put her head down. Her Dad had been sick since fall and things were even quieter at home. I picked her up one Thursday and told her we were going to see the tree. She said she couldn’t be out of the house that long and leave her mom. I told her not to worry we would be home early. As we walked towards the bus I changed direction to the boardwalk, and about a block away she saw it. I had bought a cheap tree, and ran some lights on it off the light pole. I had swiped a few ornaments from my mom’s tree and hung them. We walked up the boardwalk and with the streetlight out it was just us and that little tree between two cinder blocks and sand. I took out the ring to give her, and she took it and closed her eyes. She closed them tight and never opened the box. Then she took off her gloves and took my hands and pressed that little box in it. “Merry Christmas . Thank you for everything but mostly this tree. Give this ring to someone down the line. Someone you love. Someone you will love more than me.” Then she pushed it in my pocket and wiped her eyes. She took an ornament off the tree, a small glass candle and put it in her pocket and said “I am going to take this, and every Christmas I will put it on MY tree, but no tree will ever be like this one. Now let’s sit awhile.” I was stunned but there was no way to argue with this girl. So we sat on a bench on a cold December night, lit by the smallest Christmas tree and the biggest stars. Sally held me, and let me go all at the same time. That Christmas I learned that not getting what you want, can be the biggest gift of all.
She came from a small family her Mom was Irish and her Dad was a big Swede with a taste for the grape. Her Mom worked as a nurse and her Dad worked over at Kennedy airport loading freight. It was a pretty quiet place, the Ahn place and I chose not to spend too much time there. Sally would pretty much meet me outside and say “lets go” when I rang the bell, and she answered. I had a few dinners over there and a few afternoons of Sunday football watching. Most conversations fell into the realm of ‘Them fucking Jets. They always break your heart, ya know?” Sally had two brothers , Sean and Jess and a sister , Kate. They weren’t much older but they were never home. Sean worked in Manhattan as a steelworker and lived in Brooklyn (where I was from) Kate still lived at the beach and was a teacher at Our Lady of the Waves, and they didn’t talk about Jess much, but I got the feeling he wasn’t welcome at home anymore. Her Mother was Laurie, but I found out her real name was Lorelei. She was always nice to me, and in the winter when I came to get Sally she would always fix me a hot tea, and ask conspiratorially if I wanted something “a little sweeter” in it. I’d smile and nod and she would reach into the high cabinet for the protestant whiskey, Black Bush, and pour me healthy dollop. She also would always end any visit by saying “take care of Sally. Promise me that” and I would.
Sally was always a hop, skip and a jump from trouble, but I have to admit that was part of the appeal. She knew all the hustlers down by Playland, and they knew her. It was disconcerting at times to be walking back from church with her and have a known dealer wave to her, and yell “Sally babe, what up?” But she always waved back and smiled the same smile she gave the monsignor at church. She also worked at a nursing home as an aide, and in her off time volunteered at a homeless shelter. I had worked down at the Bowery mission my last year in high school, but I had too. Sally did it because she wanted too. In the winter she helped dole out hot meals and coats, and sometime in that first winter I fell in love with her. We spent that Christmas in the city and at my parents home and she loved every bit of it. I had never seen her so excited. We went to the tree and all the department store windows and I took her ice skating, and kissed her at the top of the Empire State Building, on a night when all New York looked like one big Christmas Tree. I would take her home on the bus, along dark ride through the barrens and the ocean looming up, and her house was quiet. And she’d get quiet . I asked her where the tree was and the lights and she told me her Dad thought it was all bullshit and wouldn’t waste good money on it. She gave me a look that said “that’s the end of it, do not ask again”, and I never did.
I stayed in school and we saw each other all the time and when summer rolled around we were together everyday we could be. I worked in a factory in Brooklyn making cement, and she was at the nursing home. Her hands were soft from washing all the time, and mine were like rough shale. But she always held mine in hers. I saved my money that summer and that fall for a ring. Not an engagement ring or wedding ring, but something. something that said we were together. Soon Christmas came around and lights went up around the houses, all but the Ahn’s. We’d walk by them on the way home and she would glance at them and put her head down. Her Dad had been sick since fall and things were even quieter at home. I picked her up one Thursday and told her we were going to see the tree. She said she couldn’t be out of the house that long and leave her mom. I told her not to worry we would be home early. As we walked towards the bus I changed direction to the boardwalk, and about a block away she saw it. I had bought a cheap tree, and ran some lights on it off the light pole. I had swiped a few ornaments from my mom’s tree and hung them. We walked up the boardwalk and with the streetlight out it was just us and that little tree between two cinder blocks and sand. I took out the ring to give her, and she took it and closed her eyes. She closed them tight and never opened the box. Then she took off her gloves and took my hands and pressed that little box in it. “Merry Christmas . Thank you for everything but mostly this tree. Give this ring to someone down the line. Someone you love. Someone you will love more than me.” Then she pushed it in my pocket and wiped her eyes. She took an ornament off the tree, a small glass candle and put it in her pocket and said “I am going to take this, and every Christmas I will put it on MY tree, but no tree will ever be like this one. Now let’s sit awhile.” I was stunned but there was no way to argue with this girl. So we sat on a bench on a cold December night, lit by the smallest Christmas tree and the biggest stars. Sally held me, and let me go all at the same time. That Christmas I learned that not getting what you want, can be the biggest gift of all.
