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 Lifeline, Part 1

   What is love?  This question haunted me all my life.  The irony of fate
is that the one woman for whom I felt true love as I understand it was the
first one and the last one too.  Often enough a woman drove me crazy with
"love", but as I could not separate my feelings from her outer appearance,
how could I say I loved her in the noble sense of love as I had often heard
or read of?  Many times I grew infatuated, as I cannot find a better word
for it, but it never lasted.  The deep care and understanding that is the
necessary ingredient of this thing called true love, a feeling that goes
past outer attributes and sexual attraction, that makes us still see the
young sparkling teenager in the woman we have spent our whole lifespan
with, this I have felt only once.  We did our firsts together, the first
shy holding hands, the first chaste kiss, the first night spent together,
yet only when it was almost too late did we get our chance.

   She came to our school when I was in the third grade.  A little thing,
shy, almost scared, but I could also see in her an inner pride, something
that held her upright regardless what humiliation she had to endure and God
knows, in those first years in school she had more than her share.  Her
funny accent, her dark complexion and the way she clad were reason enough
for my classmates to make fun of her or play unfortunate practical jokes on
her.  Her only shield against my classmates was a little boy who was in no
better position, as he was the "weakling" of the class, unable both
physically and mentally to defend himself, thus becoming the natural target
of all the mischief the other boys were capable of.  Knowing this, his
teacher had sat him alone, away from the area were the boys would flock
together.  When the new one arrived, she was assigned the only spare place,
near him and that poor soul, till her arrival the laugh of the class, that
was I.  Maybe our joint sufferings, as my feeble and mostly futile attempts
to play knight for her brought even more hardship upon me without helping
her much, were the origin of the bond that however stretched never really
gave way.  Was it love?  How can I answer that?  But I know no other way to
describe it.

   She was different from all the other girls I had ever met before.  Girls
of my age back then were silly little creatures, either with harsh, boyish
manners or were sappy and overly sensitive so that the lightest touch would
make them shriek or burst into loud noisy sobs.  Not so Celine.  Her real
name was not Celine but something much longer nobody could spell right or
read the way it was supposed, so she offered herself to be called Celine.
She had come from the near east with her parents.  Celine never shrieked or
sobbed.  The most I ever saw were a few tears in the corner of her eyes. 
We took an instant liking to each other, me, the skinny almost skeletal
blond Caucasian and her, the dark little beauty, even then with already
generous hips and a thin waist.  She had a wonderful voice, deep and
slightly husky, so different from the shrill girlish sounds the other girls
emitted.  She even smelled different.  Before puberty children rarely
suffer from body odors.  Of course neither did Celine, yet she spread a
faint musky smell, a combination of herbs her mother used to perfume their
clothes, perfume and foreign spices typical for her mothers cooking and as
Celine often helped her mothers in the kitchen, a trace of that smell
persisted on her.  Many years later I found that her skin smelled like that
too, like the herbs and perfumes her mother had used were specifically
chosen to imitate the way she would naturally smell as a woman.  God, how I
loved that smell!  At first she found my frequent sniffing on her
irritating, but in time she stopped commenting and accepted it as she
accepted many of the peculiarities of my not always straight love life. 
But that was later.

   We were separated in the fifth grade and with the onset of puberty we
drifted apart, not sure where these new feelings that played havoc with our
bodies would take us.  While the laughing stock of the class in the lower
grades, her exotic appearance and her still present foreign accent, even
thou more apparent in the cadence of her speech than in actual diction, all
these made her now doubly attractive to boys.  Her rounded hips had
elongated, still underlined by her thin waist, her growing breasts showed
more and more, so at barely thirteen she could have her pick among half the
boys in our school.  I saw her frequently talking to boys but even thou I
suspected her to have at least one suitor I never actually saw her even
touching a boy.  Slowly, she grew a reputation of an "untouchable", a girl
who never let a boy close to her.

   I was sixteen and had volunteered for the schools choir as my voice had
stabilized into a quite pleasant bass and I loved music.  To my surprise at
the first meeting of the new choir I met Celine face to face.  After the
fourth grade we had hardly exchanged a few words.  She stood there with a
wonderful broad smile on her face, happy to meet me. 'Hi, George!  Hey, you
wanna be a Pavarotti too?  Great!  I was wondering how you do now.' 'Hi
Celine.  How nice we see more of each other now.  Any boyfriend?' this of
course was not the question I would normally pose a girl my age, or any
age, as I was a shy and frustrated boy who thought little of himself.  Not
that I hadn't tried, but the reactions of the girls varied from open
disregard till polite but still humiliating refusal.  With Celine things
were different.  With her I felt I could talk openly.  She was more a
friend than a target of my pubertal fantasies.  'Oh c'mon, Georgie, you
should know better.  My parents would club me to death if I would ever dare
to touch a boy.' she had on occasions told me about the very definite ideas
her parents had on education, especially of girls.  'So the old story
again. Still imprisoned.' I hinted to the fact she had never been allowed
to join any of the extra activities, like picnics or excursions.  In fact I
was surprised she was even allowed to attend the choir. 'Yeah, my parents
still think they live in an exclave.' 'How come they let you come here?' 'I
lied.  I told them I have extra classes.'

   And so I got to see her regularly.  I walked her home part of the way
and we were friends once again.  The school rumor of course made big fuss
of it.  The "untouchable" ice-queen Celine had finally given in and to
whom? The slob of his class, slouchy nerd George.  Yes, that's what my
reputation was.  A nerd.  The worst insult for teenage boy.  Going with
Celine had somewhat improved my reputation but had also drawn upon me the
envy of some of the guys who had wanted Celine for themselves.  I don't
think neither Celine nor me saw us as a couple.  Not that I didn't want to.
My hormones boiled over those days and I would have done the most
unattractive girl in school, given the chance.  Celine was nothing less
than unattractive and often it was painful enough to hide the bulge in my
pants from her.  We never talked about our relationship so I don't really
know what she felt for me, in fact I doubt she knew it herself.  She had
the most conservative and restrictive education and yet she surprised me by
one evening on our way home taking my hand.  Her hand felt wonderful, small
but not tiny, with smooth skin.  I was in heaven.

   For weeks we would walk home together hand in hand, talking, joking but
never touching the subject of what we felt for each other.  Then one day
she shocked me.  We had just started on our way when she took out of her
little purse a pack of cigarettes and a disposable.  She offered me o
cigarette.  All I could do was shake my head speechless.  With absolutely
natural gestures she took one herself and lit it.  I was sweating heavily
already and had to turn away so she could not see what went in my crotch.
Luckily she had stopped in front of a bench.  I dropped on it and she
joined me.  She was halfway thru her cigarette when I dared even look at
her. 'Shocked?' she asked with a wicked smile. I had to clear my throat.
'Well, not exactly.  I'm just surprised you dare, with the way your
parents...' I managed to stammer. She laughed in the middle of her exhale,
almost choking. 'God, no.  You see, my folks do have very definite opinions
about how a young girl should behave, but that has nothing to do with
this.' She pointed her cigarette upwards.  'It was in fact my mother who
encouraged me to take up smoking.' 'Wow, I managed to say. 'She said I
should not show off in public, but I just don't see why.  A lot of girls in
my class smoke now and in public places too.  I'm seventeen for crissake!'
I had calmed down enough to dare take a look at her.  She sure was an
accomplished smoker already.  No tiny puffs or feeble, tentative inhales.
She dragged heavily and exhaled long dense streams.  I had very little
experience with cigarettes and smokers as I came from a smoke free family.
Except grandpa who had to quit for health reasons when I was five or six,
no one had ever smoked in my family.  All I could see was that the
cigarette she smoked was somewhat thinner and longer than the ones I saw
the Marlboro Man with.  And it was white throughout, no cork tipped end. 
Later on I was to find out it was a VS120. 'Doing this for long?' I asked
'About two years now.' 'And how much do you smoke?' I dared ask with my
heartbeat at two hundred. 'Depends, usually about a pack a day.' 'And do
you like it?' 'God, yes.  It sure is fun.  Why don't you try it too?' 'I
never thought of it.  Anyway I don't think I want to.' 'Oh c'mon.  Here.'
She offered me the pack.  I shook my head.  My throat felt like sandpaper.
She had crushed her cigarette with the heel of her slipper before.  Now she
took another cigarette.  After the first puff to get it started, she took
an endless drag, inhaled and then out of the blue she pressed her lips on
mine and tried to blow smoke into my mouth.  She failed as I wasn't
repaired for this, but suddenly we found ourselves engaged in a fierce if
clumsy French kiss.  It was the first for me and I'm sure it was her first
two.  It seemed to last forever.  We both had to wipe our mouth afterwards,
inexperienced as we were.  For a while she just smoked avidly on her
cigarette.  Then she turned her head, looked into my eyes and said. 'This
won't do, you know.  My folks would kill me.  And I don't want it either.
Call me a fool, but I dream of the white knight and I know you can't be the
one.' My hopes that had skyrocketed a minute fell apart.  From that day on
we never walked together again.  I left the choir shortly after as I had
somehow lost interest.  On and off I would accidentally meet Celine but
except a short greeting we never spoke to each other again.

   One day I saw her on the same bench we had kissed.  She was sitting
there with another guy.  He was a big broad-shouldered sportsman type and
both were smoking.  It took me weeks to overcome the crushing pain that had
stabbed thru my bowels.  All thru the rest of the term I saw her talking to
guys.  I was mad with jealousy but what could I do?  In the end I avoided
even meeting her and I'm sure she noticed it.  One day she waylaid me.
'Look, Goergie.  I'm sorry you took it the wrong way.  We were just friends
and I hoped you would understand.  I cannot feel that way for you.  You
mean immensely to me, but I want you as a friend.' I didn't hear her out.
At seventeen there is only black and white.  Friend or foe.  I shook my
head and deserted without a word.  I thought I heard a sob when I left but
I couldn't be sure.  From then on I would feel her sad look upon me
whenever our paths crossed but I always turned away.

   We were out of school before we even noticed.  I did not feel like going
to the ball.  I was sure I would meet a flashy gleaming Celine in the
company of one of the bright young men.  It would have crushed my already
broken heart to pieces.  So I stayed home, sulking and kind of enjoying the
bitter sweet pain.  My suffering did in a twisted way make me feel superior
to my mates who had already used up a number of girlfriends. I watched the
tenth rebroadcast of Casablanca on TV when the doorbell rang.  It was past
ten and my parents were away for the weekend, maybe in the futile hope I
would loose my virginity that night, as it was tradition among the
graduating.  And it turned out they were right after all but in a way I
could have never imagined.

   Celine stood there in the door.  Her face was in the dark till she
stepped in.  She held a burning cigarette in her hand and she was dressed
like most of the time in jeans and a blouse.  I had never seen her wear a
t-shirt or a top.  However hot it was, she always wore long sleeves and
this time was no exception.  Without a word she clang to my neck and
started to sob. 'Forgive me, Georgie.  I was such a fool.' She started to
cover my face with tiny smoke scented kisses.  My chest all but flowed over
with a hot feeling of incredible happiness.  She was back and she loved me!
I squeezed her to my chest.  Her firm breasts felt so good and all of her
was soft and yet firm, her thighs against mine, her lips that had finally
found mine, I was beyond happiness. Finally we disentangled.  She looked at
her burnt down cigarette, thru it out on the sidewalk thru the still opened
door and then slammed the door shut. 'Take me to your bedroom.'



   I had no power to speak, so I just took her hand and with week knees I
led her to my room.  She undressed in a hurry and so did I.  A streak of
jealousy stabbed my heart as it was my impression she had done this many
times.  The sight of her magnificent breasts held tight by a simple bra
drove away my dark thoughts and I ripped of my shirt and the shorts.  My
dick stood out red and hard.  She turned her back on me to give me the
opportunity to unclip her bra.  Then she turend again and our eyes locked
while she got rid of her panties. An immense wave of relief flowed over me
as I found her to be still virgin.  I knew it was stupid but the old male
pride of being the first one took hold of me.  We struggled hard and it
took a while till we managed to find our rhythm but in the end we made love
and it was over way too soon.  As we lay there recovering, clinging to each
other on the narrow cot of my bed, she lit a cigarette again.  Like the
first time she had smoked in front of me, she offered me but I declined. 
Finally I decided to please her and took a drag of hers.  I didn't inhale
but nevertheless it pleased her.  Seeing her naked on my bed smoking soon
aroused me again and I hardly gave her time to smoke up her cigarette till
I started to kiss and caress her.  This time we were a lot better at it and
we drew immense pleasure out if it.

   She stayed the whole night and with every round she grew bolder and more
eager.  We didn't leave out much and in the morning I could hardly stand of
fatigue.  She on the other hand was still fresh like a flower when she
left. When I woke up in the afternoon, sore between my legs and hungry like
a wolf, I found a sheet of paper near my bed. 'Dear Georgie, I know you
will never forgive me for what I have done, but you must understand there
was no other way for me.  Maybe I was selfish but if I hadn't come to you I
would have regretted it all my life. Tomorrow I will be married.  He is a
cousin of mine and I hope he will be a good husband once he will forgive me
for not being a virgin.  As is custom among my people, we were engaged as
children and while he lived in the Lebanon till recently I hoped to be
spared.  Now he has emigrated here with his folks and I must marry him. 
You may be surprised that I don't oppose my parents but there are reasons
for it.  First I couldn't bring this kind of disgrace upon them.  It would
totally ruin them.  It could kill my mother, who suffers from a heart
condition and without her father would be doomed too.  You, who have grown
up here may not understand but with my folks family is more important than
love and happiness.  Second, even if I would have decided to make something
foolish and somehow manage to stay with you, I couldn't have worked out. 
Too different are our backgrounds.  I don't think we could have made it.
I'm terribly sorry, my Love. Keep one thing in your heart.  I will always
love you and you only.  I gave you all that was possible. Good Bye' i I
read her letter over and over again till I couldn't read anymore because of
my tears.  I forgot about my hunger and my parents found me there,
prostrated and oblivious to all around me.  The next morning, after a
sleepless night, I jumped into my jeans and without even washing I ran to
her house.  It was empty.  She was gone and a neighbor told me they had
moved out, destination unknown.