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Short Story: Paula

A Story of First Love

By Sean PatrickPublished 6 years ago 13 min read
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Paula fell deeply in love with David the first time they met in that tiny church in Roanoke, Virginia. Neither of them wished to be there. Paula's stern, pious grandmother and David's preacher father had caused them years of lost Sundays in back breaking pews, kneeling uncomfortably on plaid carpets as they spent more time pondering the gothic architecture of the church than listening to David's fathers stultifying sermons. When they weren't pondering the carpets or the cast iron spires and strange, almost chiaroscuro lighting, they were bonding over their mutual distaste for most other forms of life.

It was almost impossible for young Paula to comprehend having met someone who felt about people the way she did. Her grandmother absolutely refused to hear her sarcastic asides aimed in all directions. A younger sister, Sadie, was simply too naive, thanks to granny's sheltering care, to understand the complexity of Paula's vitriolic remarks. But David understood. It was he who launched the first salvo one day during catechism class. Forced to wear his Sunday best, he was busily destroying yet another of his many fine crafted ties. It had become his ritual and Paula his only audience. Last week it had been a blue tie on which he wrote with a red felt marker "I'm with stupid" and an arrow pointing up.

This week, he wore basic black. With the teacher off on one of her more ponderous lectures, the point being only the sound of her own voice, David had begun the elaborate process of stenciling the word Stryper in yellow all the way down the garment in ironic appreciation of the 80s hair band beloved by followers of Christ. Watching David slip the tie back on as class ended, Paula found herself almost doubled over in appreciation. His smile was the first thing to meet her eyes as she finally stood straight; Paula had finally met a kindred spirit. She similarly earned his esteem by recounting the lyrics and album position of Stryper's classic love anthem "Calling on You" and rocker hit "To Hell With the Devil."

Their bond established, Paula and David launched a mutual loathing society of irony, sarcasm and justice through aside. Together they exacted verbal revenge on imagined foes. Granny was soon glossed "Gramma Death" for her sickly pale appearance and stern adherence to all things holy and Sister Sadie her ten-year-old future nun sidekick. Father Flanagan, David's actual father, became father snooze alarm for his ability to lull an audience to sleep only to wake them minutes later with a thudding clearing of his preternaturally coated throat...

The bond that was friendship flowered into love and Paula had fallen hard. David was handsome in a way that teenagers often can't achieve. David was a mixture of James Franco's mischievous eyes and Cary Grant's charming words. His speech was quick and biting, his mind a whirl with clever insight. Paula was sure he would one day be a writer of great renown. She wasn't so bad herself. Though pale (thanks granny) and stick thin, she carried herself with the armor of a linebacker. Her armor is an intelligence and wit beyond her sixteen years. She could dazzle with essay but her preferred form was dark comedy that combined the cheerful misanthropy of Sarah Silverman with the broody vulnerability of Bella Swan from Twilight.

Falling in love with David was effortless and yet fraught with fear, discontent and insecurity. David being a boy could only express his feelings with clumsy physicality. When combined with raging hormones you can imagine the awkward circles they paced about each other. Nevertheless, David gave Paula hope. How could two people have so much in common and not have the deepest feelings for each other. Could he possibly feel nothing for her? Hardly, especially not after last Sunday in the confessional when she had allowed him to put his hands under her shirt. The act of near lovemaking is more than enough evidence of devotion; is it not?

Things were going well until two Sunday's later. David had spent the morning fashioning his latest tie into a checkerboard fiasco worthy of the guitarist for Cheap Trick. He would once again face the ire of his father who must by now be quite tired of tie shopping. After catechism class Paula and David had found a quiet place to be alone. Today Paula had planned ahead and for the first time went without a bra. Her attire, or lack thereof, had not gone unnoticed long as David nearly botched his checkerboard as the chill of the catechism class room provided evidence of Paula's intentions.

They found themselves in the dark, empty church kitchen, employed only for holidays and special occasions, it was a quiet spot. David had discovered it in his many hours waiting for his father to finish his lengthy personalized goodbyes for the more devout and lingering parishioners. Neither could have predicted that father snooze alarm would actually finish his good byes early for once. It could not have been foreseen that the heavy breathed solace of that kitchen would be disrupted by the loudest throat clearing in history. It was a throaty oratory like nothing this side of Pavarotti with a bad cold. Resonating against the echoing tile walls of their sanctuary just as Paula had removed the only barrier between David and her obvious arousal, the mixture of fear, humiliation and dread like nothing either had ever imagined.

Father Flanagan had never been a booming speaker but his bellow at the sight of his son and a half naked girl in the church kitchen would be worthy of the most fiery southern Baptist preacher. Wrenching David away while admonishing Paula to cover herself, neither teen could believe how lively the man they had equated to verbal sleeping pills had become. As David struggled against his father, Paula pulled her shirt over her bare breasts and ran from the kitchen fighting off tears. In the hall, holding her crisp white church button down closed with one hand as she wiped away tears with the other, Paula could not have seen Granny coming. The wrench of her boney grasp was startling in its strength.

Paula was pulled from church for three weeks as a result of her indiscretion. Granny preached to her for days on end in place of the Sunday ritual and the torture was blistering to her ever so active mind. All the while she could not stop thinking of David. She had grand romantic visions of David defending her honor to his father, demanding to see her. Having to be forcefully restrained, shackled even, to keep him from her. Then one day he would free himself and make the arduous journey to her house. They would meet in the grandest embrace and she would give herself to him fully for the first time.

Finally Gramma Death relented and allowed Paula to return to church. It had been more than a month since she had even seen David and it took every effort to keep her heart from racing as she thought of their reunion. Upon arrival however, Paula felt a sense of impending doom. David wasn't waiting for her when she arrived. He was nowhere to be seen in his usual place in the bushes behind his father's receiving line. He wasn't joking with his friends in the foyer inventing his latest comical tie design. As she followed Gramma Death and Sister Sadie to their usual pew her eyes searched and searched for David and found nothing.

Her heart sank as the parishioners rose for the arrival on stage of Father Flanagan and she remained seated. Only Gramma Death's most grim gaze could get her to stand to attention. When she did her heart nearly beat through her tiny chest. David was on stage with his father in the role of an altar boy. It had been his greatest fear and most loathsome task. David had avoided being an altar boy through the most cunning means. His father, having been of a disposition to mediate conflict rather than engage it, had allowed David reprieve from altar boy duties. Now, however, there he was on stage, no doubt his penance for their impropriety.

Paula felt sorry for him but could not hide her joy at knowing he was there and that they would soon be reunited. Soon he would make his way up the isle as the father blessed us all with holy smoke. Paula maneuvered herself past Sister Sadie for the aisle seat in hopes of catching David's eye and sharing their usual conspiratorial glance. Then it happened. He made his way up the aisle, head down, eyes concentrated fully on his shoes and the awful plaid carpeting. As he passed Paula managed to catch just a glimpse of his eyes but he didn't look back. He had to have seen her there.

After mass, as the parents gathered in the foyer and made their way to the rec room for coffee, the kids made their way to catechism where Paula was sure she would cast that lovers glance and see her David smile again. He was there but the smile was not. He said nothing as he took a seat further away from her than ever before. No look, no smile, not even a hello. Paula fought back a flood of emotions as she searched him for evidence of life. For the full half hour he sat, head down, his black tie untouched, markers capped and longing.

He left without a word and was seen again at the door next to father snooze alarm where he would remain through the entire procession of ambling piety. Paula was crushed. How could the one she loved, the one who knew her heart better than she, who had shared a bond so deep and intimate fail to acknowledge her. How could he hurt her so? Worse yet, how could he repeat this betrayal for the two following weeks. Paula needed answers and was determined to get them. Slowly but surely Paula feigned a good hearted churchly effort in Gramma Death's presence. The hope was that good behavior might offer the opportunity to capture David outside granny's death stare.

As David sped for the door following catechism, loping to a near sprint to avoid her contact, Paula lurched after him. Had not her teacher stopped her to admonish her for running in church she surely would have caught him. Avoiding Gramma death as she waited in line for the long post sermon good bye blessing, Paula ducked behind the line and to the bushes where she assumed to see David in the procession line. He wasn't there. Retreating back to the church she began her search. He was not in the great hall, nor suffering the mind numbing small talk of the coffee room. He wasn't in the altar boy room or his father's study, places where Paula should not have been but not for her dogged determination.

There was only one last place to look. The kitchen was as shadowy and dark as it had been that fateful day more than a month ago when everything had gone wrong. As she entered Paula heard a familiar rustling only now the sound was hollow and distant. Padding further into the dark, the sunlight reached just far enough into the blackness to illuminate the spot where David stood, with his arms wrapped tightly around some unknown girl. His mouth that had been so rough and unskilled as they had felt each other out seemed to float over this alien girl’s mouth without effort. The hands that once fumbled over her bare breasts with uncertainty now glided with agility over the milky mounds of this stranger.

Paula could not hold back. For the first time in her young life, aside from times when she had been gravely ill, she vomited. The spew was thin and watery as she had no breakfast that morning, her insides, tightened with anticipation of David, had kept her from eating much in weeks. Her grand display broke apart the two love birds who leapt both of startled fear and to avoid the flow which came just short of where David stood holding the stranger as she sat on a table clothes asunder. Paula was on her knees in the hall when she heard David calling for her. Unable to look at him she ran for the front of the church with tears bursting forth.

If not for the boney length of Gramma Death's grasp she might have run all the way home. Her mouth still carried the sickly taste of her insides while evidence stained her chin, enough for Gramma Death to express as much concern as stern reprimand. As David emerged behind her, the stranger left behind, somewhere in the shadows, it was Gramma Death who turned from hated foe to beloved protector. Paula could never claim to have been close to her grandmother, their generational difference and scarred history were divisions that likely could never be settled, but on this day at least they were bonded.

The deathly old woman placed herself between Paula and David and cut off all possibility of confrontation. Cowed, David could only sheepishly heed Gramma's instruction to join his father in the receiving line. Father Flanagan, too busy with his throaty ministrations and long winded good byes to notice the confrontation, barely acknowledged his son's arrival. He did notice however when Gramma Death and Sister Sadie left the receiving line without their prayer. Paula's discomfit as she trailed Gramma Death was all he needed as proof of yet another of his sons misdeeds.

Paula never went back to church. Somehow, Gramma Death had found in her a compassion that matched her piety and allowed Paula to take her own path. That path leads to college and medical school and eventually, after years of minor heartaches and missed opportunities, the love she always longed for. Bob was nothing like her. He didn't really get her jokes or appreciate her sharp wit.

But he loved her. He loved her in a way that made her feel that nothing else mattered. He was smart in his way, reliable, loyal and, best of all, goofy. What he lacked in insight and vitriol he made up for with anything for the laugh sense of humor akin to the stars of silent movies. Bob couldn't be embarrassed. His boundless enthusiasm and generosity were the yin to Paula's misanthropic yang and together they made a life.

Years later Dr. Paula saw Father David Flanagan at the grocery store. He was quite a sight in his black belted slacks with the hidden zipper, black shirt and bright white collar. He told her this had been his plan since he was ten years old and the only time he considered giving it up was when they were together. His apology for the stranger was hollow and regrettable but his personal peace was ingratiating. Paula told him about Bob and the child they hoped to soon welcome and he offered a free baptism. A hint of that David wit leaked out in a self-deprecating bit of humor when he uncovered his nickname courtesy of a new class of church misanthropes, Father David Dickless. They don't make misanthropes as smart as they used to.

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About the Creator

Sean Patrick

Hello, my name is Sean Patrick He/Him, and I am a film critic and podcast host for the I Hate Critics Movie Review Podcast I am a voting member of the Critics Choice Association, the group behind the annual Critics Choice Awards.

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