My Secret Love

By Mary Ellen Carmody

If I could have a time machine I would go back to that Friday night in September of 1959 after the River Rivals football game. It was a down to the last field goad game and at the buzzer, my school, the Golden Bears won. Afterwards everybody who was anybody headed to the Skylark Diner for Hamburgers and Fries. In the 50's the diner was the "in" place to go.

As I said, all the popular kids were there, all in their own special cliques. In 1959, in my high school, the most popular kids belonged to "a clique". I didn't belong to any special clique, unless you could call the marching band a clique.

But I went anyway, hoping that "he" would be there. "He," being my heart throb, my secret love. Nobody knew how I felt about him, not my best friend, not my diary, and definitely not him.

As I walked in to the diner I could hear loud cheers and our victory song coming from the back room. All the seats were just about taken, except for one, next to "him." I slid into the chair and tried not to look. I didn't want him to see the secret that I was sure was written all over my face. My ploy didn't work. "Hi, Ginny" he said. "The band did a great job. Say, after all that marching you must be hungry. How 'bout a burger and some fries."

Well that did it, I was sure it would be all over school tomorrow that I was making eyes at Patrick Sullivan. My secret love wouldn't be a secret anymore. 

"Sounds good to me," I said, trying not to stutter. I was so nervous. I was actually going to have to eat in front of Patrick. I had no idea how to act. 

In the fifties we were taught "dating etiquette" in gym and Home Economics. But we hadn't covered eating in front of "the one" yet. The teachers had gone through what they considered the important stuff. Like sitting up straight, things to talk about and things not to talk about, and how to act like a lady, that sort of thing. But as I said we hadn't covered the actual eating part yet.

Well, my burger and fries arrived at the same time Patrick's did. I was saved. At least he had to eat at the same time and hopefully wouldn't notice me, particularly if I got ketchup on my band uniform. 

After we finished eating things began to wind down. A lot of the kids started to leave, so I figured I would go too. Just as I pushed my chair back Patrick turned to me, "Ginny" he said, "Let me walk you home. It's getting late."

I just knew that my face turned beet red and I could feel my legs go limp. It was really, almost, sort of a date. And I wasn't going to turn it down.

Patrick walked me home and all the time had his arm around my shoulder. And all the time I wished I lived further away so we wouldn't get there so fast.

As it turned out Patrick and I dated on and off for the next year until we went to college and drifted apart. But I will never forget that fateful night at the diner when my secret love walked me home.

Mary Ellen Carmody lives and writes in northern Pennsylvania in a former Inn built in 1812. She amuses her muse with the antics of the ghosts of writers past who frequented the Inn. Visit her web site at www.maryellencarmody.com

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