Winter WonderLove Tales: The First Time I Knew That I Was Truly Loved

East Chicago, December 1984

Winter Walks and Snowy Kisses

My high school girlfriend Vanessa (name change) and I had a beautiful relationship.  It was a first for both of us, with everything we experienced being new and exciting. 

We each learned by watching other relationships’ ups and downs over the years. So we had a good feel for what we wanted and what it took to get it.  Conversely, we knew what we needed to avoid to keep anything, or anyone, from coming between us.

And it worked. We gave each other the space we needed, spending time with our respective friends, but when we were together, we were inseparable.  She also joined the clubs in which I had already been participating, so we got indirect time sitting together during the meetings and even more time when I walked her home.

I think that was when things were best, during those walks home.

It was wintertime, and like many couples in the city, we lived for holding hands in the snow. Of course, that made it easier to pull her in for a kiss…

…and then push her onto the nearest pile of snow.

And when she demanded that I pull her up, that was her opportunity to pull me down on top of her for laughter and warm kisses on cold faces.

Secrets, Corners, and Prom(ises)

She lived a few blocks beyond me and, although I so desperately wanted to walk her all the way, the furthest I could go was about one block shy of where she lived.

You see, she was Mexican. And although interracial couples were not uncommon in our neighborhood, my being Black did not sit well with her mother.  At all. So, to be safe, we parted ways when we reached the corner that led to my block, briefly hugging and kissing before I made my right turn while she continued on.  And as far as her mother knew, our “thing” was short-lived.

But everyone in school knew differently, so yes, there were risks. But she and I got along with everyone, so we never worried about news of our relationship getting back to “Mama”.

One day the conversation of prom came up. As exciting as the upcoming event was, the thought of going saddened me because I did not want to take anyone else but her, which I told her.  I added that I would rather not go at all, even though that year’s festivity was to be historic. Our class had raised enough money over the years to have our prom on The Star of Chicago cruise liner on Navy Pier.

“You’re my girl and I love you,” I said frustratingly as we walked down the street holding hands. “The thought of being with anyone else makes me sick! I would sooner go by myself before taking anyone else.”

Even though it was December, and prom was four months away, most people had already paid for their $50 prom bids, had been fitted for tuxedos or ordered prom dresses.

“We talked about that, me and my friends,” she replied in a matter-of-fact kind of way.  “We might have a way for me to go, if you haven’t asked anyone yet.”

“You KNOW I haven’t asked anybody and I won’t. What’cha got?” I asked excitedly.

With the thumb of her right hand, she slid the gold bracelet she had bought me as an early Christmas gift back and forth across my wrist.  Not once looking up, she offered, “I can get a prom dress and keep it at my friend’s house. On the night of prom, I’ll tell my mother I’m going over to one of my friend’s houses to spend the night.  It’s a Friday, so I can go there right after school. They can do my hair and makeup and take me to your house.”

It was then that she looked up into my eyes.  “I won’t let you go alone.” Then she sealed her promise with a kiss.

A Risky Kiss and a Familiar Face

“Do you know how much trouble you will get into if she finds out?” I cautioned.

“If she finds out, I’ll probably already be on the boat. She can’t do anything about it then.”

“But-“

“Shhh…” she interrupted, shaking her head.  “We’ll find a way.”

She pulled me in closer, wrapping her hands around my bare neck, angling her head to the right as she kissed me tenderly.

There we stood, midway through the final block before our separation point, kissing as though we were in my friend Bob’s mother’s bedroom or on my back porch.  We didn’t care. We loved the feel of each other’s lips.  So much so that I got completely lost in the moment.

By the time our faces reluctantly pulled apart, eyes still locked on one another, a good 45-60 seconds had passed.  Her eyes shifted to the left, never changing the position of her head. Her face soon turned and followed the direction of her eyes which quickly narrowed. She squinted a bit, focusing on the woman who had turned the corner at the end of the block, walking away from us. Vanessa’s eyes widened in apparent fear.

“What’s wrong?” I quickly asked.

“I think that was my mother’s friend.”

“How sure are you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“D’you think she saw us?”

Pressing her lips firmly together, she cocked her head with a “What do you think?” expression.

We receded into the entry of one of the nearby stores, watching her slowly fade in the distance.  Neither of us saying a word.

“You should go. I hope you’re mistaken.”

“Me too. I love you, Kenny,” her Cinderella-like voice declared before pulling me in to kiss me again, and then again.

Breaking our embrace was tormenting, but we forced ourselves to pull away, hands running down along each other’s arms, eventually meeting each other. We locked fingers one last time before she playfully pushed me away.

My gaze shifted from her purple coat to her feet as each step created more and more footprints in the newly fallen snow. My heartbeat increased, pounding rapidly from the combination of the uncertainty of the situation and how good she made me feel.

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Poems and Pop Ups

A few days later, life felt normal again—or at least I thought it did.

I sat on the floor of my bedroom, writing a poem for Vanessa. A piece about how her kisses tasted each time she planted them.

How much I yearned for those evenings alone when we walked across the street into the empty park’s playground. Just she and I, laughing as I pushed her on the swing.

I tapped my fingers on the wide-ruled notebook paper when suddenly, I heard the doorbell ring.  It was a school night and getting pretty late, so I knew it wasn’t one of my buddies wanting to hang out.  If it were the weekend, I’d have already been dressed, knowing it was time for some night football in the snow.

Hearing my father call my name, I put my work inside my school folder and set it on the chest of drawers before heading to the living room.  I stopped suddenly when I spotted her standing in my living room, tears rolling down her face. 

Things had been fine throughout the week, so I searched my mind for possible reasons for her to look that way, coming up with nothing.

It was obvious that her tears were emotional, as opposed to what I first feared to be an assault from a stranger or a near-miss assault.  Before I could ask what happened, my father suggested that we go downstairs to talk. Any other day, I would have jumped at his permission to have privacy in my own basement, knowing no one would come down for the duration of her visit.

“Can we go outside, please?” she asked softly, choking back her words as she spoke.

My eyes briefly shifted from her, back to my father, who nodded approvingly.  Pivoting back to the hall closet I grabbed my parka and hat, then slipped my snow boots on as she thanked my father on the way out.

Outside, the heavy snowflakes showered on us like confetti, cutting at an angle to the tune of the soft howl created by the night wind.

We walked diagonally across the street to the city park, caddy corner from my house.  She hadn’t taken my hand, walking a full step ahead of me, which I immediately noticed, not trying to resort to normalcy.  She wasn’t even wearing the mystery perfume I loved so much, whose name she never revealed — just for fun.  The moment made me feel very uncomfortable, not knowing what was going on or what was about to happen.

Tears in the Snow

“Vanessa—” I began, grabbing her arm on the inside of her elbow, bringing us to a full stop under the streetlight.  Before I could continue, she turned and burst, collapsing in my arms, bawling loudly, almost screaming as my coat muffled the sounds.

—We’re breaking up.  This is it.  Her mother found out.—

“Kenny!” she forced out between labored breaths, eyes fixed on mine as if they were pleading on their own.  “My mother knows about us…”

—See?—

“She found out that we’re still together!  She told me if I was going to keep seeing you that I couldn’t live there anymore!!”

I held her tightly as she cried hysterically against my chest through the unzipped opening. My mother would have killed me, had she spotted that. In fact, were she in the living room when Vanessa arrived, she would have held her close, then forced her to eat dinner with us. Then she would have made me put on a tshirt, longjohn top, sweater AND a scarf before zipping my coat to the top and fixing the snap button. 

But here I was in just my burgundy marching band tshirt, absorbing snow that mixed with her tears.  I lowered my head to meet hers, feeling her thick, curly black hair tickling my cheek. 

I knew that my family could not possibly take her in if something like that happened, as much as I would have loved it. Albeit my first true relationship, I was already thinking about marriage, being so lost in her. It just sucked that she was given an ultimatum not unlike what a girl could receive after confessing that she had gotten pregnant, which was far from our case.  Our only sin was being born with two different Crayola crayon colors on our skin.

I didn’t want to be the one to mention breaking up. It was, to me, the last and worst option. And sadly,  it appeared to be the only option.  But if this was our moment, I convinced myself that it would be better if it came from her, though she might have disagreed.

She cried for a few more moments before becoming completely silent, reaching up with her knitted glove and caressing my chest. The sensation of the soft and slow rotation against my chest was heavenly, but bittersweet in that moment.  I cleared my throat and spoke weakly.

“What do you want to do?” I asked fearfully, trying to sound open-minded about things.  I was terrified of hearing those dreaded words of finality, but I had always known that this was a moment we might one day face.  It’s just something that no one ever wants to endure.

She slowly pulled back a bit, angling her head upward. Her cheeks were saturated with tears that had spread across them from rubbing against my shirt.  The moon and city lights came together in her eyes, which cast the most amazing reflection as she blinked rapidly to counter the slowly falling snowflakes, no longer affected by the wind. 

It was then, right then at that very moment, that I realized just how truly beautiful she was, in a way I had never noticed before.

Truly Loved

She whispered faintly, barely audible, “I don’t care what happens to me…

…as long as I can be with you…”

I had heard her tell me how much she loved me many times before, but in that moment, things were different. The look on her face, the sparkle in her innocent, caring eyes; the silence of the snowflakes, the soft orange glow in the sky from the north, emanating from the distant steel mill, simulating a peaceful aura surrounding her.  The glistening of her moist lips.

That was the moment I knew … for the first time … that I was truly loved.

Tilting my head back to keep tears from building in my own eyes, I hoped to be the strength that was needed. I caved unsuccessfully as she grabbed me by the nape of my neck with a look of painful resolve.  She kissed me, and I returned it, tears streaming down both cheeks until they joined and flowed down between our faces.

Neither of us said a word as we kissed again for another immeasurable length of time, wishing the night would stay, never giving way to another winter morning. Our lips eventually slowed until they stopped, allowing for the smallest space between them.  All that remained connected between us were our foreheads and noses as we rested in each other’s embrace, eyes closed, which seemed like forever, yet seemed like four seconds, both at the same time.

A Longer Walk Home

Exchanging “I love you,” we left the moment exactly where it was, unresolved, but with a rejuvenated sense of hope as we walked slower than ever before. Her body pressed against mine as her arms locked around my skinny frame while my longer arms wrapped around the outside of her coat.

It was a longer walk back, because this time, I had walked her all the way home.

We didn’t even say goodnight to each other when we separated for the night. We silently shared a silent smile and final kiss before parting ways.

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The After Prom

A full year had passed since that fateful night. Vanessa’s mother didn’t put her out, but we later broke it off “temporarily” at my suggestion to keep the peace. 

By the time we got back together that spring, my mother had begged me to take her co-worker’s daughter, whom I had never met, to my prom. To satisfy both sets of parents and my blind date, I begrudgingly agreed, knowing the night would feel like an arranged marriage!

Prom was every bit as spectacular an event as we had imagined.  The boat departed from Navy Pier at 8, leaving behind two couples whom I heard had arrived just as we set sail (sad, because the ticket prices were nonrefundable).

My date saw another friend from her high school, so they spent more time hanging out together than with us, but I didn’t mind. Not being with Vanessa I just enjoyed the time with my classmates, dancing on the cruise floor and hanging out on deck, admiring the bright lights of the Chicago skyline. The evening ended at midnight with a fireworks display on the lake.  And just the event itself, I did not enjoy that as much as I could have, not being with the girl I loved.

I can only imagine what that would have been like.

We stayed together for the remainder of the year, through graduation and summer, right up until it was time to leave for college.  We had an amicable breakup, knowing we were headed towards years of entirely different adventures.  But we weren’t angry about that, nor saddened.  There was always Christmas break…

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Epilogue: Romance and Reunions

December 1986 (One Year Later)

I returned home from college, almost exactly one year from that revealing night, having finished the first half of my freshman year at Florida A&M.  Sitting in my basement, I read my sci-fi paperback novel as my clothes tumbled in the dryer. 

Hearing the door open at the top of the stairs and the subsequent sound of footsteps, I looked up, smiling at the sight of Vanessa’s rapidly descending pink fur-lined boots, dripping snow on the wooden steps. She reached the bottom and screamed with laughter, leaping into my arms to kiss me as I held her tight as if we hadn’t seen each other in years.

She squeezed me even harder.

Because she knew that when we got together… the winter night was ours.

She would be loved — I mean, truly loved.

And so would I.

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