1971

It was a Saturday, April 24th when I knocked on Harmony's front door.
She told me to come around the side. As she escorted me in, the first
thing that caught my eye as always was that fancy daybed in the parlor. It looked like a surrealistic couch with overly accentuated pillows that shined like yellow gold. The wave coming out of its wooden spine made it look like it belonged in another country! An even stranger looking couch was situated at the far end of the living room. This she called a settee. As I approached the kitchen table, there was a chiffonier displaying exactly twenty three assorted dishes. Some old and some new. We sat at her (newly purchased) kitchen table and talked about the weather, the neighborhood and people in general. We talked about our family members and our family history, and we laughed. I was Irish, Austrian and Italian with a wee hint of Scottish going way back. Harmony, on the other hand, was Indian, Philippine and Colombian. She said her mom, Jacinthe grew up in this house, having immigrated from Colombia at a very early age.
At the age of twenty four she met Raj and in six short months the two were engaged. In the spring of 1952, Harmony was born.

For the first year of her life, she lived in the Dhar district of Madhya Pradesh with her father's family. Raj would learn from his parents how to run the textile mills and Jacinthe got to know Raj's fairly large community of relatives. After a year and some time, her parents flew back to the states where Jacinthe remained with her child in this very house. Raj could only stay briefly, but encouraged his wife to press on without him, until the time came when he would make his return for her and their child. By the year Harmony turned four, her parents were already struggling to keep the profit margin up with a second textile mill, and Harmony would have to reside with her Aunt Sophie in California. There was no other way.
About her mom Jacinthe, I know almost nothing about.

Harmony was always kind to me for that was her nature.
Never at anytime did she come off as being fake or condescending
in any way. No, Harmony was way too scrupulous for that!

"You're lucky you're so cute," she once told me as she touched my nose real fast. This got my heart stirring for affection. Would anything become of it? I didn't know, but I prayed to God every night that he would bring us closer together. I had no idea what love was all about, but I knew it had something to do with the way two people kissed. Before anything can happen, I need to get that special kiss from her, but how? Harmony was always singing for me as she played her acoustic guitar, and that made me feel good, but what I really wanted was for her to sing to me. To feel that bond of togetherness. That heartfelt cloying of over exaggerated needs. I think it's called love. During the course of the next few months, she would often say that I was like "her younger brother" and she could never know how much that saying troubled me, deep down inside. I wanted our friendship to be something more than a love that is found between siblings, but I was totally clueless when it came to the dynamics of love.
I knew only what I saw.

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Aside from her physical attributes, I was enthralled in the very makeup
of her own individual characteristics! So appealing was this lady to my senses! How a gentle woman with unembellished beauty could mesmerize my world and take hold of my very soul, was the mystery of mysteries
for me at the time! Unbeknownst to her, she had gone as far as to open my eyes up to feelings so unique and incredible that I would literally
revel in the thought of waking up in the morning!

Apart from all that, I loved that wild accent of hers. It was a cross between Mayan and Indian, and every time she spoke, she had my full attention! Even if she didn't say a word, I could spend the remainder of each day just observing how she moved about the rooms. With a body so petite and curvaceous, and a smile that could stop my heart from beating,
I would offer up my very existence, for but one loving kiss. A child,
I may very well have been indeed, but around harmony I felt more like a man trapped inside a boy's body. So helpless. So yearning to love and
feel loved by her that I would forfeit all childish joys in a vain attempt to become something I knew I could never be. *Worthy of her love*

As a child, I knew she would not be able to love me, but I refused to give up hope. God, if only she could reach out and give me a sign or some signal that I would be able to interpret. An opportunity to take charge of the situation somehow. Then I would use that to the best of my abilities to win her love. "Show me baby, I'm right here!" Who was I kidding? I never even kissed a girl, let alone persuade her into a torrid affair I had no idea
of consummating.

When she was happy, she could be heard mildly humming a melody or singing a song as she delicately dusted or cleaned up. I asked her why she didn't have a boyfriend and told her that a woman as beautiful as herself should have a boyfriend. She said to me, "Men are such a drag. They're like "little boys" who only know how to take and not give." In a huff, I sprung up and walked over to the couch. "I'm sorry" she said, giggling
as she followed, "I don't mean you! You're so sweet for listening to my ramblings. A man would have said, shut up already!" As she sat down next to me on the couch, I reached for her hand and held it. She then rested her head on my shoulder and sighed. I think in some way she
knew I was yearning for later on that evening she asked me a very
personal question.

"And I want the truth," she said. "How do you feel about me?" Like a complete fool I replied, you're like a big sister to me. I could have went home and stabbed myself! "You're sure about that?" I hesitated before saying yeah, in a sad tone while looking down at the floor. Okay then
said Harmony with a smile, and brought out two ice cold bottles of Nedicks. Upon tasting it, I replied, It's like sweet orange soda without the fizz. She laughed and told me it was orange drink. It instantly became my beverage of choice! As I sat beside her on that couch sipping my orange drink, I felt turned on, but I was too young to be turned on! What the hell was a "turn on" anyway? Maybe it was the feeling in the middle of my chest that felt like batteries charging. I think they're overcharging cause now I'm shivering. Yes, I was indeed turned on!

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Every day without fail I would pay Harmony a visit. If I didn't see her at least once a day, then I would think of her all night long, and I would not be able to sleep. By the end of August, she gave me the key to her back door and told me not to lose it. "If you lose this key," she said to me in a stern but loving voice, "I will remove your pants, put you across my knee, and spank you with the palm of this hand." She held her hand out so that
I could get a good look at it. This is the hand, I thought. The hand that she is going to use on me, and I just looked at it. Every line was so exquisitely drawn that I fell into a trance. There was something so sensuously arousing about it, I thought my heart was going to pop! I wanted that
hand around my entire face. Her fingers to move across my lips, how
they almost seemed to glisten in the light the room was conveying. I was paralyzed with apprehension as I pleaded to myself from the depths of
my meek, trembling spirit, "hold me, kiss me, I love you!!!" I started to feel so weak and powerless, and was hoping she would just do it already.
I wanted so badly to kiss it, but I went numb. As I was preparing myself to run my fingers on top of hers, she whispered in my ear with breath of fire and said to me very slowly, "You never know; you might even like it." I looked up into those beautiful brown eyes of hers and everything went white.

I awoke on the couch (settee) to find her laughing about this. "You've really got to stop doing that," she said hysterically! I smiled for I was
no longer embarrassed. In fact, I was so "turned on" by the whole thing,
I got my very first erection. Of course I didn't know what to do with
this erection, so I just pushed it down, so to speak with my hands crisscrossed. Kind of like the way you would perform CPR on a chest. Whenever I was alone, I would think about what she had said to me. I would then begin to imagine us in all types of scenarios, which ended in her having to use that hand on me! I was literally obsessed by it and
could not figure it out.

Would I like it?
Would it hurt?
If it hurt, then how could I like it?
Ah yes, my little brain was working. . . Overtime.

That night while I sat at the dinner table with my mom and dad,
I was staring at seven Brussel sprouts in my dish. My parents knew
I hated certain vegetables, and yet still, they suffered me to eat them. "You're not leavin' this table till every vegetable on that plate is gone!
I'm watchin' ya, so don't start!!!"

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Tonight, however, there would be no animosity at the dinner table. I was going to try an experiment. In my mind, I envisioned Harmony sitting next to me, who whispers in my ear "Do you really want to see how hard my sexy hand can slap? I'll leave handprints all over your entire body, and you'll cry like a baby. Do you want me to make you cry? If you don't finish every single one, I am going to stand you up, remove your pants
and crack you!" As I began to chew on the Brussel sprout, all that bitter liquid filled my mouth and the first thing that came to mind was turpentine. Just knowing what was going to happen to me if I didn't eat them, far outweighed any nausea, which accompanied me eating them. As I devoured the first one, my heart was beating so strangely, it was getting me aroused. Could this be love? The effect of the terrible vegetable had turned into somewhat of an aphrodisiac! My God I thought, what is happening to me?

"Are you all right?" questioned my mom, who was sitting perpendicular
to me at the table. "You seem out of breath." As my face began to flush,
due to the difficulty in swallowing the poison, my mom jumps up and takes a throat pulse from the carotid artery. I must have been breathing quite heavy for her to become that concerned! "His heart is beating a mile a minute, he's having an allergic reaction! "Can you breathe? There's no swelling." That was the last time I was ever forced to eat Brussel sprouts! Don't know what I would have done, had I been left to myself in that state.

Another month had passed and it was starting to get chilly out. October was here again and it was Friday. I remember coming home and going inside for something, though I do not remember what. I do know that
I put away my schoolbooks and poured myself a glass of apple juice before going back outside. I then left my house and walked carefully across the street before remembering that my mother was waiting for
a very important letter. I then walked back across the street and opened
the mailbox to find two pieces of mail in there. Since they were both addressed to my father, I didn't feel that it warranted another trip back inside the house, so I gently placed the two letters back into the mailbox and proceeded once again to cross the street. Always looking both ways
and ever watchful of speeding cars. After unlocking the side door,
I walked in and helped myself to a bottle of orange Nedicks. Turning
on the television, but not really wanting to watch it, I checked to see if anything of interest would come on. I then took off my shoes and waited for my beautiful friend to arrive. Occasionally, she would leave a sweater draped across the chair that I would take with me to the couch. I'd hold
it close to my body and take in her scent, mixed in with the smell of her fading perfume. It comforted me in a way that made me feel somehow closer to her, though I usually put it back before she came home. That heavenly fragrance always seemed to remind me of pears!

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Harmony had said to me on more than one occasion that she was going
to teach me as much as she could about the opposite sex, and by the time
I was of age, I would be able to get any girl I wanted. The only problem with that was I wanted her. Every night without fail she would sit me down and slowly go over all the little idiosyncrasies women have that men need to put more emphasis on understanding. "When a woman is going through her cycle, it is very important that you treat them extra kind, because her hormone level goes crazy. Sorry, our emotional state becomes disrupted. You do know what I'm talking about right?" Not really. "Okay, then I will explain it to you." And she did.

"Why do you think we spend so much time in the bathroom and so much time shopping for clothes? It is because we are trying to look good for you, so we take our time, and we try to make sure that everything is perfect, and for this, we are criticized. Or do you think we are doing it only for ourselves? That is why you men should never rush us. Relax,
and don't be so self-absorbed! Show us that you care, and that you
love us by telling us how beautiful our hair looks or complement our appearance. Men can never say that enough. Make sure you notice when she is trying to "proudly display" a new pair of shoes for you or even sunglasses, for that matter. The problem with most men is that they become overly confident when they get to be too familiar with us (or) when they get too comfortable in a relationship, they think they can abuse us by taking advantage of our good nature. Don't. . . Ever!"

*Now pointing her exquisite finger at me*

Harmony went on as I listened happily to everything she said. Eventually,
I knew I was going to apply all this knowledge, but to whom, I thought? God please, let it be her! When it came down to love, Harmony knew more about men at nineteen than they could hope to know about themselves in a lifetime. Not only did she have a gift for remembering everything she saw and heard, but also, she had a heart that overflowed with love. Only she had no one to give it to. Before these short lessons
in love, I would listen very carefully to everything she said about her busy day and tried so hard to be the adult, I thought she wanted. Afterwards, we would go back to the couch and watch a show or two before I had
to go home. This went on for the remainder of the year.

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