Be My One Regret

be my 1 regret /then

9 1/2  years ago~

Summer sun beats down on my blonde head. The hot rays soak thru my already tanned skin. The energy of the warmth penetrates thru me. Even thru the small scraps of my bikini. The one I knew I shouldn't wear. Because my dad hated it. Because he hated the way my body was developing at the young age of 14. And definitely hated that I was becoming more grown up and looking more and more like my beautiful mother. Which I hated it too. Mostly that she was gone too soon to help me struggle my way thru my young teen life and my dad's frustration with me.

Her death was still new. Still stinging even after a few months. A mere 60 days ago, and we were happy. The three of us. In this house. But now, we weren't. That beautiful woman who blessed me with her endless love along with her good looks was now just a memory. And my long, trim legs, flowy blonde hair and ever growing perky breasts were quickly becoming a thorn between my dad and I. I could see it every time he looked at me. I was her 'mini-me',  and he had no idea what to do with me. Which made me miss her so much more. She would know what to say, what to do, and love me thru it all.

But that was no more. The freak car accident took care of that. Taking her away from me. From us. Sudden and with no apology. Leaving me more abandoned than ever. Almost parent-less now since dear dad was gone mot of the time. Like now, he was no where once again on one of his many business trips. Sparing me only a sideways glance before he jetted out the door. 

And for that, I didn't give a rat's ass what he thought of me in a bikini or anything else for that matter.

With a stiff upper lip, I defiantly tug at the strap on my hot pink two piece. Laying on the lounge chair. Sipping on lemonade. Listening to tunes. Trying to drown out my lame existence. And considering another dip into the Olympic size pool in our large, privacy fenced backyard. I shade my eyes and scan my lonely options with a sigh.

Because seriously, who would see? I'm all alone as usual. Yeah, me.

A sudden Frisbee shoots sharply past my face and lands in the pool with a splash. I jerk up to sit and gape at it's red circular plastic floating in the clear blue water. It flips over in the crystal clear water, and my eyes widen with huge amounts of teenage angst. In very clear black sharpie, consonants and vowels spell out the name Jones on it's lid. The neighbors last name. The very ones I had been told many times not to talk to. Wasn't sure why. Never even second guessed it. Never had a reason to. 

Until now.

My eyes haze over as I fuse over the choices of what to do with the Frisbee. My better half says to throw it away before dad sees it. Because it was the neighbors loss, they threw it carelessly, so why should I care about returning it?  But my other half, the curious side, glances over my tan shoulder at the eight foot high fence with temptation to meet the neighbors. 

And without a fight, that side wins. I hop up from the lounge chair and lean over the edge of the pool fishing the Frisbee out. I grab my towel and wrap it around my waist and with Frisbee in hand, I pad my bare feet over the warm concrete to the fence line until I reach the heavy, locked gate that separates our yards. Sudden nervous breaths start to fill my lungs as I turn the lock. And even more anxious air rushes thru me when I swing the gate wide open. But none of the air in the world could prepare me for the two boys that meet me on the other side.

Twin green eyes. Twin rusty brown heads. Both tall and lean. Bare chested with low slung board shorts. And twinning grins. Grins that held more than mischief. And for the first time in my young teen years, I was completely smitten at first sight.

I blush holding out the Frisbee as their eyes oogle me with unashamed attention. "I think this is yours."

In two seconds, they beat each other to flank my sides, both crowding me, reaching for the Frisbee. The one grants me a wistful smirk while knocking the other to the side. It's bullish. And I hop back a step with surprise. But he doesn't seem to be bothered my tentativeness.