We broke off our engagement more than five years ago. We haven't heard from each other since. I saw her walking in midtown; she was wearing a long pleated skirt, loose-fitting blouse, stockings...the whole orthodox-woman attire. She even wore a scarf around her hair as most orthodox women do when they are married. I'm not sure if she was married, either way she was the picture of Jewish piety and modesty.
I saw her walking down the street. I felt no love. No care. Nothing. But I wanted to know how she was doing, what she was doing, if she was ok, if there was something I could do for her. We passed by each other, I looked at her with a warm and excited smile, so happy to greet and old friend. She looked at me; no expression on her face. Then looked away in mildly bemused mocking disgust. I must be a painful memory for her. Perhaps she is ashamed of what we did. She was clearly part of a very strict orthodox Jewish community. Perhaps for her I am a memory that reminds her that she doesn't completely fit in even in her own home. It was very sad for me. She is a very precious memory for me. One of my fondest and most special. Most cherished.
We used to spend every possible minute together. She came over to my mom's house the Sabbath of her 18th birthday. I was 22 years old.
We weren't the most well behaved orthodox couple on the face of the earth. We had bought these puppies; little stuffed dogs. We hugged them in each other's stead while we waited to be married. We started just touching each other's cheeks with them, like a kiss. Before the dogs I would stroke her cheek with a pen or with my glasses. Just gently...her cheek. Down her neck....her breasts. Her nipples. She would just close her eyes lie back and enjoy...loved listening to her breath when I would do it,...her excitement. She would do the same to me...no touching of course. Never allowed in a room alone together we would find a secluded area in a park or on the side of some road. We weren't allowed total privacy; it had to be a place where a car passed by at least once in a while. I remember how innocent we were; I was so terrified of being caught; we both were. And what would an onlooker have seen; two young adults sitting next two each other with a pair of stuffed animals? Hardly a scandal. Perhaps they might see the little puppies giving us kisses. But in our community we did not want to be caught alone together; it wouldn't have been good.
We were going to be good that weekend. We had specifically not brought our puppies with us. It made sense at the time; ...I suppose I was unable to fathom a sexual experience that didn't involve a stuffed animal of some sort. There was no party. My mom was out. We simply cooked a Friday night meal that we enjoyed together. Never allowed privacy with each other we relied on a poor abused and slandered leniency that if the door is left open it's ok. We were in my room together, alone; the door was ajar.
She was always so modest. She never even let me see her barefoot; this was even more strict than most. Perhaps I thus developed a bit of a foot fetish.