Lorraine
Lorraine was twenty-three, and I was nineteen. She was married and I wasn’t. I met her in the bowling alley in Spencer, and she told me her name was Mrs. Denny King, and when I was through bowling she would like me to join her and her husband in the bar for a drink. I told her I wasn't old enough to drink, but I'd join them anyway and have a coke. Denny King had a reputation for being the best athlete In the area and although I had never met him, I knew who he was. They were at a table in the corner of the bar, and the lights were so low and dim that I had to wait by the door until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. They were both drunk and had their feet propped up on chairs, and the table was filled with empty beer cans and cocktail glasses. I pulled up a chair and sat down, and Denny began telling of his theories on bowling. He came very close to becoming a touring pro, but a car accident prevented that, leaving his legs broken, torn, and burned. Even in the dark the scars were very visible. Denny told me all about the sordid details of the accident, and he ordered a round of drinks, and the waitress asked me what I wanted, and I said a coke. She must have assumed that I was old enough to drink and be in bars, because there was booze in my coke when it came.
An hour later, Denny was too drunk to continue, and he excused himself and left the bar. I asked Lorraine how she was going to get home and she said they had two cars. I got up to leave , and Lorraine followed me to the parking lot, and she told me that I was to escort her home. I didn't know what she meant, but I followed her anyway. She parked her car in the driveway and opened the door to my car and got in and lit a cigarette. That was the beginning of a romance that lasted for six months. She divorced her husband and rumors spread through town that I was the cause. I don’t think I was. I just happened to be handy when she was very low and unhappy. Married women can be the saddest creatures on earth.