It's always the way, isn't it? A couple, whether married or not, regardless of age, regardless of time spent together, the lady tends to take charge at times when something needs to be done. Of course, there are many same sex relationships in the world and in many of these the sentiment rings true, though for our story here ...

When it comes to holiday preparation, more often than not, she, or the relevant equivalent, will ensure that proper bookings are made and taken care of, packing is done long before it is departure day with way too much of anything and everything necessary for the length of trip ahead being harvested.

Best be prepared for anything she'd respond if queried or with who's doing the packing, me or you? Has a question ever been more ... rhetorical?

The relationship could be anything, siblings heading away to an old family lodge or something of the likes. There could be new lovers heading away for a first trip together, or it could even be a married couple, decades into their relationship, so much is the familiarity in any of these situations.

The male counterpart would leave such a chore of packing to the last minute, if it were up to him, packing the bare minimum with half an expectation to be harassed about at some point or other, and more than likely something would be forgotten, or intentionally left out when it should have been included to save grace, so best leave best be. And isn't it typical or usual that at the moment the flight is to be boarded, if such is the mode of transit is about to occur, he needs to use the airport facilities.

Well, on this occasion, and for the purposes of this tale, it is the lady who needs to use the facilities at the last minute. She excuses herself and even though he worries with the announcement having been made that flight such and such is about to begin boarding at gate such and such, he knows better than to make a point of it. Indeed, if roles were reversed, there'd be disgust and annoyance on some level.

He could pass comment but for sake of his sanity, he leaves it be. This is holiday time, and the stress levels are already high enough. Just let things be and all will be well. Time passes and announcements continue to be made. He gets more and more agitated by the second, then there is serious call for worry when the announcement is given ... final call for flight such and such at gate such and such. The couple are about to miss their flight, and she has still yet to return.

'Women, huh' states the older man. 'Supposed to be the better half, so they say.'

'That's what they say ...' responds the younger man, watching that entrance to the ladies' room like a hawk.

1.

Lenard watched from his bedroom window. If it could be known as to what exactly he was doing, it could be something considered to be quite creepy, bordering on stalking or something to that effect but this is anything far from the case. Who'd believe him though? As it is, he has no need to explain himself to anyone. His actions go unnoticed, such is the belief, so he may as well be anywhere other than where it is he so happens to be. Thing is, he does so happen to be right where he is.

With it being more than halfway through the month of October 1976, Darkness is falling that bit earlier now and he is just being a concerned citizen overwatching two sixteen-year-old girls just chatting away on the street corner they both belong to. Like him, they all will be turning seventeen in the coming weeks and months, and although they are not far from home, there are so many things can happen after dark.

The lights are all off in Lenard's room though it may be safe to say that at least one of the young ladies is sure she is being watched. This is partly why neither have moved from where they are, no matter the impending arriving darkness. There is plenty of street lighting in the vicinity after all, and the community is close enough that if something untoward were to happen then many would rally quickly and such a thing would be dealt with promptly.

And if that something untoward were to come, it would hardly be at the hands of the local quiet lad. He appears to be a nice guy, but who really knows? He generally keeps to himself at the best of times, and one would assume he'd be more the hero than the villain.

Lenard's home is just three doors down from that street corner and on more than one occasion Lisa Evans looks up towards his room. The first time she does this, Lenard scarpers wondering how the hell she can see him before coming to the conclusion that she can't see him at all, she is just aware that he may, more than likely, be there.

The second time she looks up, his heart actually flutters. Lisa has superpowers and they are very real; she doesn't but then again. For she unknowingly, or perhaps not so unknowingly, has captured his heart in a way he could never have anticipated. If only he could do something about that.

Sharon, Lisa's bestie, wonders what her own problem may be. Lenard is not the only boy on the block, he is however, the only one she herself has eyes for. As things are, Sharon will keep quiet. Sixteen-year-old girls, especially ones approaching seventeen, often chat about boys but not these two ... well, not for a little while yet. And as it is, intuition or perhaps more than one friend has superpowers, Sharon is aware of how Lisa feels.

If a moment is to come, whether at this point in time or during the days and weeks to follow, who, if anyone, will speak up first?

Fifteen months pass, and it's more than halfway through January of 1978. A serious matter has more than come to visit, serious in more ways than one. Lisa Evans has been rushed to a maternity hospital. There had been thoughts that she might not make it to this destination in time, she did get there, in a condition which made her the top priority patient.

Despite misgivings and warnings in these moments, Lenard has made his way to Lisa's side of his own accord. Consciousness was brief. She knew where she was, she knew a birth came six weeks early, she knew she mothered a son, she knew Lenard had come to her and all would be right, except it wasn't all alright.

Tears were uncontrollable and a heart sunk lower than he could ever have imagined. Odd, the emotion. Down at a serious low, brought to an ultimate high with being presented with his son, the despair and desperation knowing he would not be permitted to be a father.

Early 1978, not yet eighteen, fathering a child out of wedlock to a mother who didn't survive childbirth, her too being underage. He could have fought, he could have made demands, but what choice really did he have? Very little, it was declared. Five minutes, if even that. Five minutes was all he had with that child. He would never get the opportunity to see the child grow, he would not get the opportunity to see the child thrive, could he even be sure the child would thrive at all.

'We should have fought' Sharon stated many years later.

'We did not then have what we do now, we couldn't have known, society too and all that bull. It has changed somewhat, too little too late as it is ...'

'Should have done something. I am every inch as guilty as the guilt you felt for giving him up ...'

'You were not in a position ... Shar, we were all still kids really. This has consumed us both long enough. We can only move on as best we can ...'

'My bestie, your first love. It's you and me now, we should be a family with the boy ...'

'Yeah, I know. It's different for you ... he wasn't your child ...'

'How dare you, ... you know better than to be like that ... or at least I thought you knew better ...'

She storms off and slams a bedroom door closed. His dejection reaches a new low, even for him. Time has indeed moved on to where decades have passed. Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Sometimes it doesn't. Scars are left as constant reminders and when old wounds reopen, they hurt all the more.

The child would long be grown by now, a son in his mid-forties quite likely with children of his own and who knows? Perhaps there night be a grandchild or two. A great grandchild ... imagine that. And that's just it. It is not known. Any guesses would be just that, guesses, speculation with absolutely no way of finding anything out. The adoption records are sealed, unretrievable no matter what could be attempted.

In their grief after the loss of Lisa, ... and the departure of a child which had not even been given a name, not by Lisa, not by Lenard, and not by Sharon, ... Lenard and Sharon got together. Was it wrong for them to do so? This is something they both considered many times over the years. What did make it seem alright was the thoughts that Lisa would want them to be there for one another, so it made sense.

And now an anniversary and a birthday have come. Forty-six years, has it really been that long? And this is what had been cause for the most recent of outbursts. Lenard and Sharon never had children together, or even apart and they have spent periods of time apart over the years, such being what grief is. At that too, it is that grief that keeps bringing them back together.

Yeah, the child had not been Sharon's, but it was the child of her best friend. Lenard could be said to be her best friend given all the years they have known each other and spent in each other's company though when it comes down to it, it is Lisa, was Lisa, her memory that keeps bringing Lenard and Sharon back to one another, and, of course, the child that is now a middle-aged man, too.

There is another kind of grief here, another kind of hurt. Lenard has once again hurt Sharon, he doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but here we are. With tears in his eyes, he slowly walks to the bedroom door and stands there for a few second, then taps upon it three times. He tries to open it and is unsuccessful.

Locked, of course it is. Sharon is as understanding as they come, sure hasn't she been a part of all this for as long as Lenard has. Seconds pass before she unlocks the door and moves back to sit at the side of the bed they share. He comes in and sees her eyes are as red and as watery as his are.

'I'm sorry ...' he says.

She could easily let loose on him but doesn't. 'How many more times are we going to do this? ... I don't know how much more of this I can take. I just can't endure anymore ... I give up, Lenard ... I give up ...'

He moves to sit next to her, watching her tears flow. She turns to look him in the eyes and he wipe a tear from her face ...

'How about we get away for a bit? ...' he suggests.

'What?' this is not what she expected to hear, a holiday, is that what he is suggesting?

'Me and you, ... get away from here, take in a distraction. Perhaps we might even get to have ourselves some fun ... imagine that ... you and I actually having some fun. Hawaii. Sounds good, right?

She smiles, red eyed, wet face and all. 'Yeah ... that does sound good.'