SUMMER... and a whole new life (Part 33c)

As hard as it is to believe that I didn’t have any ”romantic“ or sexual interest in Joanne, I truly didn’t. I would have had the same ”bulge“ no matter what girl was in the same situation with me. My ”interest“ in Joanne was, as I’ve said before, one of feeling a bit sorry for her in that circumstances had denied her a chance for a somewhat normal life. Every time I saw her I’d try to build up her self esteem and try to get her to expand her horizons. On the farm she had no social contacts at all other than the few people who visited her parents. Even though she was acknowledged to be ”slow“, she was attractive and, when I got her to open up a bit, did have the ability to communicate. She'd also proved that, given enough time, she was capable of learning how to do things like cooking and baking. From time to time I’d think of her and wonder what I could do to help her. As we sat there on the tree I was torn as to what to say. I can’t deny that the thought of a female wetting herself was, in itself, ”exciting“ to me. But, in this situation, the last thing I wanted to do was to take advantage of her naivety and to ask her if she’d had this happen before. Of course, I knew it had as her mother had told me way back in the Fall. But I wanted to put her somewhat at ease. The only way I could think of was to tell her about Elle.

I only had a minute or so to decide what to say. I don’t think I’d ever mentioned Elle’s condition to anyone who didn’t know her. I think I might’ve even rationalized telling Joanne about her by thinking that she would probably never meet Elle. So I told her that my fiancee had experienced somewhat the same situation. Her head popped up immediately. I don’t remember the words she spoke but it was obvious that she wanted to hear more. I know I didn’t figure on that happening. Again, I have no recollection of just what I said but I do remember her hanging on the fact that, even with her ”problem“, Elle was going about living without it being a burden. I also remember her saying that she wanted to meet her. Again, not something I’d planned on when I offered the information up to her. I was pleased with her reaction but also worried about what she might say if she ever did meet Elle.

By then it was getting late and we were still a fair distance from the boat house. I could see the ripples of some air (wind) skipping across the lake so we set out again. At least this time Joanne didn’t squeal with every motion of the boat. We were almost to the dock when the biggest puff of wind we’d seen all day hit the sail. It wasn’t much but it sure scared Joanne so that she did let out a small scream. We were at the dock within a minute. I had her grab and hold onto the dock while I lowered the sail. She was kneeling on the bottom of the boat and leaning over the side to do it. This time I knew the wet spot wasn’t water from the boat.

Once ashore and the boat secured we started for my car. We were almost there when she stopped and sort of grabbed at my arm. I looked at her and as I did I heard her sort of whisper. She was, shyly, admitting that she’d gone some ”pee pee“ when she’d squealed the last time. I already knew it but I feigned ignorance. I didn’t want to embarrass myself or her. I remember her apologizing. I found something for her to sit on for the trip home. What I didn’t expect was for her to start talking about it. The voyeur in me wanted to hear as much as possible but, for some reason I was uncomfortable. I don’t know exactly what I said but the gist of it was I asked if she knew why it happened. I knew, from what her mother had told me, that she’d wet herself when she got upset. But this hadn’t been anything like the situations I’d known about where she'd experienced some sort of failure. She said she didn’t really know but that it wasn’t happening as much as it used to. Believe it or not, that made me happy to hear.

I hadn’t given the post office a forwarding address when I'd left school. My mail was still going to the house I'd lived at. It only took a few seconds to stop and retrieve it and among the items was the letter from the college with my grades. Not good! But it could’ve been worse. Four C’s and one D. The D was in my basic Economics course. I didn’t like the professor and he didn’t like me. We had to choose our major in that second semester and, although I had no idea what I’d do with a degree in Psychology, I chose that because I liked the Professors and instructors in that department. Common sense said to make Economics my minor but, because I’d taken a basic Education course and done well in it, I chose that as my minor instead. After all, Elle was studying to be a teacher. Possibly, it was my introduction to Psychology that was the reason I became so interested in Joanne. In any case, as I drove back to the track I couldn’t get my mind off of her. I was still convinced that there was something that could be done for her and people like her.

It was few days until I ran into Pete again. He asked how the sail went and, because I happened to have a few minutes I told him a bit about Joanne. I remember telling him how unfair it had been to her to be told she couldn’t continue with school because she’d been left back twice. I told him that not only was it a blow to her self esteem but also it denied her social interaction. By then I’d gotten this idea that there should be some sort of program for kids, like her, who wanted to continue to go to school but were being denied because of the State Education Department rules. Pete let me ramble on for a while and then told me that I needed to talk to Doctor F, the head of the Education department. I asked why and he told me he’d just recently sent out some publicity on a study that Dr. F had published that was related to what I’d just told him. I can’t say I was jumping for joy with that news. I thought it might be a little presumptuous for someone who had only taken one course and was only planning on minoring in Education to go talk to the head of the department with a suggestion. I told Pete that I’d think about it.

To be continued...