You Always Remember Your First

I'll always remember my first time. It was in this old, beat-up barn in the middle of nowhere, up there in the loft that I first did it. Leah Mitchell. She was my first. I'll never forget that girl. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. She had a smile that made the whole world brighter.

Leah was a server at this restaurant, I can’t remember the name of the place right now, but it was one of those restaurants where servers wear tiny skirts and tight shirts. You know, the type of uniform that shows lots of skin. Man, that skin. Leah's skin was a mocha color good enough to eat.

I ordered a slice of chocolate cake and a glass of milk. "How old are you?" Leah asked.

I said, “18. Why?”

She said, “Because your order sounds like something an 8-year-old would ask for.” She laughed and started walking away.

“What’s your phone number?” I asked. She acted as if she hadn't heard me but I could tell she did because she stopped walking. For just a second, but she definitely paused before walking back to the kitchen.

Leah had a male server bring me my cake and milk. When she brought me the check she said, "Did you ask Billy for his number, too?" She laughed and walked away.

That laugh. Man, did I love her laugh. She had a laugh that made the world smile. And her smile. Her smile was hypnotic.

I kept going back to that restaurant every night, trying to get Leah to go out with me. I took her roses one time, but she didn't seem impressed. I realized that Leah must’ve gotten roses from hundreds of guys. It was cliche. I decided to try something a little more low-key.

I went to the flower shop and asked the florist to recommend me a flower bouquet that might impress a girl without making the guy appear to be a player or a stalker.

"I like marigolds," the florist answered right away, "Especially orange Mexican marigolds". She showed me an orange flower. For some reason, I immediately pictured this beautiful orange flower against Leah's gorgeously tanned skin.

"I'll take a dozen," I said.

The marigold bouquet worked better than I imagined. Orange Mexican marigold happened to be Leah's grandmother's favorite flower. Her grandmother had raised Leah since she was three.

Leah's mother was sent to prison for murdering Leah's father. Her father used to beat Leah's mother. One night, Leah's mother fought back and stabbed her dad in the chest.

Anyway, it was our third date. Funny, huh? People say, "Wait until the third date." I guess that's true.

I decided to bring Leah here to this barn on our third date. She looked so hot when I picked her up that night. She was wearing this black halter top and skirt outfit that showed off all of her amazing curves.

We caught a red light at one of the intersections. We were talking and laughing for what felt like a long time when the light finally turned green. I guess I must've hit the gas pedal a little too hard because the glove box popped open and that box fell onto Leah's lap. It was wrapped in brown paper and she thought it was a gift for her.

"Is this for me?" she asked excitedly, "What is it?" She flashed that beautiful, hypnotic smile of hers.

“It’s nothing. It's not for you. Please put it back in the glove box”, I said. But instead of putting it back, she tore the brown paper wrapping off it, opened the box, and looked inside. She wasn't meant to see it. It wasn't for her.

We ended up here in this barn. I took her up to the loft. We were right above the bullpen. I could hear the bull below us. I think it was the bull's grunting that woke Leah. “Where are we?” she asked.

"This is my special place,” I said as I slit her throat. I carried Leah down to the pond. It was late February. The pond was completely frozen. I was able to walk across it to the other side, to the well under the pear tree. That's where she's at now. At the bottom of the well.

Please don't cry. Yeah, she was my first, but don't worry. I will always remember you, too. I just wish you hadn't opened that box.