Bobs, Part 6d

But that was not that. Bobby was persistent.

And he must have really loved me. He didn't come around my house anymore, but he would ride his bike along with me as I walked home, turning back just before we got in sight of my house.

And he telephoned. Kind of a big deal, I thought.

But when my brother Bill answered the phone, he would embarrass me about it. "For you, Carol. It's your boyfriend. I can tell it's your boyfriend because he sounds like a girl."

Well, he was only 11. But it's funny. He did not sound like a girl to me.

One time Bill said,"Why does he call? Does he ever say anything?"

Actually, he didn't ever say much, and neither did I. The phone calls were mostly long silences. But even so, the silences were not uncomfortable. Besides, what would either of us know to say? We were children, after all. I guess the silences were speaking for us.

The realization, or the understanding of Bobby's feelings gradually made their way into my consciousness over the next several months, and I stopped being afraid. I liked being liked. He wasn't the first boy who had liked me, but he was different.

Isn't that what people always say about the person they love? He's different. So be it. He was. And I could describe him and tell about him, and I will, but that would not tell the reasons for liking him. Reasons for love are sometimes hard to tell. Hard to understand.