That Girl 

That GirlMy first real boyfriend, Alan, was a year older. We dated the summer after I graduated from high school. Off to college soon, leaving our small town and him, but he asked me to meet his family anyway. He picked me up in his ’79 silver Trans Am and we drove windows down, blasting Bad Company.

An hour later, we arrived at a small blue trailer with a wooden porch. Everyone sat crammed in lawn chairs drinking beer in cozies. After introductions, his mother said, “Ain’t she pretty,” looking me over, nodding her head. “Ain’t she pretty,” they all agreed.

Heather Beecher Hawk works in many literary genres as well performance and street art. She is founder of The Understory arts collective, past columnist of personal essays for Northwest Women’s Journal, and featured or forthcoming in 5×5, Zone 3, and CO LAB: A Collaborative Design Survey. She lives in Portland, Oregon, where she teaches and runs her own natural health practice.

Photo credit: Isaac Bowen

8 Responses to “That Girl ”

  1. Brady says:

    Excellent. Also, the Bad Co and Trans Am combination works well……….

  2. Nora says:

    Wonderful evocative terse yet yes surprisingly detailed

    Howdja du dAT?

    Much love to you

    bin thinking of you lately (like always)

  3. I could see everyone so clearly that I was surprised to read it again and see you didn’t describe one thing about their appearance. Excellent.

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