Bruce and Lynda with a ‘y’ as she was fond of telling everyone she introduced herself to, lived in a small town named Kauffman’s Vale. There was no vale or valley to speak of. When the town had been established in 1904, the people settling there were predominately German and they just liked the way vale sounded. The name gave the impression the town was a pretty place and in the summer, it could be. Dark trees surrounded the city and the scent of pine and earth always hung in the air. Beautiful purple, yellow and white wildflowers grew wherever they could, dotting hills and ditches with a pastoral aesthetic any painter would love to capture on a canvass. There were two streets in the town that bisected exactly in the centre. The town’s founders wanted the city to grow outwards from there until it became a booming metropolis to rival Toronto. It didn’t because although the summer days could be nice and the scenery beautiful and idyllic, the winters were brutal, unrelenting and not worth the one and a half months of warm weather you might get in the summer. Kaufmann’s Vale sat right in the middle of a cold belt. The geography of the land funnelled the cold air from the great white north to the town and it would settle in quickly causing snow to fall at an alarming rate and generally cause town-wide misery. When the short summer ended you would spend the rest of the year bundled up from head to foot in thick clothing. The snow piles on either side of the driveway grew taller than most people and if you didn’t have a snowblower, you were in for an awfully long sore-lower-back kind of winter. The main reason the town didn’t collapse was because of its location. Smack dab between Sudbury and North Bay, the townsfolk didn’t have too long of a commute to either city and the roads were well maintained and plowed regularly for inter-city travel. For someone who didn’t want to live in a small home on an even smaller lot of land, Kauffman’s Vale was ideal. A person could buy a two thousand square foot home on an acre of land for half of what you’d have to pay for that in Sudbury or North Bay. If you didn’t mind the snow and the cold, it would be perfect. The trouble with the small town was there wasn’t a hell of a lot to do. There were excellent snowmobile trails, cross-country ski trails, eight hockey rinks and a good sized pond for those inclined to ice fish. But those activities cost money and not all of the people could afford such luxuries. So for the young people in town when they were bored, they’d drink, smoke drugs and have sex. Consequently, there happened to be a lot of young mothers in Kauffman’s Vale.

Bruce had an opportunity to play in the Ontario Hockey League which was a stepping stone to the big show, the NHL. In order to realize his dream, he didn’t drink (much), never did drugs, didn’t have a snowmobile or a fishing rod and so the only form of entertainment left to him that wouldn’t mess up his chances to be drafted was sex. Provided he didn’t get someone pregnant. That would be one hell of a speed bump on his road to potential riches but being a teenager, that wasn’t much of a deterrent. He’d be careful and he knew he could rely on his girlfriend Lynda to be the same.

Lynda wanted to have sex with Bruce but worried he might do something stupid, like ask her to marry him or something. He was a bit of a silly romantic. If everything worked out for him, and she hoped it did, he would be leaving to play hockey in another town. She wouldn’t be going with him because that would be absurd. She knew the statistics on high school sweethearts and marriage. They were dismal and truthfully, Lynda didn’t think she even wanted to get married. Why would you need a license and a ring to be with someone? Just be with them. Simple. And she liked her last name. She didn’t want to give that up for anybody. What for? It seemed so outdated, like you take the man’s last name which to her, implied ownership. Subtle implication but to Lynda, it was there all the same. Must have been thought up by a man. So although marriage and pregnancy were out of the question, sex with Bruce was not. He was fit, good looking and for a popular jock, he also happened to be a nice guy. Not a bad choice considering the other barbaric teenage alternatives. She didn’t want to go to university a virgin. They had petted each other in the back of his mom’s Toyota SUV and once she showed him what to do to her and not to grab and stroke so hard as though he was trying to rub her clitoris off, it was nice. Really nice. She was ready for the big event and she told him so.

They had told their parents they were going into Sudbury to catch a movie. That would give them at least four hours of alone time. Bruce’s dad offered him his car, a Honda Civic but he wanted his mom’s SUV (he thought he’d need the room in the back) and his mom tossed him the keys and told him to at least not bring the beast back empty. Bruce stuffed the keys in his front pocket and feeling the condoms there, he put them in the other pocket. He didn’t want to poke a hole in them by accident. He shivered at the thought.

He picked up Lynda and they drove to the Tim Horton’s and got coffee, bagels, and timbits before driving to their spot. Bruce’s mom was an accountant who worked from home. She also dabbled in real estate on the side. She was handling a property in town, a small house on a big lot. The owner had passed away and now the family wanted to sell it. No one lived there. Her mom had the lawn mowed regularly and the home’s heat and electricity going to keep the air conditioning on for the potential buyers to walk through without sweating through their clothes. Lights on a timer made potential robbers think someone might be home and they’d be on now, shining yellow light from the windows and above the garage making a glowing halo around the home. The driveway was long and dark and screened from the road by big evergreens. The perfect spot for their romantic interlude. They wouldn’t go into the house because that would be wrong and also because Bruce didn’t know the code for the alarm. They’d park in the driveway, eat their food and drink their coffee and engage in awkward, nervous small talk while both thinking of what they were about to do. They were going to do ‘it’. And that was supposed to be a big deal. And they would both treat it as such.

They were going at the preliminaries fairly well. They were making out to the hum of the air conditioner. It was a wonderful hot summer night without a cloud in the night sky to diminish the brilliance of the stars overhead. Mid-July weather and both of them were looking forward to a summer of backseat fun provided tonight went well. Bruce kept trying to French kiss Lynda because he thought it’d be cooler and turn her on more except he had coffee breath. Every time he slipped his tongue in her mouth she suppressed an urge to gag. Instead, she disengaged and put her lips by his ear and pressed her cheek to his.

“Ok. I’m ready. You have the condoms right?”

“Does the Pope wear a pointy hat?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Just get them already.”

Leaning away from her and reaching into his pocket he said, “I got them right here.”

He held one up, the shiny wrapper reflecting the glowing lights from the house. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows and she laughed, happy in the moment, excited to be finally doing ‘it’ and with someone as cool as Bruce. Her fingers pushed back his hair and he put his hand on hers. Behind Lynda, a face appeared in the window.

All at once, Bruce screamed, Lynda flinched, a hand banged on the window behind her head and a voice screamed, “Please help me!”