The story of a girl.
Once upon a time, there was a girl. This girl fancied herself a unique individual, but her determined ability to look beyond the truth and see her own personal fiction with the rose colored glasses of youth (she had, in fact, just turned twenty one a few months earlier) set her squarely in the middle of the dystopia surrounding most women her age. She had been married, albeit largely unhappily, for three years. She was raising her daughter, not yet two years of age, mostly alone. Her husband, a wonderful and caring spirit who unfortunately lacked the ability to communicate or take any sort of stress/criticism, was off on his second tour of duty (this time to Iraq) with the United States Army. The girl decided it was time to leave Kentucky, where she had been living for the past few years, and head back home to Illinois. She needed familiar faces, she needed some sort of stability in her life.
Once back, the girl's life began to look a bit brighter. She had old friends to commiserate with, new friends to make, life to live. She began conversing with a man online, someone whom she shared common interests and felt oddly comfortable with. They talked fairly infrequently; the girl was busy having an online affair (although not an illicit one - her husband knew of and sanctioned this romance) with a wonderful woman. This woman seemed to have all the answers and none of them at the same time, which was why the girl was so infatuated with her. She adored this woman, although circumstances had been keeping them apart romatically since they day they met.
A few months later, when she finally met the man in person, it was very laid back. They chatted awhile, watched movies, had a bite to eat. When it came time for the man to leave, the girl felt drawn to hug him. She knew this would be inappropriate, however, and held herself back. She watched him leave, leather jacket jingling and twinkling in the moonlight, and knew that her life was going to change. He left to do his radio show and she sank back onto the couch with a good book, trying to take her mind off the strange pull inside her.
Unfortunately, a horrible event happened that changed the girl's life. A neighbor, someone her grandparents' knew and trusted, took advantage of the girl while she was over at his apartment. He slipped a drug into her drink and raped her, over the course of a few hours. The girl limped home later - drugged, sore, bleeding, crying and unable to admit she had made one of the worst mistakes of her life. The girl lost it, having already been raped once before (at the age of fifteen), and knew she needed to escape for awhile. She decided to fly to Arizona with her daughter to visit the woman, her husband and their two children.
The girl was deliriously happy in Arizona. She had the woman, she had the love and affection that she had desperately been missing in her life. Although they had their arguments, the girl was extremely sad when it came time to leave. She felt at home with her little forged family, she felt loved and she felt accepted. During this trip, however, the girl was unfaithful to her husband for the first time. The girl felt ashamed at her lack of morality, and vowed to never let it happen again. Although she didn't have sex with the woman's husband, there was still enough contact to constitute adultery. The girl shook it off though. She was going back home with a fire in her heart, the events of the past just that. The past.
The girl had called the man a few times while she was in Arizona. She wasn't sure why, they hadn't really been that close as friends. The girl had a certain fondness in her heart for him though - he was smart, funny, fun to talk to. No one that she had meet since coming home had intrigued her as much as this man had. They started hanging out more in person. Some days the girl would go over to his tiny one bedroom apartment to watch wrestling, other times they would just go watch movies or get coffee. Sometimes they cuddled, innocently, victims of a lack of intimacy in their current lives.
One day, however, things began to change. The joking and good natured friendly ribbing they gave each other got a little more gratuitous, the teasing became much more sexual. The girl began to feel a small pitter pat in her heart when she was around him; she began to look forward to his late night phone calls, instant messages, emails. One day, there was a kiss. They were lying on his bed, talking. It had never gone to that space before, though the way the girl was beginning to feel about him meant that she should have known a bit better than to put herself in that situation. She wanted it, although she knew it was wrong. She needed to feel something, she wanted to feel like there was someone for her out there. The moment their lips touched, sweetly and chaste, tiny fingers crept up her spine and into her heart. She knew, then, that there would be no going back for her. She both feared for and looked forward to the future.
Things changed quickly for the girl. The man felt nothing for her, which made things incredibly awkward. The girl, however much she enjoyed the movies and the late night talks, began to feel lost and alone. Through all the intimacy, the late night makeout sessions... she hurt for what she had lost. She wanted the man, wanted to be with him. She never forgot that she was still married, and bits of her hurt for the end of that too. She felt dirty, she felt used. She felt like she was giving up everything in exchange for sexual favors, becoming the devil's harlot and getting nothing in return.
Shortly after that, they made love for the first time. The girl left immediately afterward, feeling used and angry. She drove around in her car, music blaring, cigarette pursed on her lips. He called to tell her he was thinking of her, but what that meant she could only guess. She was angry with herself, angry at him, angry at the world. She went home and cried herself to sleep that night, convinced that God (if he did indeed exist) was going to strike her down like the sinner she was. She loved him, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it. She erased that feeling from her mind, tried to set him up with her friends to rub salt in the wound. Nothing worked, nothing could kill the pain that seeing him caused her.
Things seemed to turn up after that, though. She called him up a few weeks later, in the middle of the night, to tell him she loved him. She had never meant those words more. It hurt her heart to admit it, but it hurt her heart even more to deny it. She didn't know what that would mean, what (if anything) it would change, but she needed to get it out. It took him a few days to return the emotion, but he did. She was sitting on a washing machine in a dirty laundromat with him, waiting for his load of clothes to finish drying. He pulled her close and whispered it into her ear. The sound of that phrase echoes in her even now. The first I love you is a fantastic thing, a phrase that will always hold a certain magic.
And thus began the girl's illicit affair. She loved him in secrecy. Not many people knew about their relationship, but those that did knew that nothing could change her mind. She loved him. He loved her. It might have been a plotline out of West Side Story, but they were content with letting other people draw their own conclusions. They still are.
Life might not be perfect. Life might not even get close to being perfect. But she'll always have him. She'll always have the memory of the way that life does, sometimes, actually work out for the better. Life brought her this man, her prince, and this is something the girl will always be eternally grateful for. Their love isn't clandestine anymore, but she still feels for him just as strongly as she did cuddled against him on a picnic table during that first tornado warning. Safe, sound, a bit scared, but content.
These tears that she is shedding for the past, all they did to hurt each other, all the bitter resentment and pain, will be her last. She's officially moving on. She's forgiving herself and forgiving him, once and for all.
He'll always be the one she loved the most. And she can't wait to be his wife.
Once back, the girl's life began to look a bit brighter. She had old friends to commiserate with, new friends to make, life to live. She began conversing with a man online, someone whom she shared common interests and felt oddly comfortable with. They talked fairly infrequently; the girl was busy having an online affair (although not an illicit one - her husband knew of and sanctioned this romance) with a wonderful woman. This woman seemed to have all the answers and none of them at the same time, which was why the girl was so infatuated with her. She adored this woman, although circumstances had been keeping them apart romatically since they day they met.
A few months later, when she finally met the man in person, it was very laid back. They chatted awhile, watched movies, had a bite to eat. When it came time for the man to leave, the girl felt drawn to hug him. She knew this would be inappropriate, however, and held herself back. She watched him leave, leather jacket jingling and twinkling in the moonlight, and knew that her life was going to change. He left to do his radio show and she sank back onto the couch with a good book, trying to take her mind off the strange pull inside her.
Unfortunately, a horrible event happened that changed the girl's life. A neighbor, someone her grandparents' knew and trusted, took advantage of the girl while she was over at his apartment. He slipped a drug into her drink and raped her, over the course of a few hours. The girl limped home later - drugged, sore, bleeding, crying and unable to admit she had made one of the worst mistakes of her life. The girl lost it, having already been raped once before (at the age of fifteen), and knew she needed to escape for awhile. She decided to fly to Arizona with her daughter to visit the woman, her husband and their two children.
The girl was deliriously happy in Arizona. She had the woman, she had the love and affection that she had desperately been missing in her life. Although they had their arguments, the girl was extremely sad when it came time to leave. She felt at home with her little forged family, she felt loved and she felt accepted. During this trip, however, the girl was unfaithful to her husband for the first time. The girl felt ashamed at her lack of morality, and vowed to never let it happen again. Although she didn't have sex with the woman's husband, there was still enough contact to constitute adultery. The girl shook it off though. She was going back home with a fire in her heart, the events of the past just that. The past.
The girl had called the man a few times while she was in Arizona. She wasn't sure why, they hadn't really been that close as friends. The girl had a certain fondness in her heart for him though - he was smart, funny, fun to talk to. No one that she had meet since coming home had intrigued her as much as this man had. They started hanging out more in person. Some days the girl would go over to his tiny one bedroom apartment to watch wrestling, other times they would just go watch movies or get coffee. Sometimes they cuddled, innocently, victims of a lack of intimacy in their current lives.
One day, however, things began to change. The joking and good natured friendly ribbing they gave each other got a little more gratuitous, the teasing became much more sexual. The girl began to feel a small pitter pat in her heart when she was around him; she began to look forward to his late night phone calls, instant messages, emails. One day, there was a kiss. They were lying on his bed, talking. It had never gone to that space before, though the way the girl was beginning to feel about him meant that she should have known a bit better than to put herself in that situation. She wanted it, although she knew it was wrong. She needed to feel something, she wanted to feel like there was someone for her out there. The moment their lips touched, sweetly and chaste, tiny fingers crept up her spine and into her heart. She knew, then, that there would be no going back for her. She both feared for and looked forward to the future.
Things changed quickly for the girl. The man felt nothing for her, which made things incredibly awkward. The girl, however much she enjoyed the movies and the late night talks, began to feel lost and alone. Through all the intimacy, the late night makeout sessions... she hurt for what she had lost. She wanted the man, wanted to be with him. She never forgot that she was still married, and bits of her hurt for the end of that too. She felt dirty, she felt used. She felt like she was giving up everything in exchange for sexual favors, becoming the devil's harlot and getting nothing in return.
Shortly after that, they made love for the first time. The girl left immediately afterward, feeling used and angry. She drove around in her car, music blaring, cigarette pursed on her lips. He called to tell her he was thinking of her, but what that meant she could only guess. She was angry with herself, angry at him, angry at the world. She went home and cried herself to sleep that night, convinced that God (if he did indeed exist) was going to strike her down like the sinner she was. She loved him, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it. She erased that feeling from her mind, tried to set him up with her friends to rub salt in the wound. Nothing worked, nothing could kill the pain that seeing him caused her.
Things seemed to turn up after that, though. She called him up a few weeks later, in the middle of the night, to tell him she loved him. She had never meant those words more. It hurt her heart to admit it, but it hurt her heart even more to deny it. She didn't know what that would mean, what (if anything) it would change, but she needed to get it out. It took him a few days to return the emotion, but he did. She was sitting on a washing machine in a dirty laundromat with him, waiting for his load of clothes to finish drying. He pulled her close and whispered it into her ear. The sound of that phrase echoes in her even now. The first I love you is a fantastic thing, a phrase that will always hold a certain magic.
And thus began the girl's illicit affair. She loved him in secrecy. Not many people knew about their relationship, but those that did knew that nothing could change her mind. She loved him. He loved her. It might have been a plotline out of West Side Story, but they were content with letting other people draw their own conclusions. They still are.
Life might not be perfect. Life might not even get close to being perfect. But she'll always have him. She'll always have the memory of the way that life does, sometimes, actually work out for the better. Life brought her this man, her prince, and this is something the girl will always be eternally grateful for. Their love isn't clandestine anymore, but she still feels for him just as strongly as she did cuddled against him on a picnic table during that first tornado warning. Safe, sound, a bit scared, but content.
These tears that she is shedding for the past, all they did to hurt each other, all the bitter resentment and pain, will be her last. She's officially moving on. She's forgiving herself and forgiving him, once and for all.
He'll always be the one she loved the most. And she can't wait to be his wife.
This entry was posted by Mellie, on
Wednesday, June 22, 2005.
