November 1974

When I got back from my appointment with Dr. Luckett, I stayed with Catherine and John Mark for two weeks. The second night I was there, my temperature spiked one more time. I remember waking, hallucinating again; Johnny and Catherine were there giving me an alcohol bath trying to cool me down. As Johnny swabbed the alcohol soaked cloth on my head and chest I asked him to please forgive me for being so much trouble and Johnny told me to shut up, I was being an idiot. I kept slipping into dreams Phillip inhabited that were so real I could touch him and smell him. It was a roller coaster of believing he was there but knowing he wasn't, he couldn't be. According to Johnny, this little episode of fever lasted a couple of hours. He was ready to take me to the emergency room, but the fever broke and he told me I fell into a dead slumber. Catherine sat up with me the rest of the night. I can remember occasionally awakening with her putting a cooling cloth on my forehead and I whispered to her how grateful I was. She shushed me each time.

After that I began a measured recovery. Dr. Luckett called John Mark and confirmed that I did have mono and pneumonia. He told Johnny that I had to rest for at least two weeks, no questions asked. I had a lot of time to think about how it had all come apart, how I had ended up in the condition I was in. I wanted to believe that I didn't know how much a part of me Phillip had become. I was entirely devoted to him, I thought of him as my hero not just someone I loved. Perhaps it's because he's the only person I've ever had a strong physical and emotional attachment to, but when he was gone it was if he had been killed and I was in such deep despair I became almost unaware of anything but that desperation. Knowing in my heart of hearts that I had not made a more valiant effort to save him when it happened or to contact him afterward just deepened my regret and remorse. On top of that when Major Stecker dropped the A bomb on my father and me, well, what can I say, my dad is still not over it. Neither am I. Maybe we never will be.

After I told my dad I wasn't playing football my senior year, he became even more distant. I didn't think it was possible for him to be more removed and perhaps I wasn't keeping up my end of the bargain. There were times when I wanted to go to him and beg him to please let me back into his life, but I never did. I think I was too proud. Oddly enough the highlight of my senior year was an art class I took the spring semester. The teacher was a young woman, about twenty-four, named Alicia Caldwell. She was beautiful; dark, curly hair, about 5'5", pale, almost translucent skin and nicely put together. I think the majority of the male student body had a serious crush on her. She also happened to be very married. By this time I had fallen completely into a black hole. We had several different art projects that spring; some painting, some sculpture, some papier-mache and some collage making. The projects were something I could be absorbed in without a lot of thinking going on. Since Phillip tended to dominate my thoughts this was a good thing. The other great part about art class was that Mrs. Caldwell always played classical music. I became particularly fond of Aaron Copland's work. First it was music from "Billy the Kid" and then "Rodeo". His music completely swept me up. I remember one day we were working on papier-mache, I was up to my elbows in the stuff, it was all over me, and Mrs. Caldwell put on "Appalachian Spring". As the music played I was transported from the depths of my grief to an exalted and humbled place. I had never heard such music, I felt as if I were present at the Creation. I am not lying when I say I truly felt like I was standing naked in the presence of God, as over the top as that sounds. The hair on my neck and arms stood up, my flesh was goose pimpled, I was in total awe. I must have been sitting at my place in class with my mouth open because Mrs. Caldwell came over.

"Gee, Luke, you seem to enjoy Mr. Copland."

"Yes ma'am. I've always loved most kinds of music, but I don't think I've ever heard anything quite like this. I can't believe another human being wrote something so beautiful."

"And I don't think I've ever heard you say more than two or three words at once, Luke."

She had a wet rag with her; she took my chin in her hand and began to remove the papier-mache remnants I had deposited on my face. I was immediately entranced with her, it was the first time I had appreciated how pretty she was. And she was touching my face. I think I may have blushed.

"I'm sorry, I'm usually all business. No time for small talk." I said.

"I don't know you very well at all, Luke Shelton, but actually you strike me as the saddest boy I've ever met. You act like you have the fate of the world riding on your shoulders."

I didn't know at all what to say; I wasn't aware I was so transparent; I was taken aback by her bluntness. All I could do was stare at her for a few seconds.

"No ma'am, I guess I just don't have much to say."

"Judging by how well you do your projects, I would bet you have a lot to say, you just don't."

I felt like she had been reading my mail or something.

"No ma'am, I think all the projects have been interesting so I do my best on them."

"Thank you, Luke. Most people treat art class like the easy 'A' it is. No more, no less."

She finished cleaning my face and then moved away to assist someone else. I thought her husband was a very fortunate man.

After that I think I became a special project for her. She played a lot of Copland (another favorite was "Fanfare for the Common Man") and talked to me quite a bit in class. Like I said, it was the highlight of a dismal year. I have to admit I wasn't very forthcoming with her though. There were a couple of times I think I wanted to tell her everything, but I was afraid to forge a closer bond with her. Frankly I felt as if my skull had been bashed in, literally and figuratively, over Phillip. I had lost him, then my father and then John Mark had gone off to school, not lost but not present either. What would happen if this young, beautiful teacher who was trying to befriend me knew the truth. I was just so tired of losing that it was easier to just keep her at arms length and keep all discussions skin deep.

I guess I say all this because that year was the year I had truly descended into what I thought was hell and I didn't have a lot of respite from it. I dwelled upon the loss of Phillip, the remorse of my inaction and the loss of my father. It was the beginning of the real decline; I realize that now. The pertinent question is how can I change it? I have worked very hard to keep new relationships superficial and I've pulled back the reins on the old ones. I have even been distant from John Mark.

I moved back in with Hooper on the 5th of November. Hoop has precise instructions from John Mark on what I can and can't do. So do I. I decided I would hang out with Hoop some more since he was asking me to. Since I can't go out and party for at least six months because of my recovery from mono, I hang out with Hoop and some of the other baseball players in the common room in the evenings. They usually adjourn to some party or off campus bar at around 8:00 or 8:30 and I go back to my room. The guys always ask me to come with, but they also understand I have been pretty sick and can't. This works out well for me because I have so much catching up to do in my classes.

John Mark, Catherine and I went home for Thanksgiving and it went well, I thought. Mom was ecstatic to have everyone under one roof; all five boys, their families and all. We have a big house but it was full to bursting that week. Truth be told it was good to see all of my brothers and I have some beautiful nieces and nephews I haven't seen in a while. Matt, James and David all commented on how skinny I was and had their opinions on remedies. John Mark told them I was looking much better than I had about a month ago. I think his exact comment, out of earshot of the parents, was I had looked like 'Death eating a shit sandwich'. Ahhh, John Mark, what a poet. I need to pound him when I get my strength back. I guess the biggest shocker was my dad. Even he seemed glad to see me. He talked to me for a long time about how I was feeling, how I was progressing with my catch up work and what I was planning to do for a major. There's still tension there but I think we've compromised on it. I think he's still worried about 'IT'. What I mean to say is, and this has come to me as a dawning realization, he would like to ask me if I am 'queer' or homosexual but he won't. If I were, would that mean he would treat me as more of an outcast than he already has. I know I sound naïve, and yes I am, but I could only answer 'I don't know' and still be totally truthful. My only experience is, well, you know the whole story. What I do know, though, is that I am attracted to women, at least I think I am. I see too many of them that I think are beautiful or attractive, I get that light headed feeling, my mind goes off on the little 'I wonder what she looks like naked' trail and I get aroused. I admit that all this is so tangled up in my weak little mind I get bewildered trying to sort it out. And I may be the only nineteen-year-old virgin man on the entire planet. I haven't seen any other boys I have been attracted to the way I was to Phillip but that doesn't mean there aren't any out there. This always brings me back to the "Am I Normal?" question and I have no answer for that. I don't know if I'm any more confused than any other nineteen year old, I know I'm not unique, but sometimes I wish I knew what was going on in the heads of other kids. Attraction is a slippery concept. Like I've said before, sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants and it just doesn't make any sense whatsoever. My heart told me I loved Phillip like no other, whether he was a boy or not, that we connected through our bodies, hearts, minds and souls. I don't know if I could have changed that had I wanted to. But I do know what we did was a devastating thing as far as our fathers were concerned. I don't think there is anything we could have done together, short of murder, which could have brought a harsher reaction. They separated us, exiled us from one another, primarily for the physical act Major Stecker witnessed. I don't think they understand at all the more important aspect of our emotional tie; that heart to heart, soul to soul, brain to brain part of it. They thought it was all about getting our rocks off. I would be lying if I said that wasn't a major component of our relationship. The memory of being there, our bodies close together, our dicks in such close contact it was difficult to tell whose was whose, practically sharing our breath, puts me into such a reverie about shared contentment that the realization of what I have lost is an aching, physical yearning. But I also know we shared something that exceeded the physical by light years. That, at its locus, is why my grief almost obliterated me and why I have been so consumed by the loss.

Wow, important revelations at Thanksgiving. So, I guess, I give thanks. Perhaps I'll get better.

March 1975

John Mark, Catherine and I have been invited to a Dallas debutante's party. The honoree is Melissa Johnston and her father is an executive at a record company, actually it's what you would call an entertainment conglomerate. He had started a recording company that specialized in regional music years and years ago. It became very successful and eventually the conglomerate acquired Melissa's father's company and made him an executive in their organization. Needless to say, all this made him a very rich man. We know Melissa because her mother is Abner Short's (of Cranston fame) daughter. My mom has known Melissa's mom forever. Melissa is a year older than I am and I have known her since I was eleven. She would visit her grandparents and cousins in the summer at the ranch and we would all go horseback riding. We did this every year until she graduated high school, my junior year. She is a very nice person for someone so wealthy. Well that sounds odd; she's just a nice person, period. Melissa also attends Benedict and we (John Mark, Catherine and I) have hung out with her some. So, as a result, we got an invitation to a very nice party that is part of the debutante season, at an exclusive country club in Dallas. We are very special people, don't you know? My mom insisted I buy a new suit for the occasion, so I did. It is dark blue, very conservative, and I look pretty damn good in it, if I do say so myself. I've gained quite a bit of weight; I'm up to about 180 lbs. John Mark says I'm still too thin and I tell him I'm working on it.

The party is on Saturday night. What we're going to do is drive up to Dallas Friday afternoon; it takes about an hour. We're going to stay with James, his wife Angela and their son, Adam. Then we'll drive back on Sunday.

Friday afternoon arrives; John Mark, Catherine and I load up his VW with our stuff for the weekend. It is a tight fit. Catherine volunteers for the back seat explaining I have the long legs so the front seat will be more comfortable. We pull out of town about 5:00 p.m. which should allow us to skip the most horrendous part of rush hour when we get to Dallas. I still tire pretty easily so I fall asleep almost the minute we get onto I-35.

It is a cold Friday in December 1971; Christmas is about two weeks away. Phillip and I are lying in the little camp bed under an old quilt I've appropriated from my room at home. We are recovering from our exertions of about the past half-hour. I can still smell that locker room, bleachy scent that happens when our sweat and semen commingle. It is an aroma I associate with Phillip and me. We had sneaked out here after last period, loading up in my father's old pickup right after school. Phillip had walked home with me after school, not an unusual occurrence, and since no one was home I snagged the keys to the truck off the pegboard and we were out the door. Phillip and I have learned how to prolong the conclusion when we are together. We know how to increase the pressure and friction, then relent slightly when we get to the brink. This has lent a heart pounding physicality to our intimacy. Phillip, however, sometimes cheats because he knows a couple of little tricks that are guaranteed to set me off. Sometimes he will apply just the right touch to the underside of the head of my dick when he is pressing us together that makes me do a startling impression of a roman candle. The light show in my head accompanying this is something to see. I usually get him back though; I know a few tricks of my own.

As we lie here, me on my back, Phillip propped up on his elbow facing me, the "Immigrant Song" by Zeppelin is wafting in from the other room. The quilt is pulled up to our waists. The light is beginning to fade from the day, but we still have a little more time.

"You know, Phillip, the lyrics to the 'Immigrant Song' are inspired by the old Viking legends. Plant sings about the 'hammer of the gods', the 'land of the ice and snow' and 'Valhalla we are coming'. It's really a pretty interesting song." I say.

I am feeling completely at peace, like I'm in tune with some kind of unknown, audible to my ears only, harmony.

"How do know all that shit, Luke?" Phillip asks.

"All you have to do is listen to the lyrics."

"You mean you can understand what Robert Plant says. Most of the time he sounds incomprehensible to me. And it's not just that, what do you know about Viking legends?"

"Not a lot. Just what I've read since this song came out. Would you like to hear something I learned about a month ago in literature class?" I ask, shifting the subject a little.

"Sure, why not?"

Phillip has moved his left hand onto my belly. He has this thing about keeping contact when we are together. Even when he's asleep on his back, as is his custom, he'll have his right hand on my hip or thigh. When he's on his side he'll conform himself to my back with his hand on my waist since I almost always sleep on my right side. We're both pretty big, you know, tall and lanky and we fill up this little bed, but I've decided close is good. I like the feel of his skin in touch with mine.

I launch into the "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day" sonnet by Shakespeare. He listens intently until I finish.

"So you had to memorize that, huh?" He asks.

"No, it just kind of stuck in my head. I've got a pretty good memory, ya know?"

"So what's that poem about?"

"Come on, Phillip, it's not hard to get."

"No really, explain it to me."

"Okay, Shakespeare wrote a series of sonnets to his best friend that he loved dearly and some to a woman he was in love with. The ones to his friend are more laudatory and loving, the ones to the woman are more melancholy and meditative, his love for her is a more troubling, stormy kind. In this sonnet, old William compares his friend to a summer's day, warm and beautiful. But later in the sonnet his friend is the summer. And although all things beautiful fade and the summer ends, because he has immortalized his friend in this poem his youth and beauty will live on, he will become one with time because of the poet's verse. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Very cool. You know what, Luke, you are probably one of the smartest kids I know." Phillip says, matter of factly.

"Just because I have a good memory doesn't make me smart. You haven't met a lot of smart people in your life have you Phillip?"

"No, look, I'm not lying. You like literature, history and even math. You're always telling me things I didn't know. I think you're smart. It's one of the things l like best about you."

I turn my head and look at him. I'm astounded again for about the millionth time by the little goldish, greenish flecks of color in the brown irises of his eyes. When I was about seven, my dad told me once my eyes looked like lapis, just like my mom's. I looked up in the encyclopedia what lapis was, a blue semiprecious stone streaked with black, and for some unknown reason I felt this heart squeezing love for my father. The irises of my eyes do look like that, the blue streaked with black. He knew me better than anyone it seemed; he took notice of even the smallest detail.

"You know, Phillip, you're not exactly a dumb ass. I saw your grades last six weeks. You excel at all your classes."

"There's a difference, you know things, you have a vocabulary. Sometimes I have to look stuff up in the dictionary to know what you've said. It's like you have two different sides. When you play football, you want to hit everything in sight, you are so competitive, but you also like literature, books, music, art and stuff like that."

"You know you are the same way Phillip. We're two of a kind." I look at him and I can see he is pondering what I just said.

My mom has always told me I started reading spontaneously when I was about four or five. I don't remember that and I don't even know if it's possible. What I do know is when we were tested in sixth grade, I read at a college freshman level. My teacher was amazed. I credit my mom. As long as I can remember she has read to all of us. She loves books.

"Look Phillip, everything you've said is flattering, but I'm not all that smart. By the way, you like me because I'm smart? I thought maybe it was because I was such a good guy."

"You know what I noticed first about you, Luke? It was how you get along with John Mark. I saw it at two-a-days. You guys really like each other, no, you love each other. You two are constantly harassing one another, but I see that you are close. My brother and I are six years apart. I think because of that we're not close. I've always wished for a brother close to my age."

His hand has drifted under the quilt. It has moved from my belly to my pubic hair. I can feel his fingers lightly tangled there.

"Well, Johnny and I are close. He's a good brother, the best actually."

"You know, you're lucky."

"Phillip, you have no idea. You know what I first noticed about you; everything, but it took me a while. I'm a little slow on the uptake sometime. The reason I recited that sonnet to you is because it reminds me of you. I'm not capable of expressing my feelings for you as adequately, but I do know this. As long as I have a memory, you are going to be there. It may not be immortality, but it is the best I can do."

"Wow, that's a nice sentiment," he says.

"I meant it to be."

He moves his hand again, cupping my balls in his palm. My scrotum contracts sending little tickling, tingling sensations to my dick, drawing my testicles close to my body. Phillip's grip tightens a little, not uncomfortably, but erotically snug. I get unyieldingly hard at once.

"You know, when you do that, it makes me crazy," I say, looking again into his eyes.

"I know, that's why I'm doing it."

He moves his thigh onto my dick and moves closer to me, his erection pressing against my hip. I can feel the furze of the hair on his leg tickling the glans of my penis and it moves me with an animal passion. It brings me so close to orgasm I can actually feel it rising within me.

"Luke!" he says.

I'm about to gasp I know it.

"Luke! Wake up, you're talking in your sleep." I hear John Mark say as he shakes me by the shoulder.

I fly out of my dream and realize we are on the road to Dallas. I have a raging erection and I think I may explode. I sit straight up in the seat and somehow, someway, by force of will I quell the feeling in my groin barely escaping total embarrassment. God, that was close.

"Wow, buddy, you were having some conversation there. Are you feeling okay?" John Mark asks.

Shit. What in the fuck did I say? Another vivid Phillip dream, a new one this time. He's given me a little respite lately; the dreams have not been so frequent, but this one, my God I was there. My memory has me running the three-minute mile. I am almost breathless. At least I'm not crying. I'll take any small victory in this battle.

"So did I give anything away, Johnny?" I ask shakily, turning my head slightly to him.

"Hell no. You were mumbling. It sounded like some kind of foreign language. But from all indications it was a good dream." John Mark says, laughing and motioning toward my lap with his hand.

My best little friend is still standing watch at the gates of arousal and it is very obvious in bas-relief against my jeans. I turn around quickly to glance at Catherine but she is asleep, curled up on the back seat, so I escape further ignominy.

"Yeah, it would appear so." I say and laugh a little. You have no fucking idea, Johnny. My pulse rate is still up and my face feels hot. I am still in awe of the effulgence of the dream, the tactile reality of it.

After a few miles I recover my composure. John Mark and I talk easily the rest of the way to Dallas. You know, certain people in our lives are just easier to talk to than others. John Mark and I are like two peas in a pod. I guess it is because we are close in age and we've just always been together. Johnny has always kind of taken care of me, been my protector, even now it seems, though I am bigger than he is. I wonder to myself how could I have ever been so fortunate to have someone like him around? I've always thought I could tell him anything, well almost anything, and it wouldn't matter. He'd get over it and forgive me. Even though he doesn't have a clue about Phillip and me, it stands between us now, marking a border for me that I won't let him cross. That idea makes me a little sad.

We get to James and Angela's house at about 6:15 p.m. They have a very nice home in a northern suburb of Dallas. Matt, James and David all practice law together. Matt and David are in New York City working on a bankruptcy case, taking depositions. James is a trial lawyer, the dreaded personal injury attorney and he handles that portion of their practice. I assume that when John Mark graduates and passes the bar he'll join the firm also.

As Johnny, Catherine and I are unloading our bags from the car, James, Angela and Adam come outside to greet us. James and Angela look well and Adam, 4, is appropriately adorable. Everyone hugs everyone. James remarks that I look like I've put on a few more pounds and look healthier than I have in a while. Adam is excited about having his uncles staying with him. We all traipse inside lugging our stuff.

"All right, guys," James announces, "we have reservations for dinner. We have a sitter lined up and on her way over, so you three need to freshen up so we can make dinner at 7:30."

"You know, James," I say, "you could skip the sitter and I will stay with Adam. I'd be like a fifth wheel, you know."

"Naw, that's not necessary, Luke," James answers, "besides we need to catch up on things anyway."

Catherine is awarded the guestroom, of course and John Mark and I will get to bunk in the game room. The floor is always fine with me. We all begin the process of cleaning up and getting dressed for dinner.

We drive downtown to the Egyptian, an old Dallas landmark Italian restaurant, allegedly owned by a real Mafia made guy but who knows? What I know is their food is great. My appetite has made a pretty good recovery, especially lately. The five of us enter the restaurant and are immediately seated. The maitre'd appears to know James. Our waiter approaches and hands out the menus. We all peruse them. I know already what I am going to have; veal piccata and fettucine carbonara. The fettucine alone should add five pounds to me, I know it. Everyone orders and James adds some antipasti and calamari for appetizers. As we wait, the sommelier approaches and everyone, with the exception of me, decides to order a bottle of wine. I'm still supposed to be alcohol free so I have to stick with iced tea. Poor me.

The wine and the appetizers arrive at about the same time, the wine is uncorked and poured, and we all dig in. As we eat, James decides we should make small talk. About my future and me.

"So, Luke," he says, "I spoke with dad the other day and he said he thinks you've decided on the business school in the fall."

This is a surprise to me. Dad and I had spoken in February about what I was planning to do. And I was under the impression everything was still undecided, or at least I am. Dad is still disappointed I don't want to do the law school thing, but he is adamant about the writing. No, no, no, hell no was his exact answer. After a long discussion that almost became an argument, I thought he had relented a bit. But from what James is springing on me, apparently not.

"Well, no, I didn't think we had made a final decision on what I should do, James." I answer, "I'm still not sold on the business school idea. I told dad that I was still leaning toward literature and writing. He wasn't keen on the idea but I got the idea after we talked that he might be amenable to it."

"You know, kid, you ought to reconsider the whole writing thing. The Sheltons have produced quite a few good lawyers and, I'm not sure, but I don't think we have any writers. Or rather, any we claim." James says. And then laughs.

"One thing I do know for sure, James, is I do not want to be a lawyer," I say pointedly.

"Okay, that's fine. But business school would be a good option too. It's a two-year program and if you are so inclined, you could get your masters. Also, you may change your mind about law school in the interim."

"Why would I change my mind, James? I can't think of a reason in the world to be an attorney. I would, however, like to write. And I don't know what's wrong with that. Professor Fischer says I have some potential, but I won't know for sure unless I try it."

"But, Luke, it isn't very practical as a career choice, is it? What I mean is, eventually you'll want to settle down, get married, have kids and I'm not sure writing is the best way to make real money. Understand?"

This is great, just great. I'm not yet twenty years old and I'm getting married. Okay, we don't know to whom yet, but I've got to make some real money. What if, James, I tell you the only person I've ever been in love with is another boy? I bet that would shoot a big fucking hole in your plans for me, right? All of a sudden, my appetite has taken a hike. Fuck me and the horse I rode in on. This is turning into a shitty night.

"You know, James, I'm not sure exactly what I want to do right now. I'm only a sophomore and I didn't know I needed to declare my major to you right away." I say.

"Luke, you need to start making some of those decisions now though, don't you think. Haven't you considered what you want to do for the rest of your life?"

Why is this turning into an interrogation and examination of what I want to do? When I was at home at Thanksgiving, dad had treated me almost like a human being. Then in February we had gotten crossways about the writing and the business school. Now James is playing the concerned older brother. What is up here?

About this time, our food arrives. I am definitely not hungry. I am beginning to feel pressured by all this talk about my future and what I should choose as a career path.

"John Mark, what do you think I should do?" I ask.

"Well, Luke, I think you should do what you want to do. But I also think you need to be practical about what you set out as your goals. Is it a good idea to think you can make a living being a writer? What if it turns out you're not as good as Professor Fischer thinks you are. What then? Do you go back to school, spend more money and time, you know, backtrack so to speak? Do you think it is a good idea to waste four years of college on something that may or may not pan out."

What I think is that I don't have any allies at this table and I don't have any at home. Maybe I am stupid to think I can ever do the writing thing. It's just a pipe dream. There's nothing right now I want to do more than write, well I can think of one thing, but perhaps I should be more realistic. Suddenly I feel too tired to fight over this. It seems everyone has their own idea what would be best for me and what I should do. I only want to go home.

"Okay, guys, I'll think about it seriously." I say. What I meant to say is, I surrender.

Everyone trades small talk except me. I chase my food around my plate but don't eat much. I find myself wondering; what the heck was I thinking, ordering so much food.

After dinner we make our way back to James' home. James, Angela, John Mark and Catherine decide to sit up, watch TV and have a couple of drinks. I excuse myself and head off to bed.

I go into Adam's room and watch him sleep for a few minutes. He is a precious, beautiful child. I can see his little chest rise and fall with each breath. Angelic face, long eyelashes, cupid's bow mouth and an untroubled sleep. Boy, little kids have it good. What I wouldn't give for a clear conscience and a second chance.

I go to the game room and get the pillows and blanket Angela has left out for me to use. I undress and make myself a sleeping bag out of the bedclothes. I turn off the light and lay down. Lying here I run through the day's events. The singular event of the day was my dream while riding in the car. Every time I think I'm making a little progress Phillip visits me, ghostlike but yet so real, and I'm back to square one. I'm aching and empty and I know exactly why. I thought love was supposed to make you feel elated and fulfilled. Instead when I dream about him it's as if my insides have been scooped out. After three years am I really any closer to a resolution? I don't think so; because still in all, it's like the sun has set and is yet to come back up. I have better days now, but it's been a real effort on my part. I guess I try to have a better attitude but sometimes it's a struggle. I am without the refreshing breath of the love of the one person I want more than the rest and within the battle to regain myself that cuts my heart out. I'm in a vast expanse of water swimming to shore but each time it seems I'm going to get my feet under me, it's as if the tide bears me away from safety or onto the rocks leaving me lacerated and worn. Dear Phillip, please let me rest tonight, don't visit. Though I miss you more than life itself I can't take the constant remembering of what I cannot have. I can feel myself starting to drift away into sleep and I hope that it is quiet and dreamless.

I feel someone shaking me. I look up into Johnny's face.

"Luke, turn over on your side. You're snoring," he says, "I can't get to sleep with that noise."

"Sorry, buddy." I reply. That's always been his complaint when I sleep on my back so I comply and onto my side I go. I slide away again into the embrace of the night.

I awaken from a dreamless sleep wondering where I am. As I slowly enter the realm of the waking, I realize I am at James' house. I look over the game room and I notice John Mark is asleep not too far from me on my right. He's asleep on his left side, snoozing peacefully. When he's sleeping, I notice, he looks a lot like the boy he used to be not the man he's grown into. I think people in the repose of slumber unknowingly surrender the façade they've cultivated and become who they really are. The barricades we erect in the face of our acquired wisdom are melted away in our capitulation to the world of dreams. Perhaps if we were able to communicate in this world where our guards are down we could reach an understanding based on what is in our souls rather than within the confines of the rules of the world. What I mean is, I'm all for playing by the rules and abiding by what is right and wrong, but don't some things transcend our common definitions of good and right and bad and evil? How wrong am I to want to do something like write for a living when it seems everyone wants me to do anything but? And all, at their insistence, in the interest of what is best for me. I don't want to please myself at the cost of hurting or disappointing others, especially my parents and my brothers. I don't think I should place my own feelings above theirs. It appears I've done that before and because of it I have suffered repercussions I don't want to replay.

"Johnny," I whisper, shaking him by the shoulder, "wake up."

He stirs slightly and I see his eyes open, fluttering and then acquiring a target to focus on. He turns his head toward me and smiles a little.

"What do you want, buddy?" He asks, patting my hand on his shoulder.

Quickly I withdraw my hand. "I think I'm going to get up and take a little run. I just wanted someone to know I was going to be out of the house for a while."

"Luke, why don't you give the running thing a rest just for today? It won't hurt to miss one day."

I started running again about six weeks ago, a little at a time. I'm finally beginning to really get my strength back, though I still get tired easily, and the running actually feels great. Plus since I'm eating well, I don't have to worry about losing weight.

"Johnny, it helps me get my day off to a good start. Clears the cobwebs, ya know?"

"Luke you need a brain enema to clear all the cobwebs in your head."

My reply is to punch him in the shoulder, hard. He reacts quickly and grabs me by the wrist before I can withdraw my arm fully. He looks me square in the face.

"Don't start, you don't want me to have to take you down this early in the morning, do you?" He says.

"You're still dreaming, Johnny boy, in a fair fight you are mine and you know it."

He laughs and lets go of my wrist.

"Go run, clear the cobwebs you little shithead."

"Thank you, I love you too, worthless dickhead."

With that I get up and retrieve my running clothes from my bag, dress quickly and make my way downstairs. Angela is up with Adam when I enter the kitchen. He's had breakfast and is motoring around the breakfast room. He sees me, runs over and gives me a hug around the knees that almost topples me. I reach down, hook him up under the armpits and swing him up onto my hip. I squeeze him and give him a kiss.

"What's up, big guy, are you in a good mood today?"

"Yes, Uncle Luke. I'm glad to see you."

"It's good to see you too, buddy."

I turn to Angela and say, "Good morning beautiful, it looks like you two are greeting the day early and well."

"Well, he does have his own schedule, so I adjust."

"I'm going to take a run so I'll slip out the backdoor. I shouldn't be gone too long."

"Okay. You know, Luke, I hope you're not upset with James about last night. He just wants what is best for you. In fact, I think that is what all your family wants for you, your father especially. I don't think they want you to do something that's going to affect your life in a bad way, you know, set you back or get you off on the wrong foot."

I swing Adam down to the floor, stooping and kissing him on the top of his head as I do. Angela, if you only knew, the wrong foot is my only foot.

"Yes, I do know, Angela and I'm not mad at James. Even if I were, he's my brother and I love him. I couldn't stay mad long. And I know he's trying to give me the benefit of his experience. It's just that I have my own opinions about what I should be doing with my life and they seem to be running counter to what everyone else thinks. I'll just have to deal with it."

"Luke, we all have dreams. Sometimes they aren't very practical and we have to make compromises to have a good life. Your family knows you're a good man and they want you to be happy."

"I've never doubted that for a minute, Angela." I think I may be lying because I'm not sure my dad thinks I'm a good man anymore. You see, Angela, I'm a bit suspect in his eyes and I've got a lot to prove but it's best if I don't discuss that with you. "I'm going to take my run now and I'll be back soon."

"Just knock on the backdoor when you get back. Someone will be up to let you in."

I exit into the breaking morning; the cool air immediately waking me more fully and I turn up the driveway then onto the street at a brisk jog.

As I run I think. I remember someone once told me that children's dreams are deathless, but I would have to dispute that now. I dreamt once of sharing devotion with one forever and now that is gone. Then I dreamt I might become something I wanted to be and I think that may also be gone. I'm convinced that was all simply naïve ruminations on things that could never be. I'm not sure why I ever thought they could. I've made myself physically ill over an impossible love and for what? Did it get me anything? Has grief made me a better person or just sadder? Was there any redemption in suffering or was it simply unabated pain? Did the bond I felt with Phillip hold us or did the tearing away just do untold injury? I swear it won't happen again, I know that. I'll also show everybody in my family that I can be just as practical and conventional as they can be. So, it's all about making real money. I bet I can do that as well as most. I resolve that the days of looking back over my shoulder at lost loves and dreams are over. I can live without that baggage. The ticking of my feet on the concrete marks the locking of those doors. The past will have to live with the past; I can only point myself forward. I think my time has been wasted in mourning something that was doomed from the beginning, but in my gut I still know it was real and that makes me bitter. But I'll get over it. I turn back toward James' house determined I will be different.

The rest of the day we hang out waiting for the party. I play some with Adam while the two couples do couple things. You know, I might make the perfect loner. Who needs anyone anyway? It just leads to a whole lot of trouble. I had gotten my whole emotional life tangled up with Phillip to the point that I was indiscernible from him. At the time it didn't seem like such a bad thing, I enjoyed what we had together so intensely it seemed right to be bound together. In retrospect it seems a big mistake to have fallen so completely in love. What I wonder is, could I have stopped myself? Should I have? And why didn't I fucking fight for what was mine?

As I dress for the party I decide I'm going to have a good time no matter what. I had hung up my suit, dress shirt and tie in the closet in the game room yesterday when we arrived. I shed my jeans and shirt and pull out my clothes for the party. I put on the white dress shirt and button it up, then I slide into my suit pants. I've picked out a Repp tie with blue and red strips, very sharp, I think, the blue in my tie matches my suit to a tee. As I put the tie under my collar, John Mark enters the room to get dressed.

"Hey buddy, want me to tie that for you?" He asks.

"I had to learn how after you left for school, remember? I don't think I make a continental knot as well as you do though, with the dimple and all," I answer.

"C'mere, I'll take care of you."

So we do the old routine. John Mark straightens the tie, visually measures the ends, then does the little tying trick, flip, flip, flip and then perfect knot, perfect dimple. He pats the tie straight on my chest and admires his work.

"Damn, I'm good," he observes, "that knot is perfection."

I turn and face the mirror and he's right, the tie looks great.

"You know, Johnny, you may have found your calling. You'd make a helluva valet."

He gives me a quick whack in the chest with his fist and smiles. He goes to the closet, pulls out his clothes and gets dressed. After he is finished, Catherine enters the room. She's wearing a dress, I think they call it a cocktail dress, that is muted gold. Because it is cool outside, she has a little jacket that goes with it that is black with the same gold color as highlights in it. She looks fantastic. I think my mouth drops open.

"Wow, Catherine," is about all I can say.

"Well thank you, Luke, I think."

"No, that's a compliment. You look beautiful. You will make all the other women look homely or worse," I add.

"Okay, buddy, you can shut up now," John Mark comments.

We go downstairs. James and Angela compliment us on how nice we look; they aren't lying, we do look pretty damn good. Even Adam tells us we are all handsome. Out the door we go, into the VW and off to the party. I'm nervous for some reason, fear of the unknown, I don't know.

When we pull into the country club parking lot, I notice ours will be the only VW in the parking lot. There are a buttload of luxury cars here. Of course I guess that's the way it would be at a debutante party. But, God almighty, what a fleet of cars. Man, if I were a car thief I would be in wet dream heaven here. John Mark finds us a parking place; we pull in and get out. Once we're inside no one will know we're the poor relations. I think we look like we belong here.

We go into the foyer of the club; wow, what a place! It's one of the oldest country clubs in Dallas and it is impressive. Of course I'm just a dumb East Texas country boy and easily impressed but this place is huge and well decorated; antiques everywhere, the art on the walls is astounding and the place reeks of money. Down a capacious hall to the right is the main ballroom. I can see Melissa standing near the entrance with her parents so the three of us head that way. As we enter Melissa comes over and embraces each of us in turn then leads us over to her parents. It's been several years since I have seen her parents and they appear genuinely glad to see John Mark and me. Johnny introduces Catherine to them and they, of course, are glad to meet her.

"Luke, you look pretty darn nice in a suit," Melissa says, "I don't think I've ever seen you in anything but jeans and boots." I probably mentioned Melissa and I used to ride horses a lot together in the summertime at her grandfather's ranch so that's why she's seen me in just jeans and boots.

"Well, I wear a little more than that at school, Melissa, and you've seen me there," I answer, a little embarrassed by her observation in front of her parents. I can feel my cheeks burning. Sometimes I blush if I have to change my mind in front of people.

Melissa takes John Mark and me by the elbow, Catherine holding Johnny's hand, and leads us further into the room. There is a band playing in one corner and people are on the dance floor. The band is not bad, but I'm not much for the pop type music they are playing. What else do you expect at an event like this? There are a couple of open bars on either side of the room and a table loaded with food at the back of the ballroom. Tables surround the dance floor where groups of people are seated.

"You know, Luke, there is someone here who wants to meet you," Melissa mentions as she leads us perilously close to the dance floor. I say perilously because no one wants to see me dance, I can assure you.

"And who would that be?" I answer, raising my voice a little to be heard over the band.

Melissa stops us at a table and indicates we should sit.

"An old friend of mine from the Turner School. She attends Benedict now, she's a junior."

The Turner School is a private coed school, K-12, in Dallas. There are a lot of kids from Turner who attend Benedict.

"Why in the world would she want to meet me, I mean, how does she even know who I am?" I ask.

"She tells me she had a class with you last year, political science I think, and she noticed you then. The other day we were driving on campus and we spotted you talking to John Mark in front of the law school. She pointed you out to me and I told her I'd known you for years. She was kinda shocked I knew you."

"Hey, how about that Luke?" John Mark puts in, "You've got an admirer. As long as she doesn't have a third eye or genetic deformity, you ought to meet her. I mean, someone who looks like you can't afford to be choosy."

"If you don't shut the fuck up, Johnny, I'm gonna give you a genetic deformity right here on the dance floor." I say in my most threatening voice. This draws a belly laugh from John Mark. He laughs so hard he has to sit down. Perhaps I'm not as menacing as I think I am.

"Why don't y'all join John Mark at the table there and I'll bring your secret admirer over for an introduction," Melissa offers.

Catherine and I sit down with the laughing boy. I give Johnny a 'go to hell' look which makes him laugh more. He claps me on the back vigorously.

Luke, you are a piece of work, you know that?" He asks.

"Yeah, I've been told. And you're an asshole. Did you know that, Catherine? Your boyfriend is an asshole and a jerk."

"Yes, but we love him in spite of himself, don't we?" She asks.

"Not all the time. Not right now." I say. I look at Johnny and give him the finger. And then a wink.

About this time I see Melissa coming back our way. Walking beside her is this alarmingly stunning girl, uh, woman. She is tall, about 5'9", with long brown hair at least to the middle of her back. Her hair has these auburn highlights that catch the light from the room. Her face is somewhat angular but beautiful. She has enormous brown eyes and full lips. I would call her thin except she is curvy in all the right places; I think the correct word would be lithe, yeah, she is lithe. Built sort of like a ballet dancer. She is small bosomed, but round all the same, and she has the longest legs I have ever seen. I love long legs and she has them for miles. She is wearing a short, black cocktail dress that shows off her legs in the most flattering fashion. Suddenly I can feel my heart thumping noisily in my chest. John Mark notices me staring, glances over his shoulder and sees this lissome creature approaching with Melissa.

"Holy shit, Luke, that can't be the girl who wants to meet you," he opines.

"Johnny please, for once in your life, be a pal. Okay. Do not embarrass me."

He nods at me and I think I may be all right. Especially since Catherine elbows him in the ribs. He gives her this "Who, Me?" look, then adjusts himself in his seat like a first grader who's been caught talking in class.

Melissa leads her friend up to our table. John Mark and I rise to our feet as they approach. Our mother would be so proud of our manners.

"Guys, this is Stephanie Kent, an old friend of mine from Dallas. Stephanie, this is John Mark Shelton, his girlfriend Catherine Gentry and this is Luke Aaron Shelton. The Shelton boys are old friends of mine from Cranston. They've known my grandparents all their lives. In fact, Luke and I used to ride horses with my cousins every summer for about 10 years, isn't that right, Luke?"

My tongue is frozen, like my brain. It's like I'm trying to translate what Melissa just said from some dead language into English. John Mark gives me a "Speak up, dumb fuck" look, his eyebrows doing push ups above his eyes.

"Yes, that's right," I say lamely, "and it's very nice to meet you, Stephanie."

Jesus Christ on a crutch, I think my head has fallen into a blender. Beauty can have that effect on you.

"It's a treat to meet all of you. Melissa has told me so much about you guys. We saw both of you in front of the law school the other day." Stephanie says. With that she sits down beside me and I take my seat.

"You know," she says, "we had a political science class together in the spring. You always seemed a little preoccupied."

"Yes, that would be Luke," Johnny says, "he generally has his head in the clouds or somewhere not as airy."

I give John Mark a very dark look and he discovers something very interesting to look at on the tablecloth.

"I must have been preoccupied because I think I would've noticed you." Oh God, another gimpy line. This girl is going to think I have a room temperature IQ. "What I mean is, that was a large class and I was sort of out of it in the spring semester." Fuck, I am not helping myself here.

Stephanie pats me on the hand. "No explanation necessary. I told Melissa that I wanted to meet you and she said she would be happy to oblige. I'm glad she did." And then she smiles. It is a radiant smile and my mind goes even blanker than before. I am completely dazzled. I barely notice John Mark and Catherine leave the table for the dance floor.

I kind of loosen up, then Stephanie and I begin to talk a little more easily. I find out she is an only child. Her father is an executive with IBM and he is based in Dallas. She's known Melissa most of her life and she attends the business school. She has a double major; economics and marketing. I am totally entranced. I can smell she is wearing Joy. The only reason I know this scent is because my mother wears it sometimes. On Stephanie it smells like heaven.

"Would you like a drink, Stephanie?" I ask.

"Yes, I would."

We get up from the table and start walking toward one of the bars. She takes my arm as we walk over. I feel like the luckiest guy in the room. She is truly something to behold, at least to me. When we get to the bar, she orders a gin and tonic. I have a short internal debate. I know I shouldn't be drinking, but one won't hurt, will it? What the hell, I order a scotch and water, Glenlivet, the twelve-year-old single malt stuff. We get our drinks and walk slowly back to our table. I cannot believe this girl actually asked to meet me. There has to be something wrong here.

Back at the table we sit down again and resume talking.

"So, Stephanie, where do you live?" I ask.

"Well, right now I live at Maynard, but in the summer my roommate and I are getting an apartment. Where do you live?"

Maynard Hall is the oldest women's residence on Benedict's campus. It is a very nice old place to live. As I understand it the rooms are broken into two person suites with a connecting bathroom. The dining hall there is a very nice place and it has a bunch of nice sitting rooms on the ground floor.

"I live in Simmons, you know, the athlete's dorm. I'm thinking about getting an apartment for the summer session, too."

"Simmons? You don't play any sports, do you?" She asks.

"No, I think I got put in there by accident. I played some football in high school, but that's about it," I answer. Then, completely out of character, I decide to be bold. "Would you like to go out sometime, like maybe next Friday?" Again, I think I can feel the color rising in my cheeks, but fuck it.

"Sure, that sounds like a wonderful idea. In fact, why don't you come by Monday at dinner? We can eat at Maynard; the dining room there is the best thing about the place."

I'm sort of blown away by her acceptance and her invitation to come see her.

"Yes," I hear myself saying, "that would be great. I'll be there at 5:00. That's not too early, is it?"

"Not at all," she answers, "Would you like to dance?"

Shit! I am not a good dancer. In fact I am rhythmically impaired.

"Yes, I would." I cannot believe what I just said.

As we get up to dance, the band breaks into a slow, ballad like song. She moves in close to me, placing an arm over my shoulder and a hand on my waist. I pull her close to me and we begin to move around the dance floor. I can at least fake a slow dance. I haven't had anyone this close to me for such extended contact in a long time. I think I may be getting a little lightheaded and more than a little aroused. The smell of her perfume, of her hair, of her is just plain intoxicating. Plus I think the drink I had may be going to my head. It's been a while since I had anything to drink and I've always been an easy drunk. Then she puts her head on my shoulder and moves in a little closer. There is absolutely no way she can't tell the effect she is having on me now. I'm almost embarrassed but she doesn't seem in the least bit offended. The song does not last nearly long enough and when it is over, the band resumes the up tempo music.

"Why don't we sit down and wait for the next slow one?" She says.

"Sure," I say. I am simply awestruck. Who would have thought in a million years something like this would happen to me? She is looking at me as if she already likes me. A lot. I am fascinated with and astounded by this girl.

The rest of the party, the other people, John Mark, Catherine and Melissa are all part of a blur that swirls around Stephanie and me. We dance a couple of more slow dances and I am more attracted to her than I could have imagined. All my thoughts about everything else have lost their focus and seem very distant and unimportant. Despite the shaky start, Stephanie and I share an easy conversation that lasts the entire event.

As the evening begins to wind down, Catherine and John Mark return to the table.

"So you two, have you had a good evening?" John Mark asks.

"Yeah, you two have been talking like a couple of old friends over here," Catherine adds.

"I've had a great time. This is the most fun I've had in months." I say looking at Johnny and Catherine. In truth, it's the best time I've had in years, discounting the day I got sick and John Mark put me in the ice. That was fun.

"I couldn't have had a better time if I had planned to." Stephanie says.

Melissa comes by our table and tells us how much she appreciates our coming to the party. I catch her giving Stephanie a little wink. Stephanie gives her a nod of the head in return. What was that communication, I wonder?

"Well, I hate to break up a wonderful fete, but we're going to have to head back to James' house," John Mark says, "It's almost 1:30 and we have to drive back tomorrow. I have to study for Monday's torts class."

As we rise from the table, Stephanie stands also and gives me an embrace, then a kiss on the cheek. I'm taken aback, but I return the hug and the kiss to the cheek, placing my hand on the back of her head. Her hair is like a fluid between my fingers, soft and sensuous. I am knocked out, flat cold, on my feet. She has got me fully enchanted and on a first chance meeting. I didn't think these kinds of things actually happened.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you Monday evening," Stephanie says.

"Me too," I answer eagerly. More than you could possibly know. For the first time in a long while my heart feels something. Maybe it's just the excitement of being the object of someone's attention or perhaps she actually likes me but whatever it is I like it.

She takes my hand lightly as we prepare to leave and walks with us to the entrance of the club. As I am about to go through the door, she kisses me again on the cheek. I turn toward her, give her a quick kiss on the lips and then I go. As we walk to the car, I look back and I see her standing with Melissa in the doorway. They both wave and I return the courtesy.

On the way back, John Mark cannot contain himself. He is so much like a little kid sometimes he can be positively irritating.

"So Luke, I think there may have been a little chemistry going on between you two. What do you think?"

"No kidding, Johnny. You picked up on that, did you? Once again your grasp of the obvious underwhelms me."

"Come on, buddy. What did you think of her? She certainly seemed interested in you. You guys were dancing like old partners."

"Johnny, I know better than to let you in on too much. You have a tendency to tease me about certain things and I don't have any plans to give you any extra ammunition. But I really like her. She's in the business school and she can talk about anything without being overbearing, I mean, she doesn't dominate the conversation. And I think she is beautiful. Don't you?"

"I think she is a lovely girl," Catherine adds, "very sweet, very nice and very attracted to you, Luke, if I say so myself."

"You would be very fortunate if she is as taken with you as she seemed," Johnny says.

I'm amazed at the instant connection I feel for her, well, after I was bowled over. But after I regained my thought processes and the ability to speak, we just hit it off. It was a powerful feeling, like what happened to me after Phillip and I were at the cabin the first time. My whole perspective of Phillip transformed the instant his body touched mine. I had thought it took a while, a few weeks maybe, but I realize he had my heart the very first second of the smallest intimacy. He became the center of my life. Even though Stephanie and I have not made that step, it is the very promise of that communion that has awakened my heart. Honestly, I thought I was dead inside, except to suffering. I've been tired of fighting the same old lousy fight and coming out on the losing end, but now I think I may not be beyond hoping the sun might rise again.

June 1975

It is June 1st and I am in the middle of moving into my first off campus residence. It is in an old house that has been broken up into apartments. Mine is what I think the Brits would call a bedsitter. The front room is a little bedroom/sitting room combination, then there is a kitchen with a breakfast area and off the kitchen is a small bathroom with a standup shower. Small but nice. And inexpensive. Just my style. Hoop had wanted to room together off campus, but I decided against it. Not that I don't like Hoop. Quite the contrary, I like Hoop a lot. He is a great guy. We started hanging out a lot together and partying some last semester, but I thought about it and I came to the conclusion I wanted to live by myself. Hoop seemed disappointed and I don't know why. I think I was the 'unobtrusive' roommate, a known quantity, and he doesn't want to take a chance with someone he doesn't know as well.

The first summer semester starts June 4th so I am trying to get all my stuff into this little apartment. I got my bed in yesterday, along with a kitchen table and four chairs. Today I've moved just about everything else; TV, clothes, pictures, my old rocking chair and various other things. It hasn't been all that difficult. John Mark offered to help but I figured I could do it myself.

Stephanie and I have been seeing each other a lot, all the time really. I spent a lot of time at Maynard the rest of the spring semester. We went out on many dates, mostly movies, out to eat, out to the river park close to campus and swimming at the marina as the weather warmed up. She has me entirely fascinated. I cannot be around her enough and I didn't think I had that in me. She treats me like I have something interesting to say. In fact she calls me on the phone all the time and it never seems to annoy me. We haven't taken that next step in our relationship yet because we were both living in dorms. There are strict rules about having men and women in your dorm rooms at Benedict. We want a good moral atmosphere here at Our Dear Old Alma Mater, don't you know. Just how possible that is to achieve in a population of 10,000 people ages 18-22 is beyond me, but they give it the old college try. The upshot is I have not tried to sneak Stephanie into my room and part of the reason is that Hoop is generally there. No privacy. And I didn't want to go the motel route. Too tawdry. One thing I can say for sure is that my sex drive is back, in spades. I hadn't realized how much it had waned after what happened back in Cranston but I have been constantly horny since March. And I've had to take care of that myself unfortunately. Well, it's not all that unfortunate. Now that I have my own apartment I am hopeful nature will take its course.

I've decided on attending the business school. I had taken the admissions test in April and got in with no problem. I am taking the first accounting and an economics course this first summer session. Stephanie is also attending summer school but she is a year ahead of me so we won't have any classes together but I'll probably get to see her everyday. That's a plus for the old school of business. I'm still unsure that this is what I want to do with my life but it's made my life a little easier when dealing with my family and, as I said, I get to see Stephanie.

It is a hot day and the afternoon shadows are long when I finally finish getting everything into my apartment. I am tired and drenched with sweat. I walk around to the front of the house and look at it. It is an old colonial style home with six columns in front and in good repair. College students rent all the apartments. I think mine is the smallest but I like it just fine. The trees out front are sycamores and oaks; huge arboreal sentinels that shade the house and cover the lawn in shadows this late in the afternoon. There is a slight breeze stirring so I take off my shirt and stand cooling in the dying day, the wind raising little goosebumps on my bare skin. Boy, that feels good, sensual and slightly arousing. But everything is arousing to me these days. I walk back to my apartment and go inside. There is a window unit air conditioner that is supposed to cool both rooms. I turn it on, switch on the TV and sit down in my rocking chair. It's about 6:30 so I catch a little local news. I remove my shoes and socks to let my feet cool. As I sit there I can feel my eyes getting a little heavy.

I hear a knock at the door and I awaken, still in my rocking chair. I shake off the drowse I am in. My shirt is in my lap and I use it to wipe the remaining sweat from my hair. The room has cooled off nicely. I get up to answer the door. It's probably Hoop, he said he would come by after I have moved in. I open the door and it is Stephanie. She is wearing a camp shirt and shorts and she looks absolutely enchanting, her skin tanned and smooth. My heart leaps in my chest. I am standing here shirtless and she is smiling. Worlds are crashing together in my head. She walks in and closes the door.

"Hi, Stephanie, come on in. You'll have to overlook the mess," I say.

"Wow, Luke, this is cozy, isn't it?" She asks.

"If that means you have to go outside to have room to change your mind, yes it's cozy," I answer.

"Well, I thought you might be moved in by now and I just decided to drop by. Would you like to go get something to eat?" She offers.

"Sure, but I'll have to take a shower first."

About this time she moves close to me. She puts her arms over my shoulders and pulls my head down to her. I embrace her and she kisses me passionately and I return the sweetness of her kiss with my own. She rubs her hands across my chest and I am instantly erect. Then she takes me by the arms and pushes me backwards until my knees collide with the edge of my bed, which sits across from the rocking chair. This collision makes me sit down.

I look up at her standing over me and she kneels in front of me. She unbuttons my jeans and slowly unzips them. I reach up and open her shirt. She is wearing a diaphanous white bra. Then she pushes me onto the bed and my head finds a pillow. Again she kisses me with complete abandon, her hands running from my chest to my groin. This is so unexpected that not a word has passed between us since she first kissed me at the door. Stephanie lowers her body onto mine, the material of the bra brushing against my nipples, the sensation fiery and fierce. Her hips lower onto my lap and she pushes them against my erection. I lift my hips to meet her motions and my hands go under her shirt. I find the clasp of her bra and it comes open in an instant. I remove her shirt and her bra in a single motion then she pushes her bare skin onto my chest. Her hands move to the top of my jeans and briefs. She pushes them down as quickly as she can. I am beginning to breathe very heavily, panting really. My dick springs free and she stands briefly to remove my jeans and shorts. She deposits them at the foot of the bed and then lies down fully on me.

"Stephanie, are you sure you want to do this?" I ask. I think I may be the first naked guy on the face of the earth to ask this question. I'm inclined to wonder if I am nuts.

"Luke, I have never been so certain of anything in my life," she answers.

I find the top of her shorts, open them and she slides up and out of them. I remove her panties in a similar motion. We turn sideways on the small bed and she molds herself to me. I hold her body fully to me feeling her from her shoulders to her feet. My dick is buried in the fuzz of her pubic hair, resting there tantalized by the sensation. Her breasts rub against my chest and I move my hands over her. First to her perfect hand sized breasts then her flat belly, over the little rise of her hips. My fingers find the wonderful dampness of her vagina and her legs part slightly to receive the ministrations. I discover her clitoris and move my fingers lightly over it. She shudders slightly at this touch. Her leg moves over my hip and with her hand she gently guides me into her. This is like nothing, nothing I have ever felt. I slide easily into her but there is a gentle resistance, the muscles of her grasping me in a way that feels like a living corset, silken yet grasping. There is a rhythmic pulling upward from inside her. We roll over and I am on top of her. Slowly I begin to move inside her. She looks at me, then holds my face with both hands and kisses me for about the thousandth time it seems. We move together in a slow, sweet, stirring joust. Her body holds me firmly yet tenderly inside and I think I want to feel this way forever.

"Luke," Stephanie says, "roll over on your back, let me get on top."

"Okay, " I say, "that's okay with me." My breathing has relaxed; my whole body has relaxed with the possible exception of my penis, which is eager to continue.

I separate from her, awwww, I hate that, and lie on my back. She moves on top of me and slowly, deliciously lowers onto my awaiting dick. When she has fully taken me in she pushes down on my hips with a motion that makes me even more erect. I didn't even think that was possible at this point. I feel like I am expanding to fill every empty space within her. Stephanie begins moving up and down on me and I respond by following her motion with a counter of my own. Her hair falls onto my chest, the fluid tress tickling me. Her motion quickens and I grasp her hips with both hands. My hands practically encircle her waist and this amazes me. She becomes more aggressive and her hips attack my penis, practically pinning me with her lustful movements. Again and again I thrust upward with all the resistance I can offer. After this has gone on for what feels like hours I feel the little hairs on her body stand on end and it seems that the temperature of her skin changes. A slight veil of perspiration breaks out on her body and she gasps. I can feel her vagina grasp me tighter, it seems like she is trying to pull my dick away from body and I am ready to relinquish it just to move deeper into her. My hips rise up from the bed to abet this anatomical larceny and then she comes, little noises escaping her. The motions of the wall of her vagina massage my penis with a vigor I cannot fathom and I have this majestic orgasm, losing my mind in the process, blackness then color flying across my field of vision. I know I am making sounds myself, but I can't stop it and I don't want to. It feels like it will go on forever then too soon the last spasm is over but I move reflexively inside her several more times. My body feels exhausted but stimulated, spent but refreshed, my brain is spinning out in space but is sharing the tight confines of her body. I feel released from prison.

She lowers her body onto mine and it feels as if she is passing through me. I am still inside her; it seems we are locked together. It has been a long time since I have felt like this; ecstatic, fully moved and removed from all the cares of the world. Tears fall from my eyes and I can't restrain them.

"Luke, what's wrong. Are you okay?" Stephanie asks.

"Yes, of course, this is wonderful. It's just been so long since I felt like someone really cared about me." I answer.

"Oh," she says, "I think I feel a little bit more than caring for you, Luke. I've wanted to do this for a long time. I knew you were the guy the first time I met you, funny as that sounds. And you did that very well. Experienced are we?"

"No, not really. If you want me to confess, you're my first," I tell her.

"Come on now. You're joking with me, aren't you?" She asks.

"Nope, I am the rare nineteen year old virgin. Twenty on the third. I guess you saved me from being that awful statistic of a teenager who's inexperienced."

"What you just did didn't feel like someone who is inexperienced."

"Beginner's luck." I answer.

We turn back onto our sides facing one another and I hold her very closely to me. Stephanie reaches down with her hand and pulls the sheet up over us to our hips. Then she places her hand under the sheet and grasps me. I begin to stir again, her touch reigniting the slumberer. Languorously she strokes me until I am fully at attention, her hands then begin to move over all my body; down my chest to my navel, up my back then down to my butt, her fingertips brush the insides of my thighs, gently caressing and tugging at me. I think I'm about to be catapulted into heaven. Again she pushes me onto my back and straddles me. This time our love making lasts even longer, my penis is not as sensitive, but as we reach the summit again, my ejaculation is even stronger than the first, making my heart flutter like a caged bird aching for release. In response to this physical avalanche, I sit up almost upright and push with everything in me and she dissolves into her own orgasm. I am on fire. We collapse back onto the bed and each other. Oh God, I think, I am falling in love with this girl. What will happen to me now? I am almost afraid of this thought, it is too fearsome to contemplate, but she has got me. And I don't know what to do about that.

October 1975

I have to admit there is a certain therapeutic effect that goes with being in love. I don't know that my heart will ever be the same as it was before the fall of 1971, but emotionally I feel as close to normal as I think I ever have. I am as healthy physically as I've been in a long time. I still cannot believe that Stephanie loves me, well, what I mean is you would have to see her. I'm in awe that a girl like her could have feelings for me. I guess maybe I'm selling myself short or something, but that's just the way it is. She is a head turner; smart, tough and I can't get enough of her. A winning combination of attributes if I say so myself.

Stephanie spends a lot of time at my apartment, but she hasn't moved in. Too small, says she. I have to agree. But it seems she spends most of her nights there, and a lot of spare afternoons and mornings, as well. She and her roommate, Linda Martin, have a very nice apartment in a complex near campus. I've become a fixture there too, but we don't sleep over at her place. Maybe I'm modest, but I don't think it's anyone's business what Stephanie and I are doing. Maybe it's caution born of experience.

Summer school was a blur. In class so much stuff gets thrown at you so fast that studying becomes like a constant cram session. However I made A's in the first accounting and economic courses in the first half of the summer, ditto for the second accounting and finance classes in the second half. Overall I was very pleased, but I have to admit business school still does not have the same appeal writing does but it does have Stephanie. Economics is pretty interesting though. Econ is a particular interest of Stephanie's. She is a devotee of Friedrich von Hayek and I've read a couple of his books as a result. He is a leading light of the Austrian school of economics and a serious advocate of free markets and a hands off approach by governments vis-a-vis centralized economic planning. Once you get into economic theory, and past some pretty dry analysis, it gets pretty interesting. However, I decided to major in accounting and finance. It suits my boring personality and could provide that oh so important entree to making 'serious money'.

The only fly in the ointment with Stephanie and me is I haven't told her I love her yet. She has told me she loves me and I usually answer her with "me, too" but that doesn't seem quite right. I know I'm being overly cautious and I don't know why, completely. It's just that the feelings I have for her are so similar to what I felt for Phillip and that is confusing. And our physical relationship is every bit as intense as the affiliation I had with Phillip, different in its way, not better or worse, just different. I think it's that quality of oneness or completeness I get that makes them seem kindred in my heart. I don't think I could ever tell her about Phillip and me because she might think it was weird, or worse, that I'm weird. Or that we did something wrong. I'm not sure I could take being rejected by her so I plan to keep my mouth shut. But I want to be able to tell her how much I love her, how much she means to me and still I haven't been able to. Sometimes I can be such a coward. So far she hasn't pushed for anything more than I have given her, but I still think I am holding back and that's not right.

This fall I have a full schedule, intermediate accounting, corporate finance, macroeconomics, management and marketing. The only blow off class is marketing. I have to study a lot during the week. But Stephanie and I have been spending a lot of time with Hoop, his buddies and their girlfriends, on the weekends. There are a couple of guys on the baseball team who have rented a house off campus and they have some tremendous parties. On home game football weekends the parties start after the game and on away game weekends they start in the afternoon. Hoop is still crazy as are most of his friends and they are a blast to be around. Lots of music and drinking happens, as well as flirting with the girls that hang around athletes. Hoop has a steady girlfriend but he likes to engage in what he calls sport fucking. That is, the girls who hover around the athletes are always more than willing to spread 'em, as Hoop says, if given half a chance. I'm not in the least shocked by this. I think it's always been this way with jocks. In fact you can see these women at the parties moving in on the guys who aren't attached and even some who are. It is a particularly titillating little dance to observe them doing their dead level best to nail some guy. There's usually not a lot of resistance to it from their targets, if you know what I mean. Stephanie is put off by it, she thinks the girls who do that are not particularly self assured, allowing themselves to be used in return for the alleged ego boost of sleeping with a jock. It does seem absurd.

We have returned to my apartment after attending a football game and after party. We are lying in my little bed, on our sides facing each other, Stephanie with her leg over my hip, me inside her. I love this feeling, not moving, not fucking just the melting away of me into her, safe and enclosed in warmth. Her head is against my shoulder and I can smell her hair, fragrant and intoxicating.

"You know, Luke, it's odd how desperate some of those girls seem," she says.

"What do you mean?" I answer.

"It's like they have no center of gravity outside of what they can find in a quick fuck with some guy who's moderately well known around campus because he happens to be a jock. It's sad really," she observes.

"Yeah, it is sort of desperate giving away of a precious part of yourself. But, in a perverse way, it is interesting to watch."

"Only a boy would say that. Any self-respecting woman would have to avert her eyes."

"I meant interesting, you know, in a clinical sense."

"Bullshit. You're just like every other guy. I think you like to watch the little games those girls play to ingratiate themselves with the boys. It's sort of like a spectator sport to you."

"Maybe, " I say as I roll her over onto her back and hold her closely, "but I don't have to concern myself with all that jockeying for position. I always know the most beautiful woman in the room is coming home with me if I play my cards right."

"Right now, I'd say your cards are perfect," she says.

I begin to move slowly, deliberately and I move my mouth to her breasts. I take each of her nipples, in turn, in my mouth applying a little pressure that elicits tiny moans from her. I enjoy doing that. I let my lower back and hips do all the work while I hold her as closely as possible, feeling her return the motion with the thrusting of her hips. The contractions within her always make me a little bit nuts, tugging at me, making feel like I belong right here, right now, always. We go on like this for quite a while until I feel the flush on her skin I always feel right before she comes. It is my cue that it is all right to let go. I always feel gratified that she and I can get where we want to go and get there together. This is really what it is all about; this is what it's always been about since time immemorial.

Afterwards, spent and still within her, I look at her and then I kiss her.

"Luke, I love you," she tells me again.

"Me, too," I answer.

We turn to our sides, holding one another and cross into sleep.

March-May 1976

The holiday season at the end of last year was entertaining to say the least. I didn't go home for Thanksgiving, but instead I went to Stephanie's to meet her parents at last. She had told them all about me, or so she said, and I have to admit the visit went well. Her father is Victor Kent and he is, without a doubt, an accomplished and successful executive. He was very warm, very interesting and very inquisitive. He had served in the Navy during the Second World War like my father, but he received an engineering degree from MIT after the war. Then he went to work for IBM and the rest is history, as they (whoever the heck they are) say. He had a lot of questions for me about what my plans were for the future and I had to floorboard the bullshit machine to get him to think I was an appropriate choice for his daughter. He also danced around the question about my intentions toward his daughter and I chose my words carefully because if I had intimated to him how crazy in love with her I was, I would've given away what we've been doing for sure. Stephanie's mother, Patricia, is truly a wonderful, articulate, cultured woman. I know now where Steph gets her self assured, confident, competent attitude and demeanor. Stephanie, though, looks more like her father, especially when they are seated together. It's sort of astounding. The downside to visiting her parents was we had to sleep in separate rooms for four nights. When we got back to school on Sunday, we sort of tore the place apart. Boy, was that fun. We could have sold tickets to the performance.

At Christmas, I took Stephanie home to meet my family. What a fucking circus. John Mark is in his last semester at law school. He will graduate in May and take the bar exam in June. Then he and Catherine will marry in August. He has a busy year ahead. I almost feel sorry for him, but since he's my asshole brother I don't. All my brothers, their wives and kids were visiting and we were almost like sardines in our house. And our house is pretty big. I let Stephanie have my old room and I slept in the game room with the other children. Another celibate holiday. I know Stephanie was uncomfortable with all the people around but she was a soldier about it. Being an only child does not prepare you for the Shelton clan.

Dad seemed impressed with Stephanie. She joined him conversation several times and he was genuinely taken with her. Of course she could talk to just about anyone if she sets her mind to it. My conversations with my dad were more restrained.

The day after Christmas after everyone else had gone to bed except for my father and me, he decided he would do a question and answer session. All our conversations have devolved to this level, either him asking me something or telling me to do another. I've given up trying to get him to say all is forgiven or that what happened might have been a youthful indiscretion. It is a permanent black mark against me and it appears to me that I won't ever make back into his fold. I'm never going to convince him I'm a good man.

"So, Luke, do you think this girl might be the one?" he asks.

"Which one would that be, dad?" I answer, not in the mood to play this game.

"Don't be a smartass, kiddo. You know exactly what I mean."

"Do you mean do I love her? Yes, yes I do, very much. Will we get married? That I don't know. You know we're still in school, lots of things can happen."

He gives me that old questioning, my son's been stolen by aliens, look. Come on, dad, be brave. Ask me.

"I'll tell you honestly, Luke, she would be a very fine addition to the family. She is an intelligent, pretty girl. And she seems to think the world of you."

Hearing him say that almost breaks my heart and I'm not sure why. Why don't you think the world of me anymore, dad? Can you answer that one?

"Dad, I don't think of her as an addition to anything. I love her and I think she makes me feel like I'm worth something. She cares about me all the time and I don't have to ask her to. If I marry her it will be because of that and not because she makes the family more complete."

"Luke, do you work at making it difficult to talk with you? There was a time when we weren't always butting heads about things. All I meant was I think she's a fine girl and you would be lucky to have her as your wife. Nothing more, nothing less. I guess I'll go on to bed. You might want to turn in too."

With that he's up, out of his chair and out of the room. God, I hate this. He can make me feel like the little fuck up I was at sixteen without saying a word. A time when we didn't butt heads about things? No shit. There was a time when I thought what I thought mattered to you, Dad. There was a time I thought I mattered to you. I pull my knees up to my chest, it feels like my throat is tightening and my eyes are smarting. Goddammit, I will not cry over this. I'm twenty years old now, what's done is done. I am able to contain myself and the darkness passes but the albatross remains firmly affixed around my neck.

With the new year came another semester at school, of course. In February, however, Stephanie's father had a heart attack. I went with her to Dallas the day it happened and we stayed a few days. He is a strong guy, but probably overworked. Stephanie has been back just about every weekend, which has left me with some time on my hands.

The first weekend she was gone I just stayed at my apartment, studied and watched TV. That sucked. The next weekend I was doing the same thing when Hoop dropped by. He was stag himself and he was going to a party. He thought it would be a capital idea if I joined him. I concurred. I changed clothes and we were two unattached guys, on the prowl, so to speak.

Needless to say the party was a good one. The usual assortment of party favors, the trolling girls, were there. It didn't take long before Hoop and I attracted a couple of them. They seemed ready for action. Hoop is always ready for this kind of thing. He would fuck a hole in a tree if it was wet. I was a little hesitant, but as the evening and the party wore on, I got a little drunk and little high. Then nature took its course. Actually that's just an excuse for what happened next. You see, Luke Shelton engaged in some sport fucking his own self. And it was fun. It wasn't like with Stephanie, but it was plenty exhilarating. The next day, though, I felt pretty shitty about it. When Stephanie returned Sunday night, I felt especially shitty. She was glad to see me and showed me what the genuine article is all about, again. There is a difference between love making and fucking after all. I am an asshole and a stupid one at that. I promise myself it won't happen again.

Stephanie's father was released from the hospital in late March and she is going to make one more trip to Dallas the first weekend of April. I think I'll be able to restrain myself just one more weekend.

The Friday night she leaves for Dallas, Hoop shows up at my apartment with some very good weed and a bottle of Jack Daniels. We proceed to get righteously fucked up, listening to music and having a right good time. I am sitting in my rocking chair and Hoop is reclined on my bed when all of a sudden, he gets a whiskey soaked brainstorm. Hoop swings his legs over the side of the bed and faces me.

"Know what we need to do, Shelton?" He asks, leaning in close.

"What do we need to do, Hoop?" I answer, inclining my head toward him and slurring my words a little.

"We need to go to Bryan Jacob's party. You know it's only," he says, squinting at this watch with one eye, "ten o'clock. Things are just getting going right about now."

"Hoop, we might be dangerous behind the wheel of a car." I counter.

"Fuck it, I'll drive. I promise to be very careful."

Well, if you can't fight 'em, join 'em, as the incredibly trite old saying goes. We stagger out of the apartment, practically leaning on each other and pile into Hoop's car. He drives as carefully as a man under the influence can drive to the party. We make a grand entrance and the whole baseball team is enchanted to see us, I can tell. I party my ass off and before long a particularly shapely adorable little trifle comes over to me and engages me in a fascinating conversation. The conversation eventually gets around to the fact that she wants to give me the most mind-blowing head I've ever had. This sounds like just the ticket to me. She takes me by the hand; we go to her car and end up at my apartment.

When we get there she undresses me and immediately begins to keep her promise. As she performs this little feat of derring-do, she removes her blouse and bra. I reach down and fondle her breasts. She develops some extreme suction and I respond. I am about ready to come when she stops, unbuttons her jeans and drops them and her panties on the floor. Then she climbs onto me and proceeds to fuck my lights out. We do it every way but the right way. I end up doing her doggy style and have this ferocious orgasm, but I'm not aware if she does or not. I have to admit I don't care. We collapse onto the bed afterward. After about fifteen minutes, she is back to work with her mouth. This time she continues until I finish without coming up for breath. Holy shit, this girl is a machine. We have another repeat performance of the first go round after about an hour and afterward I feel like all my gaskets have sprung a leak. I am fucked out and fucked dry. My dick feels like it has been scrubbed with a Brillo. I think I pass out from exhaustion and drunkenness.

In the morning she has already gathered up her stuff and gone. I rise stiffly from the bed and walk naked into the bathroom. I look in the mirror and I am instantly ashamed. I don't look so good and I feel worse. Hangovers, I hate hangovers. I want to blame this on Hoop, but I can't. What I did isn't his fault; I didn't use his dick to do what I did. I had promised I wouldn't do this again and now here I am. I step into the shower and turn on the hot water. My body definitely shows the remains of last night. I have dried stuff on me and my penis is pinkish. I have some small bite marks on my nipples and some streaked abrasions on my belly. Hmmm, never had those before. I make the water hotter and shower for a very long time. I begin to feel like a human turd. I can't believe I've done this to Stephanie again. I think I may be compelled to tell her. But I know that is a bad, bad idea.

The rest of my Saturday is spent recovering from my exploits of the previous evening. I worry about what to do until I pull out some of the weed Hoop left. I smoke a joint and the anxiety leaves me, at least temporarily. I call John Mark and ask him if I can come over. His answer is yes. He says Catherine will make dinner for us. I

get up and go to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and comb my hair. I look a little better than I did this morning, well I look stoned but I don't look like something the cat drug in. I can't believe I have been so incredibly selfish and unthinking. I don't want to carry this around, but I don't want to tell Stephanie either. Actually, I do want to tell her. I just don't know if I want to tell her to clear my conscience or to try to make myself feel better. Either way, I don't know if I should lay this crap on her. What a jerk I am.

I go to the car and drive to Johnny's. I hope they can take my mind off what I've done.

Sunday evening arrives and with it, Stephanie. Last night at Johnny and Catherine's was miserable for me. I didn't talk much, didn't eat much and was generally a real joy to be around. John Mark tried to pump me for information but I wasn't giving anything up. You know, I thought this was the kind of stuff guys were supposed to do without any remorse or recriminations. How do people do it, especially if they love someone? God, I'm not cut out for fooling around, I guess. I've got too much of the old Southern Baptist guilt working on me.

I hear the knock on my door I've been anticipating. I go to it, open it and there she is, beautiful but I can tell she is still worried about her father. She comes through the door, embraces then kisses me for a very long time. I love her so much and I don't want to lie to her. How in the world am I going to tell her what I've done? Why did I do it? Am I trying to destroy the best thing to come along in my life in 5 years? Will she forgive me?

"It is so good to see you, Luke." Stephanie says when she has finished kissing me.

"I'm glad you're here and safe, Steph," I answer. "How's your father?"

"Much better. The doctors have him started on an exercise program. I think he's going to be fine."

"Would you like something to drink or anything?" I ask, hesitant to get to the subject I need to talk about.

"Sure, what have you got?"

"Well, I've got Coke or beer if you want. I could even make you a drink. I've got some Jack Daniels."

"You know what, Luke, let's have a drink. I want to relax after my drive. Make mine whiskey with a little water."

I go to the kitchen and mix us both a couple of strong drinks. I hear her sit down in the rocker, and then her shoes thump to the floor. I return with the drinks, hand one to Stephanie and then I sit down on the edge of my bed. She leans forward and kisses me on the forehead.

"Thank you, kind sir." Then she takes a healthy swig of her drink and sits back in the rocker.

"Uh, Stephanie, there's something we need to talk about. I'm not quite sure how to start so I guess I just will."

She leans forward a bit and gives me a querulous, concerned look.

"You look worried. Is it something bad? Are you having some kind of problem?"

"I guess you could say that. I've done something very wrong and I have to tell you. I'm not doing this to just unload, I'm doing it because I love you and I don't want you to be angry with me."

"Luke, do you realize this is the first time you have told me you love me?" She asks.

I swallow hard. I know I'm going to lose her.

"Yeah, I guess I do. And it's true. Sometimes it's hard for people to say those things, Stephanie, because of things that have happened to them. I don't expect you to understand but I've been afraid to tell you how I feel."

"Why would you be afraid to tell me, Luke? You know how much I love you."

"Yes I do and I'm sorry I haven't told you straight out before now. I've known it for a long time."

"I know and I don't care why it's difficult for you to say it. I care about you."

With that I launch into the story about what happened when she was away in February and then this weekend. I spare her the gory details but I confess. While I am talking her face assumes a hurt expression, like I have slapped her. A single tear escapes her eye and glistens down her cheek. She reaches up quickly with her hand and wipes it away. I feel stabbed in the heart and it is with my own knife. Then her face steels; I can tell she is humiliated and livid.

"Are you telling me you couldn't go without for a couple of weekends while I went to visit my sick father, you selfish bastard?" She asks.

"Stephanie, it's not like that. I have no excuse for what I've done. I can't ask you to not be angry with me, but please don't hate me. I'm asking you to please forgive me. I will not do it again."

"You're damn right you won't, not to me. You know, Luke, I love you with all my heart. I've done my level best to understand you. I don't care that you are distant sometimes or that you're hard to read. The one thing I thought I could depend on was that if you wanted someone or something else, you would tell me first. I thought you were different."

"Stephanie, you have to believe me, I don't want anyone else. I wish I could take it all back, I know how wrong I was."

"Luke, you can't do that. Sometimes we have live with the consequences of our actions." At last a concept I can get my head around, that one I know right well. With this she stands up and slips on her shoes. "Luke, when you can differentiate between the people who want to fuck you and the people who love you, maybe we can talk. Until then, let's not bother." And she heads toward the door.

I jump up from the bed and grasp her hand. She turns and smacks me hard on the shoulder with her free hand.

"Please, Stephanie, no, you can't go. I will do anything you ask to make this up to you; you've just got to believe me. I know I've been incredibly stupid and uncaring but please do not walk away from me."

"Luke, I don't think I was the one who made the decision to sleep with someone else."

She opens the door and starts out.

"Stephanie, I love you." I cry.

"Me too." She answers not turning her head.

I am too stricken to move. The night has darkened around me and I'm still standing here, the moon casting little shadows on the small porch fronting my apartment. What in God's name have I done? Love cannot walk away from me again, I can't live through it. Maybe if I give her some time, she will know, she will see how much I love her. I go into my apartment, close the door and get on my knees by my bed. I say the prayers I've heard all my life in church and ask God to forgive me my callousness and carelessness with his gifts of love. My liberty, life and love have flown away and I was the one who released them.