If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you. A. A. Milne
Debra called me and told me that Anna told the entire story to her folks, my folks and probably everyone within earshot - including the guy at the drive-thru at McDonalds.
As if putting a loaded gun to my head wasn't enough. I know, I know..she didn't shoot, but it was just as effective as if she did.
I was up against MORE than anything I could have predicted. And I felt like I was the only one bearing this responsibility.
Yet I couldn’t stop my true feelings for her.
I had traded off living in this fine home in a toni bedroom community, to live in North Shore and in rather desperate surroundings. Anna and Debra were together in their house. As if nothing happened. And it started to feel as if it didn’t.
Debra called me again later that day, as she promised, asking me to meet her on 1960 and Ella. I wanted to go, but the playing field was leveled for Bill and Debra, and Bill had all the legal cards, as well as moral to play against either or both of us.
I showered, dressed in jeans and a muscle shirt, which my mother upon seeing me, would have scoffed that I was exposing my gay libido. I swept my hair up on my head.
I set the children up in the front room with snacks and the remote. Trey was old enough to stay alone with Devon, but it was not a good idea to trust in Devon surviving this short absence from her mother’s skillful referring. I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.
I climbed in my black New Yorker , suddenly I felt a rush of shame, and panic. But the desire to see her and have her hold me weighed heavy enough for me to disallow thoughts of guilt.
I turned the car into the parking lot on Ella and there she stood, all five foot ten of her. She wore a pink long sleeve linen Polo shirt and Levis, both crisply ironed to cause a slice in one’s hand if grabbed too quickly, and grey Jordon Ropers. She was leaning against her blue Sierra, legs crossed in the casual fashion I was used to, pulling off a cigarette, the smoke circling her temples.
She walked in a quickened pace to me as I pulled in the lot. Before I could bring the car to a stop she had her hand on the edge of the window opening. I stopped the car almost running over her boots and jumped out
“are you nuts….“ She opened the door and grabbed my arm in one fell swoop, and started kissing me in the busy car lot. She grabbed my arm and pulled me to the passenger side of her vehicle, holding my arm with her left hand and opening the truck door with the right.
On the seat were a dozen roses, wrapped with beautiful ribbons and a card, written with her childish scrawl, apologizing profusely, promising, and begging. At times, it was logical. Mostly, it was hysterical. I wanted to believe her. She wanted to know about Bill. Did he try anything? What is he going to do?
“Debra, do you understand that my family knows? Anna and Bill’s family?”
“Yes, I know, I told her it was not right she call your mom and dad, but she wouldn’t listen” Debra explained.
“Right now, I am not going to lay any of this on Anna, it was our doing, our responsibility It is up to us to fix it.” I explained “And how are we going to do that?”
She took my chin in her hand and kissed me softly, the only way she knew how. I fell quickly into the trap. I longed for her to make love to me, but we were under a time constraint. In addition, really, one needs to draw the line somewhere.
But every time she kissed me, she would hold me in her arms, her hands running softly feverishly across my back and all that is wrong in the world, is righted.
I couldn’t breathe I wanted to cry but couldn’t find the tears.
Her mouth found mine, and then my neck slowly moving toward my breasts, I shivered in her embrace. She pushed me against the warm upholstery, holding my arm over my head and reaching into my jeans with the other, the thorns from the roses causing a sort of juxtaposition of beauty and pain. My head started to pound, not in the misery of a headache, but in the confusion of person, place, thing.
I love to watch her hands. When looking at a person’s hand, do you try to envision what those hands do? How they touch? I look at Debra’s hand and I cannot help but feel a certain yearning, as well as a desperate ache for where they are when not on my skin.
Soon her lips traced their way to the crease of my jeans , she pressed her hand against the inside of my thighs, my breathe and hers as one. And soon reality found us and I had to pull away and go back to my family.
I couldn’t bear to leave her, she cried and made certain I understood her “rules”, using those hands, those beautiful erotic weapons. They gently ran over my face and shoulders as if in reassurance that the woman mastering them was sincere.
I left, carrying the flowers knowing I could not bring them into the house since Bill was going to be home in an hour. And with Trey watching his sister, I could not leave them for long. As I said, Trey used every opportunity he could to torture his sister.
I came to the realization this thing is the feces when shame eats too much stupidity, but If a man has a right to find God in his own way; he has the right to go to the devil in his own way. …
I pulled into the driveway and met Bill almost head-on
Beginning of Book
Yes, this is absolutely positively true. If you lived this wouldn't you write about it? Some of the names of characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an account of actual events. Some of the events have been compiled together for the flow of the story. Even when I read my own work, I wonder how it could be so. But if you study your own life and compartmentalize it into less than 200 pages, you would be surprised how interesting it really is!
TRUTH HAS WITNESSES (Dianne Lindsey) This material is the copyright Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author. All rights reserved ©