I opened it.
I knew before I read a word that the beginning was long before she ever met me, so I had to take what I discovered with my eyes open.
I recognized her handwriting and the first tears threatened to erupt. She was fourteen when she started the journal, but her script already had the hallmarks of the writing I read in her letters to me. Most of it was talking about her parents, school, and friends. Kelly was mentioned prominently, but nothing about boys. I flipped through several similar pages, my sense of worry easing but never disappearing.
She told about her first time experimenting with Kelly in high school. She described how she met Dennis her Junior year and how he asked her out. She agreed to go out with him as part of a group of friends and mentioned in her entry that he still considered that a first date. She knew then that he wasn't romantic material for her, though she did ask herself why. She admitted he was attractive, well-built, and athletic, not to mention sweet and funny. They just didn't click that way for her, she said. That never stopped Dennis from asking her out though. Even when she went through a spate of boyfriends the summer between her junior and senior years.
I almost dropped the book when she mentioned the gang bang.
She and Kelly were seniors, and it was spring break. Carrie had mentioned earlier about losing her virginity to Brad Lundford. She gave him props but she mentioned that he did nothing for her, despite his best efforts, and she went on to discuss her boyfriends--her many boyfriends. She had more boyfriends her junior and senior years than I had girlfriends my entire life. She never mentioned any of them to me. Of course, I never asked. According to the diary, Kelly was matching her step for step, a willing accomplice in debauchery. She even chronicled how, at eighteenth birthday party, she learned to give the perfect blow job. She was blowing a guy and accidentally slapped him with her tongue on that spot right below the meatus at the flare of the ridge at the head. According to her, he came instantly. She refined her technique over the years learning to focus the tip of her tongue there at just the right time. As a recipient of that talent, it was odd reading her chronicle how she learned to do it.
I felt an anger rising from the pit of my stomach as the book bore out what Kelly told me. Kelly's words painted a picture of a different woman from the one I thought I married, as did this diary. Calm down, I told myself. This was a much younger Carrie. This was a kid still figuring out her identity and her world. Sure, she experimented. A lot. A lot more than I--or anyone I knew--ever did.
I set the diary aside and stared at the ceiling, forcing myself to take deep, measured breaths. People change. Everyone changes. The girl who wrote this diary was not necessarily the same woman I married. Surely I would have noticed something. I would have seen something. I would have known.
Did you know what your own daughter was doing?
That question slapped me in the face, forcing me to sit up. Everything I read in the diary was mirrored in what Brenda told me this afternoon. Her sexual journey followed a very similar path to Carrie's, and I never knew it. I was totally clueless about my little girl's life. She freely admitted having sex with multiple people, both boys and girls. She had no qualms about experimenting with Linda. She even talked about being with Austin.
That made me think. My daughter and I shared a lover. Wow. Just. Wow.
Had I been so parochial about sex my whole life? Before my parents died, theirs was the only relationship I had for a model. I never saw them being anything more than mildly affectionate toward each other. I couldn't remember ever seeing them in a deep kiss, nor did I ever hear the tell-tale slamming of a headboard or the squeak of a box spring. I never saw either of them flirt, even with each other. Or if I did, I didn't understand it.
My first girlfriend broke up with me because I was too timid to get physical with her. Oh, I wanted to--in the worst way. I just didn't know how to go about it. The first time we kissed, we stared at each other for what seemed like an hour until she broke the silence. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"
Even after that, I still was moving too slow for her, and she moved on to other prospects. It was a friend of mine on the varsity basketball team who clued me in on "the lean" as he called it.
"If a girl is keen to kiss," he had said, "she will tilt her head and lean forward, as though trying to hear you better. If she plays with her hair at the same time, so much the better. That's a sure sign she wants to make out."
He also told me that if a woman wants chest play, she will "present" as he put it. She'll thrust her chest forward or rub it on the upper arm to signal her desire.
Of course, I saw him get slapped on more than one occasion, so his advice wasn't foolproof, but it did serve me well for the rest of my high school experience, and of course, college. Carrie did "the lean" the first time we kissed, and that turned out okay.
So, while I didn't have the experience that Carrie did, I also wasn't a virgin. I had been with three other women before I met her. She had been with more than twenty other people, including at least one orgy right after her high school graduation. That must be why the first Greek Bash didn't surprise her as much as light a fire inside of her. Or the second. Or every other group sex situation into which we stumbled.
A thought hit me out of nowhere. My problem wasn't fidelity. It wasn't Carrie. It was my own cluelessness. Sex wasn't something that had to be protected between a loving monogamous couple. It was an expression of joy to be shared. Carrie and I enjoyed sex with each other, no matter if it was just the two of us, or if it was in front of Kelly and Dennis.
That realization made me curious, and I snatched the book up and flipped several pages. Kelly mentioned her first semester at college, and I was in her second entry for that year. What she wrote filled me with a warmth and a joy I hadn't felt in years. She said that when she met this tall guy in her lab class, her heart flipped. She knew then that she wanted to be with me. Just as I knew the first time I saw her. We were already on the same wavelength even before we were introduced.
I flipped several pages, past the Greek bash, even past our first time. I was looking for one entry in particular. Part of me felt like I was being dishonest reading her private thoughts about things that she never talked to me about. But then again, she did tell me in her letter to read the journal.
There it was. The last Greek Bash. The party that resulted in Kelly getting pregnant with my son. And there was the incident. In black and white. Carrie's account was similar in fact to what Kelly told me, but what I read in between Carrie's words told me so much more. Carrie was wracked with guilt the next morning, certain she had fucked up our relationship, that I would prefer Kelly to her, or that I would leave her for having sex with Kelly. I remembered how clingy she had been that next morning. After reading the entry, it made more sense.
Three entries later, Carrie wrote about Kelly missing her period. Carrie was beside herself. She cursed her best friend. She cursed herself. She even cursed me for not knowing what happened, but I got the feeling she was more angry that she couldn't talk to me about it. She promised herself that she would never again have sex with anyone other than me, nor share me with anyone. Especially Kelly.
The next entry I wanted to see was the Destin trip, because something happened there that I still felt led to Carrie's and my breakup. Carrie didn't write much about it, oddly enough. She included a lot of details about all of her sexual encounters up till then, but this entry only mentioned that an orgy broke out, and that Kelly and Dennis were the stars of it. She mentioned our night in somewhat more detail, but not much.
The next entry wasn't until after Carrie left. It was nothing but a number, followed by several more entries with nothing but increasing numbers. When I flipped the last page of that year, there was a lengthy series of short entries.
"I did it. I made it a whole year. I didn't think I could do it, but I did. I'm going crazy, though. I don't know how much longer I can stand it, but I have to try. For his sake. For our sakes. God! I hope I haven't ruined things, but I had to know, and this was the only way. I only hope he still loves me enough to forgive me for leaving him like I've done. He has to. I'll just die if he doesn't.
"Mom says if he ever loved me the way I love him, he will forgive me. Of course, she still says I am an idiot for doing this in the first place. I just hope Barry hasn't moved on. Please, let him be there.
"Oh No! I drove over to his place and he's not here! He moved out of his apartment. What will I do?
"I can't ask Kelly. She'll tell him. Maybe I can catch him at work.
"Great, he doesn't work there anymore. They said he joined the Army. My life is over.
"Yay! Mom saw him at the store. Thank you God! She followed him to that new subdivision, so I have an address. I'm going over there tomorrow. Wish me luck! I have to find a new dress. I have to win him back. Please, let him still love me.
"Do I tell him why I left? Do I tell him about my abstinence? I did all this for him. I had to know that we could just be us. That we could both be monogamous. That he would be satisfied with just me and not want Kelly. I couldn't stand it if he fell for her. I love her, but Barry is mine. She knows how much I love him. I wish she had never joined us that night. Why can't she just be happy with Dennis? But it's my fault too. I could have sent her away that night, but I didn't. I was weak. And the booze was spiked. Oh, I have excuses, but that's all they are. I have no one to blame but myself if this doesn't work. I know for sure now that he's all I want. I went a whole year without seeing anyone. Without any sex. Without even flirting! All I could think about was my Barry and getting him back.
It's time. I picked out my best dress. I spent a bit more than I wanted to on my hair, but he's worth it. Please let him love me! Here goes everything!
