Part 1
I got home after another long day at work and retrieved the mail. I sifted through it...junk, bill, junk, bill....
"What this?" I wondered, looking over an envelope with no return address. "Hmmm?"
I took it upstairs to my kitchen and opened it. Carefully. It contained three handwritten pages of pink paper. I read the first one, a brief cover letter, as it turned out.
I wrote this letter the day I got home after Marcy's wedding, but it took me months to get the courage to mail it. I'm not sure I should have, but, if you're reading it, I guess I did.
That's all that page said. I started pacing the floor. I remembered that wedding well, but the reception was a little blurry. I know one thing, I made a total ass of myself. (Fucking tequila!)
I took a quick peek at the next page. (I had a sneaking suspicion.)
"Yep." I muttered, suspicion confirmed. Her handwriting was pretty distinctive, right down to the little heart she drew over each "i." But mainly it was the fact that SHE was the only one I ever let call me "Stevie."
I sat down. I had figured I'd hear from her again one of these days, but now I was a little afraid to read the letter.
"What if she says she doesn't ever want to see you again?" I said to myself, as my mind wondered back in time to that wedding.
Marcy was an old high school friend of mine. I'd been out of the loop, so I was surprised to get the invitation. The only reason I went (it was about two hours away with a lead foot) was to see if SHE would be there. I knew she'd been out of the loop, too, but if I got invited....
I had made the trip to the wedding with time to spare, but was a little late (conveniently) in arriving at the church, so I just sneaked into the back row. I saw a few familiar faces, but not many.
I started thinking about the glory days. It had been 12 years since high school. I always thought I was pretty cool back then. I played sports, was a class officer, always got invited to the best parties, shit like that, but now.... Here I am sitting in the back row of the church, no wife, no kids, no date, a lame ass job, a way-too-old truck, and $7,000 of credit card debt just to top it all off. I wasn't 100% sure about high school, but I knew I was anything but cool now. I wondered how things had turned out this way for me.
I was lost in thought.
I suddenly realized that people were standing and clapping. I joined in and followed the wedding party out into the parking lot. A pretty redhead caught my eye.
It was HER.
And she was still the hottest thing on two legs.
I kept her in my sights, but tried to stay out of hers, because she was holding hands with her husband.
"What a dick," I thought. "Why him?"
I continued to watch them (while everyone else focused on the bride and groom). They seemed like a happy, good looking couple. I followed them until they hopped into a shiny blue Escalade. (He even opened her door.) I huffed and headed for the reception. Once there I went right to the bar....
And so it began.
I was working on my second beer when our eyes met.
"Oh-my-god!" Debbie ran over to me and wrapped her arms around me. I held her tight. (She is the only woman to ever make me weak in the knees.)
"Ok, break it up, you two." Her husband pried us apart with a friendly smile. "How's it going, Steven?"
"Alright. Good to see you, Mark." (It wasn't.) We shook hands. The three of us made some friendly conversation before Mark suggested we find our seats. Debbie gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and they moved into the hall. I went back to the bar and grabbed another cold one -- and a shot -- before finding my seat at the back of the hall.
It was a normal wedding reception (white people dancing badly), but I just couldn't get Debbie out of my mind. I thought about our past.
*************************************
Debbie grew up next door to me. We were same age, so we rode the same school bus. We became fast friends. People used to joke that we were Siamese Twins because wherever I was, Debbie was, and vice versa.
Debbie often used to sleep over at my house. (My mom and I lived in the lower floor, and my Aunt and her kids lived upstairs.) But it wasn't like at a kid's sleepovers. She used to sneak into my bedroom through the back door and crawl into bed with me, mostly on weekends. I don't remember exactly when it started. I just always remember it happening. My mom knew, too. When I'd ask to eat breakfast in my bedroom, she'd joke, "Are we having breakfast for one or two today?"
Only when I got older did I understand that Debbie was fleeing from home more than wanting to sleep with me. She didn't talk about it much, but I knew she wasn't happy at home.
When we got into high school, our sleepovers slacked off, but they still happened. I was trying to "take our relationship to the next level" (as they say), but she always said that she wasn't ready for sex, and I never pressed her, even when I woke up and found her in my bed. It was difficult, especially when she blossomed. Sometimes I'd wake up with morning wood and find her sleeping in these little short shorts and a small tank top. It was all I could do not to.... It was all I could do.
But, otherwise, things generally seemed fine between us. I'd always thought we were a couple until the night of the Bradford Halloween party, our Senior year. Debbie said she was working late (she worked part time at some clothing store), so I stayed home for most of the night giving out candy. Then I hit a couple of hot spots before going on to the party.
Things were kind of quiet, and something just didn't seem right. People were looking at me strangely. A friend of mine even tried to stop me from going upstairs to the finished attic -- where all the couples went to make out. I got this sick feeling. I brushed past him and raced upstairs and searched room after room, until I opened one door, and there she was...there THEY were. Debbie in bed with a boy on top of her. They froze. She wore a look of panic on her face, but she never said a word. I looked down at the trail of discarded clothing, and then back up to his arched back. Even under the covers it was obvious what they were doing.
His head slowly turned in my direction. Like a punch to the stomach, I saw that it was Mark Thomas. (Mark was my nemesis. He was a year older and always seemed one step ahead of me. And, to make matters worse, he was also my cousin, who lived upstairs from me.) His face slowly grew a smile, and he resumed thrusting his hips. He had won again and he knew it. Evil thoughts filled my head. I stepped towards the bed. Suddenly, I was hit in the back of the head by something and then all I remember was being kicked, over and over.
(Yeah, that was a Halloween party to remember. I lost my girl and, thanks to a couple of Mark's friends, sustained three broken ribs to boot.)
Debbie tried to explain, saying she was really in love with him, while she and I were just best friends. She said if I truly loved her, I'd understand....
Even though I was crushed, I tried to suck it up and be a man. I even went to their wedding a couple of years later. While we didn't see each other much after that, we still got together at Christmas. It was never easy. I'll admit my smile was fake, but I always thought that one of these days she'd see who truly loved her.
Then, about five years ago, Mark got a new job, and they moved away. That was the last I saw of them until Marcy's wedding.
*************************************
I finally built up enough courage and sat down and read the letter.
Dear Stevie, It was so surprising so see you at that weeding. I used to think about what I'd say if we ever met again, and then we do and I just couldn't seem to find the right words. You didn't seem to have the same problem, although some of them were slurred, but you still had that look in your eyes. I know it well.
That's why I had to write this. It's time.
Believe me, I'm not that special. I have my flaws. I know I leaned on you pretty hard back when we were younger. You were my savior. You showed me that all men weren't perverted like my dad. I know you think he used to do "things" to me but he didn't. But that's not saying he wasn't fucked up. I can't believe I'm going to finally tell you this but here goes.
