And we made quiet noises. And kept silent. And still. We went over to the bed and lay down on all the things that weren't put in suitcases. And we touched each other from the waist up over our clothes. And then under our clothes. And then without clothes. And it was so beautiful. She was so beautiful. She took my hand and slid it under her pants. And I touched her. And I just couldn't believe it. It was like everything made sense. Until she moved her hand under my pants, and she touched me.
That's when I stopped her.
'What's wrong?' she asked. 'Did that hurt?'
I shook my head. It felt good actually. I didn't know what was wrong.
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-'
'No. Don't be sorry,' I said.
'But, I feel bad,' she said.
'Please don't feel bad. It was very nice,' I said. I was starting to get really upset.
'You're not ready?' she asked.
I nodded. But that wasn't it. I didn't know what it was.
'It's okay that you're not ready,' she said. She was being really nice to me, but I was just feeling so bad.
'Charlie, do you want to go home?' she asked.
I guess I nodded because she helped me get dressed. And then she put on her shirt. And I wanted to kick myself for being such a baby. Because I loved Sam. And we were together. And I was ruining it. Just ruining it. Just terrible. I felt so terrible.
She took me outside.
'Do you need a ride?' she asked. I had my father's car. I wasn't drunk. She looked really worried.
'No, thanks.'
'Charlie, I'm not going to let you drive like this.'
'I'm sorry. I'll walk then,' I said.
'It's two o'clock in the morning. I'm driving you home.'
She went to another room to get the car keys. I just stood in the entry hall. I felt like I wanted to die.
'You're white as a sheet, Charlie. Do you need some water?'
'No. I don't know.' I started to cry really hard.
'Here. Just lie down on the couch,' she said.
She laid me down on the couch. She brought out a damp washcloth and put it on my forehead.
'You can sleep here tonight. Okay?'
'Okay.'
'Just calm down. Take deep breaths.'
I did what she told me. And just before I fell asleep, I said something.
'I can't do that anymore. I'm sorry,' I said.
'It's okay, Charlie. Just go to sleep,' Sam said.
But I wasn't talking to Sam anymore. I was talking to someone else.
When I fell asleep, I had this dream. My brother and my sister and I were watching television with my Aunt Helen. Everything was in slow motion. The sound was thick. And she was doing what Sam was doing. That's when I woke up. And I didn't know what the hell was going on. Sam and Patrick were standing over me. Patrick asked if I wanted some breakfast. I guess I nodded. We went and ate. Sam still looked worried. Patrick looked normal. We had bacon and eggs with their parents, and everyone made small talk. I don't know why I'm telling you about bacon and eggs. It's not important. It's not important at all. Mary Elizabeth and everyone came over, and while Sam's mom was busy checking everything twice, we all walked to the driveway. Sam and Patrick's parents got in the van. Patrick got in the driver's side of Sam's pickup truck, telling everyone he'd see them in a couple of days. Then, Sam hugged and said good-bye to everyone. Since she was coming back for a few days toward the end of the summer, it was more of a 'see ya' than a good-bye.
I was last. Sam walked up and held me for a long time. Finally, she whispered in my ear. She said a lot of wonderful things about how it was okay that I wasn't ready last night and how she would miss me and how she wanted me to take care of myself while she was gone.
'You're my best friend,' was all I could say in return.
She smiled and kissed my cheek, and it was like for a moment, the bad part of last night disappeared. But it still felt like a good-bye rather than a 'see ya.' The thing was, I didn't cry. I didn't know what I felt.
Finally, Sam climbed into her pickup, and Patrick started it up. And a great song was playing. And everyone smiled. Including me. But I wasn't there anymore.
It wasn't until I couldn't see the cars that I came back and things started feeling bad again. But this time, they felt much worse. Mary Elizabeth and everyone were crying now, and they asked me if I wanted to go to the Big Boy or something. I told them no. Thank you. I need to go home.
'Are you okay, Charlie?' Mary Elizabeth asked. I guess I was starting to look bad again because she looked worried.
'I'm fine. I'm just tired,' I lied. I got in my dad's car, and drove away. And I could hear all these songs on the radio, but the radio wasn't on. And when I got into the driveway, I think I forgot to turn off the car. I just went to the couch in the family room where the TV is. And I could see the TV shows, but the TV wasn't on.
I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like all I can do is keep writing this gibberish to keep from breaking apart. Sam's gone. And Patrick won't be home for a few days. And I just couldn't talk with Mary Elizabeth or anybody or my brother or anybody in my family. Except maybe my aunt Helen. But she's gone. And even if she were here, I don't think I could talk to her either. Because I'm starting to feel like what I dreamt about her last night was true. And my psychiatrist's questions weren't weird after all.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I know other people have it a lot worse. I do know that, but it's crashing in anyway, and I just can't stop thinking that the little kid eating french fries with his mom in the shopping mall is going to grow up and hit my sister. I'd do anything not to think that. I know I'm thinking too fast again, and it's all in my head like the trance, but it's there, and it won't go away. I just keep seeing him, and he keeps hitting my sister, and he won't stop, and I want him to stop because he doesn't mean it, but he just doesn't listen, and I don't know what to do.
I'm sorry, but I have to stop this letter now.
But first, I want to thank you for being one of those people who listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even though you could have. I really mean it, and I'm sorry I've put you through this when you don't even know who I am, and we've never met in person, and I can't tell you who I am because I promised to keep all those little secrets. I just don't want you to think that I picked your name out of the phone book. It would kill me if you thought that. So, please believe me when I tell you that I felt terrible after Michael died, and I saw a girl in class, who didn't notice me, and she talked all about you to a friend of hers. And even though I didn't know you, I felt like I did because you sounded like such a good person. The kind of person who wouldn't mind receiving letters from a kid. The kind of person who would understand how they were better than a diary because there is communion and a diary can be found. I just don't want you to worry about me, or think that you've met me, or waste your time anymore. I'm so sorry that I wasted your time because you really do mean a lot to me and I hope you have a very nice life because I really think you deserve it. I really do. I hope you do, too. Okay, then. Goodbye.
Epilogue
I've been in the hospital for the past two months. They just released me yesterday. The doctor told me that my mother and father found me sitting on the couch in the family room. I was completely naked, just watching the
