The phone rang. Her roommate answered, “Hold on, she is right here”. Its for you. “Hello?” It was him. “Hey, I thought I would drive up to see you tonight.” “Tonight?, sure, what time?”

“About six, where should I meet you?”

“In front of the Rotunda, I’ll look for you.”

“I can’t wait to see you, its been a long time.”

She lowered her voice, feeling the red creeping up her face. “I know, it has been, see you soon.”

“I have been trying to get away all week, pack a small bag, OK”

The nausea rose up in her stomach instantly. “A bag?”

“Just things you might need if we take a drive and start talking and it gets late, I don’t have to be at work until noon “

Something felt wrong, but they did talk for hours. They were like soul mates talking for hours each week. He knew how she was about keeping her hair straight and brushing her teeth.

“OK, I will bring some wine”

“Don’t worry about me, you intoxicate me already.”

She wasn’t really sure what that meant, but answered quickly “See you at six, Bye.”

“Can’t wait” The phone went dead.

She turned to see her roommate who obviously heard the whole thing?

“Who was that?”

“Friend from back home”

“It was him wasn’t it?”

“Who?”

“Oh come on, the same guy you have been talking to for weeks, why all the secrets?”

“I don’t know. He is just a friend, we like to talk. I am going to take a shower. He is coming to visit tonight, I will probably be late.”

“Ok, don’t forget your key, I am going to dinner, do you want me to bring you something back?”

“No, I have some crackers to munch on, its so hot, I’m not very hungry”

“See you later….” she smiled and waived as she closed the door behind her.

Glad to be free from further questioning , she grabbed a glass from the shelf and an open bottle of wine from the fridge. She poured a glass full, undressed and jumped in the shower. After toweling off and drinking a few sips of wine, she dried her hair and glanced at herself in the mirror. If she could only lose a few more pounds. She put on some makeup and slipped into a pair of black panties. She pulled a black cotton sundress out of the closet and slipped on some flip flops. It was September, but still oppressively hot in Southern Virginia. It had been in the nineties for at least thirty days. In a dorm with no air conditioning, a cold shower was the only relief.

She grabbed her backpack, threw in some makeup, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush. Thought about a change of clothes, but thought better of it. She tossed in another bottle of wine and a couple plastic cups.

5:45, she walked out of the door of her dorm and down the sidewalk toward the Rotunda. Her stomach was doing somersaults. She looked forward to seeing him. They talked for hours almost each weeknight online. He often sent her text messages during the day. Just letting her know he was thinking of her. The notes stopped each Friday night around 7:30. This gave him time to clear them from his phone before he got home. Home with his family.

He worked out of town all week and lived in a small apartment. Jobs are scarce in his town. His wife tried to tough it out and make it in the mill town where he worked. After three years she moved back home. She missed family too much. He tried to make it too. Make it without a woman to share his bed. He didn’t make it either. The nights were often long and lonely. He finally stopped fighting his addiction to women. To his credit, he rarely said anything negative about his wife. Rarely mentioned her. At least not anymore. He did talk about his kids, his daughter was her age and would be married soon. She tried not to think about it.

She found an empty bench under a large old oak tree in front of the Rotunda. She pulled on sunglasses and settled back to wait. In a few minutes his little red compact appeared. She walked over and pointed him to a parking space across the street.

He got out and smiled broadly. “Hi, I’m glad you made it”

She smiled shyly “Me too, its been a while since I saw you”

She couldn’t quite figure out why he kept calling her. He acted like he cared deeply for her. After years of feeling unloved she didn’t know what to make of him. Was it normal for a man with a wife and kids to be a close friend with a twenty year old college student?

“Is there somewhere we can go and talk ?”

“There is a garden down the street with lots of bushes” suddenly she was nervous. Did someone back home know about their friendship? Did he feel like he needed to tell her in person? Her father knew him. If he found out it would be bad. She suddenly felt hot with shame. They had never done anything, not even kiss. She believed he wanted to be a friend who cared about her.

He locked his car and they walked side by side down the street. She was glad she had chosen this side of campus. It was usually pretty quiet this time of day. She wasn’t sure how she would feel if her friends saw them.

They quickly reached the garden and found a quiet bench by itself. He looked into her eyes and asked “How have you been?, I have missed you so much.”

“I’m fine., my classes are going well.”

He always seemed to find her fascinating. He couldn’t seem to get enough of just sitting and talking, drinking her in.

“Any boyfriends?”

She could feel the red heat crawling up her neck into her face.

“No”

“Its ok if you do you know.”

She nodded, not sure she understood his response, she was starting to feel awkward.

“I can’t believe I am here. I decided I couldn’t go another day without seeing you. You are beautiful”

She smiled and nodded, this was getting awkward. She fished in her backpack for a plastic cup and bottle of wine. They were alone in the garden. She needed to be numb.

“I have a surprise for you. Do you have to be anywhere tonight.”

Her stomach fell. “No”

He pulled a hotel key card from his pocket. “We can talk face to face all night if you want.”

"Do you need anything from your room?"

She shook her head no and followed him to his car.

"You look scared, don't be. I just want to spend some time with you and talk."

She nodded, relaxing a little in her seat. She had to admit, she felt important when she was with him.

"I brought some food, I notice you brought something to drink." He nodded towards her cup with some dissapproval. It seemed to bother him that she drank so much when he was with her. It was the only way she could survive this. how in the world had she gotten this involved?

The drove the short distance to the hotel. He had already registered so they entered through a side door and made their way to the elevator. To her relief, the lobby was empty. A lot of students from the university worked here. It was a small school and a small town. Nobody would care. They would probably think it was her dad.

The door opened and they stepped in. He pushed 4. She thought she was going to pass our from her nerves and the wine. Her mind was foggy, but something about this did not make sense.

The doors opend to the fourth floor and he lid her to room 419. He slid the card in and unlocked the door. It was a new hotel and the room was large and bright. The king sized bed seemed to stare at her form the middle of the room. There was a couch, a TV, fridge and microwave.

"I need to use the restroom" she whispered. Her voice hoarse from fear.

He took his jacket off and sat on the couch. "Take your time." I'm waiting.

She closed the door and stared at the mirror. The shower behind her was huge. She wanted to get in and turn on the hot water until she could barely stand it. Till it hurt. What was she doing here? They could have talked in his car, or on campus.

She flushed the toilet, washed her hands and straightened her dress, took a deep breath and walked out.

He was on the couch. He patted the spot beside him. Come here. We have a lot to catch up on.

She reached for her backpack, pulled out the bottle of wine and filled her cup. She put the remainder in the fridge and turned to him. She walked across the room and sat beside him.

"Why do you drink so much?'

"It calms my nerves I guess?"

"I won't hurt you, you understand that don't you?"

She looked at him uncertainly. "I don't think you will hurt me, I just don't understand why you want to talk to me so much, or spend time with me."

With that, he pulled her to him. He started to kiss her softly. "I can't help it" He looked at her sadly, and with what looked like some regret and started to kiss her more intensely. Slowly he eased her down on the couch and laid her down. He laid on top of her and continued to kiss her. She could barely breath. She was scared to push him away. In ways she was addicted to him. She just wasn't sure what he wanted. She didnt' think it would go any further. She was getting lost in him and she didn't seem to care anymore. He said he wouldn't hurt her. She believed him. She didn't know he was going to steal her very soul.

After what seemed only seconds he pulled her up, took her hand and led her to the door. Why did he look so sad? He turned off the lights and slowly lowered her to the bed. He pulled her dress up to her waist and pulled it over her head. He laid her down on the bed and pulled her panites off. She didn't stop him. He only took off his shirt much to her relief. He started to kiss her again, then moved lower until he was finally kneeling between her legs. She felt his face down there and suddenly he began to kiss her again. She had never felt anything like this before. His toungue felt like the wings of a hummingbird in the private places no man had been before. What was that noise? She realized the sound was her. She was becoming lost in a feeling she had never felt before. She started to cry. They were sharing something so intimate their souls combined as one.

He seemed to sense that she could take no more and moved back on her. Again she realized with relief that he was still dressed from the waist down. He had crossed a line but was still treating her with some level of respect. She came out of this fog when she heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He was back on her and she felt pain she had never felt before. She heard herself scream. He seemed to take this as a reponse of pleasure. She started to cry again. It was over. The trust she had held onto was gone. This was what he wanted all along. She heard him groan and finally he rolled off. He found her again and began to rub her belly and kiss her again. He realized she was still crying and pulled her close. What had just happened? How could he have done this to her. He said he wouldn't hurt her. He turned on the light. She felt flooded with shame. She was naked in the light, exposed for him to see. She needed to go to the bathroom but wasn't sure how to pull away. She returned his kisses, but then slid away saying "I have to go". She could feel his eyes watch her walk across the room. She was burning with shame. She was through. He had taken what bit of dignity she felt she had left.

She closed the door and used the bathroom. She was bleeding. Of course she was. This had never happened before. She cleaned up and washed her hands. She looked in the mirror into eyes that were empty. She knew this was dangerous. Why didn't she tell him no. That she was busy. Then in horror she realized he had not used any protection. What was she going to do now? Maybe nothing would happen, but what if it did? She turned on the shower and turned the dial to Hot. She stepped in and started to cry. She was leaning on the wall when she started to sob uncontrollably. Her belly felt like it was on fire from where he had been. Only then did she notice him standing there next to her. He pulled her to him and looked down at her. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to.

She wasn't sure he could really meant that. She tried to believe he just lost control of the moment and he was sorry. That he would not do this to her again. Maybe it was his wife's fault. All she knew was that she was standing here with him, exposed, and full of shame. She wanted to cover herself. She wanted him to leave her alone. It hurt so bad. She had never felt pain like this. Her heart felt like it was breaking. "Its Ok, I know you didn't mean to" She really didn't believe him, but she was afraid she would never see him again if she pushed him away. He was like a drug to her, a bad habit she could not stop.

He took the soap and started to wash her. She could feel the heat of shame rising within her. He was touching places that shouldn't be touched. "Your bleeding" he said. She nodded, and then the color left his face and he looked at her with horror. "This was the first time wasn't it?" She nodded yes. She guessed that he thought she had experience based on the long conversations they had that often went way further then they should have. "Its OK, it had to happen sometime." Then the sobs returned deeper and harder then before. She wanted him to get away. She was so ashamed to let him see her. She couldn't look at him. She felt nauseated with disgust. He continued to wash her until finally he turned off the water and dried her with a towel. He led her back into the room and laid her on the crisp white sheets. He covered her and crawled in beside her rubbing her side until sleep finally came.

To whom it may concern

SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder:
According to Websters: : depression that tends to recur as the days grow shorter during the fall and winter
Thats a lie. Its June, its hot, its sunny, days are getting longer I am getting sadder. When I think about it this has been going on my whole life. I just didn't know it had a name. When I think about why I guess June has always been the end of the year, the end of relationships, a lonely time. Summer days go on and on and never seem to end. I am so alone and so sad. Empty. The summer dusk seems to last forever. My body aches. Aches for someone to care. There's nobody there. When does it end? Labor Day weekend. At least thats when the business begins. Fall starts to nip the air and I begin to believe its going to be alright this year. Then the holidays approach and I become disenchanted with man. It brings memories of past sins and hurts I didn't create. Hurts that feel like a gaping wound in my soul. Someone keeps rubbing salt on this wound. Nothing goes right. I realize life won't stop, neither will my mistakes.

Oh I have tried to cope. Paying someone to listen helps. She is patient and seems to care. Its an unusual relationship. One where I am careful not to cross the line of professionalism. I can't afford for her to say no more. I no longer enjoy the liquids that warmed my throat and heart for a while. Oh I am tempted. Oh to feel that high again. No more illicit love. Oh tempted there as well. Fortunately with age the looks are gone. What a mess that would be. But oh if only for a little while. The sin is too much to imagine. Oh but only for someone to love my soul.

My new name

My name is Had. You may know me, but you may not know my new name. You may have no idea what I've been through because I do my best to look the same. I am scared to death of you. I used to be just like you. I once held my head up high without propping it on my hymnal.
I was well respected back then, and I even respected myself. I was wholeheartedly devoted to God, and if the truth be known, somewhere deep inside I was sometimes the slightest bit proud of my devotion. Then I'd repent.because I knew that was wrong. I didn't want to be wrong. Not ever.
People looked up to me. And life looked good from up there. I felt good about who I was. That was before I was Had. Strangely, I no longer remember my old name. I just remember I liked it. I liked who I was. I wish I could go back. I wish I'd just wake up. But I fear I'm wide awake. I have had a nightmare. And the nightmare was me. Had.
If I could really talk to you and you could really listen, I'd tell you I have no idea how all this happened. Honestly, I was just like you. I didn't plan to be Had. I didn't want to be had. One day I hadn't, then the next day I had.
Oh, I know now where I went wrong. I have rewound the nightmare a thousand times, stopping it right at the point where I departed the trail of good sense. The way ahead didn't look wrong. It just looked different. Strange, he didn't look like the devil in the original scene. But every time I replayed it, he dropped another piece of his masquerade. When he finally took off his mask, he was laughing at me. Nothing seems funny anymore. I will never laugh again as long as he's laughing.
If only I could go back. I would see it this time! I would walk around the trap camouflaged by the brush, and I would not be Had. I would be Proud. Was that my old name? I can't even remember who I was anymore. I thought I was Good. Not Proud. But I don't know anymore.
Would you believe I never heard the trap shut? Too many voices were shouting in my head. I just knew I got stuck somewhere unfamiliar, and soon I didn't like the scenery anymore. I wanted to go home. My ankle didn't even hurt at first. Not until the infection set in. Then I thought I would die.
I lay like a whimpering doe while the wolf howled in the darkness. I got scared. I pulled the brush over me and hid. Then I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of there or I was sure it would kill me. I didn't belong there. I refused to die there.
I pulled and pulled at the trap, but the foothold wouldn't budge. The blood gushed. I had no way out. I screamed for God. I told Him where I was and the shape I was in. He came for me.
The infection is gone. He put something on it and cleaned it up instantly. As He inspected my shattered ankle, I kept waiting for Him to say, "You deserved this, you know. You've been Had. " Because I did and I know and I have. He hasn't said it yet. I don't know whether He will or not. I don't know how much to trust Him yet. I've never known Him from this side. My leg still hurts. God says it will heal with time. But I fear I will always walk with a limp.
You see, I wrestled with the devil and he gave me a new name. Had

The Picture on the Wall

For many years after I left back home to start my own family the picture hung on the wall. At my parents and at my Grandmother's. She was so proud of me. Only I knew the truth. The truth behind that sad stare. Those eyes were begging for help. If only someone knew what was happening to me. I graduated that year and went my way. Finally I stopped looking over my shoulder in fear someone would find out. Someone who might be hurt by my truth. Today I have one of those pictures. My mom gave it to us after my grandmother died. It sits in a drawer in my dining room. I like to pull it out and look at it. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I sob. Sometimes I just hurt. I showed it to my counselor today. I laid it on the couch beside me. I looked at that child. I knew the hurt in her eyes. Its my hurt. Nobody cared, but then they didn't know either. I still look over my shoulder in fear of what the truth would do to those who the truth would hurt.

Note to Self

I talk to myself, so I figure why not just blog to myself. I saw my counselor Monday. She has encouraged me to write either and article or book about Heart Transplant. Or at least what its like for a family. Maybe I would co-author with someone with some clinical background in this area of medicine. I don't know. I don't know how I feel about all of this. I am afraid he is going to die any time now. I guess its because we reached the ten year mark. I wasn't prepared for that. I figured we might get 5 to 8 years. I have always figured he was living on borrowed time, but now I really do think he does.

Well self, what do you think? I wish I could write and make some money doing so. It would help with things so much. This transplant thing has taken so much of my security away from me. I have searched and searched and can't find an answer to what my future looks like. I pretend I am alone most of the time. Make future plans for one. If I can control all of these things, I can bear it.

By the looks of things, I seriously doubt I will be writing any great epistles. We will just have to wait and see. I barely blog on a regular basis. If I could only get whats in my head and heart to channel out to my fingers onto the page I can do it.

Self you can do this. There has to be a way to heal the hurt. To take away the pain of loneliness, and the shame of my past. A future that brings freedom in its grasp.

Until I post again, so long.

To my illicit lover

Dear Bill,

I never thought twenty years ago that I would still be missing you like I do. I have spent quite a few billable hours just trying to figure out why you still have such a stronghold over me. Thank goodness, my insurance company thinks my mental instability merits paying for me talking about you. I think you really seemed to find me fascinating. You would just sit there and talk forever and listen to me with that look on your face like I was something special. You had that smile, and twinkle in your eye. I want to justify that yes I did love you and sometimes hate you at the same time. You never said or did anything to hurt me. It seems like the people who love me now, or at least say they do only want to hurt me. You never did that.

I keep going over in my mind what things were like with you. I am trying to figure out how things got to the point they did. In my mind I remember sitting in the chairs in my dorm room talking to you. Me pouring out my heart, you sitting there with that look. That same look. It seemed loving at the time. I do believe in my heart I was special to you. Its just that the relationship should never have happened. Things like that never turn out to be good. I was on a long track to destruction then. I know that now. I wish you could see me now. I married a man who I know loves me. We have just had some tough times. I tend to carry the majority of the stress for both of us. His health is bad. He will probably not live very much longer. It’s a hard pill to swallow sometimes. He looks healthy, but he carries another’s heart in his chest. I keep waiting for the other foot to fall. Financially I am a mess. One day everything is going to fall apart totally. For now I have chosen denial. I am doing the best I can, but I know its never going to work.

Back to us. You were good. I was always so nervous. Of course when I knew you were coming I would drink myself into such a stupor. It was the only way I could handle what was going on. For the life of me I can’t remember how we would get from those chairs into bed. It seemed like we stayed there for hours at a time. I felt so exposed. I guess it was the lights being on, the blinds being up, and me naked beneath you. Now when I think about it I feel either a thrill or a rush of shame comes over me. I should feel ashamed. Sometimes in my dreams I still feel a thrill. The right thing to do would be forget. I don’t think I want to. You showed me the heights of where a woman’s body can go. So somewhere between thrills and shame I stay. Both eat me alive. You are probably impotent by now. Its easier to remember you in my dreams. Sometimes I wonder why you sought me out. My counselor told me it was predatory and that I was victimized by you. What she says is probably all true. I just can’t believe that I gave you my innocence without something in return. Did you love me?

B.

To my friend:

Dear Lynda,

I talked about you in my counseling session this morning. We were talking about Chip and his health issues and how afraid I am for him to die. I’m sorry that made me think of you. After we found out about your cancer, it seemed we were more afraid then you were. A couple years ago, I was relieved when you started to really talk about your cancer. How hard the treatment is, how hard it is to be a mom and be sick at the same time, how Jay told you how afraid he is that he may have to raise your kids by himself.
I guess in a way I found comfort in the fact that maybe you are not so brave all the time.

It was great to see you at Christmas. I had never met Joshua. Oh what a beautiful child he is. And Whitley, Lynda, she is you all over again. You told Chip he was your hero. That you wanted to make it as long as he has. You two are such special people. How blessed I am to have loved both of you in this life.

Well here’s to you my friend. Thanks for some wonderful memories. I pray for as many more as God will gift us with. You are one of the most amazing people I have ever known. No matter what happens, you will always have a piece of my heart.

Love ya
Ronnie