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