November Continued

 Nov. 15 cont.

...and he hasn't even touched my bra and we're both breathing fast & I breathe "Brett, Brett, I'm scared" "What?" "I'm scared for you" I whisper. He relaxes & we lay side by side, facing. "It's so fast," I whisper, "I'm trembling" I breathe and I was. "My mind is going about a million miles an hour." "Okay," he says, sitting up. I clutch Garfield. "Let's just relax" he says and I realize I'm as clentched as a fist. Just his arm around my shoulders, he kisses my hair and says "I think we were just scared of ourselves" (I wasn't talking about VD, darling. I get extremely cryptic in these places. I feel so cautious and vulnerable. I can only whisper strange thoughts: "What does this mean?" "I hate myself for hurting you") "I know what you mean, I was trembling too." I think I love him. Then, again, and when I hesitantly kiss his neck, he breathes strangely. And the point again where I have to whisper "do you know what you're doing?" "Yes" "I don't." We relax, the birds are beginning to make noise. "I'm sorry, I was being selfish," he surprises me. "No, I was!" And again, the amazing "What are you thinking?" "That I like you a lot." I look at him and smile, "I like you very much." He has to go. We sit silent forever. It's light outside. "What are we going to do?" Thinking we hear Tonya, we put our hats back on. "I don't know about you, but I don't think of this as a fling. I'm not that kind of guy." "Oh!" I gasp and he says "And you thought chivalry was dead!" "Yes, I did," I murmur as I bend and kiss his palm. We give each other glances and smiles & quizzical looks & laugh at the confusion. "What?" he asks "Nothing," I laugh. "That's just like me," he replies. "Well, let's keep in touch." Such cold words, but I say "if you want to. I want to." I feel so cold as we gather his albums, his game and he leaves while I get paper & a pen. We write our names and it's "Oh well." And one last. I'm confusing him with my looks and he murmurs "I've gotta get out of here" I laugh as he leaves and closes the door. It's 8:30. I go to bed.

Other words: "Why are you such a nice guy?" He laughs in disbelief "How could you have any regard for me at all after last week?" (Why does it sound like an excuse when he replies) "What somebody does is their own business."

Do you have a good memory, Brett? I'm sitting here, tired, my paper's due tomorrow, Mary & her friend Dan are sitting in the living room & I can hear them laughing as they discuss relationships. He's not the only one to love her. She's widely loved. I have a single page letter, and now, these shreds of a memory.