over me.
This was an internal battle I didn’t actually want to win. I wanted to know her better, to know everything about her, and to find out what could actually happen between us.
Things progressed fairly quickly between us after that moment we shared in the truck. I don’t think either of us could believe what was going on, but neither of us wanted it to stop. We certainly didn’t talk about – or consider – the fact that what we were doing was wrong. We never talked about what other people might say or think. One day I asked her to write me a letter so that she could share her thoughts and feelings with me. And she did. As I read it, I was in awe of what she’d written. That she wanted me, had strong feelings for me, fantasized about kissing me, and wanted to be with me. Still, I was torn; was she falling in love with me, or was it just a teenage crush? And more importantly – was I willing to act on her confessions? What was it I felt for her? What the hell was I thinking? As I read her words neatly written on the college-ruled paper, my heart pounded in my chest, my knees went weak, and I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
Chapter Four - One
I sabel returned to the table, frowning, though she made no mention of the phone call. She seemed distracted and distant, as if the call hadn’t gone the way she had hoped. Perhaps someone had called her with bad news. I frowned; I’d learned from past dealings with her that if she had something on her mind, she would clam up, and refuse to say anything, regardless of how many times I prodded her and asked. Unfortunately, this was one of those times.
I asked her what was wrong, wondering what she was thinking about. Of course, she said nothing was wrong, that it was nothing to worry about. I didn’t believe her, though. She had been sneaky in the past, and although I loved her, and thought I trusted her, I just wasn’t sure. After all, we’d been apart for nearly a year; she could have been up to so many things that I knew nothing about. My intuition told me that the phone call was from a man, someone she hadn’t told me about for whatever reason. The thing is, my intuition was rarely wrong, and honestly, I knew exactly why she hadn’t spoken a word of this man. It wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened. A few years ago I heard classroom gossip about Isabel making out with another student when she went on a trip with the French Club to Europe, and although it was confirmed and somewhat forgotten, the thought had stuck with me. I loved her, but I wasn’t always certain that I could trust her.
I had always asked her why she wanted to be with me, a man so much older and unavailable to her at the time, when she so easily could find someone her own age. I knew this question would hurt her, since she’d obviously fallen in love with me, but this was my feeble attempt to drive her away. To protect myself and to protect Isabel. I’d known I couldn’t offer her what she wanted at that time – someone that could commit to her fully – and in the end, she’d be hurt one way or another. Right from the start, I had known I would be hurt just as badly, and had made several small attempts to push her away. That kiss she shared with that guy during her trip to Europe was a consequence of my attempts. She’d tried to be with someone her own age, just as I’d asked her to do, and had a teenage version of an affair.
When I learned of the liaison between Isabel and that guy, it had hurt far more than anything I can remember; worse than my wife cheating on me for all those years, and even having children with her lover. Isabel had done nothing more than kiss another guy, held hands with him, and yet it felt like my world was crashing down on me when I found out about it. By that time, I had already fallen deeply in love with her. Part of me wanted her to move on; I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her by being perpetually unavailable to
This was an internal battle I didn’t actually want to win. I wanted to know her better, to know everything about her, and to find out what could actually happen between us.
Things progressed fairly quickly between us after that moment we shared in the truck. I don’t think either of us could believe what was going on, but neither of us wanted it to stop. We certainly didn’t talk about – or consider – the fact that what we were doing was wrong. We never talked about what other people might say or think. One day I asked her to write me a letter so that she could share her thoughts and feelings with me. And she did. As I read it, I was in awe of what she’d written. That she wanted me, had strong feelings for me, fantasized about kissing me, and wanted to be with me. Still, I was torn; was she falling in love with me, or was it just a teenage crush? And more importantly – was I willing to act on her confessions? What was it I felt for her? What the hell was I thinking? As I read her words neatly written on the college-ruled paper, my heart pounded in my chest, my knees went weak, and I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
Chapter Four - One
I sabel returned to the table, frowning, though she made no mention of the phone call. She seemed distracted and distant, as if the call hadn’t gone the way she had hoped. Perhaps someone had called her with bad news. I frowned; I’d learned from past dealings with her that if she had something on her mind, she would clam up, and refuse to say anything, regardless of how many times I prodded her and asked. Unfortunately, this was one of those times.
I asked her what was wrong, wondering what she was thinking about. Of course, she said nothing was wrong, that it was nothing to worry about. I didn’t believe her, though. She had been sneaky in the past, and although I loved her, and thought I trusted her, I just wasn’t sure. After all, we’d been apart for nearly a year; she could have been up to so many things that I knew nothing about. My intuition told me that the phone call was from a man, someone she hadn’t told me about for whatever reason. The thing is, my intuition was rarely wrong, and honestly, I knew exactly why she hadn’t spoken a word of this man. It wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened. A few years ago I heard classroom gossip about Isabel making out with another student when she went on a trip with the French Club to Europe, and although it was confirmed and somewhat forgotten, the thought had stuck with me. I loved her, but I wasn’t always certain that I could trust her.
I had always asked her why she wanted to be with me, a man so much older and unavailable to her at the time, when she so easily could find someone her own age. I knew this question would hurt her, since she’d obviously fallen in love with me, but this was my feeble attempt to drive her away. To protect myself and to protect Isabel. I’d known I couldn’t offer her what she wanted at that time – someone that could commit to her fully – and in the end, she’d be hurt one way or another. Right from the start, I had known I would be hurt just as badly, and had made several small attempts to push her away. That kiss she shared with that guy during her trip to Europe was a consequence of my attempts. She’d tried to be with someone her own age, just as I’d asked her to do, and had a teenage version of an affair.
When I learned of the liaison between Isabel and that guy, it had hurt far more than anything I can remember; worse than my wife cheating on me for all those years, and even having children with her lover. Isabel had done nothing more than kiss another guy, held hands with him, and yet it felt like my world was crashing down on me when I found out about it. By that time, I had already fallen deeply in love with her. Part of me wanted her to move on; I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her by being perpetually unavailable to
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