Deception Ebook EPUB 3-17-2014 (4 page)

Chapter 12

March 1983

D
avid and I called each other often, especially on Sundays when we were not able to see each other. One Sunday in March, I called him from my dorm lobby:

David:
Hi, Dave here. GA [This is a TTY code for Go Ahead.]

Me:
Hi, darling! This is your darling. Hold Ok, I just turned the light on cuz it is dark here. Ha. Well, how was your afternoon? GA

David:
Well, I practiced. It was good, then I got home and watched some basketball. I asked mom if I could see you, but she said no. I was disappointed, then I started on science homework. I really wanted to see you, but sorry – it’s my fault. GA

Me:
Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. Are you done with your science homework? GA

David:
No way. I did chapter 30. I have to do chapter 31, 32 qs, and I will finish it after I talk with my beautiful darling, who I miss very much already. Ha!

Me:
Yeah, I miss you too, but it’s your fault that we can’t see each other now. Just kidding. Ok, when I arrived here I ate my supper, a sandwich, then I started to read a book until the girls arrived.

David:
It was funny this morning because my pastor came to me and shook my hand and signed good job. I thanked him. My parents said he and his wife enjoyed the [MSD Spring] play very much. Also, this morning Ina and her friend were here. Paula told all the people that she wanted to thank me for praying all three nights. She thinks that we will spread God’s gospel to other people.

Well,
you wrote me a note … I forgot to tell you that I almost cried when you said you wanted to know more about God. I have always wanted to talk with you about God, but I don’t know what to say. I’m sure God didn’t like what we did last Friday night. I know this isn’t as bad as sex, of course, and the Bible didn’t say “thou cannot touch bodies,” so I guess it was alright with God if I did that, but I know you did not feel comfortable. I’m sure God will get angry if we have sex before marriage, which of course we won’t do. Do you have any suggestions about what we can do to share our relationship with God? He’ll be happy to be part of us. Maybe when you come to my home or whatever we can read the Bible together and discuss it, or do you have a better suggestion?

Me:
OK, first thing about touching. I felt comfortable at first, but if we do it pretty long like we did, I become uncomfortable. Anyway, I think it is good idea if I go to your home and we could discuss, but remember I know almost nothing about God. But I’m sure you understand, don’t you darling?

David:
Yes, I understand, but what shall we discuss?

Me:
Honestly, I dunno what.

David:
I could find a verse then we could discuss, OK? I’ll find a better way as we go. I want to ask you a question.

Me:
Fine, but don’t be embarrassed if I got the answer off the point.

David:
No, it isn’t about God. It is between you and me.

Me:
Fine. What is it, sweetie?

David:
If I touch your body for a short time, when it is right time (nobody is watching) do you mind? Or do you prefer I do nothing until you let me? Those questions are stupid; never mind answering. Let’s talk about something else, like getting married. Ha ha! Just kidding.

Me:
Very funny, but I won’t ignore the question. I really dunno, but I prefer you ask me if it’s alright to touch my body, then maybe I’ll say OK. For your information, it’ll be a long time before I let you do this, but I’m sure I’ll let you once before I turn sixteen. I dunno, OK? OK, I don’t care if you touch my ***, but I prefer not inside my clothing. OK, honey?

David:
Thanks for answering my stupid question. What are you going to do after I finish talking with my dearie?

Me:
I’ll talk with Tiffany, then I suppose I’ll read the book a little. What time are you planning to stop?

David:
By nine, so I can do my homework. Are you finished talking with me? I think I talked long enough. Did you get bored?

Me:
No way. For your information, I never become bored with you. Ha! But it’s true. Of course it’s alright to stop darling. Homework is more important than me. Ha. So I think you better do your homework now. Sleep well tonight and think about me before you doze off. Ha! Bye. See you tomorrow. I love you and always will.

David:
First of all, you are more important than homework, and second, how do you like the idea of talking about God?

Me:
I think it’s a great idea if you like it, but don’t teach me about God when you don’t want to. Of course, you’ll not teach me all night when I’m at your home. Ha!

David:
OK, sleep tight and may God be with you all night. See you in the morning. I love you. I don’t have to tell you; you already know. Ha! Bye. GA or SK [TTY code for Stop Key]

Me:
Wait, wait! You don’t have to tell me, but I like it when you tell me. Tell me the truth, do you want to discuss with me a little about God? If not, just tell me. I’ll understand. I can learn about Him later in my life. GA

David:
It is better to learn about Him now. I’m crying. I’m worried about you. I want you to go to heaven with me. I can’t see what I’m saying, so I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you. Better stop now. Bye to SK

Me:
Thanks for your concern. You are so sweet. Bye. SK

David:
Are you still there? Is that all you can say? I’m crying. I want you to go to heaven with me. GA

Me:
Don’t worry. I’ll go there with you. Do your homework now. See you tomorrow. I love you! SK

David:
You don’t want to know about God. Bye. SK

Me:
No, wait. You still there? GA

David:
Yes. GA

Me:
I want to know more. I cry often at home when my mom won’t take me to church. I tried my best, last summer, reading the Bible, but I still don’t understand. OK? I just remembered one verse saying those who love xxx whoever … I forgot the verse now, but it is John 3 something like this. GA

David:
OK. I’ll talk more tomorrow. Bye. SK

Me:
I do want to go to heaven. SK

David:
I want you to accept Christ. Bye. SK

Me:
I’m already a Christian. SK

Chapter 13

October 1983

T
hump. Thump.
We could feel the vibration of the big bass drum as we entered through the doors. Within minutes, our gym was filled with high school students, coaches, dormitory staff, teachers, and a few alumni.
Thump. Thump.
The cheerleaders did their pom-pom dance as we cheered. The bonfire would follow shortly, but first, we waited eagerly for the homecoming court to be announced.

Our superintendent opened the envelope and announced: “Freshman princess goes to Deanne Piper!” We all cheered as Deanne climbed down the steps to the middle of the gym, where five chairs were set. She sat down in the chair furthest left, facing the spectators.

“Sophomore princess goes to Amy Monigan!” Another round of applause. She sat down next to Deanne.

“Junior princess goes to Debbie Anderson!”

Slaps on my back and words of congratulations surrounded me as I got up from my seat, maneuvered through the crowd in the stands, and walked across the gym floor to take my seat. Emotions flooded in – thrilled to be chosen, relieved that I was not overlooked, and self-conscious that all eyes were now on me. I had hoped I’d be chosen although I hated standing before a crowd.

After naming Lori Sherwood as a Senior Princess, the superintendent announced: “Queen goes to Debbie Stokes!” Debbie hugged each of us before she took her seat.

At the bonfire, David and I held hands. The night had been so pretty – stars filled the sky, and the night air was crisp. The bonfire burned high into the air as a large crowd of us stood hand-in-hand around the fire, moving slowly and occasionally stopping to sing familiar cheerleader chants.

When it was past ten o’clock, our dormitory counselor encouraged us to begin moving; it was time to return to our dorm. David and I walked across the campus, still holding hands.

As we neared my dorm, David turned to me and said: “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. What is it?” I asked.

“I want for us to be just friends.”

“Friends? You mean, you want to break up with me?” We had dated for over two years and had so much fun together. We played miniature golf. I had gone to his house several times for supper. His parents liked me. We often went out for drives through town. (He had a car of his own, earning money from his paper route.) He even had a picture of me printed on a shirt that he wore all the time. Not only that, he often gave me small gifts, stuffed animals and Smurfs. I thought he would be mine forever. I even fantasized what our wedding would look like. And now, he was breaking up with me. I never dreamed this would happen.

“Right. I think it’s best that we are just friends – for now.”

“Why?” I looked at him, not comprehending. “There’s nothing wrong with us. Did I do something wrong? You always said you loved me.” It wasn’t as if we had fought or anything. What was happening?

“I thought I did, but now I don’t have feelings for you. Actually, your name is in the bottom part of my heart,” he said bluntly.

I burst into tears.

He stood awkwardly and said, “I think I better go now.”

After he walked away, I sat down on the steps to the administration building next to the lot where his car was parked, and stayed for I don’t know how long. Why had he chosen this night to break up? Couldn’t he have waited until after the homecoming weekend?

“Are you okay?” my dorm counselor asked when she found me there, hugging my knees, tears streaming down my cheeks. She sat next to me and asked: “Did someone say something cruel to you about your being a princess?”

“No, it’s not that.”

After several minutes of silence, she asked, “Do you want to talk?”

“No.” We remained silent for several more minutes before she said we needed to return to the dorm.

The following day – our homecoming – David and I acted as if nothing had happened. No one knew. I went through the day with a fake smile.

“Hey, I want to take a picture of you two,” people kept saying, so we posed. We looked good together – a football player and a junior homecoming princess.

By the following Monday morning, everyone knew our relationship had ended.

Chapter 14

Fall 1983 to Spring 1984

I
t had never occurred to me that there might be a time when David and I would not be together. Immediately after our break-up, it wasn’t so bad. We continued to do the things we had normally done: eating, talking, and laughing together. But then, he would ignore me for weeks at a time. Eventually he would come back, telling me how much he missed me. “Just a hug, please,” he would beg, and that often led to a kiss. Some days, he would say that he still loved me. Other times, though, he would say that he didn’t even know what love was.

After four months of this back-and-forth, he got a new girlfriend. To my horror, Elena snatched his jacket from my room without asking. It was a piece of clothing that had become my property, and I wanted to keep it. But the betrayals continued. My circle of close friends began to report their doings and whereabouts, assuring me that they were on my side. They were trying to be helpful, but none of us realized that I was better off not knowing all the details.

I was an emotional wreck. I never knew I was capable of crying so much. Everywhere I went, I cried – and couldn’t stop. I cried in my dorm room, in the bathroom stall, in between classes, in the gym during practice, and in the classroom. Teachers, staff, and coaches were concerned about me, but no one really pushed me to talk; not that I would have opened up easily. Instead, they would tell me to try and forget him, or to focus on more important things, such as schoolwork. Perhaps everyone left it for my parents to handle. Or perhaps they assumed I would confide in my parents. Sadly, Mom’s typical response to my tears was: “You still cry over David? Get over it. There are plenty of boys out there.” I couldn’t talk to Dad either. Though he was more on the soft side, he wouldn’t know what to say. Neither one of them was capable of helping me cope with my overwhelming feelings. The only one who really listened was my overweight, smooth-haired dachshund, Cocoa. I would hold him against my chest, and he would lick my tears. It was as if he understood my pain.

While I was at school, I journaled about my heartache. I would write down my feelings in a blue spiral notebook – the same one I used for taking notes in one of my classes. I’d decided the best way to move forward was to just ignore David, so I quit talking to him altogether. I was worried about the busy spring, and how I would handle getting through all those important events without him, especially prom. I just couldn’t believe I wouldn’t be going with David. Since my freshman year, my friends and I had watched the upperclassmen gather in front of the water fountain for pictures – a prom tradition. Excitement was evident, and I had looked forward to my turn, with David.

On May 15, I wrote in my diary:

Prom is coming in two days. I don’t know how I’ll react. Maybe I’ll cry. Maybe I’ll not. I forgot what it’s like to hold his hand. It’s hard. I still love him, and I guess I still want him back.

Two days later, I wrote:

I’ve been worried sick about today since February. I thought I would cry and cry. But I didn’t. It’s amazing. I guess I got used to seeing them together. David looked good. Seven months of crying was enough. I look forward to summer, that’s when I’ll not cry for three whole months. Good way to get back to my old self.

To my surprise and delight, David broke up with Elena a few days after the prom. After forty-three days of silence, he begged me to talk to him. I gave in. On May 23, I journaled:

So great talking to him! Walked with him from gym to cafeteria. We talked, but I left, because I didn’t want him to think he has me to himself too much. We laughed … I wish I could have him back. Everyone asked if we got back together. I wish. Thank you, God.

I thought I was getting stronger, but I was mistaken. I had foolishly let him hug and kiss me, only to learn that he didn’t want me back. My crying spells returned, and I cried for four straight days. Again, I vowed that I would never speak to him! I was back to square one.

This time a teacher showed real concern. He asked if I wanted to talk. “No, I’m fine,” I responded, though I frequently thought about his offer during the first two weeks of my summer vacation.
Perhaps, he is the one I could talk to.

After writing several drafts, perfecting each version, I finally folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope, addressed it to him, placed it in our black mailbox, and raised the red flag.