My Dear Stranger (4 page)

Within seconds, a tear trickled down His cheek as I wrapped my arms firmly around Him.
  Once in His arms, we both began trembling as we warmed each other with our love. 

Minutes seemed to turn to hours in His embrace and with each passing moment a new emotion surfaced, until I felt the need to confess to Him.

And I spoke.  I told my stranger of the great love I felt for Him, and I told Him of the tremendous pain I feel each time He would leave me and fade into the night.  I explained that I felt no harm from His visits, but only relief and reassurance.  And I admitted that the only misery I felt came when He would leave me.
Once seated in each other's arms, wrapped so tightly, I began to explain my companion’s presence in my life.  I spoke of the physical closeness this boy brought to me when I was alone, but that there was no sexual intimacy.  I told my dear stranger that my heart and soul were given completely and only to Him, but sometimes I felt very physically lonely, so I allowed the boy to lay with me.

With these seemingly apologetic explanations, a beautiful smile surfaced on His face, replacing all tears previously fallen.
  I knew He understood, as only He could understand all my mistakes and anguish.  Mistakes which ultimately kept me from sleep on many nights such as this one.

And with His smile came the most beautiful sound my mind had ever heard.
  It was the sound of my dear stranger’s voice.  I had finally heard His lovely, soft voice speak my name out loud.

The cold
dark night with its whispering breezes also heard His voice speak my name, so magical was this moment between us.

In the near two years of His visits no feeling or touch was as perfect and fulfilling as the moment His voic
e rang out into the cold winter night around me.
When He began speaking to me, my heart felt an even greater love- a love I thought never possible.  My body ached for His touch, and all the loneliness I often felt disappeared at once.  His soft lips kissed mine passionately as His gentle hands touched my skin, allowing me to feel all the pleasure between us.
With few words, He told me of His complete, intense love and acceptance of me.  My dear stranger also explained how this love we share will never change nor die, no matter what I do to hurt or destroy it.

And t
hough I know we experience a love so rare, hearing His words utter this truth caused my heart to bleed and my tears to fall.  I knew we could never be together physically but that our hearts and soul would be together always.  And this truth of our love brought upon the painful reality I had chosen to ignore.  We will always be together but we will never BE together.

With these final words He kissed my tears away and held my hand close to His heart.  Slowly He stood and with another beautiful smile, I knew He would be back
for me soon.  I knew He would again take me away from all the misery, and He would return to love me, as only He could.

Once down the street, He turned and blew one final kiss goodbye for the night, and at once I felt such guilt and shame toward myself, thinking of the boy sleep
ing in my bed- a bed which craved only my dear stranger's touch.

And though the
walk to my room took only seconds, these seconds gave me a chance to forgive myself as my dear stranger had.

Once he had woken, I asked my companion to leave peacefully and when questioned, I told him of my undying love toward my dear stranger.
  A love no man could ever fill, nor understand, and I again begged him to leave me. 

And when
my companion left minutes later I stripped my bed of its sheets and rested painlessly on my bare mattress thinking only of my dear stranger's love as I dreamt of His next visit and slowly fell back asleep, alone.
February 1998

17 years old
 

*****

  I remember that boy.  He wa
s popular and I was popular, and it made sense.  We made sense. 

 
My parents were away again.  They were traveling as always, and I was very lonely.  I remember one of my friends telling me Kyle wanted to date me.  I remember being confused about being wanted by him.  I remember my girlfriends thinking I was stupid to not invite him over, especially since my parents were away again.

  And so I did.  I called Kyle and invited him over.  I remember being afraid he would want sex, which I didn’t want.  At all.  But I also remember that I didn’t want to be alone anymore because my stranger hadn’t visited in the night for quite some time.

  And so I invited Kyle over, and I was desperate and pathetic.  I was trying to be a posh adult.  I raided my parent’s liquor cabinet and found champagne.  I bought strawberries and h’orderves.  I bought a sexy little negligee.  I was trying to be anyone but me.

  When Kyle arrived a little after 8:00 he
was pretty drunk already.  And as he entered our family room, he tried to kiss me but I casually moved just in time.  A half hour later he kissed me while we looked at my dad’s music collection together but his kiss was gross, sloppy, and I remember he tasted of stale beer. 

  When I brought out the champagne and strawberries he chugged from the bottle as many eighteen year old boys would
have, but I was unimpressed and depressed.  We didn’t feed each other the strawberries while sipping champagne like I had imagined.  We didn’t gaze at each other with passion and intensity.  We weren’t posh adults, and we weren’t romantic lovers.

  Eventually, I worked up the nerve to ask a very drunk Kyle to come upstairs with me, which he did.  We walked upstairs side by side and entered my spotless bedroom together.  We each paused on the side of my
bed, and then he passed out- just like that.  The second he stumbled to my bed he was out cold.  I remember being surprised someone could sleep so easily and so quickly, no matter how much alcohol they had drank.

  I drank all the time.  I was drunk often, but
I could never easily fall asleep. 

  Anyway, I changed into my negligee to feel adult and sexy and I curled up against a passed out Kyle for his warmth.  I lit a smoke and exhaled deeply any disappointment I felt.  I was disappointed that the night wasn’t filled with adult intensity and passion, but I was very relieved too.  I didn’t want to have sex with Kyle and I was afraid I would give in if he had tri
ed, just so I wouldn’t be alone anymore.

  But that’s the end of our story until He visited me.

  And I was lucky.  He forgave my almost infidelity, and Kyle was a good guy about the situation when I woke him and asked him to leave. 

  And at
school on Monday Kyle told everyone what
really
happened, not what could have but didn’t happen.  Kyle admitted to all his friends that nothing happened at all between us.  He actually admitted he was too drunk to do anything and that he was sorry about it.  And I was relieved again.

  As far
as anyone knew I was a virgin which was important, because in high school sleeping with someone, even once, could be a life sentence to Slutdom.  Unless the relationship was a long high school relationship, a girl putting out was a slut- plain and simple. At least according to the standards of my uptight school, she was a slut.

  So Kyle was a good guy and my reputation was s
aved.  The only drawback to his honesty was I became more sought after.  Boys became way more interested in me because I ‘might’ put out.  I was a good girl, but I
might
become a bad girl with the right guy.  And so I was suddenly more popular with the boys, which annoyed some of my girlfriends- as catty high school girls typically feel when someone else gets some attention.

 
But after the Kyle debacle I never dated another boy from school again.  That was the choice I made.  Girlfriends pushed for other boys, some in high school, some even in college, but I abstained.  Never again did I date anyone. 

  And for
prom I went with Kyle under the absolute understanding that we would not be having sex, nor even making out.  And he was cool about it.  I even joked with Kyle about one girl who WAS slutty wanting him.  So at the hotel that forty of our friends rented after prom, he left us to go have sex with her while I got drunk with my girlfriends.  And that was the end.

  My young life continued filled with my huge secrets hidden.  And no one ever knew about my strange, often lonely, little life.

CHAPTER 4

My Dear Stranger V
Last night as I lay asleep, dreaming lonely dreams, my dear stranger once again came to my room.  His visits have become more frequent than just even months before but the excitement and passion was just as great with each visit.
 

When He sat on my bed the sense of elation I felt became overwhelming.
  I wanted His delicate hands to touch my body and I wanted His sweet lips against mine.  Looking into my stranger’s eyes brought upon such intensity and fulfillment, I barely felt sane.
 

Within seconds, He took me into His warm embrace and rocked me gently as my heart pounded and my mind raced from my terrors.
  I wanted to hear His voice.  I wanted Him to love my body as only He could.  Yet He did nothing.
For hours I stayed silent in His arms as emotions rushed to the surface, often creating tears and just as often smiles.  I wondered how my dear stranger could bring upon every emotion with no words, but with only a gentle touch.
Soon after, I felt tears trickle down my face and I realized His eyes cried for me.  His tears tasted like sweet wine on my tongue and His heart seemed to bleed with each tear of my own.
 

Finally, I asked Him why He cried but no words es
caped His lips.  Looking closer at His eyes I saw such sadness.

Suddenly, my stranger grabbed me and forcefully pushed me flat on my bed.  With His eyes looking wild, He pushed my pajama bottoms down my hips until He gasped and stared at my thighs.  Oh god, I tried to fight Him.  I tried so hard to pull away.  I grabbed for my blankets and I grabbed for His wrists.  I tried to push His face away but He was just so much stronger than me.  So I just stopped fighting.

As my stranger looked at my thighs, I cried.  What else could I do?  What could I possibly say?  I didn’t know how to explain away all the marks.

So st
aring at the wall I whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

When He gently turned my face back toward Him He no longer looked wild.  His face had calmed.  His eyes weren’t crazed or sad.  He simply looked at me fully as only He could.  He looked at me completely. 

Raising an eyebrow, He once again asked without words.

‘Um, I don’t know why.  I didn’t mean to do it.  Sometimes I don’t even know I do it until I’m bleeding or until I kind of wake up to what I’ve done.  I don’t know why, I really don’t.  Sometimes I don’t even remember picking up the knife, or the razor, or the sharp things.  I just see it after and I kind of feel better.  I don’t know.  Um, I don’t know what to say.  Are you mad at me?’

God, I was
so desperate, but He didn’t speak.

Frightened, I stood and held Him in my arms, rocking ever so slowly, humming the numerous tunes He had always given to me.
 

The last few visits He had s
eemed sad and confused like myself.  He no longer looked to have the impossible strength which used to comfort me in the night.  He seemed so sad and terribly weakened.
Immediately following these tears, my dear stranger stood and took my hand into His own. Together we danced to the darkness of night, and I knew we were completely together once again.
Seconds later, He raised my chin, wiping away any trace of tears while I looked into His eyes, until suddenly His voice rang out.
And I felt ecstatic.  My heart began racing once again.  I wanted so desperately to hear His words of comfort and reassurance.
 

When He finally spoke, my stranger told me of our love so rare, and of the felicity achieved by His visits through our passion and surrender. 
And He even admitted He was often frightened by the intensity of our love, but He wouldn’t change it.
 

And this confession left me bewildered,
though completely sympathetic, for I too felt this same fear.
 

After those few words, He gently placed my body back into my bed and left me for mere moments.  When He returned He once again stripped my thighs of my blankets and slowly, gently, He began cleaning my wounds.  Once He seemed satisfied with my care He rocked me until I fell asleep.
When I awoke this morning, my heart ached for my dear stranger and for all the hope and love He gives to me.  I feel embarrassment for what He saw and I feel a heavy sadness in His absence, but with swollen tear-stained eyes I wait for Him, knowing He will return to me soon.
April 1998