decision…”
Speaking about it to Stevie was much more difficult than I expected it to be. She had asked, and technically I did lie to her the day we met. As difficult as it was, I owed her the explanation, and the truth. Honestly, I owed it to her anyway. As I studied her beautiful face, now washed over with worry, I decided to blurt out the key part of my speech.
“I was mailing a suicide letter to my parents the day we met.”
She released the comforter and covered her mouth with her hands.
I nodded my head. “It’s the truth. I had a pistol in the console of the car. I mailed the letter to my mother, and had planned on…”
The thought of it now seemed so far away, both in time, and in the amount of sense the decision made.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “But you’re okay now?”
I wiped my eyes and nodded my head. “Better than I’ve ever been.”
“Has this happened before?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No. And I’m sure it never will again.”
“When did you decide…you know…not to?” she asked.
I wiped my eyes again and chuckled as I lowered my hands.
“You know, it’s funny when I think about it. It wasn’t raining when I went in the store to mail the letter. But when I walked out it was pouring. The skies were dark, and the rain was falling down in sheets. As I saw how the weather had changed, I saw it as a sign that my decision was the right one, and I was at peace with it. And then I walked out to the edge of the awning and saw you. And everything seemed to change. I think I really knew when I told you I’d go get the car.”
She narrowed her gaze and stared.
“My shoes. They were new. When I went to get the car, I hesitated at the thought of getting them wet. A suicidal man would care less. I knew then that my mind had changed. You saved me.”
“Don’t say that,” she said as she shook her head.
I shrugged my shoulders. “You did.”
“Is that why you bought me the car? Because you thought I saved you?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, I bought it for you because I couldn’t think of you riding the bicycle in the rain. Well, that and I was extremely and immediately attracted to you.”
“I’ve only dated guys who use me as a punching bag – and only bikers – never anyone who has treated me nice. You’re the exact opposite of what I’ve always said I liked in men. But I kind of feel the same way. When you asked me out, I was all excited. I remember thinking it was weird, because you were like this rich professional looking dude, and I’ve always laughed at guys like you,” she said with a laugh.
“So you’re not going to leave me for lying to you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “But never again.”
I turned my open palm toward her. “I swear.”
“Okay, good,” she said.
I felt a huge relief after explaining everything to her. I suppose from a psychological standpoint, discussing my suicidal thoughts was paramount to my recovery from them, but my mother offered nothing in regard to comfort or willingness to listen when she came to the office. As always, she was too busy being important to allow me to be so for even one moment.
After a sigh of apparent relief, Stevie brushed her hair behind her ears and shifted her eyes toward the foot of the bed. A moment of deep thought followed, and she eventually turned to face me.
“So, we’re kind of getting it all out there, right?” she asked.
“I suppose so,” I responded.
“I have a question,’ she said.
“Alright.”
“Promise not to get mad?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’ll never get mad at you for asking a question.”
“The night we ate donuts I gave you a blowjob in the car. And you came in my mouth. And then, that night in the kitchen when we forgot to eat dinner and we were looking for something to eat. I told you to fuck my mouth and you got all excited. Remember, you said you’d never heard that saying?”
I nodded my head as I thought of the
Speaking about it to Stevie was much more difficult than I expected it to be. She had asked, and technically I did lie to her the day we met. As difficult as it was, I owed her the explanation, and the truth. Honestly, I owed it to her anyway. As I studied her beautiful face, now washed over with worry, I decided to blurt out the key part of my speech.
“I was mailing a suicide letter to my parents the day we met.”
She released the comforter and covered her mouth with her hands.
I nodded my head. “It’s the truth. I had a pistol in the console of the car. I mailed the letter to my mother, and had planned on…”
The thought of it now seemed so far away, both in time, and in the amount of sense the decision made.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “But you’re okay now?”
I wiped my eyes and nodded my head. “Better than I’ve ever been.”
“Has this happened before?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No. And I’m sure it never will again.”
“When did you decide…you know…not to?” she asked.
I wiped my eyes again and chuckled as I lowered my hands.
“You know, it’s funny when I think about it. It wasn’t raining when I went in the store to mail the letter. But when I walked out it was pouring. The skies were dark, and the rain was falling down in sheets. As I saw how the weather had changed, I saw it as a sign that my decision was the right one, and I was at peace with it. And then I walked out to the edge of the awning and saw you. And everything seemed to change. I think I really knew when I told you I’d go get the car.”
She narrowed her gaze and stared.
“My shoes. They were new. When I went to get the car, I hesitated at the thought of getting them wet. A suicidal man would care less. I knew then that my mind had changed. You saved me.”
“Don’t say that,” she said as she shook her head.
I shrugged my shoulders. “You did.”
“Is that why you bought me the car? Because you thought I saved you?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, I bought it for you because I couldn’t think of you riding the bicycle in the rain. Well, that and I was extremely and immediately attracted to you.”
“I’ve only dated guys who use me as a punching bag – and only bikers – never anyone who has treated me nice. You’re the exact opposite of what I’ve always said I liked in men. But I kind of feel the same way. When you asked me out, I was all excited. I remember thinking it was weird, because you were like this rich professional looking dude, and I’ve always laughed at guys like you,” she said with a laugh.
“So you’re not going to leave me for lying to you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “But never again.”
I turned my open palm toward her. “I swear.”
“Okay, good,” she said.
I felt a huge relief after explaining everything to her. I suppose from a psychological standpoint, discussing my suicidal thoughts was paramount to my recovery from them, but my mother offered nothing in regard to comfort or willingness to listen when she came to the office. As always, she was too busy being important to allow me to be so for even one moment.
After a sigh of apparent relief, Stevie brushed her hair behind her ears and shifted her eyes toward the foot of the bed. A moment of deep thought followed, and she eventually turned to face me.
“So, we’re kind of getting it all out there, right?” she asked.
“I suppose so,” I responded.
“I have a question,’ she said.
“Alright.”
“Promise not to get mad?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’ll never get mad at you for asking a question.”
“The night we ate donuts I gave you a blowjob in the car. And you came in my mouth. And then, that night in the kitchen when we forgot to eat dinner and we were looking for something to eat. I told you to fuck my mouth and you got all excited. Remember, you said you’d never heard that saying?”
I nodded my head as I thought of the
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