Summer Storms

What did I feel for Amy? Was it love or was it just lust? Was it anything? Thankfully, I decided that it was something, and more than just lust. I’d hate to have to face myself each morning if I thought I’d just been using her for sex. I wouldn’t want to be the type of person who is callous enough to use someone else. I’d literally hate being me. So I was profoundly happy to realize that I did feel something for her. But was it love? It was certainly affection, but beyond that, I just didn’t know.

For her part, Amy knew. She was in love. The rest of that day we spent at Scott’s house (before the girls had to put in their token appearance at Becky Leonardi’s) she had shown me constant affection. The next week, at school, she quietly moved next to me whenever she could. I enjoyed the attention, but I had another nagging problem: Gina.

I still loved Gina, very much. After the party at Scott’s house, I was wracked with guilt. In my mind, I realized that sex with Susan, or Stacy, hadn’t been cheating on Gina. If I’d had sex with Kendall, it would have been. As I slowly came to realize that I probably was in love with Amy, I knew that I’d cheated on Gina. I knew it, and I was too honest with myself to sugarcoat that fact.

The Friday before Easter, Scott, Shannon, and Amy wanted to go see a movie. I begged off, telling them that I had to go out to dinner with my family. It was a little white lie, but I didn’t know what else to tell them. Mom could tell that something was up, because shortly after dinner (at home, of course), I went to my room, closed the door, and sat down at my desk.

I needed to write to Gina. I told her about my wrestling season. I told her about getting wrapped up in trying to be the best wrestler I could possibly be. I told her about how I lost track of everything that was important to me. I told her about my grades. I poured my heart out to her, telling her about my fears that we were slipping apart, my fears that she was mad at me, my fears that she’d never want to see me again. I told her how much I loved her. It was a guilt-fueled letter, but I had to try to justify my actions (although I never told Gina what those actions were). Seeing it on paper didn’t make me feel any better, though.

It was late when I finally finished my letter to her, and my hand was cramped from all the writing. My pencil had gone from practically new to about three inches long. (I’d sharpened it every time I’d been unsure or upset, and I’d nearly whittled it down to nothing.)

I carefully folded the nine pages, and stuffed them into an envelope. As soon as I sealed it, I felt better. Unfortunately, the feeling was short lived. By the time I crawled into bed, I was feeling guilty about Amy.

How could I be in love with two girls at once? I lay awake for a long time thinking about that one. Every time I thought about either of them, I felt guilty for “neglecting” the other one. And when I thought about Kendall, and how I felt about her, I wanted to weep. In the silence of the night, alone in my room, I finally did. It had been a long time since I’d cried, about anything. I thought I heard Mom outside my door, but she didn’t knock, and I eventually convinced myself that I’d been hearing things. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, I finally fell asleep.

It took me a week to mail that letter. Twice, I came home from school and almost tore it up. Finally, Mom asked me about it, and I eventually agreed to let her mail it for me. I think she knew more than she let on, but she also knew that I had to work through things for myself. I guess that’s what it means to be an adult, and she let me be responsible for my own actions. Sometimes, it really sucks to be an adult.

Amy knew something was up, but she just assumed that I was worried about our unprotected sex. She was a lot less worried about it than I was, and when I asked her about it, she got real quiet, and then looked at me seriously.

“My mom always told me she knew when she was pregnant with my brothers and me,” Amy said. “She said she never knew how, but she just knew.”

I looked at her, confused.

“If I was pregnant, I’d know.”

I was clearly unconvinced, but decided to let it go.

The next Thursday, Amy found me at my locker, just before lunch. She was on the verge of tears.

“Paul,” she whispered urgently. “I’m late.”

“For lunch? It’s just started.” Sometimes, I can be kind of slow on the uptake.

“No. I’m late.”

Her tearful eyes spoke volumes, and I finally Got It. Every muscle in my body went slack, and it suddenly took a lot of effort just to breathe.

“Are you sure?” I asked. How dumb was that? I mentally kicked myself.

She nodded, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

I dumped my books in my locker, took hers and tossed them in as well, and shut the door. I put my arm around her and we simply walked out of school. No one even noticed as we walked off the campus. I thought someone would have said something to us, but no one did. I guess I was thankful for that, because I don’t know what I would have said, or done, had anyone gotten in my way. I was feeling incredibly protective of Amy, and murderous toward anyone who might bar my path.

We walked to the McDonald’s around the corner from the high school and sat there for a long time, neither of us talking. I don’t know if a chocolate milkshake could solve any of our problems, but as we shared one, the world stopped seeming like it was closing in on us. The simple act of sharing that milkshake did more for us that afternoon than I think anything could have.

Finally, long after the milkshake was gone, we talked. I had painful visions of how my life would change if she were pregnant, and I knew that my imagination couldn’t do justice to how Amy must have felt. Eventually, we both agreed to wait and see. Amy said she’d been late before, but never this long. Her period should have started six days before. I could tell that she was very scared, but trying to maintain her composure. I felt an impotent rage that there was nothing that I could do.

As we walked back to school, hand in hand, I felt like I had lead weights on my feet, and each step I took was taking me closer to my doom. I knew I loved Amy, but when I thought about marrying her and raising a child, especially at our age, I wanted to panic and run. I hated myself for that. Thank God Amy was too distraught to notice. I would have hated myself even worse, if she had.

We got a ride home with Scott and Shannon, and I could tell that Shannon knew. Scott was as clueless as I’d been, only a few hours before. Amy and I talked on the phone that night, but our conversation was desultory and short. I think I spent the longest night of my life, just staring at the shadows on my ceiling.

The next day at school, Amy had to come to my locker to get her books. I could tell that she’d been crying, but she snapped at me that she was okay. I walked her to her first class, making me late for my own, but we didn’t talk much. She seemed pretty angry, and I wanted to understand, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

The rest of the day, whenever I saw her, it seemed like her mood was completely random. We shared our second period class, and she balefully stared at me when she walked into the classroom. After the bell rang, I asked her if she was okay. In a few harsh words, she basically told me to fuck off, that I’d had my fun but didn’t have to pay the price, and that I didn’t love her anyway.

I was stunned.

I was so upset that I almost didn’t go to lunch, because I didn’t want to see her. After a lot of reflection, I finally decided that, like it or not, it was my responsibility to be there for her, even if she just wanted someone to yell at (or about). Much to my surprise, she was waiting for me at the door to the lunchroom, and as soon as she saw me, she ran into my arms and squeezed me tight. We stood like that for a long time, blocking the lunchtime traffic into and out of the cafeteria. Once we finally joined our regular lunch crowd, Amy was actually very nice, although she did snap at me once or twice. I had no idea what was going on in her head, but I felt miserable and helpless.

I don’t know what Shannon had told Scott, if anything at all, but they didn’t ask us to double date that night. After school, Scott dropped off Amy, and then me. I said goodbye, shut the door, and then he and Shannon drove off in silence, leaving me to my thoughts. When I walked in the door, Mom noticed that I was upset, but I thought I was pretty convincing when I told her that nothing was wrong.

To make matters worse, Gina called that weekend. It was all I could do not to panic and run when Mom handed me the phone. Thankfully, Mom took Erin shopping, leaving me alone (Dad was away due to a weekend layover in Dallas). I knew Gina must have gotten my letter, earlier in the week. She was positively giddy.

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed just to make it through the conversation. Fortunately, she did most of the talking, but I felt more and more guilty. If Amy were pregnant, how could I possibly tell Gina that things were over between us?

An hour later, when Mom and Erin returned, they were surprised to find that I was still on the phone. Mom could clearly tell that I wasn’t happy, but Erin was thankfully clueless. Erin and I hadn’t been as close as we’d been at the end of the previous summer, but we did actually treat each other like regular people, and I was worried that she’d start asking pointed questions about my mood. Luckily, she was excited about a new Paul McCartney album she’d bought, and didn’t notice a thing.

When I mentioned that my mom had just gotten home, Gina suddenly remembered that her mom needed to talk to mine. Gina and I said our goodbyes—she told me she loved me, and I told her the truth, that I loved her very much—and then we each handed the phone to our moms.

I was worried about what Gina’s mom might need to talk about, so I stuck around to eavesdrop a little. From Mom’s side of the conversation, I quickly realized that Gina’s parents, Chris and Elizabeth, were coming to Atlanta in two weeks, and they wanted to get together and have dinner. When I realized that the conversation wasn’t about me, or Gina, I got up and went back to my room. I didn’t want Mom asking too many questions about why I hadn’t been happy talking to Gina.

The reality of the matter was that I was scared witless that Amy might be pregnant, and I was feeling incredibly guilty about still being in love with Gina.

“Does every teenager have a life this complicated?” I thought to myself.

I certainly hoped not.

Monday morning, the phone rang while Erin and I were eating breakfast. Mom answered it, and then gave me a funny look when she handed the phone to me.

“Paul?”

It was Amy. I tried not to collapse at the sound of her voice. It had been a long weekend, and we hadn’t talked on the phone much. The first time we had talked, Saturday morning, things started off haltingly, and rapidly proceeded to go downhill. The second call was quick, and she was apologetic, but I could hear her mother in the background, and I knew she couldn’t talk long. I’d wanted to call her on Sunday, but I just couldn’t work up the courage.

“Hi,” I said. It sounded lame, even to me, but it was the best I could do.

I could hear her put her hand over the phone, and then she whispered, “I started.”

“Started what?” I asked, completely oblivious. For living in a house with two women, sometimes I was remarkably clueless.

“It. I got my period this morning.”

I was silent for a moment, too stunned to even breathe.

“Isn’t that great?!” she asked. Though this was probably the best news either of us had received in a long time, she actually sounded a little wistful.

“Yeah, it sure is.” I couldn’t think of what else to say.

“Okay then,” she said, removing her protective hand from around the mouthpiece. “I guess I’ll see you at school.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you at school.”

“I love you,” she said, almost under her breath.

I was so relieved, and so shaken by the revelation, that I replied automatically. “I love you too.”

Mom and Erin both looked at me suddenly. Mom’s expression was understanding, and kind of sad. Erin simply looked curious.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Amy said.

“Mmm hmm. Same here,” I replied, suddenly and acutely aware of my audience. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Thankfully, I heard Scott honking from the driveway. Without saying a word, I snatched up my toast and thrust one corner in my mouth, grabbed my books, and dashed out the door.

Amy was back to her old self. Almost. She still looked a little haunted by “what if” questions and self-recriminations, but she was even more affectionate than she had been after that first night. It was like she was saying, “he’s mine,” with her actions. I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to enjoy it.

After that, Amy and I mostly settled into a routine. We spent time together before school, and then during lunch. The five of us guys—Scott, Tony, Scotty, Kelly, and I—still hung out together. Amy, Shannon, and Becky Leonardi usually joined us, and I noticed that Becky and Tony Malone were getting kind of close.

Except for that first weekend at Scott’s house, Amy and I didn’t have much time to do anything more than kiss. The only time was when we had a double date to a movie, with Scott and Shannon. Shannon’s mother wouldn’t let her go to a drive-in movie—Amy’s mom wouldn’t have let us go either, but the issue never came up, since Shannon’s mom torpedoed the idea early on—so we went to a theater that was close to Shannon’s house.

We ended up skipping the last part of the movie and going to the local lover’s lane, where Scott parked the car and turned off the engine. While Scott and Shannon made out in the front seat, Amy and I fooled around in the back. Scott drove a big ‘68 Buick Electra 225, so we had plenty of room.

When Shannon’s head disappeared from our view, Scott put his arm across the seat back and leaned his head against the headrest. Amy looked at me lustfully, and I felt my sudden erection throb expectantly. I guess she had gotten worked up enough that she didn’t care if Scott and Shannon knew what we were up to, even though they were up to the same thing.

I slid down in the seat while Amy’s hands worked on my belt. She roughly extracted my dick and immediately descended upon it. After the pregnancy scare, I’d gotten very used to my hand, and her mouth felt wonderful.

She ran her tongue around my glans, her small hand slowly stroking my shaft. When she took the head into her mouth, I almost came. Fortunately, my self-control was stronger than the urge to ejaculate. I rested my hand on her back as she took my dick out of her mouth and began planting wet, open-mouthed kisses all along the sensitive underside.

She tried to take as much of me in her mouth as she could, but she couldn’t manage more than a couple of inches. I put my hand over hers and guided her motions, and my balls soon felt ready to boil over.

In the front seat, Scott took his arm off the back of the seat and put it on top of Shannon’s bobbing head. He groaned, and I knew he was filling her mouth with his come. Although I wanted to, I couldn’t last much longer than Scott had.

With a rush, I felt my come surging up my shaft. Amy locked her lips around the crown and I directed the motions of her hand with my own, the two of us stroking my shaft as I spurted my semen down her throat. She swallowed it all, and then took her lips off my cock to take a deep breath. She quickly returned her mouth to my slowly shrinking shaft. My head was too sensitive, however, and I lifted her off me after only a few licks.

I wanted to return the favor for Amy, but she got nervous at the idea of taking her pants off “in front of” Scott and Shannon. I suppose it was for the best, however, because we soon had to get the girls home, before their eleven o’clock curfews.

While my life with Amy had mostly returned to normal, I had another thing to worry about. Gina’s birthday was coming up, and it was simply one more reminder of the duplicitous life I was leading.

At times, with Amy, I could be incredibly happy. I did love her. Whenever I got a letter from Gina, I’d be on cloud nine. But sooner or later, I’d start thinking about the other girl, and I would sink back into a funk.

For Gina’s birthday present, I finally settled on a silver bracelet, with her initials engraved on it. Mom helped me pick it out, and I could tell that she wanted to know what was going on, but I clammed up whenever she started to ask. She quickly got the message, and left me alone about it.

Wasn’t it bad enough that I was beating myself up over the situation with Amy and Gina? Did Mom have to do it too? I was certain that no one else in the history of the world had ever faced what I was going through. Although Mom didn’t say anything, I knew she probably knew. I also knew that she wouldn’t understand. How could she?

Chris and Elizabeth Coulter came to visit us on May 10th. No one told me why they were in town, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t really want to spend much time with them. I was certain that they’d be able to see right through me and learn about Amy.

Thankfully, they only stayed in town for a few days. The first night, they had dinner with someone else (I don’t know who). The next night, they had dinner with our family. And then on Saturday night, they went out with Mom and Dad. Finally, they returned to Charleston on Sunday, taking my birthday present for Gina with them.

On Gina’s birthday, the 17th, she called to thank me for the bracelet—she loved it. For a little while, I was almost as happy as she was. She couldn’t stay on the phone long since it was a school night, but her parents had made an exception and let her call when it wasn’t a weekend. After a short, gushing conversation, we told each other, “I love you,” and got off the phone.

I don’t really know what ashes taste like, but after I hung up the phone, I had a pretty good idea.

The end of school was drawing near, and my family once again planned to spend the entire summer at camp. Dad had bid his lines so that he could cram all of his trips together, but when he did have to fly he would be gone for a couple of weeks at a time. We couldn’t leave immediately after school ended, since Dad had to fly a trip to Houston, so we decided to leave a few days after my birthday.

I tried to explain to Amy that I’d be gone for the entire summer, and that we probably couldn’t talk on the phone. She didn’t take it very well. I couldn’t very well tell her where we were really going, so I gave her the standard story about visiting our “Aunt Susan” in South Carolina, who had a big lake and lots of property.

I told Amy that it would even be hard for me to get mail over the summer, since we only checked the mail every couple of days. That was a little white lie; Susan checked the large camp mailbox, which was out by the main road, every day. In truth, I didn’t know if I’d be able to write to Amy, much less every day. She was incredulous and insistent. Finally, I asked Mom for the mailing address for the camp, and gave it to Amy. I could see that she wasn’t happy about not being able to call, but she finally agreed that writing letters was good enough.

I hated lying to her. It felt like I was betraying myself, as well as her. Of course, whenever I told anyone about my summer vacations, I always left out pertinent details, but to Amy, I was lying outright. I felt like such a cad. I was supposed to love her, wasn’t I? And people who loved each other didn’t lie to each other, did they? For the entire week before the end of school, I was sullen and depressed.

Then, as if my life hadn’t already gone to hell, Amy and I had a big fight on the last day of school. She still couldn’t understand why I’d be gone the entire summer, and why she couldn’t call, and why I couldn’t write, and ... and a lot of things. I guess she had every right to be upset, and I couldn’t even find the emotional energy to argue with her.

She started crying, but I simply didn’t know what to say to her, or what to do. It’s not like I could’ve told my family that I’d be staying home for the summer. My life had become a shambles, and I had no idea how to fix things. Amy told me that she didn’t want to see me again, ever. What was I supposed to do? My family was leaving for South Carolina in four days.

Scott and Shannon took Amy home, and I ended up catching a ride to my house with Kelly Duchesne and his older brother.

Wasn’t the last day of school supposed to be fun?