Chapter 14

Friday, August 14

I slept in today and enjoyed it. Not that I don't like my morning workouts with Faith, but it's nice being able to sleep in. When I did get up, I took a shower, did all my bath-roomy things, including using a tampon. That blessed (note my sarcasm) monthly event was scheduled to arrive soon, and I didn't want to be caught unprepared. I'd learned that lesson well.

After I was ready, in jeans, a t-shirt and sweater, I nervously made my way over to the rec. hall's kitchen. I was kind of scared things would go bad, but, other than everyone being a bit nervous to start, I think it went ok. At least no one died from eating my scrambled eggs — so that's a good thing.

Once I had all the dishes put in the washer, I headed back here making a stop at my mailbox. I really need to remember that I have it; I keep forgetting, and it was full. Mostly, the letters were just notes from everyone saying hello and stuff, and covered things we talked about on the phone. I wrote everyone back while listening to an audio book. I'd just finished writing Stephanie when Mavis knocked on the door. "Lunch time, Ya comin'?"

"Coming!" I yelled, quickly shut everything off, and joined her outside.

We talked a bit as we walked over to the rec. hall, mostly about lunch. I was put in charge of the grilled cheese sandwiches. Mavis was making soup. I suppose soup in summer seems a little strange, but it wasn't that warm here. Actually it was pretty nice — not too warm, not too cold. I'd taken my sweater off in the trailer, and I was thinking about trading my jeans for shorts.

I did notice that no one complained about my grilled cheese sandwiches when they were a little burnt. They were never too bad; you could still eat them, but they were a bit crunchier. I think it was because they were afraid I'd bite their heads off, or it could have been because I ate the worst of the burnt ones, so they couldn't complain too much. The other thing I noticed was that Angelique was a lot nicer — quieter and hesitant, but nicer. I tried to be nice to her and smile too.

When lunch was over and done with, I came back here to do something I promised Sue I would, but wasn't really sure I wanted to do — read Shelly's diary. I'd never read it before. We'd never swapped diaries, or anything. We never needed to. She knew all my secrets, and I knew all of hers. At least I thought I had. I opened it and read the first page. It wasn't deep or anything, just her introducing herself, but it still felt like I was invading her privacy, even though Sue told me Shelly wanted me to have it.

I skipped a bit here and there. Some things made me laugh, some made me cry as I remembered things she'd written about. I read the entry where she'd said she wanted me to have it if anything happened to her. When we were in junior high there was a big thing in the news about a girl who attended high school in another city who had been killed. That was tragic enough, but what made it worse was that her brother had gotten hold of her diary. I guess there wasn't any love lost between them, because he published it and was handing it out to everyone. It exposed all of the girl's secrets, and shocked everyone who thought they knew her. The mess it caused made it into the papers, as there were a lot of arrests and fights caused by it. After that happened, Shelly and I both said that if anything happened to us that we wanted the other to have our diaries, as we knew we'd keep each other's secrets safe. I'd forgotten about it until I read her entry about it.

Still, even knowing she wanted me to have it, I wouldn't have read it, but Sue kept insisting I needed to read it. She even made me promise. She said I needed to know what was in it. I didn't understand at first. The early parts were just normal girly things, along with her sports and game stats and things. My diary has the same kinds of things, except the sports and game stats. Like mine, her entries became more grown up as she got older.

After a while, some of the entries started to make me feel weird. I doubt anyone could blame me either. It wasn't just reading about her first times. That was embarrassing, but I already knew all about it, and, no, I'm not telling. What really was totally unsettling was reading how it made her feel all warm and tingly inside seeing me in the shower, or how she'd sneak peeks at me while we changed. Still, I have entries about her naked too. Mostly about how I wished I had her flat tummy, tight butt, and athletic body. So, I could put that off as normal. Still, her entries went from, I guess, normal comparisons, to curiosity, to desire. It just made me feel so weird knowing that she thought I was sexy and that she wondered about ... things with me. It was really embarrassing, but my reactions to knowing that still confuse me. I mean, ok, I've wondered, and yes, she gave me my first grownup kiss, and I did see sparklers, but why does picturing her feel so different now?

I was still wondering about that when I read the entry that turned my whole world upside down.

Correction, it didn't just turn it upside down, it shook it like in the cartoons. The ones at Christmas where someone is checking out presents by shaking them. Only they shake too hard. So there's a Rattle, Rattle, Rattle, Crunch, Tink, Tink, Tink. Oops, must be the other person's.

That's how I felt — like the Christmas package after a good shaking.

Shelly was in love with me.

I won't put down what she wrote, as that's private, but she said it. She loved me, and not in a sisterly, best friend, way. She was in love with me. I was physically rocked when I read that, and I knew it was true. A flood of memories washed over me like a tidal wave: The way she'd hold my hand when we went places. The way she'd help me with things, and look after me. The way she was protective of me, and was always the first there when I was hurt or in trouble. How she was even a little possessive at times when guys were around. The way, when we'd sleep at each other's houses, we'd always share a bed, instead of one of us sleeping on the floor. The way she'd wash my back and my hair, when I let her shower with me. The way we'd never let anyone come between us.

Shelly was in love with me.

She was in love with me, and she never told me. Sure she said, "I love you," to me and I knew she loved me, but she never told me she loved me like that.

That hurt — it still hurts.

At first I couldn't believe it, because she's had boyfriends and girlfriends, but I knew it was true. She always broke it off if it looked like things were getting too serious. She never told me, though, because she didn't know how I'd react. Reading about things now made some of the things in the past make sense, like when she asked me what I thought about things, or if I wondered about them. Even my first kiss. It all makes sense now. She was making sure I'd be ok with it. But she never told me, because when she'd ask how I saw myself in a few years, my answer always was married to a wonderful husband and father to our children. So she kept it a secret.

The thing is, I think I'm in love with her too: The way I'd feel when we'd hold hands. The way I'd feel seeing her smile at me. The way I'd reach for her when something happened. How I'd fall asleep holding her at night. The way I felt warm and safe and loved when she was with me. The way, when we kissed those few times, I saw sparklers. The way we'd never let anyone come between us, but had no problem with the other having fun.

That all means I'm in love with her. Right?

And then there's Paul — I love him, I know I do. All the things I feel about Shelly, I feel the same about him. Now some of his questions make sense. It confused me at the time, but I guess he saw what I hadn't. I can't believe I was so naive and stupid.

Shelly's diary also explained some of the things that happened after Paul and I got serious. She was jealous. We'd had some friction before, but never very much. In the months leading up to Thanksgiving, though, things were really getting strained. Then, after that, much to my surprise and delight, all of our troubles vanished. Now I know why; she'd talked things over with Charlene and made a decision.

She'd been surprised that Charlene knew and understood how she felt, as she'd been in the same place. After talking to Charlene, Shelly decided to follow her example — be happy for me, and hope for the best, rather than risk losing me. So, after Thanksgiving, things got better between the three of us. Shelly even spent time with Paul getting to know him, to make sure he was right for me, as she called it. Paul was so bemused by it all. I was just happy we weren't fighting anymore. I was glad that two of my most loved people were getting along.

She was doing the whole 'if you love her let her go' thing.

I know some people think that's stupid, that if you love someone you should go after them. I can't help liking when that happens in a story. I'm a sucker for things like that, still it's always seemed a bit selfish to me, even with the happy ending. Love is supposed to be unselfish, unconditional. That's why I think letting one's love free to be happy is so much more meaningful, and Shelly did that for me. She gave me up in the hopes I'd be happy. She was going to keep loving me no matter what, and was going to be there for me just like she'd always been. She loved me.

My heart hurts so much! Why didn't she tell me?

I am not going to cry, I'm not! I'm going to finish this, and then cry. It's so hard not to, though. How much hurt can a person's heart take? How can it keep breaking?

Somehow I found myself in the bathroom. Have you ever tried to change a tampon when you're sobbing? It's not easy. It's bad enough having to do it in the first place, it's even harder when your whole body is shaking. Somehow I did it and, after washing up, I went to lie down. When I was all cried out, the phone rang. I picked it up, and Charlene said, "Hi Honey, guess where we are."

I felt kind of numb at that point. I said, "Hi, the Grand Canyon?"

"Well, yes, is something wrong? You don't sound well."

"You knew."

"Knew what?"

"You knew, Shelly, you knew"

It took her a while, but when she finally understood what I was talking about she gave a big sigh, and said, "Yes, Love, I knew."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"She made me promise not to."

"But why, why didn't she tell me. I loved her too! I could have become a lez (hic) lesbian for her."

"Oh, Sam, I know you would have. So did Shelly, and maybe you both would have had a wonderful life together, but something would have always been missing."

"Huh?" (hic) (I hate hiccups)

"You always wanted the storybook ending where you marry the handsome prince and have lots of children. Last I heard, Shelly had the wrong plumbing for the job description."

I know Charlene was trying to lighten the mood, and maybe another time I'd have laughed, instead I persisted. "We could have made it work. There's nothing wrong with marrying a princess."

"Oh, Sam, I know there isn't, but Shelly didn't want to risk you for it. She didn't want to take the chance of you being unhappy and resenting her for it.

Please believe she really was happy for you and Paul — she really was. As long as you were in her life, she was happy. That's all that mattered to her. Please believe that, Sam."

I sighed. I did know, and said so.

We were both quiet for a bit, then, for some reason, I said, "She did kind of hope the three of us could stay together. She even asked about things like that, but never came right out and said anything. Mostly she just hinted. Paul even mentioned it. We thought it was a little weird, but we never thought much about it. It could have worked though, right? The three of us?"

"Uh, it's possible," Charlene said, after a minute.

Then it hit me. Shelly wrote that Charlene knew how she felt, that she'd been there, and that after talking with Charlene she was going to follow her example.

OMG!!!!!

After I said that, Charlene demanded to know what was wrong and if I was ok.

"Shelly said you understood because you'd been there — you, Mom and Dad." OMG! OMG! OMG!

Charlene was quiet for a long time. I could hear Dad in the background asking what was wrong. She said, "Shh, we'll talk later," to him, and then to me said, "Yes, I went through the same thing Shelly went through."

"You, Mom and Dad?"

"Yes, although it was a little different in my case. Your mom knew how I felt before I finally told her. She surprised the heck out of me when I finally confessed how I felt."

OMG! "She ... she did?"

"Yes, she told me she knew, and that she and Alex loved me back."

OMG!

"You mean you and Mom and Dad... ?"

"That's private, Dear." I could hear Charlene smiling warmly as she said it.

I had a really hard time getting my mind around that; I'm not sure I really wanted to. I know they all had sex, but that kind of sex? Together?

"You mean you, and Mom and Dad... ?"

Charlene laughed softly. "I think your needle is stuck, Dear. What I will say is that the three of us had many wonderful years together, and I'll cherish those memories forever." She was silent for a moment, and then added, "I'll also tell you that I have known you your entire life," OMG! "that each of us love you with all our hearts, and that we want you to be happy."

I hiccuped, and felt a headache coming on.

"Sam, are you ok?"

"I don't know, I'm kind of overloaded at the moment. (hic)"

"I can understand that. Why don't you take something for the hiccups and go have a lie-down. I'll call you when we get back to the RV, ok?"

"Ok. (hic)"

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

It hurt hearing the fear in her voice. "I love you too."

I could hear her sigh with relief. "Your father says he loves you too."