Part
One

Friday, June 14, 1996

Dear Just-a-Boy,
Well, I'm out of the clutches of the learning institute known as high school. And you're five feet from my left. With her. I'd like to thank you for celebrating my graduation with me, but did you have to bring her? I know I invited her, but I only did that because she's your girlfriend and I was trying to be nice to you and every aspect of your life. So, that meant I had to be nice to her. But, did you really have to bring her? Really? Why couldn't she have had to work? Or get hit by a bus? Did she not know their schedule?
Do you love her? I mean really love her? Like I love you? I hope not. You do, don't you? I don't want you to love her anymore. If you're truly my friend, you won't love her anymore. You'll love me. Because I need you to love me. Because I hurt too much knowing you don't feel the same.
I used to think it was great to love a person' really feel for him' even if he didn't know. It made me feel good' feeling for you. But now it just hurts. Please love me. Don't let it get to the point where I have to make you love me. That could get really ugly and I want you to think I'm beautiful. Because I think you're beautiful and I want every feeling I have to be matched by you.

Signed,
Just-a-Girl



Saturday, June 15, 1996
Dear Just-a-Girl,
Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit five feet from you last night? And with her? I thought I'd finally be in a room with you and she wouldn't be there. But no! Why did she have to trade shifts?!
"Do you work Friday night?" I asked her. I knew she had to, but I wanted to hear her say it. That was all it took for me to be happy.
"No, I traded shifts so I could be there," she replied, ever so sweetly.
My heart sank. She had ruined everything for me, again! I used every bit of strength in my body to keep my jaw from falling down to the floor. I stopped short of grabbing her and shaking her, but I just had to ask.
"Why?" Then I had to cover for you. I couldn't let her figure things out or ask questions. "I mean, you didn't have to go out of your way. I'm going, I'm taking the gift you bought her. It'd be just like you were there."
"Well, now, I will be there. And I'll be able to take the gift myself. Besides, I was invited. She was nice enough to do that and I should be nice enough to show up. You know, as a way to thank her." Isn't she just so sweet? Doesn't it just make your teeth hurt? Then she almost caught on.
"It almost sounds like you don't want me there."
"Of course I don't want you there!" That's what I wanted to scream, but I didn't. I couldn't just unleash this wrath on Smurfette. So I had to put on that fake smile, give her a hug, and lie. Lie to her and you, and myself.
"Of course I want you there. And I'm sure she'd love it if you gave her your gift personally. You did the right thing." Can you believe that bile?!
You know she's only a front, don't you? All she does is satisfy my parents. She's the mute button on "You should find a nice girl." Honestly, she is a nice girl. And she was great until I got to know you. Then she got to be a candy-coated annoyance. And I must be incredibly weak. I say that because I can't leave her. I mean, I know I could' and I want to' but I don't know if I want to hear it from every angle.
Trust me, she'll go soon enough. And then I'll have you. Any which way I can. I promise I'll have you. You'll have me too. You'll love me too. I know you will. I don't want to ponder all the possibilities if we didn't have each other. That could get messy, and I don't do messy.

Signed,
Just-a-Boy

P.S. I said I was weak. I was wrong. I have to be fiercely strong to continue to put up with her. And to hide the feelings I have for you from everyone I know. And I'll have to be strong to make you mine.



Tuesday, December 31, 1996
Dear Just-a-Boy,
I can't believe it's been six months since I've talked to you, let alone since I've seen you. You look great and it's great to see you. I noticed you didn't walk in with her just now. Could she not escape her parents' pathetic party? I've been to their New Year's Eve parties, I know they're pathetic. That can't be it, though. You wouldn't be here if her parents were having their party. Is there a Bible reading she just couldn't miss? Or is she merely in the bathroom, throwing up the whole New Year's Eve dinner you just bought her? She better not try that with my crab cakes. I did not have my mother set those out tonight so she could hog them all, and then throw them up later. If that's the case, I'll be sending her a bill.
Truthfully, I hate these things. I hate being in a room full of people that act like they want to talk to me. You can see it in their eyes. They'd rather be having oral surgery. The only thing I've got working for me is honesty. At least I don't act like I want to talk to this bunch. I really don't want to talk to any of them. It's the same group of relatives and family friends that I see at all of these functions. And most of them know how I'm doing. So why do they ask again? As if something has changed dramatically in the one week since Christmas. They flat don't care anyway. I could light a well-needed cigarette right here, right now, and nobody would say anything. Except maybe my grandmother. But she would just rant and rave at me, so that's out of the question.
The only person in this room that I want to talk to is you. But, as I said, you just walked in and how would it look if I sprinted from my chair in the back of the room to the front door? The last thing I want to do is scare the pants off you. Well, no, I'd like to get you out of your pants. But I don't want you to be afraid of me. Because I'm afraid of the fact that you might fear me. I don't want you to fear me.
But as my fate would often have it, they only thing I have to fear is not fear itself, but you. I noticed, as I quickly glanced up, that you're walking right toward me. It's now time to cut this letter, that I have no intention of sending, short.
Don't be surprised if I implode upon speaking to you.

Happy New Year,
Just-a-Girl



Wednesday, January 1, 1997
Dear Just-a-Girl,
Happy New Year. I can tell you right now, it's gotten off to a very happy start. I only hope that it stays as good as these last few hours have been. Maybe this year I'll figure out what it is about you that makes me have to have you. Or I'll start smaller, like being able to pick up the phone, give you a call, and ask you out. Although, sometimes, I feel like I'd have to be other-worldly to be able to do that. I do know that I won't be able to go as long as six months without seeing you.
You have no idea what you do to me. How could you? It's not like I've made any effort to tell you. But, and I hope this doesn't offend you, I tried my best to live without you these last six months. I thought that if I went away for college, and stayed with her, you wouldn't fill my thoughts everyday. It worked, a little, and for a short time. But when I came home two weeks ago, and the invitation for your parents' party was sitting on the table, nothing worked. You were all I thought of.
I knew then that I had to make a choice. Something spilt second. Something that felt right, no matter what I thought. I knew I couldn't give up my scholarship or waste my parents' money. That made leaving college and going to school closer to you nearly impossible. I had no other choice. I had to leave her, and I did. I didn't even do it nicely. I did it over the phone.
"Hey baby," she cooed. I tried my best to feel bad about what I was doing. I thought about puppy mills and slaughterhouses. Nothing.
I sighed. "I have to talk to you."
"What? Is something wrong?" The girl has cotton-candy for a brain. Melted, gooey licorice runs through her veins.
"You make this really hard. Because you're so sweet." Sweet? More like so incredibly stupid. "But it's because you're so sweet that I have to do this."
She got really quiet, like she might cry. I didn't want her to cry, because if she cried I might've laughed at her. "Do what?"
"Well, to be completely honest, I have to let you find somebody who deserves how sweet you are. Because I can tell you, that person isn't me. I take you for granted. You treat me far better than I could ever treat you." Wow! That was the truth too! What do you think about that? I didn't laugh or anything!
She cleared her throat, "Is that how you feel?"
"Yes." I almost didn't know what to say next. "I can't let you waste all your best on me."
Isn't that a good line? It's almost like I've thought about this before.
"If that's how you feel, and that's the truth, then the only thing I can do is thank you for your honesty." Then she quietly hung up the phone.
And that was it. I was free of her. For the first time since I started dating her, I didn't care what anyone thought of me.
So, then I ended up at your party. You looked like you hated it as much as I usually do. You were off in the corner with a notebook in your lap, scribbling quickly. What were you writing? A very small part . . . no that's a lie. All of me wishes you were writing to me, but that can only be impossible.
I decided to be a gentleman for a little while tonight and rub elbows with the adults that tried so hard to seem interested in what I had to say. That was a lie too. I really just wanted to talk to people before you. I didn't want to look like some crazed stalker if I made a bee-line right for the back of the room. Even though I'd have no problem being your crazed stalker; and you know I don't care what anyone else thinks. I just don't want you to feel weird. But I found my way, finally, back to your corner.
"Is this the kids table?"
You finished what you were writing, closed your book, and looked up at me. You looked offended.
"Dreadful etiquette, I apologize. Did I interrupt something?"
"Not at all," you sighed as you plopped your notebook on the table.
"That's good to hear," I took a seat.
You sat on your hands. "Thanks for coming."
"No problem. I was actually looking forward to it. Far better time than sitting at home by myself."
You laughed, and I got to see your smile. "I don't know. Don't knock it till you try it. Besides, how could you be alone? Isn't there a party at . . . uh . . ."
Could you really not remember her name, or did you not want to say it? I'm sure you forgot her name, but I cut you off anyway. "No, we broke up. Well, I broke up with her."
"Oh, I'm sorry." I couldn't read the look on your face. You looked as if you didn't want to put your foot in your mouth.
"Don't be. Not your fault. I just realized that we wanted different things." She wanted me and I wanted you. Not exactly a perfect match.
I knew I shouldn't have brought that up. You looked like you struggled to say the right thing'like you didn't want to offend me. I didn't do much talking on my end either. We had sat through a number of awkward silences before I couldn't take it anymore.
I lit a well-needed cigarette that no one would notice. "Do you enjoy these things?"
You pulled your own cigarettes out of your purse and lit one, as if I had given you permission. "No."
"Me either."
"Then why are you here?" You exhaled.
How the hell was I supposed to answer that question?! I was completely dumbfounded. I, for some reason, never thought you'd ask me that.
I tried to play cool, "Why are you here?"
"In case you didn't read the invitation, my parents are hosting this thing. I had no choice. I was forcibly driven to this banquet hall across town so my mother can again tell people, who don't care in the first place, how interesting I said my writing class was. And besides, I asked you first."
I coyly took a drag, "Because I was invited."
"Fair enough."
Then it dawned on me. The perfect excuse to touch you was one-hundred square feet, flat, and across the room. "So, why don't we pretend to have some fun and go dance?"
You put out your cigarette. "Okay, but only if we're pretending."
"Just pretending. I promise." I stubbed out my cigarette, took your hand, and walked you out to the near-empty dance floor. That's where we stayed all night.

You know how the rest didn't happen,
Just-a-Boy



Wednesday, January 1, 1997
Dear Just-a-Boy,
You asshole! But I'll get to that in a moment.
As angry as I am at you, I want to thank you for what you did offer me last night. Even though I'm having a hard time not focusing on what you didn't offer me. I can't believe you asked me to dance with you. I had the hardest time trying to keep from exploding. I was never so excited about anything in my life.
I was so happy to be holding on to you, that I had forgotten you were single. Which, by the way, isn't exactly good news for me. At least when you were with her I knew that I had no chance because you weren't looking. That's not depressing, that's just fact. But now that you're single. And possibly looking, the thought that you'll look right past me saddens me very much. But! Last night, for a few hours, you were in my arms and my arms only. And that's all that mattered. I'll remember that night for as long as I live.
You took out a cigarette and lit it with a match. "So, do you like being here?"
I watched you smoke, and was so attracted to it, that I felt like it was all right to smoke in front of my entire family.
"No, I don't," I exhaled.
"Yeah, I don't like these things either."
"Then why are you here?" I wasn't trying to be a bitch, I promise. I think I was more shocked by the fact that you had shown up.
"Why are you here?" You asked me, with attitude.
"Because, as the invitation read, my parents are hosting this. Every year they drive me to a banquet hall across town, against my will, to explain to people who have already heard, how much I like my writing class. And I thought I asked you first."
You coyly smoked your cigarette, "Because I was invited."
"That's fair."
And then all I could think about was you telling me you had left her. I didn't know what to say to that. But in my defense, you weren't breaking the ice either. Then you did it. You changed my whole night.
"What do you say we put your parents' money to good use and get on that dance floor?"
"Okay," I trailed off as I put out my cigarette.
"C'mon, we'll only act like we're having a good time."
"Well, if we're only going to act."
"I promise, just pretending," you stubbed out your cigarette, took my hand, and walked me out to the dance floor. You twirled me away from you, then spun me close to you. I wrapped my arms around you and buried my head in your jacket. I breathed in your sweet smell, cigarette smoke and cologne.
You dipped me and I looked up at you, "Have you done this before?"
"Once or twice," you smiled as you twirled me again. I was like putty in your hands.
You pulled me close again, but couldn't see my smile. "Having a real good time yet?" I whispered.
"Maybe a little one," you laughed into my ear.
I spent the next two hours being spun, dipped, and twirled by you. I twisted with you. I chicken danced with you. We did all the dances, all night. Even with midnight fast approaching, we still danced. You twirled me as the drunk folks in the crowd began to count down. My mother was the loudest. You dipped me at two seconds till midnight, and I was so excited about what was going to happen.
Or at least what I thought was going to happen. Here's where you become an asshole. With two seconds to go, I thought for sure that after you dipped me, you were going to lean down and kiss me. Like that weird actor does with his girlfriend that's so much younger than him. But no! You dipped me, heard ". . . one! Happy New Year!" and hugged me before returning to the table to smoke another cigarette. You chose a filter in your mouth over my tongue!
You asshole! How could you have just left the way you did? It's times like that when I question my feelings for you. How could you have treated me like a princess then left? You swept me off my feet all night. Danced with me like you loved me. But then stiff me on the kiss?! What's wrong with you? It's like you've never been with anyone on New Year's Eve before. This has got to be how Cinderella felt. See how mad you make me? Twelve hours ago, I would've died for you. But you stiff me on the kiss, and now I just love you. No more dying for you.
I don't think I can talk about this anymore.

You don't know what you missed,
Just-a-Girl
Thursday, January 2, 1997
Dear Just-a-Girl,
So, you've plagued me for two days. I guess it's not you, but what I didn't do. I had such a perfect chance that I didn't take. Damn it! I should've kissed you. And I can't explain why I didn't. Maybe I was nervous. Or maybe I'm just stupid. I need to learn to get passed that. Just get over myself.
How do I start doing things for me? Things that make me happy and to hell with people who are bothered by it. I'm sure I'll develop that some day. I just don't know how or when.
I'm sorry I left like that. The look I saw on your face (although it's a look I probably imagined) was upsetting' almost heartbreaking. And I caused that. What's wrong with me?

I can be such a dick,
Just-a-Boy


Sunday, March 16, 1997
Dear Just-a-Boy,
I'm home for spring break, and for some reason, in a funk. Maybe it's just being back here when I know you'll be back here. I'm just so normal when I'm not home. I don't think about you. I don't worry how I'll come off if we bump into each other. Because I know we won't bump into each other. Because you aren't here.
But then I come home and I go crazy again. I make sure everything is so perfect when I'm home, because there's that chance that our paths will cross.
I DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT YOU!
It's so hard to not think about you. I think this is all amplified due to New Year's Eve too. Not only was I physically close to you, I felt really close to you and then you rejected me. How could you reject me? All I ever did was love you. Do you hear this? Can you believe it? I make it sound like we've been together for years. When the truth is, you have no idea how I feel about you.
God! There's no logic to this! There's something wrong with me. And I've realized this. So, don't be surprised if you don't see me much over this break. I'll be trying to avoid you so I can become somewhat normal. You won't be seeing much of me this summer either. Same deal with the avoiding you, but I'll also be spending a lot of time packing. I'm headed to New York in the fall. I've been accepted to an awesome school with amazing writing classes; and even better opportunities to find a job, or get published, or whatever after I graduate.
And I'm hoping that going halfway across the country is what it takes to rid myself of you. Not in a bad way, because I do love you. I'm just reminded of how much that love is wasted. Maybe I'll even find someone to fill the void left by leaving you. Maybe I won't waste my love anymore.

You know how it goes,
Just-a-Girl

Thursday, May 15, 1997
Dear Just-a-Girl,
I was okay with, well I got over, not seeing you over spring break. And it was starting to look like I'd go all summer without seeing you. Of course, we're only two weeks into summer, but that was a long two weeks, damn it. Anyway, as luck would have it, we both got jobs at the same department store. They even put us both in shoes tonight too.
"So, how do you like working here?" I tried an ice breaker.
"It's okay. Being in shoes kinda sucks. I've smelled the weirdest things tonight. I don't know whether or not to include shoe leather in that array of smells either." I'm glad you said that. I was worried you'd say working with me is what sucked.
"Yeah, I'm working on getting used to it. I'll probably spend many nights in the shoe department."
"Are you keeping this job after summer? Wouldn't that be a long commute from campus?"
I laughed. "Yeah, it would be a long commute if I were going to be going to school."
"You're not going to school? I thought you had some kind of scholarship there."
"Well, I do. But I'm going to take the fall semester off. I figure, I've been there for a year and nothing about it fires me up. Nothing really excites me." School would excite me much more if you were there.
"I had a similar problem with school." Sympathy pains or are we kindred souls?
"Really?" You nodded, and I continued. "But I figured I'd stay home for a few months and really check out what's around me."
"That sounds like a good idea." You're such a good listener.
"And that why I'm selling shoes. Have to save up the money if I decide to go to school around here." All of this is about half true. God, why do I lie to you?! You're the one person I want to be totally honest with, but I lie to you about everything! The truth is, I want to be close to you. I go crazy when you're not around. My heart's not in anything unless it involves you. I'm barely keeping my grades up, because school doesn't matter. Nothing matters unless you're there. So, this is the best job I've ever had.
"I'm just trying to get as much money as possible this summer. School is going to be expensive." You stared off into space like you were making plans in your head.
"Did they raise tuition or something?"
"What?" You looked at me like I was asking you questions in Greek.
"You said school is going to be expensive and I didn't know if the tuition had been raised or anything."
"Oh. No," you shook your head. Then it was like a lightbulb switched on, and you went from staring into space to looking me straight in the eyes. "You don't know yet, do you?"
"Apparently not. What don't I know?"
"I'm going to New York in the fall," you sounded indifferent, but not in bad way.
We now return to my return to my reaction already progress.
YOU'RE WHAT?! "Really?"
"Yeah," you nodded, but you didn't look at me.
"So, what's in New York?" I'm surprised I'm still standing.
"I've been accepted to a school that specializes in writing classes."
"That's cool." Excuse the monosyllabic words, but I'm having a hard time thinking about you being halfway across the country.
"Yeah. I need a change, you know? And there's no sense in spending money on classes I'm not going to remember anything from. Like math, I hate math and I'm no good at it, so why waste the money? If I'm going to spend so much on school, it might as well be used on stuff I'm going to really learn and use. This way, I get to really start on what I want to do."
"Understandable." I was glad the night was almost over, because I couldn't think of anything to say to you after that. I found things to do for the next half hour, like making sure all the displays were dusted. I stocked shoes we hadn't sold and counted the back room probably ninety times. Everything I did was an excuse to not talk to you. You had rendered me speechless.
Then nine o'clock struck and the closing announcement was made. And we were free. That's when my mouth got the better of me.
"Want to go smoke real quick and I'll walk you to your car?"
"Yeah, that's fine," you lit your cigarette when we reached the door. "I'm so ready to go home. My feet hurt."
"Got big plans when you get back to your house?" Apparently, I can't control what comes out of my mouth.
"Not really. I've got boxes and drawers and stuff to go through. Gotta decide what's coming with me and what's being sold."
"Packing, what fun." We're going to talk about New York again, and I don't want to talk about New York again.
"Very little packing actually. There's not much I can take. Small living spaces," you exhaled.
"I don't know if I could function without all the comforts of home," I flicked my ashes.
"That's kinda the point. That place is going to be my home, so I've got to leave room for the new comforts of home."
"Your home? How long are you going to be there?" I propped one foot on the wall and took a drag.
"Three years, at least. It all depends on whether or not I can find a job out there after I graduate."
"Three years? My God."
"At least," you stubbed out your cigarette.
"In that case," I threw my butt down. "I should've done this six months ago."

I didn't know what I was missing,
Just-a-Boy





Thursday, May 15, 1997
Dear Just-a-Boy,
"I should've done this six months ago." You're damn right you should've! But six months ago. You should've pinned me up against the wall and kissed me like you were Clark Gable six months ago. Maybe I wouldn't have decided to move if you had done that six months ago.
I don't know what you tried to accomplish, but the only thing you did was make it easier for me to leave. That's just one more thing I don't have to worry about in New York. You'll never be able to be animalistic with me if you're seven hundred and fifty miles away.
It was nice though. I'll admit that. You knew where your hands went and how hard to push. You knew how to tilt your head just right and when to breathe. You reminded me that I was a woman and you were a man and no amount of women's lib was going to change how that fact can be great sometimes. I could've let you do that all night, among other things.
But now I'm leaving and I'll never have that chance. It's not that I don't want that chance. I just feel that the only way I'll function properly is if I'm nowhere near you. And that's not your fault. Just do me a favor, find someone to love while I'm gone. Because I hope to find someone to love' in a normal way. Oh, and don't be mad when I quit tomorrow.

It's not you, it's me,
Just-a-Girl



Friday, July 4, 1997
Dear Just-a-Girl,
How clever of your parents to combine their Independence Day party with your going away party. The birth of our country joined with the birth of my life without you.
This had been the longest six weeks of my life. I haven't seen you since that night. I'm sure you know what night I'm talking about. I acted like such an idiot. I can't believe I did that and I apologize for imposing myself on you. I was so worried about being around you after that night that I quit my job. And truthfully, I wouldn't have been at your party tonight if it weren't for your parents inviting my parents. I did spend most of the evening by myself while I watched you give aunts hugs and accept checks from uncles. And then, I wasn't by myself anymore.
"Can I talk to you?" You sounded semi-stern as you stood over me.
"Yeah," I patted the cushion on the love seat. You know, the international sign for "sit down."
"Not in here," you grabbed my hand and pulled me through a crowd of people that didn't seem to notice.
When we stopped walking, we were outside, and by ourselves. You faced me directly and looked me in the eye as I said, "Okay. What?"
And then you attacked. You pushed me against your house before you threw your arms around my neck and kissed me full on.
"I'm sorry."
As you started to walk away, I grabbed your arm and pulled you back to me. I scooped you up at the small of your back and held you close as I kissed you. I kissed you the way I'd seen a thousand leading men kiss a thousand women. I remember thinking that I would probably never kiss someone like that. But I did, and it was you, and I can die happy now. We stayed like that' you pinned between me and the wall' for a short time before you politely turned away.
"I'm sorry," you said again.
"What?" I backed away from you.
"As much as I like doing this, I can't," you sat sown on the deck chair.
I was slightly dumbfounded, "Why not?"
You took a deep breath, "Because I like it too much."
"That's the bad thing?!"
"Yes," you looked at the ground.
"How is that a bad thing?"
"Because, if I didn't like it, I could stay here," your voice broke.
"I'm not sure I understand," I started to pace.
"It's you, okay!" You shouted. "I'm leaving because of you! I can't function around you because of how I feel about you. When you kissed me that night, it cemented my decision to go. But tonight, I had to kiss you to see if it still felt the same. And it did! If I had felt differently, I could stay. But it felt stronger than the last time and now I know I have to go."
I was stunned, and could think of one thing to say, "I'm gonna miss you."
"Just do me one favor," you wiped your eyes.
I kept my head toward the ground, but looked in your direction.
"Be there when I leave." That was the last thing you said to me before I watched you get smaller and smaller as you walked away.
I should have chased after you and told you everything. Everything I've ever felt. Everything I've put in these letters that I've been writing for the last thirteen months but never sent. But I didn't and I couldn't. And when you leave in three weeks, I'll be there, but not because I want to be.

I wish I was as strong as you,
Just-a-Boy



Wednesday, July 30, 1997
Dear Just-a-Boy,
I've sat on my hands for three weeks, wondering what you've done with the information I sent your way. I think I was out of line, but I don't know what you think. You've kept your distance since my going away party. I freaked you out, didn't I? I came on too strong and scared you. I did everything I promised myself I wouldn't do. I feared I would drive you away, and now I'm pretty sure I have.
I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was me leaving, or the tension I felt between us, but whatever it was, it made me invincible. For the first time ever, I was able to honestly open my heart to someone and I really enjoyed it.
Damn it! Now I don't want to leave. The only thing that I thought was going to keep me sane seems to be a bad idea. Now I'm curious as to how life could be if I just stay. What do you think? Any idea what would happen?
I guess I'll never know. It's time to cut this short though. I asked you to do me one favor today and someone is knocking on the front door.

Help me decide,
Just-a-Girl



Wednesday, July 30, 1997
Dear Just-a-Girl,
I know you're leaving today. I don't want you to. And I don't know how yet, but I'm going to make you stay.

Or I'm going with you,
Just-a-Boy



Wednesday, July 30, 1997
Dear Just-a-Boy,
I got the strangest note before you arrived. Someone sent me flowers with a note that said, "I know you're leaving today. I don't want you to. And I don't know how yet, but I'm going to make you stay." I laughed it off, probably my dad.
But before I could even set the flowers down, someone else was at the door. It was you.
"Hi," I let you in.
"You told me to be here."
"Yes, I did," I closed the door behind you.
"So, I am here," you smiled at me.
"Yes, you are," I laughed. "C'mon, let's go upstairs."
"But aren't you leaving soon?"
"I've got some time." I began to walk up the stairs, following me was up to you.
I didn't know you were there until I heard my bedroom door close behind me.
"It looks empty in here."
"It is empty in here," I sat down on the bed, which was flanked by full suitcases.
You sat Indian style on the floor, "So . . ."
"So?" I repeated. "Sit on the bed."
You did as I asked, "So, I've been thinking about what you said the other night."
"Oh," I looked the other way.
"No," you grabbed my chin and turned my face toward you. "I've been thinking about how I should've said the same thing months ago. I should've let you known the truth from day one. And now you're leaving and I'm partly responsible. I just wonder if you'd be leaving if you had known."
I tried so hard to say something, but I didn't know what it would be. I did the next thing that came to mind. I gently touched your face and kissed you lightly. You then wrapped your arms around me and kissed me a little harder. We stayed like that for some time before my hands found their way up your shirt. I touched your chest and felt your arms, but you stopped me.
"I thought you couldn't do this."
"Today, I can," and I took off your shirt. I kissed your bare neck, then your collarbone, then your bare chest.
You kissed me again and we went from sitting up on my bed to laying down. I felt you fumble with the button on my jeans, and then I felt your hand down the front of my them. I played with the buckle on your belt while your hand went up my shirt. You took my shirt off as my hand made its way down your pants.
I sat up and straddled you. I pulled you up close to me to kiss you. We kissed each other hard as I unhooked my bra and pressed my bare chest against yours. You took off your pants and got me out of my jeans before you laid me back down on the bed. As you leaned over me, I touched you under your boxers and I felt you touch me under my underwear. In those moments I thought of nothing but being there with you. Of course it felt great, but it was so much more than that. I was there with you, naked. But more than physically naked, I was showing you all my vulnerabilities. I could've stayed there with you like that for the rest of the day' for the rest of my life. But I stopped you when you tried to take off my underwear.
I sat up and wrapped my covers around me, "I can't."
"It's okay. I understand," you wrapped your arms around me.
"It's not that I don't want to," I laid back down in a huff. "But I can't leave here having done that."
"Don't worry about it," you laid down next to me, and put your arms around me.
"It's just, if we do that, I want it to be something that lasts. I don't want it to be a one time thing. I don't think it's fair to leave you after that."
"I know," you pushed some hair out of my face. "And I'm not going to make you do something you don't want. And I totally understand that."
I laid my head on your bare chest and started to cry, "I have to go."
"I know. I don't want you to, but I know," you kissed my forehead.
I found my shirt and pulled it over my head, "We should get downstairs. My grandparents will be showing up soon to see me leave."
"Yeah," you mumbled as you buckled your belt. We each found our clothes, that had been lost somewhere in the bed, and got dressed. You helped me make my bed, and as I walked to the other side of the bed, I pecked your cheek. You pulled me to you and kissed my forehead. We kissed again, lightly, and in that moment, I couldn't move. I just stood close to you. I buried my head in your chest and your big arms enveloped me. I started to cry, and couldn't stop.
"I don't want to go," I sobbed. You didn't say anything. You just stood there, holding me while I cried on your shoulder. And we would've stayed like that if my mother hadn't called me downstairs.
I looked up at you and wiped my face, "Does it look like I've been crying?"
You wiped a tear from my face, looked at the tear stain on your shirt, and laughed, "Yes."
I laughed through my tears. I walked to my mirror and put some powder over the reddest parts of my face, "Better?"
"Beautiful."
I took one last long look in my bedroom mirror. I flattened out wrinkles in my shirt and sighed in acceptance.
"Ready?" I opened the door.
"I suppose," you walked out. I followed you down the stairs. When we reached the family room we saw that it was full of family members. I put on my best smile for them.
My mom was standing next to the couch. She wiped at one of her eyes, "I'm not ready for my baby to go."
"You're gonna make me cry, Mom," I hugged her. When she wasn't looking, I turned and winked at you.
"Get over it," my mom laughed at me.
I successfully fought off tears as I hugged my grandparents. My dad looked uneasy but I hugged him and kissed his cheek anyway. Then I was out of hugs.
I grabbed my car keys and everyone followed me out the front door to my car.
"Please call me when you get there," my mother grabbed me by my shoulders.
"Don't worry, Mom."
"And your father will have your stuff out there in the next few days."
"Okay," I looked to my father who nodded at me.
"Be careful," my mom sniffled.
"I will. But if I don't get going now, Daddy'll have my stuff out there before I'm there." I tried to lighten the heavy mood as best as I could.
"Okay, get out of here. Go," my mom hugged me again. That started one last round of hugs. As I hugged my grandmother, I caught a glimpse of you. You were standing away from everyone else with your hands shoved in your pockets. I thought you'd look sad, but you were smiling at me. I smiled back over my grandmother's shoulder. You were the last one I hugged. I help onto you tighter and longer than anyone else. You took a deep breathe like you were going to speak, but you didn't. You just held onto me tighter before letting me go.
I looked up at you, "Goodbye."
I felt like I broke your heart when I said that. And that makes me glad that I couldn't say what I wanted to. I wanted to tell you to forget about me and find someone good for you. I couldn't and I didn't and I walked away from you. I got in my car, rolled down the window and blew everyone a kiss from the driver's seat. I put the car in drive and rolled out of the neighborhood. I used all my will power to keep myself from looking in the rear view mirror.
I turned on my favorite CD and screamed as loud as I could from my neighborhood to the interstate. When I hit the interstate I started crying. I sobbed until Ohio welcomed me.

I'm going to try to not miss you,
Just-a-Girl



Thursday, July 31, 1997
Dear Just-a-Girl,
This changes EVERYTHING!

Just-a-Boy
































Part
Two












Monday, September 1, 1997
Dear Just-a-Boy,
Greetings from New York City! Are you enjoying yourself at home? I absolutely love being here. I can't fathom that there was a time when I didn't want to be here. I finally feel at home somewhere. I'm comfortable in my skin here. I'm comfortable in everything here and it's been so long since I've felt that. I don't feel like Atlas carrying the world on my shoulders anymore.
The people here are so much nicer than I expected too. Everyone is so quick to help me find my way and answer my questions. My roommate is the sweetest girl. She's from Michigan and we have so much in common. I'm just so excited to be here. I feel like I belong here so much. It's great to be able to free yourself of every front you've ever put up. People here don't know me from Adam so I can lower those walls. And people can get to know the real me. Not the person I was back in Indiana, but the person I'm really supposed to be in this life.
I hope it's something you're able to find. I can't express again how great I feel. And because I'm starting over, I'm able to write these unsent letters to a friend; not someone I love. I did what I set out to do. I've only been here a month, but you don't fill my thoughts anymore. I've found what fills my life and you don't have to anymore. It was never really your job in the first place. I thought it would be hard to say that, but it was quite easy. It's like a veil has been lifted. I hope this is how Dorothy felt when she left black and white Kansas and opened the door to colorful Oz. She was right. There's no place like home and I'm home. I hope you feel like you're home. And I'll be back in three months for the holidays. I hope I see you then. I hope I see my friend.

Click your heel together three times,
Just-a-Girl



Tuesday, September 23, 1997
Dear Just-a-Girl,
Do you hate it yet? Tell me you hate it out there. Tell me you're coming home to my arms and having my children. No, you don't hate it. I know you don't. I know you love it. But how could you have just up and left me? Did you give any thought to how I might have felt?
I'm trying my best to be an active member of society, but it was so much easier to do that when I knew I had a chance to see your face. Now I'm lucky to get out of bed. You were what made leaving the house worthy. I made it my job to love you and make you love me. But I guess I was fired form that job. If I was any good at it anyway, I probably could've made you stay.
I get the overwhelming sense that you're just living it up out there. Going to parties and meeting new people and not having a care in the world. I am currently doing the exact opposite, but I'm going to try. I'm going to try and do what I think you've done to me: forget. I just pray something around here changes because there's nobody to meet here. And there's no one anywhere that could hold a candle to you. I wish I could quit saying things like that. I need to be okay with the fact that you're gone. The reason you're gone is to forget me. And I need to learn that, and accept that. Just please come home for the holidays and break your own rules a little bit.

I wish I knew how to quit you,
Just-a-Boy



Friday, October 31, 1997
Dear Just-a-Boy,
Happy Halloween! Do you have plans tonight? If you're still selling shoes, you can pass out candy at the store. That's probably the only thing I'll feel like I missed when I quit. Oh well. I myself won't be passing out candy because I'll be at a party. With a boy.
I met this guy in a screenwriting class. He was sitting next to me and we got to talking about one of the assignments one day. It was to write a blind date type of scene. So he turned to me and started talking to me like we were on a blind date. He really put a smile on my face. Then he started telling me about something he was writing outside of class. It's about a boy who drives across the country with an urge to find himself. Sound familiar?
By the end of class, we had dinner plans for the weekend. We've been hanging out a lot since and tonight he's taking me to his friend's Halloween party. I really like this guy. He's natural and doesn't care. That's something I find so attractive. I have a feeling that you'd like him, and think he's good for me. He's smart and funny and seems to really like me. And, now, he's here.

Trick or treat,
Just-a-Girl



Friday, October 31, 1997
Dear Just-a-Girl,
I think I've done it! I think I've gotten past you. And if this is how you feel, I'm stupid for being mad at you when I should've been jealous. But let me explain.
They started a new girl a few days ago. I had never seen her before, but they had me train her tonight because it was Halloween and slow. It just seemed like a good idea. Anyway, the second best part of the night was the fact that we got to dress up for Halloween. I had decided on Beetlejuice because I thought it was funny.
I had just clocked in when my manager stopped me.
"Think you're ready to train?"
"I suppose. It's not going to be busy tonight," I shrugged. And then we were introduced.
"Okay. I believe you've got it under control. I'll let you two get to know each other," she grimaced. I think it was at our less than conventional costumes. But the woman was dressed as Cinderella. What could she possibly know?
"So, Beetlejuice?" She asked.
"Very much so," I scanned her costume. "Lydia?"
"Very much so," she laughed.
"Is there an echo in here?"
"Is there an echo in here?" She repeated. She could have easily been bitchy about it, but she was incredibly cute.
"Very funny."
"Very' I'm sorry," she laughed.
"No, I could've probably gone all night. It may not have been intelligent conversation, but I'll take what I can get, for it will be slow tonight."
"But at lease we're dressed up and get to pass out candy," she was excited.
"We have that working for us," I nodded.
We made the worst small talk for as long as we could. But then more personal questions were asked and before long, we were sharing life stories. We have a surprising amount of things in common. Right down to Beetlejuice. And I'm not even sure if you ever liked that movie.
I think I may know more about her after one evening than I know about you. And I've known you for years. That's a great thing. The best thing is that she's not you. And that's nothing bad toward you. But I was myself tonight for the first time since I fell for you. I didn't try to watch what I said for fear that she might learn something. There's no secret to keep from her. And by the end of the night, we had dinner plans. Looks like I'm going to have to request a department change.
I heard you'll be back in two weeks. I wonder how that will go. I'm sure it will be fine. We're adults now and there's no reason to act foolish. Maybe you'll even bring someone back for me to meet. I would like you to meet her. It's the adult thing to do.

Don't be a Halloweenie,
Just-a-Boy



Wednesday, November 26, 1997
Dear Just-a-Boy,
I'm back at my mom's for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's nice to be back here. It's just so different compared to New York. I feel like I can just take a minute to relax. For the next few weeks, I don't have to be a big city girl. But I don't have to go back to being who I was when I left either. I can't get over how different it feels to be back here. It even smells different. That's one thing about New York I'm not fond of. If I could exchange the smell of city streets for my mother's kitchen, I gladly would.
It's interesting to be back in a place that you identified as home for almost twenty ears and be home-sick for a place that you've only been four months. I guess I just miss my boyfriend. It's exciting to say that still, "my boyfriend." He's only really been "my boyfriend" for a few weeks. Bu that's what he is, nonetheless. He's got family around here, so he might come out closer to New Year's to meet my mom and dad. That's a big maybe though.
It's time to cut this short though. It's been a very long drive and I'm tired. The kitchen smells like Thanksgiving and I'm very excited.

Mmm Turkey,
Just-a-Girl



Thursday, January 1, 1998
Dear Just-a-Girl,
Was it really just New Year's Eve? It's been a very interesting year. Last night was a little more than interesting, but there's not an adjective in the English language yet.
I spent the afternoon getting all dressed up, because that's what your parents call for. I was looking quite nice if I do say so myself. Then I picked up my girlfriend. Yes, I said girlfriend. I've found the Lydia to my Beetlejuice, or however you want to slice it. She's a great and beautiful girl.
I treated her to a very expensive dinner that I had no problem paying for. We enjoyed our time to ourselves before we made it across town for your parents' party. When we walked in, instead of sitting in the corner, I saw you walking around the room with a smile on your face. You were talking and laughing with relatives that you only see at the end of the year. I had decided that we would talk to your family, but avoid you if at all possible. And it worked for some time. But while I was talking to your mother, you just had to interrupt.
"Hey Mom, has he' sorry to interrupt," you threw in my direction. When you saw that it was me, your eyes lit up and your smile widened. "Hi! How have you been?"
I stuffed my hands in my pockets, "Good."
"That's great. Stay here real quick, I want to talk," but you turned your attention back to your mother. "Has he called or anything?"
"I'm not sure, honey. I'll go check while you guys catch up," and your mother walked away. Then you turned back to me.
"Happy New Year," you smiled.
"Same to you."
"Come sit down," and we followed you to an empty table.
"So, how's school?"
"School's great. I'm having the time of my life," I could tell that you meant that. And I was glad that you were happy.
We had made small talk for some time before she kicked me gently under the table. I hadn't noticed that it had been awhile since I paid any attention to my girlfriend. She rested one hand on the table top. I took her hand in mine and did so in a fashion that I knew you would see it. I watched you watch me.
"So, aren't you gonna introduce me to this lovely lady?" You smiled. It wasn't a jealous smile, which surprised me only a little.
I introduced you two, and put my arm around her.
"Very nice to meet you," She smiled and extended her hand to you.
"You wouldn't be lying about me, would you?" You asked me.
"No, I didn't make you sound any better than you are. I only told her bad stuff." She smacked me when I said that.
"Good, I don't want people thinking I'm some kind of good person or anything," you joked with me, and she didn't understand entirely. She did kiss me where she smacked me when she saw that we were joking.
"So you two know each other well?" She asked.
We looked at each other and laughed. I knew what I was thinking. I bet you were thinking of the same thing.
"Yes," we said in unison.
Then something caught your attention. Not just yours either. It seemed like everyone in the room stopped and turned their gaze toward the door. You slowly stood up, as if in a trance. "Will you guys excuse me one second?"
You zig-zagged your way through people on the dance floor. You shoved past people waiting for drinks. You were like a charging ram. You had a purpose and no one was going to stop you. I finally saw our face again when you had made it to the door. You had the same look of surprise that you had when you saw me, only many times greater. I had never seen you look so happy before.
You threw your arms around this person and I thought I saw you kiss a cheek. I'm going to believe that you were whispering secrets into ears. That thought is a little easier on my stomach. You locked hands with this person and walked back through the crowd, doing introductions. You found your parents and did another introduction. Your mother looked like she had said, "It's nice to finally meet you." Your father looked like he was scanning. Then you made it back to our table.
"I would like you guys to meet my boyfriend."
YOUR WHAT?! You're not allowed to date! You left to forget me! Not to floozy around with the guys in New York! I couldn't leave to forget you, so I had to date. Didn't you read the rule book? This is totally unfair.
"It's nice to meet you," I shook his hand. "This is quite the surprise."
"I know," you lit up and turned to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"It wouldn't've been much of a surprise if I had told you I was coming," he wrapped an arm around your waist.
"No, I suppose not. Sit," you instructed.
"So, how long have you guys been dating?" I politely asked.
"Since about Halloween?" He looked to you for approval.
"Right around there, yeah," you sat in his lap. You pointed to me and my girlfriend, "How long have you two been together?"
"A little after Halloween," she answered.
"No kidding?" You laughed.
"Isn't that weird?" He asked you.
"I know. Oh honey, I meant to tell you, this is my friend that I've told you so much about," you pointed to me.
"Only bad things, I hope. Otherwise, she's been lying to you," I laughed and took a drink of my drink. He looked perplexed.
"Just ignore them. They did the same routine with me when I got here." My girlfriend spoke. This was an evening first.
"So you know each other well?" He asked.
"Yes we do," you said sweetly and kissed his cheek.
I couldn't sit across from you two anymore, so I did something about it. "I don't know about anyone else, but my ass is falling asleep. So, I'm going to take this beautiful girl by the hand and make use of that dance floor."
"That sounds like a very good idea," he said to you. He lifted you off of his lap, stood up, and took you to the dance floor.
"Shall we?" I took her hand and we made it to the dance floor.
I tried to dance with her the way I danced with you last year, but it felt impossible. She felt rigid. She didn't like being twirled, I could tell. She refused to be dipped. She wasn't putty in my hands. She wasn't you. I caught you two dancing. You held onto him close and he looked as if he was trying to squeeze the life out of you. He held onto you like he was trying to keep you from running away. I wanted you to run away from him. Run right back to me. You looked like you could be having a better time. And you could be having a better time if you were dancing with me. I couldn't take it anymore.
"Do you mind if I dance with her real quick?"
"No, go ahead," she said before leaving the dance floor. She went back to the table, sipped her drink, and smoked.
I tapped you on the shoulder, and I think I scared you. "Can I cut in?"
"Honey?" You asked his approval.
"By all means," he stepped aside. We watched him head to the bar.
"So?" And then I was speechless.
"Yes?"
"He's quite a manly specimen, isn't he?" I twirled you.
"Yes he is," you said proudly.
"But not a good dancer?"
"Not really," you laughed. "And what about her?"
"As far as?"
"A dancer?" You asked while I dipped you.
"You ever dance with cardboard cut-outs?"
You threw your head back and laughed, "No."
"They're better dancers."
"But we love them, don't we?" You held onto me.
"We do?" I was somewhat stunned.
"Well, I know I do. Don't you love her?"
Did I love her? I have no idea! If you're asking if I feel for her the way I felt for you, then no. It's different, but good. And has potential. But I don't think I can call it love.
"Yeah, I guess I do," I volunteered.
And so you love him? That's what it is? You're in love and it's not with me. Looks like I'm striking out. How can you even know that you love him? Halloween was just two months ago. How can you be so sure so quick? Do you even know him? He could be some crazy guy keeping humans in his fridge. He could be nuts and have shrines to you hiding in his closet. Fully loaded shrines, complete with a pair of your stolen underwear. And God help me, if she ever finds that, I'll kill her.
"So, you want a do-over of last year?"
"Are you talking about midnight?" You raised an eyebrow.
"Yes ma'am," you let me spin you.
You came in close to me, "I can't do that. I've got somebody this year."
"Well, it was worth a shot," I winked at you.
"Yes it was," you kissed my cheek and walked back to your boyfriend. I followed you to the table where my girlfriend was sitting.
"Let's go dance some more. I want to be on the floor at midnight," you draped yourself over his shoulders.
"Okay," he walked you out to the floor.
I took my girlfriend's cigarette from her and took the last drag before putting it out, "Let's follow their lead."
"Whatever you say."
This time she danced better. She let me take her all over the floor. She was far more friendly, more agreeable. She let me spin her and dip her.
"Why were you hiding this dancer earlier?" I held onto her. She didn't say anything. "Is something wrong?"
She sighed, "Honestly, I hate dancing. I'm doing this for you."
"What do you mean?"
"I saw the way you danced with her. I saw how you looked at her. I didn't like it. You don't look at me that way. So, if I have to do something I hate doing to get you to look at me that way, then I'll dance," she rested her head on my shoulder.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I whispered in her ear. The crowd had started the countdown.
"Three, two," the crowd shouted.
"But I' " she let me dip her.
"One! Happy New Year!"
"Lo'" Before she could finish her sentence, I gave her a New Year's kiss. I kissed her as passionately as I've ever kissed anyone, probably more so. I knew that I had startled her, but I really didn't care. She didn't care either. I could tell by how she quickly gave in, and let me kiss her. We stayed that way for a long time too. I mean, well after the third chorus of Auld Lang Syne. And for some reason, that I can't explain, I was compelled to see what you were doing. So, while I was kissing her like I was Don Juan, I opened one eye and searched the room to find you. When I finally spotted you, you were in his arms, two feet from the floor, with his face all over yours. He had totally stolen my move. That's when I knew that it was time to leave.
Turns out, I wasn't missing much,
Just-a-Boy



Thursday, January 1, 1998
Dear Just-a-Boy,
Your girlfriend is a very cute girl. But she comes off as somewhat jealous. I saw the way she danced with you after you left me. She was more willing to move with you the way I moved with you. I was not surprised. I knew you were having a good time with me. She knew you were having a good time. She just looks a little too sweet to tell. She also looks like she could've kicked somebody's ass if she had been told.
I'm curious as to who stole who's move? I saw you, for a split second, kissing her the exact way he was kissing me. Did you close our eyes and pretend it was me? Did you try and make up or the last year in your head? I hope not. I hope you were kissing her like that because you wanted her.
After you two left, I had quite an interesting conversation with him though.
"Damn tiger, you've never done that before."
He held onto me, "Sorry. I was waiting for the right time to finally kiss you for the first time."
"Well, that was certainly it. Great job. Good technique."
"I was too aggressive, wasn't I?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "I just watched the way you danced with him and he seemed to be aggressive with you and you seemed to enjoy it and I didn't know what to do. You looked like clay in his hands and I didn't like it. So I thought I could put the same look on your face that he did if I did the things he did. Because I love you, and I want you to love me too."
"Honey?" I grabbed his shoulders.
"You're rambling," I giggled.
"I'm sorry."
"Listen to me. I don't want you to do the things that he does. I don't want you to be like him. If I wanted him, he wouldn't've been here with that girl tonight. And that means you wouldn't've been here with me. I want you to be just like you. I want you to do what you want to do, not what you'll think I'll like. And maybe you'll surprise me. Okay?"
"Okay," he sighed.
"And I love you too," I smiled.
"I was hoping you did," he kissed me the way he kisses, which is not the way you kiss.
"How come you didn't tell me you were such a fantastic kisser?"
"It didn't seem like proper conversation when talking with a lady," we started dancing again. He twirled me and I raised my eyebrow at him. "Don't worry. This is how I want to dance with you."
"I was hoping it was," I smiled. "And honey?"
"Yes?"
I twirled in close to him and whispered in his ear, "You can get a little aggressive with me. If you want to. 'Cause, honestly, I kinda like it."
He pulled me away from him. I looked him in the face and winked at him. And before I knew it, he was holding me just about the floor and kissing me in a way I'd never really been kissed before. It made me feel a way I'd never felt, and I can't remember being happier. We were certainly full on making out on the dance floor, in front of my whole family.
"Do you want to get out of here?" I whispered in his ear.
"Where do you want to go?"
"Let's go back to the house. My parents will be here till almost dawn. We'll be the only two there," I explained.
"Okay," he agreed.
"Just leave your car. We'll pick it up in the morning."
"In the morning? How am I supposed to get back to my cousin's house?" He asked.
"You won't be going to your cousin's house," I told him.
"Well, where am I going to be?" He was almost frantic at this point.
I came into him close and whispered to him, "You'll be staying with me." He didn't argue after that.
We collected our things and started saying out goodbyes. We went through a number of "be carefuls, thanks for comings, and nice to meet yous." He smiled politely at every comment, nodded his head, shook hands. We walked to the parking lot, which was empty of people. He put his jacket around me and kissed me again.
He held my hand while I drove. We kept it quiet in the car, so when he told me how beautiful I was, it was like he was yelling across canyons. We kissed at red lights and he rested his hand on my thigh and I didn't stop him. We sat in my car with small smiles on our faces. I finally pulled into my driveway and parked the car. Neither of us moved. We sat still in my car for a while before the cold got to me.
I drew a breathe, looked at him, and said, "Let's go in."
"Okay," he opened his door and I did the same.
He reached across me and pulled it shut, "Nope."
Before I could do anything else, he was on my side of the car, opening the door. "Thank you."
I fished around for my house key as he followed me to the front door. I placed the key in the lock and barely opened the door before he slammed in shut again.
"What are you doing?" I was confused.
"I've always wanted to try this," he laughed. He had picked me up and cradled me before I could argue, and carried me into my house.
"You gonna be able to make it all the way up the stairs, Romeo?"
"No," and he playfully dumped me on the floor.
"Well then," I hung up my coat. "You're gonna have to catch me." I took off running up the stairs before he could realize what was going on.
He ran up the stairs and right past where I was standing in my bedroom doorway, like something out of a cartoon. He quickly turned around and slinked back to my doorway.
"Caught ya," he smiled. I laughed and he grabbed me and kissed me hard. We didn't stop and I started to pull him closer to me. Every step he took forward was one step I took backward. And when we finally stopped walking, it was because we had fallen on my bed.
"Ow," I laughed.
He rolled off of me, "I'm sorry."
He laughed with me for a little while before I got real quiet. It had dawned on me. The last time I was in this room was with you. The last time I was in this bed was with you. And now I was here with him and bothered by it, but I didn't know why. The only thing I could do was stare off in space and think about you. In that moment, I felt like the only person in the world. And that felt very lonely.
"Baby?" He asked, but I didn't realize it, "Baby?"
He had to tap me on the shoulder before I even remembered he was there, "What?"
"What are you looking at?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing. I'm just thinking." He brought me back to Earth.
"What were you thinking about?"
"Nothing," I lied. I turned and looked at him. I grabbed his face and kissed him long and slow. He laid down on the bed and I laid down with him. It didn't take long for his hands to start wandering.
His fingers crawled up my arm, and I let him touch me. I let him touch me over my clothes. Then under my clothes. Then he tried to take off my clothes. That's when I had to stop him. Not because I wanted to, either. But every time he touched a different place I felt your hands, saw your face, heard your voice, and smelled your skin. It didn't seem fair to let him think that he was the one filling my brain while he was doing all that.
"I wanna stop. Can we stop?" I was almost hysterical.
"Yeah. Yeah, we can stop. Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"
"No," I sat up. "I just want to wait. Is that okay? Can we wait?"
He looked up at me and shook his head, "Absolutely not. Why would you think such a thing?" And then he started to laugh. "Of course we can wait."
"Thank you," I kissed his forehead.
He was quiet for a few seconds, "Long enough?"
I laughed and playfully slapped him, "Not quite. Stay here with me, though?"
"Of course," he kissed me softly. I burrowed under the covers and he followed suit. I took his arm and wrapped it around me and we fell asleep.
When I woke up this morning, he was sitting on the edge of my bed with something in his hand.
I stretched out and sat up, "Morning honey. Whatcha got?"
He looked at the floor while he spoke, "I know it's only been a little while, but, um. . ."
"Yeah?"
"Will you," he turned to me and held out a ring box. "Will you move in with me?"
I took a small key out of the box and held it in my hands, "Yes."

Looks like I've got a change of address,
Just-a-Girl




Wednesday, May 13, 1998
Dear Just-a-Girl,
If you're my friend, then you won't come home for summer. That's the last thing I need. I know that if you come back here, and even if we don't mean to, somehow we'll bump into each other while I'm with my girlfriend. And then I'll have to hear how I don't look at her the right way and I don't love her enough and all kinds of stuff that she thinks is true. And so what if it is? All I have to do is keep her from thinking it's true, but that's no small task.
"Is your friend coming home for summer?"
I paused the movie we were watching, "What?"
"That friend of yours? Is she coming home from school for summer?" She asked again.
"I don't know," I snapped. "Why?"
"Because if she does come home, I don't want you to see her."
"You don't want me to see her?!" I barked.
"No, I don't," she stayed calm.
"Why not?"
She sat up straight, "Because I don't trust her."
The more she talked, the angrier I got, "You met her once! Six months ago! How do you know you don't trust her? You don't even know her."
"You really want me to get into this?" She was stern.
"I want to know where this is coming from!"
"Fine! It's you I don't trust," she blurted.
"Me? You don't trust me what a girl I see maybe every six months? A girl I've known since I was twelve. Need I remind you, she was with someone the last time I even saw her?"
"It's the way you look at'"
"Here we got with the way I look again! How exactly do I look at her?" I yelled.
"Like you love her!"
"I don't! Trust me, if I looked at her, six months ago, in a way I didn't look at you, I'm sorry. I was surprised to see my friend. But I don't feel for her how I feel for you. Forget the way I look at people. And believe me, if I wanted to be with her, I could've by now. But I'm not. I'm here, with you, and this movie we're supposed to be watching."
She was silent, like she was defeated, but she wasn't defeated, "I know all of that, but it would make me feel better if you weren't around her."
"Good God! What do I have to do to prove to you that she's my friend?"
"Just show me that you love me," she said.
"And how the hell do I do that? I thought I was doing just fine. Obviously not. So, please, tell me."
"Decide. Me or her. Don't let me waste anymore time if it's not me," she explained.
I sighed as my thrown up hands hit my sides in defeat, "It's you, honey, okay? I chose you seven and a half months ago, and I'll choose you in another seven months. Trust that, please?"
She silently nodded, laid back down, and played the movie like nothing had even happened.
That was the first fight I'd ever had with somebody. And it was over you. I don't want to fight with her like that ever again. Because I love her. Especially if it's going to be over you.

So, please, don't come home,
Just-a-Boy



Thursday, November 5, 1998
Dear Just-a-Boy,
I just got the greatest news! Mom and Dad are coming to New York for the holidays this year! I'm so excited. Mom's never been out here and Dad came out almost a year and a half ago. They're going to love it. Or at least I hope so. I know for sure that they're in for a surprise. They don't realize that they'll be dining on turkey in his, well, our apartment. I never did tell them that we're living together. I just hope they don't flip out on me. Mom'll probably cry and want to have some kind of overdue sex talk. Dad will get pissed and remind people that he was a gun and knows how to use it. Whatever happens, I hope they're happy for me. Because I'm happy, very happy.

Are you happy?
Just-a-Girl



Thursday, February 18, 1999
Dear Just-a-Girl,
Your New Year's Eve invitation never arrived. Did you not have the party? I hope so, because I don't want to think of us being left off the guest list. I'm glad it didn't come, because we wouldn't have gone anyway. I don't care if you were home or not. You probably weren't back here, because I haven't seen you since last New Year's.
I can't believe it's been whole year. A year since I've seen you, a year that we've been with our significant others. And honestly, the longest year of my life. I fight with her more than I do anything else. She was convinced, for six months, that I wasn't happy with her. She thought she had to continually fight someone, who wasn't even here, for my love. It took me the longest time to finally break her of that. Every now and then though, I feel like she's going to snap again and start telling me to make a choice. I can only imagine what she would do if she ever found these letters I write to you. God, I hope that never happens. I believe she's capable of turning me from a rooster to a hen and that scares the hell out of me.
All of this begs the question, why am I still doing all this? For some reason that I don't yet understand, I feel like I need to be with her. Not out of fear, but because I guess, somewhere in me, I want to be with her. And that's why I did what I did four days ago.
"Open your eyes," I took my hands away.
"Where are we?"
"Home," I told her.
"Home?" She was perplexed.
"Yes, home. Welcome home, honey," I smiled.
"This is our place?"
"Yes it is," I nodded.
"We have our own place!" She screamed. She came right for me, and took me to the ground. It was the first time I enjoyed being tackled in my whole life.
"We have our own place," I quietly repeated.
She sat up, while I still laid on the floor, and slapped her hands down on my chest, "How did you do all this?"
I sat up, "Remember this summer when you asked me to make a choice and show you that I love you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I told you that I chose you and wanted to prove that to you. So, I started saving as much money as I could. I worked extra shifts, sold some old stuff. And that on top of what I already had saved was enough for two months rent."
"What about the furniture and stuff?" She plopped down on the couch.
"My grandparents sold me their old couch really cheap. My sister-in-law gave me the table and chairs. My bed is in the bedroom, since your twin size is too small, and I bought the TV."
"And just how am I supposed to tell my mother that I'm moving out?"
"That's easy," I started.
"How so?"
"Well," I looked at my watch, "your mother should be over here with your clothes in about ten minutes."
"She knows?" It was more a statement than a question.
"Are you kidding? She's been begging me to take you off her hands," I laughed.
She screamed' squealed really' again and wrapped herself around me.
"Happy Valentine's Day," I whispered in her ear.
"You've thought about everything, haven't you?" She kissed me quickly.
"Everything but what our kids' names should be," I smiled. She took me to the floor again, where she kissed me hard. We stayed there, in the middle of the floor, kissing, until her mother walked in the door.

Home sweet home,
Just-a-Boy






Friday, September 3, 1999
Dear Just-a-Boy,
A very exciting year started, for me, this week. It's nice to finally celebrate exciting things, legally. In case you've forgotten, I turned twenty-one this summer. A bunch of friends from school treated me to a nice birthday celebration at a local bar. And I was treated to a nicer celebration when I got home that night. He had made me dinner, complete with candles. When we were done eating, he showed me all the ring catalogs he had collected from different jewelry stores. He was so cute about it. He circled the ones he liked, and drew hearts around the rings he though I would like. I wonder what he was getting at with all the ring business.
I also started my third year of school this week! I'm so excited to be almost finished. This year, the whole grade is based on one assignment. We have to write a feature length screenplay. When we're done with that, the directing students each get a student screenplay to direct. The acting students are cast, and the technical students do all the camera work and editing and such. Plus, fall has set in. Central Park is beautiful in the fall. I'll probably spend a lot of time in the park. It's the nicest place to write and I've got a lot of writing ahead of me.
Mom and Dad will probably be out here for Christmas again this year. I wish you would come. Bring your girlfriend. Take in the city with me. It's something you would like. I just really miss you. And in a way I didn't think I could. I see you as a friend, and I miss my friend.

Think about it?
Just-a-Girl



Thursday, March 9, 2000
Dear Just-a-Girl,
I rang in the millennium without you. We ushered in a new thousand years, and a new century, and you weren't here. I would like to think the fear of the Y2K bug is what kept you from coming back here. But you've probably all but forgotten about me. I miss you. I didn't think I would. I've been living with a woman, that I love, for over a year now. So you think you'd be the farthest thing from me, but you're not. Come home. Bring him if you want. Just come home, even if it's just for spring break.

Give it a thought,
Just-a-Boy



Friday, June 2, 2000
Dear Just-a-Boy,
I'm a graduate! I'm now recognized as a screenwriter. It's so cool to see my name in the opening credits of a film. Even if it is just a student film. The professors said that if the films are good enough, some of them might be picked up by a studio. Some major studios might even be interested. I'm not going to get my hopes up, but it's hard to not be excited.
Something else that was very exciting also happened this week. With everybody in some form of production, it was hard to really do much in class. In my acting class, all the screenwriting students were asked to act out scenes from their scripts for a student critique. My boyfriend was more than willing to volunteer. And of course, he picked me to read the scene with him.
"What's the scene about?" The professor asked.
He handed the professor a copy of the scene, "It's an argument between a couple," he handed me another copy. "The man thinks the woman he's with is way out of his league. She keeps trying to tell him that he's being ridiculous. He won't listen to her, so she threatens to leave."
"All right. You can go when you're ready."
He started reading, "I just feel like I've got to compete with your high society friends!"
"Like who?"
He grabbed at something that wasn't hanging from my arm, "Whoever's name is on this bag!"
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! How many times do I have to tell you that I love you? Not this bag, not the designer dresses that my mother wanted in my closet. I could've been on the Upper West Side with any of the little drones my mother liked. But I'm in the Village, in a studio, with you. And I want to be."
"So, now you have a problem with my apartment?" He yelled.
"No, I don't have a problem with your apartment! Where do you come up with this stuff?"
"I don't know, maybe it's just me," he hung his head.
"You better hope it's you. If it's you then you can change it. And you better change it, because if you don't, I'm not going to be able to say with you," I turned my back to him.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm tired of you saying that," and with my back to him, I started to walk away.
"What do I have to do to get you to stay?" I followed stage direction and ignored him. He got really quiet, "Do I have to ask you to marry me?"
I searched my script for the line, but couldn't find it.
"Do I have to ask you to marry me?" He repeated.
I turned around and broke character, "What are you talking about? That line's not in the script."
"I know," he pulled something out of his pocket and got down on one knee. "Will you marry me?"
That's when I realized that I was on a stage, in a classroom full of students. But it felt like we were the only two in the room. Everyone was so quiet.
"Yes," I whispered. I nodded my head frantically. "Yes!"
He slipped the ring on my finger, picked me up, and twirled me around, "I'm glad you said that. It would've been awfully embarrassing in front of all these people if you had said 'no.'"
That's when the class knew it was all right to erupt into cheers and applause.

Going to the chapel, and I'm gonna get married,
Just-a-Girl


Part
Three














Sunday, August 27, 2000

Dear Just-a-Girl,
Don't go to Vegas if you're in a relationship, but not married. Let me explain myself.
My girlfriend and I have been together for almost three years. We've lived together for a year and a half. With a few days of summer left, we went to Vegas. It is disgustingly easy to get married in Las Vegas. And everything has an equal and opposite reaction. However easy it is to get hitched, I had to work that hard to keep from getting married. You can imagine how fun the flight home was. It was better than staying in the hotel the night after I refused to make her my wife.
"You know, I'm thinking, since we're here . . ." she trailed off
"What?"
"Well, we've been together for a while, been playing house. Why not just make it official?" She didn't make eye contact with me.
"You want to get married?"
"Don't you?" She was surprised.
"I guess," I stammered. "At some point. But not today."
She pouted, "Why not?"
"Don't you think we're a little young?"
"But we're not too young to spend the last three years with each other? In a committed relationship? We're not too young to live together?" She was right, and it was hard for me to argue.
I had to say something sweet and to the point, and I had to say it fast.
"It'll happen some day, honey. I promise," I stalled while I was thinking of my next verbal move.
"You just don't want to marry me," she threw out. Over the last eighteen months, I've learned how to keep my cool when she says things like that. So, this situation was a no-brainer.
"Of course I want to marry you ' "
"But just not today?"
Then the words came to me, "It's not that I don't want to marry you. I just don't want to marry you here. And not because it's what you're supposed to do in Vegas. I don't want to marry you just because I've got an extra fifty bucks in my pocket. And you don't really want to elope, do you?"
"But don't you think it'd be romantic to elope?" She always has to shoot stuff down.
"I want to be able to give you the wedding you deserve. I want your mother to be there. I want your father to walk you down the aisle. I want everyone to know that it's your day. It seems wrong to keep it our secret. That's what I find romantic."
She seemed deep in thought for a second. It was quite the moment before she finally spoke, "You're right. That's what I want. You always know what I want."
That was the first time she had ever said anything like that. But I knew it was too good to be true, because I got the cold shoulder the rest of the time there. I don't know how to fix anything with her anymore. But I'm still too afraid to get out of here. What am I going to do?


Sleep on the couch, that's what I'm gonna do,
Just-a-Boy



Wednesday, August 30, 2000

Dear Just-a-Boy,
I'm having so much fun planning my wedding. We're agreeing on everything. Well, more like he's agreeing with me. He just wants to make sure that I get the wedding I want. And with Dad's promotion this summer, I'm lucky enough to be getting that wedding.
"You have this whole thing planned, don't you?"
"Honey," I kissed his forehead and plopped down on the couch. "That's a silly question."
He closed a catalogue, "Okay, let's hear what your daddy's paying for."
"Ready?" I asked.
"Shoot."
"Okay," I laid my head in his lap. "I want a winter wedding."
"Okay," he nodded.
"And I want to get married in hotel that you can decorate like a church. Because you know I don't want to get married in a church."
"I knew that," he assured.
"And I'm gonna carry red poinsettias up against my white dress. My maid of honor will have pink poinsettias, and my bride's maids will have white. I want a snowflake girl instead of a flower girl to throw fake snowflakes over flower petals. My bride's maids will be in a deep red dress' cut a special way' which I've already ordered."
"You ordered the dresses already?" He was surprised.
"Honey, this is the wedding I've wanted since I was thirteen. Of course I've ordered the dresses. Fear not' the girls were notified roughly twenty-four hours after you proposed. Once the final fitting is done, we'll be repaid," I explained.
"As long as it's out of the way, I don't care. Have you got the guest list done too?"
"No, that we'll do together," I giggled.
"Anything else in that planned head of yours?"
"Yes?" I more asked than replied.
"What?" He sounded worried.
"I want to get married at home." That's the first time in three years that I referred to Indiana as "home," and it felt right.
He smiled, "I figured you would."
"Thank you," I smiled and wrapped my arms around him.
"Guest list tomorrow?"
I nodded, "Guest list tomorrow."
"Any ideas?" He kissed my forehead.
Suddenly, it was like you were tattooed to the inside of eyelids in glow-in-the-dark ink. I couldn't look him in the face and stared off into space as I answered, with worry in my voice, "Yeah, I've got a few ideas."

I've got to find a way to get you there,
Just-a-Girl



Tuesday, November 11, 2000

Dear Just-a-Girl,
What the hell is this? A wedding invitation? You just had to get married. And send the invitations out so that they'll arrive on my anniversary. It was much easier to explain away this invitation that I thought it would.
"Whatcha got honey?"
"A wedding invitation," I sat down on the couch.
"Really? Who's getting married?"
"That girl I went to high school with," I stared into space.
"Which one was she?" She asked, looking at the invitation.
"You remember that friend of mine." I didn't want to bring up too much because I didn't want to get yelled at.
"The one I didn't like?" "Yes, but it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not going," I blurted.
"You're not?" She was surprised.
"No, I'm not going. You didn't like her, so you wouldn't go with me. Besides, I'm not going all the way to New York for a wedding."
"Honey," she pointed at the invitation, "the wedding's not in New York."
"It's not?"
"No," she studied the invite.
"Then where is it?"
"It's here."
"Here?" I snatched the sheet from her hand. "Like, Indiana 'here'?"
"Yes dear. Does this change your mind?"
"No." That was the easy part. Now I needed a reason why. "I haven't seen her or talked to her in three years. Why jog down memory lane now?"

You got a good reason?
Just-a-Boy



Friday, December 8, 2000

Dear Just-a-Boy,
The wedding's in two weeks and I don't know if you'll be there. For some reason, I want you there more than anyone else. Maybe I need to see you while pledging my love to another man to truly know that you're not in the forefront anymore. I've been playing house for three years, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I want him to be the father of my children. But you're still the one that drives me crazy. You're the one that gives me goose bumps, sends chills down my spine, and just generally makes me smile. I don't know what I'm going to do about you.

Please help me fix this,
Just-a-Girl



Sunday, December 17, 2000

Dear Just-a-Girl,
I've fixed it for myself finally. If I can't stay away from you, I can keep you from me. And you've only ripped my heart out by telling me that you're getting married' and inviting me to the wedding! So, I was going to find a way to make you feel bad. Even if you only feel bad in my head. How lucky that I ran into you. And in the most interesting aisle of the drug store of all places!
You crept around the corner and bend down to see my face, "Hey! I thought that was you!"
"How are you? I thought I heard your name called just now," I picked up a bottle of vitamins.
"Yeah, just picking up a little pre-emptive strike for the wedding night."
"You're getting married?" I acted like I didn't know.
"Yeah. Did you get the invitation?" You looked worried.
"No. I never got anything like that. When's the wedding?" I grabbed another bottle of vitamins.
"Five days," you smiled.
"And you don't want to get pregnant?" I picked up your drop hint.
"Well, we've never tried. But, I don't want to have waited so long, and get pregnant in five and a half days." So you've waited. Did you wait for me? No, you didn't. I know you didn't.
"That makes perfect sense."
"So, what are you doing in this aisle?" You asked, taking note of our surroundings.
"At the moment? I'm looking for pre-natal vitamins."
Your eyes grew wide, "Pre-natal vitamins? Who's pregnant?"
I said nothing, but just smiled at you.
"Your girlfriend?"
I nodded.
"The same girl I met?"
"The same girl," I smiled.
"Oh, congratulations! Are you excited? God, you're gonna be a daddy."
"Thanks," I nodded. "We are very excited. But could you do me a favor?"
"What?" You seemed to hang on my words.
"Don't tell too many people. We just found out, and we want to keep it a secret for a while."
"Of course. I totally understand," you touched my hand.
"Thanks."
"Is there gonna be a wedding?" You were so excited.
"Yeah, but after the baby's born. She wants to make sure that she looks and feels her best when we get married," I explained.
"Totally understandable," you nodded. "Well, I've got some stuff to finish, so I've got to get on my way. But, the invitation to the wedding still stands if you wanna come."
"Thanks, I'll let you know."
"Thanks. Congratulations again," you smiled.
"You too, have a good day," I told your back as you walked away from me.
I'm so glad that I got to tell you that. It's just an extra step toward erasing you. This is something that I need to do. And I'm sorry, but there is no way I can go to your wedding. The only way you could get me there is if I were the groom. And that's not happening. So, I just won't be there.

Pitter-patter,
Just-a-Boy



Tuesday, December 19, 2000

Dear Just-a-Boy,
I can't believe you did that! You got her pregnant?! You'll never be able to be fully rid of her now. She'll always have a piece of you. I'm not taking this news well at all. I had nowhere to be. I could've talked to you in that drug store for hours. But I would've turned into a puddle of saltwater and snot. I was crying before I turned the corner of that aisle
I tried so hard to not think about it on the way home. But the harder I tried, the more that's all I thought of. I'm surprised I got home all right, because I sobbed in my car. By the time I walked in the door, to my betrothed, there was no way to hid the fact that I had been crying.
"What's wrong baby?" He asked as I plopped down and laid my head in his lap.
"Do you remember that guy I went to high school with?"
"Which one?" He kissed my forehead.
"The New Year's dancer," I explained.
"Oh yeah, him." He didn't sound thrilled. "What about him?"
"I ran into him at the drug store and he told me that his girlfriend is pregnant. And I started thinking," my voice broke as I started to lie to my future husband. "What if this never happens for us?"
"The wedding?"
"No," I started lying again. "Having a family. We know what my issues are and it jut gets me so upset thinking that I won't have children."
He wiped away a tear, "Honey, one thing at a time. Let's just get married first. And we'll have a family if we want one bad enough."
I sniffled, "I know."
"Let's just have a wedding first," he held me.
"Okay," I rested my head on his shoulder.
"I can't wait to be your husband," he whispered.
I smiled and kissed him softly before I told him, "Get out."
"What?"
"Get out," I laughed.
"How come?" He was surprised.
"Because, I've lived with you for so long, and you've been staying here before the wedding," I started. "I want to spend some time away from you before the wedding so our married life doesn't start out stale."
"I highly doubt that it will," he winked.
"Okay, gutter-mind. Pack up, get out," I laughed.
"I'm going!" He got up off the couch.
"I don't want to see you again until you're my husband," I laid down on the couch.
"I love you."
I winked as he walked upstairs to pack some clothes.
See how easy that was? Just to get rid of him like that? I told him to leave and he did. Why couldn't you have done that before you fertilized her?
Why do you have this power over me? You make me lie to the man I'm marrying in less than a week. I should've never left here. I never should have left you standing in my front yard that day. If I had never left, I'd be the one carrying your child. And you'd be the one marrying me. I just don't know how I'll be able to deal with all of this. Maybe I just need to get married and move back to New York and focus all of my attention on being his wife. I can't write these letters to you anymore. Even to a person I'd like to consider a friend.

You'll make a good dad,
Just-a-Girl



Tuesday, December 19, 2000

Dear Just-a-Girl,
I can't believe I told you that. It's left me in a funk for the last two days. Everyone's noticed too. My girlfriend finally said something about it today.
She got into bed next to me. "Are you okay baby?"
"I guess I've been better."
"What's wrong?" She laid her head on my shoulder.
"I just hate lying to people," I sighed.
"Who'd you have to lie to?"
"I told that girl that I never got her wedding invitation."
"Why'd you do that?" She kissed my chest.
"I couldn't think of a good reason not to go to the wedding," I explained. "So I just told her that I never got the invitation."
"What did she say to that?"
"That the invitation still stood if I wanted to go," I could feel her start to rub my thigh.
"So you're still not going?" Her hand started to move higher and higher.
"Do you want me to go or something?" Then I felt her grab me. I grasped her wrist hard, "Stop it."
"What?"
"You know what you're doing, and you know how I feel about that," I snapped.
"Why not? I mean, what's that problem?"
"I just want to wait! I've told you this," I tried my best not to yell at her.
"What's wrong with me now?"
"Nothing!" I yelled.
"Then what's wrong with you?"
She caught me off guard, "What?!"
"Seriously, you tell me over and over that nothing's wrong with me. So, something must be wrong with you. So what is it?" She put her hands to her mouth and gasped, "You're not gay, are you?"
"Did you seriously just ask me that?" I was so mad that all I could do was whisper.
"Yes! I did!"
"No, I'm not. And that's the stupidest damn thing you've ever said," I turned away from her.
"Then you're cheating on me," she mumbled.
"God, and how do you figure?" I turned sharply back to her.
"Well, you said you're not gay, and you're still not sleeping with me. So, you must be sleeping with someone else." She believed every word that came out of her mouth.
"That is such bullshit!" I got up off the bed and stomped to the closet.
"What are you doing?!" She turned to me.
"I can't stay here with you right now," I pulled a shirt over my head.
"And where are you going?"
I put my shoes on, "Do you really think I'd tell you? So you can call there and bitch at me some more? Or better yet, show up and do it all in person?"
"How long will you be gone?" She was starting to sound worried.
"How long till you can get over your paranoid theories and respect me?" I started cramming clothes into a suitcase.
She glared at me and was silent.
"I'll be gone at least through the weekend," I put on my coat. "Will that give you enough time to get over yourself?"
She stayed silent when she turned away from me. I heard her slightly sniffle.
"I hope so," I slammed the door behind me and walked to my car.
And now I have no idea what to do. I've never made a decision like that before. I thought about driving to your parents' house and telling you everything. I even circled your neighborhood a few times before I realized that you're happy and in love, and would turn me down. So, for now, I'm just going to sit in my old bedroom' which my mother ruined after I moved out' and not do anything.

Maybe I can get you to run away with me,
Just-a-Boy



Friday, December 22, 2000

Dear Just-a-Boy,
I'm getting married today and I've never been so scared and excited at the same time before. I'm so excited to be starting a life with this man. A real life' where we really share everything. And I know he's excited to be taking care of me for the rest of his life. But sometimes I'm afraid that I might not be making the right choice. Is he the right one? Am I too young? Should I have dated more people while I was in school? But I can't exactly worry about those things anymore, because it's time to get my hair done.

Here comes the bride,
Just-a-Girl



Friday, December 22, 2000

Dear Just-a-Girl,
Today' your wedding day' has got to be the single most depressing day of my entire life, thus far. I'm sure the day that you announce that you're pregnant will be much worse.

I would like to take this woman,
Just-a-Boy



Friday, December 22, 2000

Dear Just-a-Boy,
Nothing went according to plan this morning. We didn't make it to my hair appointment on time, so the woman rushed. In doing so, she made my hair look terrible. I don't even want to go into it. Then we had to sit in interstate traffic for most of the morning and ended up being late to the hotel. At least everybody showed up at the same place; even if two of my bride's maids walked in hung over.
The flowers, on the other hand, were delivered to the house, instead of the hotel. I guess that explains why they weren't in the right place for the rehearsal dinner. And of course, since they were poinsettias, they were delivered in pots. We were lucky enough to find someone who could turn them into bouquets of flowers on very short notice. It just felt like everything that could've gone wrong did, in fact, go wrong.
"Who put my dress in the car?!" I yelled.
My cousin and bride's maid spoke up, "I did,"
"Well, find a steamer because the train is wrinkled something fierce," I ordered. My mother desperately tried to smooth out wrinkles with her hands while my maid of honor did some last minute fixes to my hair.
My future brother-in-law knocked on the door and quickly walked in.
"Close that door!" All the women yelled.
He looked at me, stunned, "You look really beautiful. My brother is a lucky man."
Of course he said all this while I was a mess of white fabric, makeup, and redone hair.
"Thank you," I smiled.
"He wants to know if he can see you."
"No," I insisted. "I told him that I didn't want to see him again until he was my husband. He's made it through the last few days. He'll live through the next half hour."
"That's what I told him. But my brother has never listened to what I've said."
"You just don't have him trained," I winked.
"I will say that he took my advice one time," he sounded proud.
"And when was that?" I asked.
My best friend grabbed my head and sharply positioned it the way she wanted so she could finish my hair, and then muttered, "Hold still."
"Sorry." I turned my eyes back to the conversation.
"He listened to me when I told him to marry you," he smiled.
I was quiet for a second while I processed what he said. I sighed before I spoke again, "Okay, get out of here. The last thing I need is you making me cry and ruining my makeup."
My best friend piped up, "Yes, get out. If you make her cry, and any of this," she pointed to my face, "gets ruined, you'll be redoing it."
"On that note, I'll be going," he laughed.
"You tell him that I'll meet him at the altar."
"I'll do that," he closed the door behind him.
So we were able to finish my hair and makeup with little trouble. I also received word that one of the groomsmen was on his way to pick up the newly-bouquet-ed flowers. The string quartet had started playing as people were filling the banquet hall of the hotel and taking their seats. It appeared that everything would be going according to plan, finally. But isn't that the first sign that things are going to get far worse than you ever imagined? The calm before the storm?
I was still riding high from the few things that went correctly having done so. And they didn't take just as simple turn for the worse. They cut corners to go full-steam-ahead into something entirely off the radar.
With five minutes to go before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, it dawned on me. I didn't have any of my very expensive jewelry on. I had to solve this, and fast.
I turned to my maid of honor, "Find a way to tell them to wait five more minutes."
"Why?" She looked puzzled.
"I have to go back to the hotel room," I told her.
"What for?" Now she was getting angry.
"I need to get my jewelry," I explained.
She huffed, "Whatever. Just hurry. This is your wedding."
"I know. I know," I told her before I ran for the elevator.
The wait for the elevator and the ride up to my floor felt like the longest moments of my life. The hallway felt like it went on for miles. I ran as fast as I could, in all that dress, to my room. I slid my key card in the lock and fought with the handle before I was finally granted entrance.

Let me in,
Just-a-Girl



Friday, December 22, 2000

Dear Just-a-Girl,
Is that you running down the hallway? Shouldn't you be downstairs, promising to love, honor, and cherish? You sound like you're desperately trying to get into your roo