A Lover Lost

Jess is off to college for a fresh start . She befriends Sammi, a lesbian, but when their relationship begins to progress, Jess learns something about about Sammi that will change both their lives.

“Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear.”

William Shakespeare

Greatest English dramatist & poet (1564 - 1616)

 

 

She is dead. Those evergreen eyes will never again gaze with me on the pillow in the morning. She is dead. That gentle breath will never again warm my neck with quiet whispers of endearment. She is dead. Those soft warm lips will never again caress my collarbone with warm kisses in the moonlight. She is dead. Those perfect pearly teeth will never again peek out from hiding with my favorite smile. I lost the girl I love because she could not love herself. Hatred and fear ripped her away from me. She was too weak to withstand the horrors of this world. She is gone. And now I am alone. But our story lives on. A story of two scared girls finding themselves in each other; a story of ecstasy and pain; and, of course, it is a story of love.

I made the tough decision to go to school out of state. I left my friends, family, but most importantly Ryan, behind. If Ryan hadn’t hurt me so terribly, maybe things would have been different; maybe I would have gone to the local state university; maybe I would have met a nice guy there and fallen in love; maybe I would have had a life with the one that I loved. But I was emotionally abused; I was frequently tormented by Ryan; I was taken advantage of by that jerk. So, I packed up my entire life and ran away. I found a random private school in the middle of a big city to keep me busy. And now, I am actually thankful for Ryan because without him, I never would have met Sammi.

I sat quietly on my bed, staring blankly at the TV where images danced of happy couples talking and kissing; but this is not where my attention lied. Instead, with my arms crossed over my chest, I remembered the nights when I was part of a happy couple talking and kissing. Even though there was more to my relationship with Ryan than the happy times, I preferred to only dwell on these sweet memories. I knew that I should have been out in the courtyard getting to know my future fellow students, but the shyness that once consumed me again crept into my life. While the TV played stories of love and loss I ran my fingers through my tangled red hair. It still surprised me how quickly my hand found the end of the strands; the new cut only days old. This change was an attempt to shed my old skin and start off a new year, in a new place, with new people, and a new self. I was still so lost in the past (against my better efforts to start over) that I didn’t notice the phone ringing until it was to late to pick up. Nate. Would I have even answered? I thought. Nate was quick to open up to me, and I loved it; but I was wary with what I felt comfortable sharing with him. As I stood to put my phone in my pocket I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I did a double take and finding my reflection again. Many found my plain features pretty; soft blue eyes, straight red hair, and smooth pale skin. But all that I saw in the mirror was a girl who was…well ugly. A girl who was hurt. A girl who was broken. A girl who, I thought, was destined to stay shattered at the bottom of the wall. Alone.

It was the beginning of our freshman year. neither Sammi nor I knew anyone on campus so when we met we clung to each other, afraid to be alone in the new environment. The first time I saw her she was laughing with some guy. He looked at her like she was a piece of meat; juicy, tender, and there for him to eat; but she totally controlled the situation. Her long dark curls danced across her shoulders with chaotic perfection and her wild green eyes sparkled with mischief. She caught me staring and blood rushed to my face, but she smiled, shrugged the guy off, and glided toward me.

“Hey there beautiful,” she said, the words dripping with confidence. “I’m Sammi,” and she thrust a soft and strong hand at me.

“Um, hi. Jess,” I muttered and weakly shook her hand. She smiled at me again and it made my stomach melt.

“Cute name. Cute shoes!” she exclaimed, causing me to blush even more.
“Uh, thanks,” was all the response I could muster, looking down at my purple Chucks.

“So, that jerk was telling me that there is this all-freshman-dinner-thingy that we hafta go to, wanna go with me? I don’t want to walk in like a dear in the headlights,” she laughed leaning onto the high-table I was standing by.

“Sure,” I quickly responded with a little bit too much enthusiasm. I knew absolutely no one and she seemed kinda cool. She smiled at me, and I weakly smiled back.

From then on we were inseparable. She was very open and loved to talk about…well everything. I loved to listen to her, the way that she spoke with her entire body. Anyone else would say that she talked too much and never let me get a word in, but I liked not having to talk about my past and myself; it was very relieving. I was scared though. At first I thought that the possibility of Sammi making me feel uncomfortable scared me. I knew she was gay but I thought that I knew I wasn’t. But looking back I realized that I was completely at ease with her. I was scared of falling in love with her. I had never been with a girl before, I thought I only liked guys, but I guess my track record with guys should have been a sign.

          “So, do you, uh, have a boyfriend?” she asked, one day.

“Um, not anymore,” I mumbled avoiding her eyes by gazing up into the golden trees, resting my head against the brick wall behind us. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to talk about Ryan yet. He put me through so much pain; I didn’t know if I would ever be ready to talk about him.

 

When Ryan and I first started dating everything was fine. He was charming, kind, gorgeous and made me feel like a queen. If you would have told me that soon he would tell me that I was a fat worthless b***h, I would have slapped you for talking about my boyfriend like that. But, as I slowly realized, you were right. The first time that he yelled at me I was in shock. We had a date planned, he insisted on taking me out for Chinese food (my favorite). But that night one of my friends had an emergency and needed me by her side the whole night. When I went by Ryan’s house to ask him if we could reschedule the date he flipped out.

“Why can’t you respect the plans I make for you? I deserve better then you, maybe I should just leave you for someone else’s sloppy seconds,” he shouted at me, throwing books off the shelves. I was stunned. I just stood in front of him like a scared dear in the headlights, not sure if I should run or just wait for it to stop.

“I-I-I…” I tried to speak but nothing would come out. My mouth was dry and my palms were sweaty. I couldn’t process the scene before me. Little did I know that this was only the beginning.

 

But instead of questioning me further �"which I expected �"Sammi gently placed her hand on my shoulder to sooth me.

“It’s ok, guys suck,” she said this with such nonchalance that it brought a small smile to my face.

“Yeah, I guess they do,” I laughed, relaxing into her arm, allowing her to comfort me. We just sat there in the grass with our backs against the wall watching the sleepy campus on that cool fall morning.

 

“Your parents live here?” I gasped as we glided up the driveway to a huge castle-like house guarded by a towering iron gate. Sammi had convinced me to visit her parents with her for the weekend of fall break. I knew that she came from a family with money, but I guess I didn’t realize how much money.

“Yea, this is the main house. There is also the lake house up in Michigan and the mountain house over in Colorado,” she threw the words over her shoulder as if to say “I’m fine, how are you today?” rolling down her window. “Hey, Mike. It’s me,” she called into the side of the gate.

“Oh good morning, Samantha. Your mother has been frantic all week. Be good to her,” an old voice replied through a small speaker perched on the brick wall surrounding the estate. I was in complete awe. I sat in surprised silence as Sammi drove the winding way up to the roundabout in front of the mansion. An older man in suite (I assumed it was the same man who answered at the gate) quickly and professionally slipped out of the front doors and came to open the car doors for us.

“It’s so good to see you again. My, you have grown up a bit since leaving Pleasant Hill,” the butler stated, leading us through the large mahogany doors.

“Pleasant Hill?” I asked as I carefully stepped into a new world. Everything was perfect. I could tell that someone put a lot of effort into maintaining the clean perfection; and by the looks of it, I knew it wasn’t Sammi’s mother. Out of the corner of my eye, a large white something approached the top of the gigantic winding staircase that gently hugged the walls and swung around on the right hand wall. I slowly turned to find the white something and soon discovered a huge white ball of fur that I assumed was a cat.

“Yea, my father decided that the cold and hateful manor could be disguised by a name. Ah, Miss. Sonya has decided to grace us with her presence,” Sammi sarcastically spit out with clear disdain for the cat.  As if she heard her introduction, Miss. Sonya gracefully glided down the staircase and came to a rest on the bottom step. She looked us over, deciding we were actually not worth her time, and strutted past us into the next room.

“Well, that’s Miss. Sonya for you,” Sammi sighed. “Come on, mom and pop are waiting,” and with that we were lead into the opposite room where Mr. and Mrs. Glassman stood waiting. They were a perfect pair of parents out of a magazine. Mr. Glassman was a tall, intelligent looking businessman; and Mrs. Glassman was also tall, rail thin, and very stern, but a fake-ish kind looking. They both seemed to be very strong and independent. Mrs. Glassman quickly welcomed us to the estate and offered us tea. Lunch was served out on the back patio, which over looked the sweeping gardens and rolling hills of gorgeous green grass. The gardens were still luscious given the late season, and were complete with stone benches and small fountains.

“It lights up at night,” Sammi whispered to me, catching me staring at the grand fountain in the middle of the yard. Everything about this place put me in awe; including how Sammi acted around her parents. “I dunno, they just don’t get me,” she explained to me after lunch as we climbed the long staircase, Mike had already taken the luggage up to our rooms. “Ok, here is your room,” she said to me, opening a heavy door to reveal a beautiful room filled with blue. The walls were as light as the sky, and the four-post bed was a deep navy of the ocean. The wooden furniture was white and fancier than anything I had ever seen. There must have been at least eight pillows on the bed. I did the little girly thing and fell back onto the bed with my arms spread out like wings.

“Sammi! This is awesome!” I shrieked, still lying on the ridiculously comfortable bed. 

“Wow, I usually have to do a lil somethin’ somethin’ to get that response,” she smirked with her “sexy voice”, winking at me. She did her little strut toward me and when she got within a foot away she started laughing. “That’s what I love about you, Jess. I can joke around like that and it’s not weird,” she smiled. At this moment I realized how beautiful Sammi really was. Her green eyes glistened in the dim light and her voluptuous lips held a kiss in the right hand corner that I surprisingly wanted to steal. 

“Right…it’s not weird…” I responded slowly, slightly leaning into her, contemplating stealing the kiss…

“Well,” she brushed the slightly awkward moment off her shoulder, subtly taking a few steps back. “I’m gonna go, um, unpack some of my stuff,” and then she was gone, the white fur ball softly padding after her.

I was in shock. As she left my side I felt a magnetic pull to move towards her, but I didn’t act on it, of course. I was like a planet circling the Sun; within reach but on a steady course. There was this aura about her that I couldn’t resist--not that I tried very hard. You’re gonna have to do something eventually, I thought to myself. There was definitely something growing between us that was more then a friendship, and I wasn’t very sure how I felt about it…

My mind slowly drifted off, thinking about the sexuality spectrum. There was such a diverse variety of sexual identity that I couldn’t place where I belonged anymore. But as I began trying to pinpoint a spot for me I heard something outside the window.

“Bailey! Bailey come ‘ere!” shouted a young man’s voice. I tripped my way over the window to find a guy, probably like 22, chasing a huge Rottweiler around the beautiful gardens. Sammi didn’t mention anything about a dog…

“Bailey! Damn dog!” the strong voice found the window again. It was quite entertaining watching the poor fool chase that dog; it was a definite plus that the guy, who seemed to be a gardener of some sort I gathered from his dirty jeans and brown sweatshirt, was quite handsome and muscular. He chased the dog around the center fountain and managed to trap him against the rose bushes. I couldn’t help but laugh at his exhausted attempt to capture the mystery dog. As if my giggle was carried to him through the soft breeze, he looked up to my window with a curious smirk. With a hot blush I ducked under the window. Why am I so embarrassed by this random guy? I thought. Sure he was hot and entertaining but I wasn’t one to be embarrassed by male attention. I always thrived on it, loving the attention and their sexual energy. Realizing that I was an idiot sitting under the window because I was afraid of a guy, I stood up and rushed out of the room down to dinner.  

“So, Jess, what are you majoring in?” Mr. Glassman asked that night at dinner. The platters were brought in on huge silver trays, like something straight out of a movie.

“Well, right now I’m studying Art Therapy,” I respectfully responded. He was very intimidating.

“Ah, well it’s good to see Samantha socializing with someone who has made up her mind,” Mrs. Glassman bitterly added, giving a sharp glance at Sammi.

“Our Samantha can never seem to stick to one idea,” her husband clarified to me, although he too gave a stern look to his daughter. “Our Samantha”? I thought, no wonder she is so adventurous…

“Sammi’s very smart. She will help a lot of people one day,” I piped up, giving Sammi a smile. I knew that she planned on heading to the Peace Corps after getting an International Studies degree, but something told me that her parents were not aware of this plan.

“Yes well, we will see,” the good wife concluded. We all sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, until Mrs. Glassman finished her small meal; at which point Miss. Sonya gracefully leapt up into her lap. “Did Miss Sonya enjoy her special dinner?” she cooed, lovingly stroking the soft cloud. It seemed to me that Mrs. Glassman showed more affection to that cat than she did to her own daughter. But who was I to make this assumption?

Catching me off guard, the door loudly swung open and the dog guy gallivanted into the room. He was still covered in dirt but there were clean streaks across his face, probably from where he attempted to clean up.

“Uh, sorry I’m late…” he muttered, taking the seat next to Sammi with a flop. His brown curls stuck up in several different places and he must have noticed me staring fore he quickly reached up in attempt to tame them.

“Well, it looks like someone finally decided to join us,” Mrs. Glassman muttered into her napkin as she delicately wiped her mouth. She clearly didn’t approve of his presence, but at the dinner or in general? I wasn’t quite sure.

“Ah yes. Jess, this is our nephew Ryne. He is staying with us through the fall to tend to the gardens,” Mr. Glassman politely introduced with a stern smile. From there general body language, I gathered that the arrangement was not one of their ideas. I looked over to Sammi for some kind of reassurance that everyone was happy, but she just looked down at her food with a blank stare.

“So you are going to school with Sammi,” Ryne started, interrupting the awkward silence that followed his entrance.

“Uh…yeah. We met at a freshman mixer and have been attached at the hip ever since,” I shyly giggled. What the hell was wrong with me? Geez. There was no way that I was attracted to Sammi’s cousin…

“Well that sounds like all sorts of fun,” he politely responded with a douse of sarcasm. “How long are you staying with us?” the question took me aback. None of the rooms we passed by looked like they were lived in, but there was the whole other wing of the house, I guess.

“Just through the weekend,” I managed to say and his sweet smile welcomed my reply. Wow. He was really adorable. He had the same high cheekbones as Sammi, and they had the same eyes. But their hair couldn’t be much different. Where as Sammi’s falls in thick dark curls, Ryne’s hair was thinner (but not like balding, ew) and swooped to the side in a straight diagonal. The rest of the dinner wasn’t as awkward as the first half and we even made some jokes and were able to have a semi good time (mind you, the Mr. and Mrs. left to do the dishes and such). Ryne and Sammi told embarrassing stories about each other and I laughed until I about cried.

After we finished with dinner, Ryne suggested that Sammi take me on a walk through the gardens in the sunset. As we walked through the vast gardens, Sammi pointed out her favorite flowers and explained to me the old remedies with the plants, and the history of the fountains. We circled around the entire garden and arrived at the center fountain right as the sun finally set. Sammi smirked, taking two pennies out of her pocket. She handed one to me, and told me to make a wish and throw the penny into the glittery fountain exactly when the sun disappeared. She claimed that every wish she ever made at this time always came true. I looked into her gorgeous eyes and silently agreed; taking her hand and mine; closing my eyes; and wishing with my whole being to keep this moment with her forever. As we threw the pennies into the sparkling water, she squeezed my hand, and I knew that she had wished the same.

        

         The next morning I was awoken by a soft plop on my bed as the cat jumped up to attack the curtains that served as my barrier to the harsh morning light. “Geez, this damn cat runs the place,” I sighed to myself. Before I could roll over and cover my face with the heavenly pillow, there was a loud knock at the open door.

         “Morning, Jess!” called an energetic voice. Sammi strutted into my room, picked up the cat and threw her out, slamming the door. “I always feel like that cat is my mothers spy,” she whispered to me, taking the cats spot at the foot of my bed.

         “Yea, she kinda creeps me out too,” I agreed. Every time that I passed the cat on the way to the bathroom or something, it slowed down as if to measure up what I was doing and if I needed to be stopped. But cats have always bothered me. When I was a kid we had a small sweet black kitten that soon grew up to be a huge black tomcat. He was always following me around; but not like a dog follows his owner around, but like an angry girl tails her ex-boyfriend. I continuously felt that he was plotting against me, that his glassy neon eyes understood what I said and that he remembered everything, holding it against me. I never understood why cats hated me; it’s not that I hated them I just know when I’m not wanted around.

         “Okay, so what are we doing today?” I asked, pulling the sheets up to cover my thin pajamas.

         “Well, I thought that we could just go into town and walk around, maybe grab lunch and check out the little boutiques,” she responded with an excited toss of the hair and an energetic flip of the wrist.

         “Cool, that sounds fun. I should get dressed then,” I responded, motioning for her to leave so that I could dress. But she just sat there, staring at me.

         “Uh, Sammi, I hafta get changed.” I repeated.

         “Oh, you want me to leave?” she asked, almost offended.

         “Um, yea. I don’t like to change in front of people,” that I have a crush on.

         “Okay, yeah I will meet you downstairs,” she said with her magnificent eyes on the floor, rising to leave, and shutting the door behind her.

         Sammi and I spent the whole day running around town, going into small boutiques and family owned candy shops. I bought a couple pieces of candy from a few of the shops, but I noticed that Sammi didn’t buy anything. When I asked why, she simply shrugged it off saying that she grew up on these candies and didn’t have a taste for them anymore. I understandingly took her excuse and let the concern melt away from my thoughts. Sammi showed me where her mom always bought her fancy little girly dresses…that she hated. And she introduced me to her favorite place; a small old bookshop right at the edge of town. She explained that it was the one place that she could go to escape her mother and the stupid girls she made her socialize with. Here, she could escape reality completely by hiding in the stacks, and diving into a book. I had no idea that she was such a bookworm, but it made me smile to learn something about Sammi’s past. We ran into Ryne on our way to find lunch and Sammi insisted that he come along.

 

 

 

 

That night the three of us returned to Pleasant Hill and watched movies all night. There were a few moments in the movies that I wanted nothing more than to reach for her hand�"and his hand. There was something comforting about being close to Sammi, something safe and warm. I wasn’t to keen on admitting it at first, but I soon started to come to terms with the fact that I had a crush on her. But then there was Ryne. He was strong, confident, and attractive. Very much like Sammi, but still had his differences. Like how his brown eyes swirled like a river of dark chocolate and how the muscles in the corner of his mouth twitched when I amused him.  

“So the sweet Jess is now all alone with the evil Ryne,” He joked as we walked amongst the gardens towards our destination for a picnic. Sammi was catching up with some old friends. She invited me but I thought that it would be super awkward, so Ryne offered to entertain me for the day.

“What do you mean ‘the evil Ryne’?” I asked.

“Oh she never told you? Jess and I never got along as kids. I always got what she wanted and she hated it. But when her fathers company made it big she started getting everything she wanted and more. She was always the sweet little princess and I was always accused of picking on her and being mean.” He ranted.

“I see…so there is a bit of bad blood between the two of you?” Why would there still be a problem between the two if it was just childhood disagreements?

“Yes, well, that is behind us now,” he cut off that conversation. After a minute of silence, which was surprisingly not awkward, he asked me something that not many had.

 “So what exactly is ‘Art Therapy’? I’ve actually never heard of it before,” he changed the subject and smoothly ran his fingers amongst his dark curls.

“Art therapy is a type of therapy that uses art to bring out emotion,” I fuddled to explain, choosing my words the best I could.  “For example if I ask someone to draw a rosebush, someone who is angry or reserved might draw a bush with few flowers and lots of thorns; whereas someone who is happy and doesn’t have many secrets might draw a bush with lots of full bloomed flowers and no thorns.” Seeing his confused expression, I quickly finished with “Some people don’t take it seriously but I really think it is helpful, especially with kids,” folding my hands in my lap and ducking my hair behind my ears.

He peered around my hair and a warm hand drew back my locks like a curtain to morning sunshine. “Don’t hide from what you believe in.” he whispered, gently raising my chin so that his mocha eyes could find mine. In attempt to keep myself from doing something dumb, I quickly pulled away and rambled on about who knows what. He caught on and we just hung out talking and even flirting.

 “So you and Sammi…?” he asked, insinuatingly.  

“Me and Sammi?” I asked as if I had no idea what he was talking about even though I knew he wanted to know if we were involved. I nervously tucked another loose strands of hair behind my ears and diverted my eyes to the plate of fruit in front of me. “Um, well she is gay…” I started. Again the small muscles by his lips jumped. “But…I don’t know, nothing has really happened with us.” I finished. It was true, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t want anything to happen between us.

“So, if I were to kiss you…” he slowly cooed, once again pulling my chin towards him until his lips brushed against mine ever so gently, as if I might shatter from his touch.

“She would be f*****g pissed!” Sammi shouted from about twenty feet away, clearly pissed at the both of us. I quickly jumped up and stepped away from Ryne, as if my distance could make it look like nothing actually happened. But it did happen. Was I feeling guilty it happened or just embarrassed we got caught?

“Sammi I �"” I tried to explain but she cut me off with a sharp raise of her hand, with her glare fixed on Ryne, who still sat with a calm expression as if nothing was wrong.

“Ryne! How…why…her?!” she stumbled over her words with such furry that she couldn’t process and actual sentence.

“Well, you stole my kiss from Kayla. So I thought I would show you how much I appreciated that by beating you to the first kiss from Jess,” he responded nonchalantly, as if I wasn’t even there.

“What �"” my face quickly flushed with anger and confusion, giving tomatoes a run for their money. This was just about a family feud?

“Ryne, that’s ridiculous! How could you hurt me…and Jess? Kayla was completely different! We were…drunk!” she yelled, taking an angry and brave step closer to him, as I tried to sneak away from the situation.

“It doesn’t matter, Sammi. She kissed me first. And it was easy.” he taunted. Finally rising and turning to cockily strut back to his garden house.

“Sammi, I �"” I once again tried to explain. But what do I say?

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.” And with that she turned from me and slowly sulked back to her mansion. Me? I sat by the fountain and watched to cool water flow over the shinny pennies.

I didn’t see Ryne for the rest of the weekend and Sammi wouldn’t look at me, let alone talk to me. We were all miserable especially Sammi. Not just because of the scene in the gardens but also because her mom kept mentioning something about her sweet thin daughter gaining some weight; which I thought was completely ridiculous, sure she was curvy, but absolutely gorgeous. Monday morning I noticed that all of my stuff was packed up and the suitcases were neatly lined up outside my door, silently waiting for Mike to whisk them away to the car. Trying to be helpful, I picked up one of the smaller pieces of luggage and headed for the staircase. But, to my immediate surprise, Miss. Sonya was prancing to the stairs as well. Before I could do anything to stop, my clumsy feet tripped over the perfect p***y and, luggage and all, I was thrown down the long staircase. When I fell to the bottom with a thud I was horrified to realize that my clothes decorated the grand stairs. As if on a humiliating cue, Sammi glided down the stairs, and burst into laughter seeing my pathetic situation. One can only imagine the shade of red my face took. My tumble seemed to lighten her up a bit. I was surprised when she picked up my thong and questioningly held it in front of her face.

“And why, ma’am, do you have this skimpy little thing?” she teased with a sly grin. Oh. My. God.

“Shut up, Sammi. Just help me,” I harshly threw at her, my face deepening in color.
         “Geez, looks like Lacy here has something shoved up her a*s. Well, at least we know it’s not this!” she laughed, holding up my thong again. I couldn’t even take her humor right now. I was soooo embarrassed. Instead, I hastily snatched up my clothes, threw them into the suitcase, and bolted for the door.

“Jess,” she called after me apologetically, but I didn’t stop until I reached the car, throwing my luggage into the backseat, and slamming the door.

“Jess,” she huffed, running to my side. “Look, I’m sorry…about everything. But I was just trying to be funny. You know that I have a weird sense of humor,” she explained as her hand gently brushed the length of my arm. I accepted her apology with a shy smile and we hopped in the car and zoomed off back to our humble campus. As if Ryne had never come between us.

         Sammi and I were quick to bond, but I also became good friends with a slender gay guy named Nate. Nate and I met in the cafeteria one day at the very beginning of the school year when he had no one to sit with. At first I was taken aback by his outgoingness and honesty, but I soon came to love him. Even though he would fight the typical stereotypes of a gay man to death, he was fabulously flamboyant. Within the first 10 minutes of meeting him he dramatically poured out his life story. Nate was very open about his past and feelings and we quickly forged a bond that would survive decades. He always told me exactly what was on his mind. Sometimes this was helpful, but other times it was just too much.

“Baby girl,” this quickly became his name for me, “we need to talk,” he announced, dramatically thrusting his dinner tray down on our usual table.

         “Um…ok?” I cautiously responded. When someone says “we need to talk” it’s bad, when Nate says “we need to talk” its apocalyptical.

         “I know that you like girls,” he proclaimed.

         “Um, excuse me?” to say that I was shocked was an understatement. I admit that I hadn’t been dating or even flirting with guys this year, but for him to say that I was gay was…well…

         “Oh, shut up. Don’t try and hide it, I think it’s cute. Plus, lezzies are more fun anyway,” he smiled ear to ear. He seemed so proud of his conclusion.

“Nate, I’m not gay,” I whispered. I quickly blushed realizing that some of the other kids at surrounding tables could totally hear our conversation. Just because I had a little bit of a girl-crush on Sammi did not mean that I was gay…right?

         “Of course you are, dear. No girl flirts with another girl that they know is gay so much and isn’t gay herself,” he caught me off guard with this. Do I really flirt with Sammi that much? I didn’t think that I did, but I guess that was just one of the things about Sammi that I was blind to that year.

         “Geez, Nate, what did you say? Jess is redder than my strawberries,” Sammi laughed, joining us at the table.

         “She is just mad that I called her out on the truth. You see, Jess�"”

         “God, Nate, REALLY?” I yelled at him, storming off without even taking my dishes to the wash station. I could not believe that he was about to tell Sammi that I was gay. But why was I so upset? I wasn’t upset because Nate said I was gay, I was upset because he knew I was gay. I didn’t even know yet, how did he? I was literally holding my closet door shut with all of my might. I wasn’t ready. Just because I liked one girl didn’t mean I was gay…I still liked guys…maybe. Needless to say, I was thoroughly confused. Instead of talking out my fears and questions with Sammi and Nate, I continued back to my dorm to drown out these thoughts and feelings with insane amounts of music.

         A few hours after dinner (despite my best efforts to ignore him) Nate was pounding on my door screeching sex noises, which he knew would embarrass me enough that I would have to let him in.

         “Wow, baby girl, for a second there I thought that you weren’t gonna lemme in!” he laughed, barging into my room through the slightly opened door. “Ok, so I realize that I shouldn’t have been so blunt at dinner. I’m sorry,” he began as he plopped down on my tinny bed with a graceful thud. “But, honestly, you cannot hide anymore. It’s not healthy,” he explained as he took my hands in his, pulling me onto the bed beside him.

         “I know…I’m just…scared,” I whispered, curling up beside him, resting my head on his boney thighs.

         “It’s ok. Sammi and I will introduce you into the world of Homo!” Nate exclaimed, running his fingers through my short tousled red hair. Sammi. What am I going to do about Sammi?

         “I really like her, Nate,” I confessed. Wow. It felt unbelievably fantastic to say it, like a load of bricks was being lifted off my chest. I like her. It wasn’t just a friendly crush, but I really liked her. I liked the way she smiled at me; I liked the way she said my name; I liked the way she brushed up against me.

         “I knew it!” he squealed. “Aww you guys will be soooo cute together,”

         “Nate, darling, just because I like her, does not mean that she likes me. Unless…you know something?” I excitedly questioned.

         “Maybe…oh alright. Of course she likes you! You are beautiful, smart, and funny. It’s been hard for her to keep her hands off you,” he gave in with a wry smile that melted my stomach. I was so excited that she liked me, but at the same time I was very confused. I had never been with a girl. I didn’t know the first thing about lesbian relationships. All sorts of questions were racing through my head. Who pays for dinner? Do we hold hands in public? How do we…? Even though these questions brought an unwanted anxiety, the thought of being in Sammi’s arms was very soothing.

After Nate left, I quickly drifted off into a fantastic slumber. Filled with exciting dreams of adventures with Sammi. Little did I know that when I woke up, Sammi and I would embark on the greatest adventure of all time.

 

“Jess!” a strong voice demanded, followed by several loud pounds on my door. “Hello? Girl, wake up!”

I got up, Sammi would stand there and bang all day if I didn’t, and stumbled to the door to let my demanding friend in, not bothering to grab a robe to cover my thin t-shirt and boxers.

“God, Sammi, what the hell?” I mumbled sleepily as I opened the door to find the voluptuous Vixen all dolled up, tapping her Chucks, clearly annoyed that I was still asleep.

“Um, excuse me? Why aren’t you ready?” she questioned with a bit of a bite. She shoved past me and started rummaging through my drawers.

“Well, for starters I don’t have class until 3,” I began my retaliation but apparently she intended this to be a rhetorical question because she quickly cut me off.

“Ugh, why don’t you have anything decent to wear? Never mind, we can get you something at the mall on the way. Just…throw this on,” she spat out with a girly frustration, tossing baggy jeans and a t-shirt at me. I stood paralyzed with confusion; I was still pretty much asleep. “And why are you still standing there? Do you need me to help you?” Sammi laughed gliding toward me and then began tugging at the bottom of my shirt with a sly grin.

“No,” I jokingly shoved her off. “I can dress myself, thanks. I just have no idea what you are talking about. Where are we going?” I asked, now that she had finally calmed down a bit, even though her green eyes danced with excitement. I wasn’t to worried about missing class. I would rather spend the day with her.

“That, my dear, is for me to know and you to find out,” she smiled. She pinched my butt and added, “Now hurry up or I will strip you down and dress you myself!”

“Well that took you long enough,” Sammi complained when I slammed the car door shut literally 10 minutes after she left my room.

“Good God! What’s the freaking deal? Maybe I would be more enthusiastic about this if I knew what the hell this is!” I exclaimed, waving my hands at her like some kind of mental patient.

She took a deep breath and calmly said, “Are you done?” I was not expecting this response so I just stared at her with my mouth open. “I understand you are confused but this trip means a lot to me and I hope you will enjoy it to. We are going to have a fun time and it will be so much better if you don’t know where we are going and what we are doing,” And with this she pulled out of the parking lot and drove us straight to the mall; without another word.

“Ok, so are you going to tell me why we are at the mall?” I cautiously asked. Sammi seemed to be in a mood, and I didn’t want to anger her, from my previous experiences, angering someone always ends badly.

“I am kidnapping you for the weekend. That is all you need to know,” she responded with a giddy grin.

“Well I’m glad my confusion is so entertaining for you,” I huffed under my breath, trying to keep up with the beautiful girl that was already several paces ahead of me. As I watched her walk I realized that she had lost a bit of weight. She was no longer the voluptuous girl I first met, but now a lean young woman, racing off to the mall. Before I had even made it inside the doors, Sammi booked it right over to Forever21, her favorite store.

         “Ok, you have to try this on!” she grabbed like 8 skimpy metallic dresses, that I would never wear.

         “Sammi, you know that I have no need for this kind of dress,” I slowly explained to her bugged and staring at the so-called dress.

      “Well tonight you do,” she winked and then returned to picking out tiny dresses and such. Soon we were laughing and having a great time trying on all the s****y outfits…in the same dressing room... Sammi was stunning. She was perfectly proportioned, big bust, slender waist, wide hips, and toned legs. I was completely in awe of her fantastic body. I thought that she caught me staring a few times, but she didn’t say anything, and continued to undress in front of me. A few of the “dresses” Sammi made me put in the “keep pile”, but I had no idea why. When it was finally time to check out, she picked out what was possibly the most revealing and obnoxious dress (or should I say shirt…that she insisted didn’t need pants) and convinced me to buy it. We soon left the mall with our skimpy outfits. And sped off to the nicest hotel I had ever seen in my life.

 “WE HAVE WHAT?!” I screeched, as Sammi handed me two glittery tickets to the Ke$ha concert.

“I got us tickets! Happy Birthday Jess!” Sammi squealed as we did that totally stereotypical screaming-jumping-girly thing. Oh yea, my birthday. I had been so preoccupied with the fact that the girl I had a huge crush on was kidnapping me for the night that I totally forgot that day was my birthday.

“O.M.G.!” was all that I could say. I was pretty much in hyper shock. We climbed up on the bed (yes one bed, Sammi convinced her parents to spring for a luxury suite) and started jumping and screaming our favorite Ke$ha songs at the tops of our lungs. The rest of the day we spent ordering room service and just hanging out. We talked about everything. It was so nice to have my best friend back. I thought after the strange Ryne fiasco that it would be awkward between us for a while, but we clicked right back, the situation even bringing us closer together. An hour before we had to leave for the concert Sammi even cracked a tiny bottle of vodka and we got a bit tipsy. When it was finally time to dress Sammi helped me into my Ke$ha perfect dress and zipped up the back for me. As the zipper rose to the top of my spine, she slowly and gently kissed the base of my neck, sending exciting chills all over my body.

 

The concert was fantastic.

Afterwards, Sammi somehow got us into an amazing after-party at the hotel, during which we got considerably wasted. I didn’t intend on getting so drunk, but Sammi just kept passing me drinks…and joints. I couldn’t tell her no, she did this all for me, and it was my birthday for heavens sake! She even threw me into the laps of several extremely hot guys with whom I energetically made out with…and let slip their hands up my thigh, but left them once invited to go up to his room. She thought that was what I wanted, but what I really wanted was to make out with her. I was thrilled when she invited me to dance; it was just drunk messing around but the way that my body felt pressed up against hers, with the music throbbing between us, was just so amazing that I never wanted it to end. Several times through out the night her evergreen eyes found mine and her luscious lips gave a smile that was so beautiful, I new that it was meant just for me. But there it was; the kiss. Tucked away into the right-hand corner still hid the kiss that I so desperately wanted to steal. Little did I know, that kiss would be the best birthday present ever.

 

I had just plopped myself down on the bed in front of the T.V. with one leg bent in front of me and the other foot on the ground when we got back to the suite around 3am when I received a text from Nate, who went to a party back home.                  

OMG I just can’t do it!! :(

Reading this made me giggle. Nate was my Gay Boy-friend (a relationship only a gay man and his straight…well straight-ish female friend could ever understand) and I loved him dearly but he had this thing about not being able to kiss girls (which made sense to me because he was gay) but it bothered him. So, every few days he tried to kiss one of his female friends. He always got really close (a little too close for some to handle) but he could never do it. And this pissed him off; but I found it rather humorous.

“What’s so funny?” Sammi asked, I was still drunken giggling like a dumb fool as she plopped down beside me resting her hand on my calf.

“Nate has this thing about kissing girls,” I explained. “He can’t do it.”

“Ok…but isn’t he gay?” she questioned with a laugh.

“Ya, but it bothers him that there is a sexual act that he can’t follow through with. Sometimes he can get really close but…” I slurred, blushing. Sammi noticed my blush and slid her hand up to my thigh. When I didn’t protest she boldly continued on.

“But he can’t kiss you?” she seduced, softly shifting onto her knees, crawling into my lap. Sammi gently guided my hands to the back of her thighs moving her closer to straddle me. Her face gravitated to mine and her warm breath whispered into my ear, “I can kiss you,” so softly I almost thought I imagined it, but then her lips tenderly traced my jaw and delivered the softest, sweetest, and sexiest kiss of my life. I kissed her back; gently at first but then hungry for more. Her tongue slipped in between my lips as the kisses grew deeper and deeper; my hands kneading the backs of her thighs; pulling her even closer to me; her lips hungrily kissing and biting my neck; her hands finding their way under my dress to the small of my back, smashing out bodies together.

“Sammi,” I gasped, unsure of what was happening. What am I doing? She froze. “I just…I don’t know…” I stammered. I want this.

“Shhh, it’s ok,” she cooed, gently brushing my hair out of my face. “Do you want me to stop?” she sensually whispered into my ear, her hands back under my dress and gently gliding up to cup my breasts. Needless to say, I couldn’t think. I wanted her to keep kissing me, and massaging my body; why would I want her to stop? So I shook my head, returned my hands to her thighs, and kissed her.

Soft groans of pleasure quietly escaped my lips as her warm hands explored my body; gently at first, but then became hungry for my skin; slipping my skimpy dress off; seeming to be everywhere at once. Her wet kisses danced along my collarbone and jaw line like a professional dancer takes the stage. She knew what she was doing; I did not. At first I was scared, but I soon learned the rhythm of her body and I let her teach me where to put my hands and how to kiss her right. I thought that she would have gotten frustrated with me, but she never did. She just smiled and corrected my awkwardness. Our legs intertwined and it became indistinguishable where I ended and she began; we were one pulsing being engrossed in ecstasy.

Little bits of sunshine streamed through the broken blinds, gently kissing Sammi’s bare flesh that peaked out of the sheets. She slept peacefully next to me; her dark curls splayed across her pillow, still full of life after a long night. I lightly traced her silhouette with a brush of my fingertips: first her shoulder, then down along the side of her breast, to the bottom of her ribs, dipping into her waist and back up where I stopped, noticing something for the fist time. Between her hip and belly button were layers of thin straight scars; some old and faded, but some new and barely healed. I took in a quick breath, realizing the origin of the scars. My fingers traced the mutilation, as if I could rub the pain away. Sammi’s eyes suddenly fluttered open, dazed with sleep. First she smiled, but then, noticing my hand, anger shot across her face as she quickly sat up, covering herself with the sheets.

“What are you doing?” she harshly scolded as she stood up and marched across the room, taking the thin sheet with her.

“I-I-I just-” I stammered, my face flushing. What was I doing? I was trying to make it go away. I gaped at her like an idiot, trying to figure out how this beautiful confident woman could ever want to hurt herself.

“ I’m going to take a shower, when I come back I don’t want you to be in here,” she commanded, refusing to look at me.

“Now,” she said tossing my jeans onto the bed and shutting herself in the bathroom.

“Um…ok,” I mumbled, gathering my clothes. After I dressed in silence I tip-toed to the bathroom door, pausing and said “Sammi, that doesn’t change anything…if you wanna talk-” but the door cut me off, quickly swinging wide open, revealing a vulnerable teary-eyed girl. She seemed so small and frail; I couldn’t believe that just hours before she had shoved me against the wall, biting my neck.

“Jess, leave,” and that was that. I slung my bag over my shoulder and went to hail a taxi.

I saw Sammi the next day in the dinning hall; she completely ignored me, taking her food to go.

         “Jess…hello?...earth to Jess!” Nate snapped his fingers in front of my face. It had been 3 weeks since Sammi acknowledged my existence; to say I’d been “a little out of it” would be an understatement.

“Yea, sorry,” I muttered, but not bothering to look at him.

“Are you sure you’re ok? Baby girl, I think there’s something you’re not telling me,” he coaxed, trying to demand my attention by putting a hand on either side of my face. “Even an idiot could figure out that you and Sammi…are…well avoiding each other. But something must have happened,”

“Mmhmm,” I was never one to talk about myself. Sure I’d listen to him vent for hours, but I didn’t know how to explain what happened with Sammi.  

“Baby girl, listen. I’m your gay boyfriend. It’s my job to tell you your outfit doesn’t match, your hair looks amazing, and whatever post-break-up consoling is necessary. But if I have no idea what happened, I can’t help you,” he energetically explained with a few stereotypically gay flicks of the wrist. I wanted to lay my head on his chest and confess everything. I wanted to tell him how I felt about Sammi, and what she was doing to her body. I wanted to cry and scream. I wanted Nate to rub my back and tell me everything would be ok. I wanted him to wipe away that tear that was now sliding down my cheek. But instead of doing any of this, I stood and walked away, leaving Nate’s empty arms.

         “Sammi!” I yelled, banging on her door. The past couple of months had been unbearable without her. I saw her every now and then on campus, but it had been at least two weeks since a sighting. “Sammi, lemme in we need to talk. If you don’t open the door I’m going to the RA and telling her everything!” the threat hit the door and echoed back at me. I waited in silence for a minute, and then I heard the soft click of the lock, but she didn’t open the door. So, I slowly reached out my hand and turned the doorknob myself, revealing the similar thin, fragile girl I once open the door to before; but this girl was thinner, and frailer. Her once tight Elmo T-shirt now hung off one boney shoulder at an awkward angle, and her skinny jeans were now belted and sagged. It made me sick to think of what she was doing to herself.

         “Sammi, this has to stop,” I whispered, afraid that my voice would knock her over. “I can’t stand seeing you hurt yourself like this. I don’t know what to do,” I explained, holding back sobs.

         “There is nothing you can do,” she responded without looking at me. She kept her steady gaze to the floor, totally avoiding me.

         “But, I want to help you. I want you to get better. I want to be there for you,” I could barely keep myself from sobbing; I now threw the words at her small frame between unattractive sniffles and hiccups. She now looked at me, her hollow pale eyes filling with tears. A boney finger swiped at one that tried to escape down her cheek. Still holding my gaze, she opened the door a bit farther and motioned for me to come inside, but didn’t say a word.

         “Sammi, please. Tell me what to do. I want to be with you, and I want you to be healthy. Babe, this is not healthy,” I flatly laid out the truth. Sammi defensively crossed her arms across her chest. “Please,” I begged.

         “I…I just…I just want to be pretty…” she sobbed, tears started to run down my cheeks again too.

         “You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” I whispered, rushing to her side. I brushed her thinning hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. I didn’t know how to make her understand.

         “Says you.” she shot at me with a glare.

         “Yes. Says me. Does anyone else’s opinion matter?” I shot back at her, waiting for her to apologize.

         “Yeah,” she whispered. “My own,” and then I lost her to a fit of tears. As if her frail frame could not take the crying, she began to sink to the floor, but I caught her with ease and lifted her like a newlywed, carrying her over to her bed.

         “I don’t know how to prove to you that you are beautiful besides telling you over and over,” I let out with a sigh gently brushing her hair, damp with tears, out of her face again.

         “Just, help me. I dunno, we can go to the nurse together, she will know what to do,” her once-strong voice decided.

         Anorexia.

         My girl was sick. She was anorexic. Her mind had waged war against her body, and won. Sammi could not see the thin girl that stood before me, but instead insisted that she was fat. But not in an “omg I’m sooo fat” middle school way, but in a tragically confused and irrational way. She didn’t eat. She didn’t sleep. She was obsessed with exercise. She was sick. And as hard as I tried to help her, she just wouldn’t let me.

         “Sammi, come on, I know you didn’t eat anything for breakfast, just eat a salad or something,” I quietly begged her at lunch. She had been doing better lately, but today I just couldn’t get her to eat.

         “Jess, just stop pushing me,” she scolded with a sharp look. She had gained a few pounds (that I was so proud of!) over the last few weeks, but she didn’t share my excitement. We had been exercising together, taking it slow.  But today I could tell there was nothing more Sammi wanted then to hit the treadmill and run a few miles.

         “Babe, please,” I whispered, kissing her temples and wrapping my arms around her waist.

         “Ugh, fine.” She sighed, wriggling out of my arms. She returned with 6 pieces of lettuce and a carrot. Not quite me idea of a salad, but anything was better than nothing. I watched her eat her “salad” in silence, without looking up from her plate. As hard as I tried and as much research as I did, I just couldn’t understand anorexia. My mind just didn’t grasp the idea of not really seeing how thin you really were. But even though I didn’t understand, I would do anything to save her from this illness.

         Over the next few weeks Sammi continued to gradually gain weight. She slowly was becoming the strong young woman she was before, but her attitude didn’t show for it. She was grumpy, rude, and sooo not appreciative of all that I did for her. We began to fight more often and argue about food and exercise. The nurse explained to us that in the same way that “it takes a village to raise a child” it will take all of her friends and family to help her get better. But our fights were becoming unbearable for me. Not only what she said to me, but the awful things, things that I didn’t think I was capable of saying, I said to her. One day, I just snapped. I just couldn’t love a girl who didn’t love herself.

         “Sammi! What is wrong with you! Why can’t you just eat your damn food? You are disgustingly skinny and need your strength! I’m sorry, babe, but I just cannot do this anymore,” I yelled at her, slamming the door at my back. Now looking back, it was definitely way to harsh, but I was putting too much into the relationship for her to put nothing in. How could I expect her to love me if she couldn’t even love herself? Even though I was obsessed with her and wanted nothing more than to save her, I had to stop or I was going to go crazy.

         I went home for the summer. My plan was to not let myself become a hermit and ignore reality, but my plans never really turn out so great. I sat in my room, staring at the pages of an open book; but instead of the words, my mind saw Sammi; the Sammi that I first knew; the voluptuous and powerful Sammi that I fell in love with. I held her dark green gaze and saw past her gorgeous outside, into her core, where she hurt. I tried to recall signs of what was happening to her, but everything I remembered of her was big and energetic. There were no signs. But I could not convince myself that no matter what I couldn’t have saved her. Maybe if I knew sooner? Maybe I could have stuck around and helped her more? But there was nothing I could have done. I hoped and prayed that over the summer somehow she would be cured; that her parents would take her to a psychologist and get her the help that she needed. But I knew they wouldn’t. I knew that they wouldn’t even notice that she had lost any weight, and if they did they would just be proud of her. Thinking so much of Sammi made me sick, so I put down my book and turned on the radio.

         Everything is Gonna Be Alright by the Killers

Huh. A sign? Or just sick irony?

         As the summer moved on I was able to trick myself into believing that Sammi was fine. I kept busy with babysitting and working at the local swimming pool. I even took Algebra at the local Community Collage. The rest of the summer went smoothly, and I was ecstatic to see my friends when school resumed in the fall.

         Two weeks before school started I received a call from Sammi’s Mother. She said that Sammi had been admitted to a rehab facility that takes care of those with eating disorders, after she passed out on the treadmill bruising a few ribs, and was taken to the ER. Her mother said that Sammi had asked to see me.

         I hung up the phone and cried harder than I had cried in my entire life. She wasn’t getting better, she was getting worse. At first I was furious. Why hadn’t she called me? She knew that no matter what I had said before, I would always be there to help her. I wanted nothing to do with her, I wanted to wash my hands of that girl. But then I quickly called the facility to make an appointment to visit Sammi.

         The staff showed me the pictures that they took of her the day that she was admitted for records. I thought that it wasn’t possible, but she was definitely thinner than when I walked out on her last spring. Her hair was thin and stringy, clinging to her face and shoulders with barely any life. Her once energetic and commanding eyes were empty and grey. There were also pictures of her new scars on her stomach. They were different than the scars that I found months before. These scars were thick and purple, as if she didn’t allow them to heal properly. Tears of regret and anger stung my eyes as I saw how my baby tortured herself. I rushed out of the office and slammed through the doors heading outside and to the far side of the building where they said her room was.

“I’m done!” I roughly shouted up to Sammi’s window. I knew she could hear me.  “Sammi!” I was not giving up so easily. Suddenly I saw a flash of the curtain.  “Sammi, I’m done pretending I don’t know…what I know. I’m done pretending I don’t miss you and that I can live with out you. Sammi!” I yelled as loudly as I could, hoping that she could hear everything I said. Just as I was willing to give up, I saw a beautiful, but tragically skinny girl opening the window. She stuck her head out and we just stared at each other for a few minutes.

“I’m done trying to do this alone,” she slowly responded, tears welling up in her eyes. In that moment I knew that I never wanted to lose her again. Moved by the moment I shoved my fear of heights aside and began to climb up the fire escape to my sweet Juliet.

“I’m done avoiding you,” I huffed, still climbing.

“I’m done ignoring your texts,” she smiled, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’m done kissing random people at drunken parties,” I laughed, almost to her window.

“I’m done hating myself,” she sobbed. Reaching her window and leaning into her for a kiss I finished our back-and-forth.

“I’m done pretending I don’t love you,” I grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her so passionately that she felt it in her toes. I loved her. Wow. I loved the way her nose wrinkled when she laughed. I loved the way her lips curled when she said my name. I love the way her eyes lit up when I entered the room. I loved the way her back arched when I ran my fingers down her spin. I loved the way her body pressed against mine when I kiss her neck. I loved the way her warm breasts felt under my hand. I loved the way her hands massaged my thighs in moments of bliss.

But I was too late. As the weeks flew by Sammi didn’t get any better. In fact, her health continued to worsen, her immune system giving up on her, and her digestive system rejecting any food.

“Eat something, baby,” I begged as I held Sammi in my lap on the couch. She barely had enough energy to walk to the bathroom now, and nothing I said could convince her to stop this awful addiction. Yes, addiction. That’s what people didn’t know about anorexia; it’s an addiction. My girl was convinced that she wasn’t skinny enough and became addicted to intense exercise and no nutrition.

“You know that I can’t,” she whispered, her face contorting in agony.

“Just try. Just eat some crackers or something,” tears began to crawl down my cheek and she caught them between her thin dry lips in a gentle kiss. I knew that she would eat the crackers to please me, but crackers could not save her now. My Sammi was gone. The fun, spontaneous, and voluptuous Sammi I fell in love with was now replaced with a ghost of herself trapped in bones and skin. I could count her ribs. Her sharp hips jabbed me in the stomach, but I held her tighter and tighter as if I could cure her of this disorder.

“Baby, you know that cracker won’t save me,” and now the tears slid down her cheekbone. I caught a wisp of her thinning hair between my fingers twirling it around, remembering the nights when thick dark curls splayed across my stomach.

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Rik B]

amazing words, great story, and very emotional. the other reviewers are right about it being long though. Needs to be broken down in chapters. would be a great short story for a magazine. Sorry for your loss.

[Crystal Marie Dreier]

This is a really good story! I liked it a lot and was sad to see it end. It was a bit long but thats the best way to have it. If its to short you leave out a lot of good details. But if it is long you have just the right amount of details. I like your style of writing!

[Lonnie Paul Johnson]

The story is well written, it reads smoothly. My only suggestion is the story is a little long that you might want to break it up into chapters or parts. you have good writing skills keep writing