Boarding School by Peter

Boarding School

by: Peter

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Chapter 13

So we graduated and went our separate ways. We stayed in touch by letter and phone--we even had phone sex once--and we got together over the 4th of July as we'd planned. It was a roller coaster of emotions, from hot, raw-even rough--sex, to tender lovemaking. We professed our love many times, often in terms of desperation, as if it might be the last time we would be together.

We got together twice that summer before we went off to college. We saw each other over Christmas, but not spring break. It was like that each year, twice over the summer and at Christmas. It was like we were on a schedule. It wasn't enough but it was all we had. It wasn't enough for Chad and it didn't come close to meeting my physical needs. We had talked about it and agreed that we wouldn't, probably couldn't remain "faithful."

I wasn't promiscuous but I got my share of sex. I didn't play college sports but I befriended one of the jocks from the soccer team and he and several of his teammates provided me with all the sex I could handle. I spent many nights in their dorm.

Chad wrote that he was doing okay, too. I didn't doubt it. We spoke on the phone from time to time but our conversations seemed uncomfortable at times. We seemed more ourselves in our letters. I liked it, too, that I could reread his letters.

We didn't make it to each other's graduation; they were on the same weekend. He called me but it was short; there was too much going on. His parents gave him a trip to Europe for graduation and I took a job at one of the companies where I'd served an internship so the summer following graduation turned into the fall and then winter, and we didn't see each other. It seemed our lives had been taken over by the total reality of living.

I never stopped loving him, but time made it easier not to miss him so much. It was the next Fourth of July before we got together again, and again over Labor Day, and the passion was still there but I felt the love was waning. Not mine; his. I felt his passion was laced with raw lust. It made for great sex, but the aftermath was left wanting.

We didn't talk much on the phone. We still wrote letters, and then I wrote letters, without getting a reply. I didn't call him to see what might be wrong. I was afraid to. Then one day I got a notice from the post office that I had mail that had to be signed for. I drove to the post office and signed for fat, heavy duty mailer from someone named Madeline Ford.

I didn't know anyone named Madeline Ford. I sat in my truck and pulled the zip tab on the mailer with a feeling in my gut that this was not good news. I dumped the content on the seat beside me; a bundle of letters tied with a ribbon and several other letters and envelopes. I flipped through the letters in the tied bundle; they were my letters to Chad. I sorted through the loose ones and found the last three that I had written to Chad, unopened. There was a plain blue envelope and another letter addressed to me bearing the return address of this Madeline Ford. My hands trembled as I opened it. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Dear Justin:

We don't know each other but I feel I know you from listening to Chad talk so much about you. By way of introduction, I am Madeline, Chad's fiance.

I went numb. My eyes seemed to freeze and I couldn't make them focus to read any further.

Fiance!?!? When? How long? When was he going to tell me this little bit of news? The pages shook in my trembling hands and I had to lay them on the steering wheel.

Chad and I were to be married in October. It was to be a simple and very private affair. We were going on a cruise and be married on the ship.

It wasn't to be.....we were.....why was she writing in the past tense?

It was not to be. Chad was killed in a car crash two months ago........

The words trailed off in my head, as if my brain was refusing to process them. "Oh, God! God, no," I breathed. I stared at the words, I read them over and over again till they began to come back into my reality. I didn't want them there but they came back.

I was permitted to go retrieve my personal things from his apartment, with his mother, and she asked if I would help her go through his things. I came across these letters and thought you might want them. You understand now why the last ones were not opened. The others, along with a few notes that I had written him, were found in a very nice treasure box that he had apparently bought just for their safe keeping. Unless you want the chest, I would like to keep it. Let me know, and if you do want it, I will part with it and send it to you. Somehow, I feel you have as much right to it as I do; I am being selfish.

I was reluctant at first to mention this, but I shall. There was one letter from you, laying open, on his nightstand where he had apparently been reading it. With it was a letter he had started, to you. I thought you should have it as well. I must admit, with some guilt and shame, that I read them both. I also read part of one of your other letters to him but guilt overtook me and I put it away. I do not regret reading what I did, though.

I did not know the extent of Chad's relationship with you. Nothing in his words or actions gave a clue that he might have been bisexual. So I didn't really know his true sexual orientation, but he was totally straight for me. He was an incredible lover. He was apparently so with you as well. You should know that I was very surprised but I am not upset about this. Had he lived and had I known what I know now, I still would have married him. I loved him, and he loved me. He loved you as well, and I know you loved him. I loved him enough that I would have shared him with you if that made him happy, and I hope you might have felt the same towards me.

I don't know if we will ever meet but it is a comfort to know that you are out there and were such an intimate part of Chad's life. It brings me comfort that he found such happiness before me.

With deep respect and gratitude,

Madeline.

PS. I went through everything of Chad's as thoroughly as possible to insure that there was nothing 'unseemly' that his mother might find. I found nothing "incriminating."

I sat staring at the top of the steering wheel, numb from shock. It was supposed to be "Until." I heard the words but didn't know I had spoken them; they seemed to come from far off. Then I came to and the reality of it all washed over me and I began to tear up.

"It was supposed to be until, dammit, not never." I felt the emotions swelling up inside me but I fought them down. I didn't want them to emerge; I didn't know what they would be--anger....hurt--I just didn't know, and I didn't want to find out.

Gradually, as it soaked in, I felt my world crumbling in slow motion around me, till I felt crushed. I was aware of people coming and going but I didn't know how long I sat there. The pages of the letter fell from the steering wheel onto the floor. I picked them up, folded them carefully and put them back in the envelope. Then I gathered everything up and put it back in the mailer, including the unopened blue envelope.

To be continued...

Posted: 01/07/11