In 1993 I was a college student who explored.
I explored dating during the height of the AIDS scare, and I watched how my friends did that. The following story will only be fully meaningful to other people that have been part of a peer group that learned about sexuality in a time and place where people genuinely did not know how dangerous it might be. There were advantages as well as fears. Compared to later generations we were much more aware of when love and lust did or did not overlap, we navigated a time with fewer surviving norms by simply being clear about asking what we wanted, and we did take naps in groups.
I explored the young internet, and I watched how my friends did that. I did not know that the Usenet channel alt.sex.stories was only a year old. But when I stumbled across it one day I felt a need to contribute.
When I wrote and posted this story it was the longest story I had written from the point of view of someone opposite to me in many ways, and the best piece of writing I had done that I would never show my parents. That adds some personal interest worth archiving.
Hello. My name is Mary, and I've never even thought about writing a story like this before.
The only other time I ever visited this newsgroup was a month ago. I was afraid to be reading one of these stories. Even though my roommate had gone home for the weekend I still felt like any moment someone would come in the room and see what I was reading. I felt like someone was watching me. And now it's me writing one of these stories.
But I hope this story is different. That night a month ago I only read two stories before I quit. Both were ugly: about ugly people doing ugly things to each other. If there was caring I did not recognize it. It was a story about animals, not about people. I was wanting to read about romance made physical and found only violence made romantic.
I hope most of you who read this are not like the people in those stories. This is a story about sex, but more about caring and about people. I probably will get dreadfully teased if my friends ever read this. But maybe not: the friends that would recognize the following events are not the friends who might tease me about them. At least my parents will never know. But you should know I'm writing this story for you, the people who read these stories and who (I hope) are looking for less ugly ones. Also I'm writing this because I did not like those other stories, and as an English major I feel a need to write a better one, as if that fixes something.
This is a story about Tony and I. Tony is... (Sigh)
I should start at the beginning.
The beginning I remember quite clearly. It was after Shakespeare class, and I was standing outside the classroom door, looking at Tony and letting all sorts of happy thoughts about him bounce in my mind. I hardly noticed I was staring at him; the thoughts were more embarrassing and much more distracting. I was thinking about his face, his hands and arms, the curve of his chest as his shoulder faced me. I imagined I was running my hands through his hair, or we were looking into each other's eyes. Few boys had this effect on me, and never before so deeply. I was raised a good Christian girl: when I now and then imagined moments of greater intimacy, I tried to suppress those fantasies. At that moment my mind was quite distracted trying to suppress a scene of me kneeling on my bed, arms around the neck of Tony, who was standing beside it; I was looking up at him, and we were about to be kissing each other, and feeling this reflected in his eyes and in the warmth of his hands on my back. Then Tony in real life left the classroom and paused just outside the door, quite near to me. He had a puzzled look on his face; he was trying to think where he should go, and my thoughts tried to jump into his mind: "Please just stand still, or dare I ask you to look affectionately my way?"
Then his friend Anne bounced up to him, set her hands on his shoulders, and resting her head on her hand asked, "I'm tired, let's take a nap until lunch." This was not all that strange: Anne was always bouncy, even when tired, and both of them were often hanging off each other or other close friends. But before I could stop myself, because it suddenly seemed that Tony had been mine for the past few minutes and then he had been stolen, I piped, "No!". They both turned and looked at me, and I was much too shocked to be embarrassed. I'm sure my eyes were huge and my mouth was hanging open, even though I didn't notice then. I started breathing again when Anne started giggling, but didn't finish the breath before Tony had stepped towards me and scooped me up into his arms. I remember having the silliest thought as I was literally being swept off my feet: has he practiced this sort of thing? Then he was walking down the hallway, carrying me, with Anne giggling along. Being held like that I had no choice but to put my arms around his neck. Honest.
The campus is small: the walk from the English building to Tony's dorm was not long and my weight never seemed to bother him. Not that I'm that big. Not that I knew nor cared where we were going. I could feel so much of him: his shoulder against my head, his arms under my back and legs. I could hear his breathing. I was unbelievably happy to be being held by Tony, but also completely terrified that one of my friends might see me. Although I'd been enjoying looking at Tony since the semester began, both in Shakespeare class and around campus, we had never even talked to each other before. How could I explain to my friends what was happening? How could I explain to myself?
Although I did not realize it at the time, I was also quite happy to be kidnapped. If I had asked him to be carrying me, to be touching me, or if I knew where we were going or what we were planning on doing once we arrived, then I would have to worry if what was happening was wrong.
Anne's giggling had stopped by the time we left the history building. In the middle of the quad she started again. Then she started humming, loudly and off-key. But I recognized the tune. How did Anne know my name? I probably would have blushed even if Tony had not started singing, loudly but not off key: "Maria, I've just met a girl named Maria, and suddenly the name will never be the same again to me."
I spent one moment wondering for the first time if I really wanted to be there. Then he spun me around once as he walked, and while doing so kissed my cheek. I'd never had a boy kiss me before; a few had asked to but I'd never let them. As I nearly fainted he sang a second verse: "Maria, I've just kissed a girl named Maria..." Anne was giggling maniacally now. I looked towards her and saw her face and eyes. Before I might wonder if she was feeling jealous of my being kissed I could see she was beamingly happy. She was having fun. And seeing her face, I stopped wondering if I wanted to be there and realized I was supposed to be having fun, too.
Inside the dorm, Anne opened the door to his room and bounced inside and rolled across his bed. Then she yawned, and stretched like a cat. Tony gently set me down next to Anne, kicked off his shoes while closing the door, and then lay down beside me. I lie still on my back, somewhat stunned. Then a poke from Anne told me to roll onto my side. That was better: I could face Anne; looking at Tony had suddenly become somewhat frightening. Anne smiled, then closed her eyes. Tony shifted, and after a moment Anne moved a little; then everyone was quiet.
Apparently the intention to nap until lunch was genuine. Anne soon fell asleep. Tony at one point reached over from behind me and brushed my cheek gently with the soft back of his fingers. By then my heart had eased from beating so quickly, and I decided to roll over to face him. He scritched my bangs and smiled, then closed his eyes again. I tried to fall asleep but couldn't. Soon I had resigned to looking at Tony sleeping peacefully, while slowly playing with the hair curling at his temples and forehead. His breathing was slow and peaceful. I could hear Anne's quiet breathing too. How strange it was to consider these two people my friends. They had to be friends: that I might be lying on a bed with two strangers was inconceivable. But I did not know his favorite flavor of ice cream, or what animal he would want to be if he had a choice, or what classes he enjoyed most, or any of those ordinary things. I realized I knew how he smelled. A pun snuck into my mind: these two were not just friends, but "close" friends. I realized there was something about closeness that was bigger than I was. The trust and friendliness, the permission to show warmth and even affection, it had overwhelmed me completely. I felt like Alice beyond the looking glass; I had entered a world not my own. I realized that in my imaginings when I hugged Tony I always had to let go of him, but now I could fall asleep with my arm over him and never think about letting go. I tentatively put one arm around him, then tried again to fall asleep.
I awoke to Tony brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers. As I slipped into consciousness I heard myself hum a contented sigh, and noticed I was smiling. I had rolled onto my back as I slept. I was looking up at his face and he was propped up on one elbow, looking down at me. He was smiling too, almost as dreamily.
Anne was awake. She shifted and leaned over me. She grinned a grin the Cheshire cat might have made, not for Alice but for a fellow conspirator. "Good morning," she beamed. "Falling asleep, I was worried you might regret having joined us. But you made such nice purring noises for a whole minute before waking, so I feel safer now." Apparently when just waking my expressions move faster than my thoughts: I barely had time to start panicking when she added, "Gee, she looks cute blushing". Then she sat up, bounced out of bed, stretched once, and left the room.
Tony seemed to have taken her words more seriously than she did. He stopped playing with my cheek. The look on his face asked, "Do you regret this?"
The question had a disappointingly serious tone, especially for just after waking up (even if Anne's comments had shaken most of drowsiness away). What I wanted to say was, "I don't want to talk about that yet, let's just rest a little longer." As I thought this, it occurred to me that I actually could say that, so I did. He closed his eyes, lay down on his side, and put an arm around me. With his other hand he played with my bangs, and he began to softy sing "Maria" again. I was a little disappointed when he did not kiss me again at the appropriate time in the song.
Anne returned, pausing in the doorway to look at us only briefly before turning to open Tony's closet door, reaching in to grab two socks from the top of a laundry pile, and then turning again to throw them at us. "Lunch time, sleepy-heads! If we don't git now, all the lettuce left in the salad bar will be floating. Up! Up! There's time enough at night for sleeping!"
As I sat up her last sentence struck me. Until that moment I had considered what was happening as a state, like dizziness, not as an event that might have an end or occur again. I thought of when I was a young child watching the raindrops dance on the windows of the car as we drove along: that was another moment so magical I became lost in it and couldn't imagine that it happened every time a car drives in the rain.
The walk to dining hall was also not a long one, but it was long enough to break the spell I was under. Leaving the dormitory it was all I could do to keep myself from skipping, or swinging around the lampposts out front. But by the time we had our food and were seated at one of the heavy, wooden tables I had doubted and redoubted that what had happened was a good thing, that I was a good person for having enjoyed it, that it should or might ever happen again. I felt more confused than guilty; people just don't go around taking naps together - what had I done?
Both Tony and Anne must have noticed as we ate for a few minutes in silence. Anne spoke first. "Troubled thoughts about this morning?" I nodded yes.
Anne smiled, and I was struck again by her expression. She was not laughing at me with that smile. She was again telling me that we were supposed to be having fun. When she resumed talking, I could tell she had put these next words together before, for herself, probably a long time ago. "People have two sources for what is right and wrong: their religion and the customs of the society they live in. In our case, neither source believes people can be cuddly but nothing more. Tony, myself, our friends—we have invented a different game, so it is our right and responsibility to make up the rules."
She waited for a minute, giving me time to think, and I could also see she was thinking. Then she continued, leaning forward, whispering conspiratorially, "Too many of the people in this room confuse affection and intimacy. They confuse closeness and sexuality. They lead far more interesting and painful lives, and I'm happier than all of them." As she said the last sentence she giggled, then fell back into her chair again.
Thinking about what she had said, I didn't notice how Anne's face grew daydreamy, or, after a minute, sad. I startled slightly as she very softly mouthed a sentence: "Only once did I have sex for pleasure, and I lost a friend in a way I hope I never understand." She looked entranced. I didn't think she realized she spoke out loud.
Tony's face looked as startled as I felt upon hearing this confession. But his look disappeared quickly. He closed his eyes, and began to recite:
"Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell."
It was clearly one of Shakespeare's sonnets, but not one we had discussed in class. Anne appeared to recognize it. She nodded and said, still somewhat detached, "Yes, there are good reasons to have sex but pleasure is not one of them."
An awkward silence then fell over the table, which was broken after half a minute by the chiming of the campus clock tower. Ten minutes until class, and I still had to run to my dorm room to switch which books and notes I had with me! "Uh-oh, class time," I explained, "Um, thank you, but I should go." Anne returned from her reminiscing to smile and say good-bye, and Tony waved as he watched me leave the dining hall.
I remember that I arrived at class a minute early, despite having to go to my dorm room first. I don't remember anything the professor said that day. I was too lost in my own thoughts.
I thought about Anne and brought myself to agree with her about the napping: it was too odd an activity to be inherently right or wrong. Then I had doubts: perhaps I was only thinking this because it freed me from blame? I was not like Anne: to me life was not a game but a gift from heaven. It is not enough to avoid doing what is wrong, I should be trying to do what is right. How could something neither right nor wrong fit into my life?
Then I thought about Anne's confession and the Shakespeare poem, and her last comment. What might she think was a good reason to have sex? Had she done so since she lost that friend? I caught myself thinking these things, and felt embarrassed. Why should I care? It was none of my business what Anne has done.
I thought about the students which Anne had referred to in the dining hall, the fraternity boys that went to drunken parties on the weekends to try to "hook up" with someone, the girls I knew for whom a romance was not about love and planning a future together but about sex and defining yourself through your boyfriend. Although I had dreamed or daydreamed about fooling around I had never considered actually doing so, nor ever had a moment when my desires came anywhere close to overwhelming my reason. Why were so many people around me acting on their desires? I thought about Anne's phrase, "far more interesting and painful lives", and wondered if these other people would agree if they compared their lives to mine. I normally felt I was happy. What if I only felt happy because I was too innocent to be sad? Might I also be too innocent to be happy? There was certainly the ecstasy of sex which, from what I had heard, I supposed would be more intense pleasure than I had ever known. There was childbirth, too, a pain more intense than any I had felt so far. If I was so ignorant of what happiness and pain could be, how could I assume that the contentness I normally felt with my life was actual happiness?
That afternoon I did my studies, but mustering the concentration to finish just what work was due the next day tired me out. I ate dinner with my normal circle of friends, but much of their conversation I ignored as I was again lost in my own thoughts. After dinner, when my roommate was at choir, I looked in my poetry book and found the sonnet Tony had recited: number 129. As I reread it, curiosity about "far more interesting and painful lives" grew on me until it dominated my thoughts. It was then that I used my roommate's computer to visit this newsgroup. As I mentioned during this story's introduction, in my search for what other people found attractive about sex I found only ugliness. Repulsed by the images the stories had put in my mind, I brooded in a wash of emotions, unable to relax or calm my thoughts. After half an hour I grew fed up with this misery, and looked up Anne's room in the student directory. I left to visit her: her comments put me into this mess, and I could think of no one else whom I could bring myself to talk to about such things.
Anne was in her room, alone (she and Tony were juniors and had singles, while I was a freshman), reading The Tempest, which we would discuss in class next week. Her door was open a bit, and when I knocked she saw me and invited me in.
Like Tony she had made a large bed from two mattresses, although hers were on the floor and her room was much smaller. She was sitting on the bed, sinking into a pile of pillows against the walls at one corner of the room. She took a pillow from behind her and tossed it to the opposite corner of the bed, against a bookshelf. "Sit down and relax. You can lean back against the bookshelf, it won't mind," she prompted. I was happy to do that. I was tired and the chairs that come with the dorm rooms are not very comfortable.
I closed the door and sat down. She waited for me to say something. After a minute I began. "It's not this morning. That was nice, and like what you said at lunch just a friendly thing to do." I stopped, unsure how to go on. My thoughts and emotions were still all jumbled, and putting words to them within my head was difficult enough, let alone finding words to describe them to someone else.
"We have but world enough, and time," Anne offered. I smiled at the irony of the reference.
Unable to formulate a new question, I remembered an old one. "May I ask you something personal?" I asked. Anne shrugged, but said yes with her eyes. "After Tony said the poem at lunch, you commented about there being good reasons for sex. What are they?"
Anne grinned; then her face grew serious as she put together a reply. "I only know what is true for me. All of what was nice this morning - trust, closeness, warmth, support, affection, togetherness, friendliness—while these can be communicated sensually, they can be even more truly communicated sexually. The 'can be' is important: it isn't true most of the time on this campus. Too many people are acting on lust instead of friendship when they have sex. They might not realize it. But we can lust for a stranger more easily than a friend, and if any of that lust is present during sex than the impersonality is present as well. The good reason you are looking for is the same reason anything is good: because both people want it to happen. But if they act on lust instead of friendship, then...it is so intimate than any impersonal-ness at all spoils everything. For me."
Her words, in her voice whose words had dominated my thoughts all day, gave me something to focus my thoughts on. But how people felt about sex or each other after having had sex was so foreign to my life that forming thoughts was like reaching for a cloud. My face must have shown how strained I felt; Anne said, "Don't worry about this; don't think too hard about it. Any time you are worried about or thinking too hard about sex means that you're doing something you are not ready for."
This I could think about. I recalled the books I had read as a child before I was ready for them. I remembered that the phrase "You're not ready for that book" had been often said by my parents but it always was meaningless, because I never understood what they meant until years later when I reread the book after I was ready. It had been a long time since I had found myself in this "not ready" state, but I was mature enough to recognize it now. With this realization my head began to clear, as if my subconscious had recognized defeat and was sending my troubles to some yet deeper level of pondering that was too far buried to trouble me.
As my mind became less jumbled, I realized how tired I was. I imagined weariness waiting in ambush until after the stresses of the day had left me alone. I yawned, betraying my sleepiness to Anne.
"Make yourself comfortable and I'll tell you a story before you go home," Anne offered. I tossed my pillow to the other side of the bed so my head would be nearer to hers and she would not have to talk as loudly. Anne picked up the pillow from where it landed and put it on her lap. Somehow being curled up on her lap like a baby was appealing now. After I had moved, an encouraging moment passed as I looked up at her, looking down at me and smiling. Then I let my eyes close and she began the story.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful maiden, the daughter of a poor craftsman in a small village. All the young men in the village wanted to marry her, but she saw they were simpletons and wanted only her pleasure and to have a house of their own to rule, so she declined each proposal. One night she had a dream, in which a dragon offered her a deal: he would take her to his tower and care for her well, and the finest princes and knights of the land would try to rescue her. In exchange for introducing her to these finest of men—honorable, wealthy, brave, and romantic—he would get to eat her if she was not rescued by the time Winter arrived and the first snow fell on the tower roof. In her dream, she accepted.
"When she awoke, she was startled to find herself in the dragon's tower, with the dragon outside. He heard her wake, and snaked his head to rest on the windowsill of her room. 'Good morning, maiden. In this tower you may enjoy all of my treasures: priceless jewels and rich clothing to wear, magical goblets and pots that produce never-ending supplies of what you mortals consider fine food and drink, and other trinkets both mundane and arcane to amuse yourself with.' Unsure what to do, the maiden said thank you and left the room to explore the tower and its contents.
"As Spring ended and Summer began, the princes and knights of the land could rest from supervising the planting of their or their lords' lands and ride off in search of adventure. Some found the dragon and his beautiful maiden held captive in a tower, but the dragon ate any who approached. They would charge forward on their mighty horses, and be startled when the dragon did not charge to fight but instead asked them, 'Would you make a good husband to my maiden?' 'Ha! I am a prince!' said one, who was promptly devoured. 'What might you expect?' answered another, 'I am a knight and am seldom home, and need a wife to care for my hearth while I am gone.' That one too was eaten. The maiden grieved for each one (except the gnarled churl who replied, 'Monster! I'll have my way with her as soon as I've had my way with you!': that one she was happy to see dangle, impaled by the dragon's tail), but she grieved less and less as the Summer went on.
"After three weeks, the dragon's deadliness had become as legendary as the beauty of the maiden he held captive. The dragon and the maiden began to notice figures peeking over the top of the hills a few bow shots away. They would both wave, and the figures would flee.
"The dragon was quite friendly to his captive. His parents had taught him many puzzling riddles and games with which to ensnare challengers, should he grow up to be that sort of dragon, and the maiden never tired of these nor of his stories of his past exploits and adventures. At one time she even called him, 'friend dragon'. At this he laughed and told her no, that he was no friend: if she was not rescued he was still going to eat her before he went to hibernate that Winter.
"Then one hot Summer day a peasant approached the tower, alone and on foot. 'Would you make a good husband to my maiden?' the dragon asked as the peasant drew near. The question startled the peasant, as it did all the others, for no one who had heard it asked had lived. 'I do not know her, dragon, so I cannot answer you question,' the peasant replied.
"Hearing this, the dragon stepped towards the peasant, and scrutinized him carefully. The peasant stood still as the dragon's head moved around him. Finally the dragon stepped back and turned to address the maiden. 'Here is a man who might be the good husband you were dreaming of so many nights ago. You are free. He has rescued you. Leave all my treasures but one: you may stay dressed as you are.'
"The maiden and the peasant left quickly. She sold the rich clothing to buy a house in his village, and they were almost always together. By the time Winter arrived and the first snow fell she was sure that what she felt for the peasant was more than gratitude for being rescued, and when the snow had melted and her love for him was still strong she accepted his silent but constant offer of marriage.
"They decided that the dragon was the wisest person they knew, and went to the tower to ask him to marry them. The dragon had returned from his Winter lair that very morning. Famished with hunger, he ate them both."
"What!" I sat up and exclaimed. The story was not supposed to end that way.
"Sorry," Anne shrugged, "That's how the story goes."
I fell back into the pillow with a thunk. "That's not fair."
Anne frowned. "It's what they got for being so in love that they felt even a dragon wouldn't hurt them."
I still didn't like it, but another yawn interrupted my further protests.
"Go on home," Anne said, "You need your sleep and I still have reading to do tonight."
I was too tired to catch the implication of the second half of her sentence. I stumbled back to my dorm room, and climbed into bed. When my roommate asked where I had been, I responded, "Chatting with a friend." Falling asleep, I realized that despite how close I felt to Tony after this morning, except for singing our song and reciting the poem, he had not spoken a word to me that day.
The next day I found Tony and Anne at lunch. I joined their table even though I did not know the other people with them, and felt very brave as Anne performed introductions. I joined their conversation, talking about classes and professors, complaining about dining hall food and brainstorming things to do that weekend. It was a Friday, and I innocently agreed to join their weekly Friday Afternoon Frisbee Game on the lawn behind New Dorm. This I found out involved one less frisbee than players, and everyone was supposed to throw to anyone who was holding a frisbee: a hectic pace that became completely unreasonable if you held onto a frisbee for more than a few seconds. Too add to the confusion, the group chanted Dr. Seuss stories as they played. Anne was completely at ease sing-songing "I will not eat them with a goat, I will not eat them on a boat..." as she caught and threw frisbees with apparently effortless grace. Tony could catch them, but not gracefully, and his aim was embarrassingly off; it was a treat to see him blushing this time. As a newcomer I was not expected to be as skilled as the others, and I must say I filled that role admirably.
The gang seemed to have some invisible signal to agree to end the game; all I know is that suddenly everyone else turned towards me, smiling evilly, and then I was assaulted by a barrage of frisbees while everyone else cheered and collapsed to the grass.
Not as exhausted as those that played more intensely, I went over to where Tony was lying on his back, panting slightly. "Don't laugh or you might choke," I told him, as I dropped to kneeling above him and did my best to imitate Anne's Cheshire Cat grin. He didn't take my advice, and I continued to make faces as he tried to laugh and pant at the same time. My hair was long enough to frame his face in a cute kind of way, and within this illusion of privacy it took a surprising amount of willpower to not lean down and kiss him or rub noses or something.
This delightful mood was spoiled by my remembering that, earlier in the week, I had made plans with a friend to go shopping after lunch. My mother's birthday was rapidly approaching, and for those of us without cars finding presents was especially tricky.
"Uh oh," I said, to explain the look of sudden panic on my face, "I forgot I was supposed to be somewhere an hour ago. I should try and find my friend and apologize." After a moment I mustered the courage to add, "What are you doing after dinner?"
Tony turned his head sideways to nibble on my dangling hair as he thought for a moment. "I don't have plans, yet. Have an offer I can't refuse?"
I shook my head no, which made him close his eyes. "But I'll have thought of one by dinner, I promise. See you then."
"Ok," he said, making a silly but happy face. I shook my hair again, and when he closed his eyes I kissed his nose quickly before running off, before I might think about what I was doing.
I went to Tony's room fifteen minutes before dinner. At least that was the plan. He and Anne, with some other friends I had met at lunch and the frisbee game, had claimed the second floor of one wing of their dorm during room draw last year. I passed Anne's room while going to his, and heard them talking. I knocked, and Anne opened the door.
"Hello," Anne sing-songed.
"Hello," I mimicked.
"Hello." Tony followed our lead.
My eyes went to his as I proudly teased, "I've come up with the offer you can't refuse..." They looked at each other and then back to me. "Do you have sleeping bags?" I asked.
Tony nodded his head yes. Anne shook her head no.
I took two votive candles in glass cups out of my jacket pockets, and bobbed them slowly back in forth in the air as I continued. "I have some friends in the Outdoor Club, so I know they built a raft down at the river this week. I thought we could go read stories aloud by candlelight on a raft on a burbly river with the stars above us, and have a campout."
Anne looked sad. "That sounds wonderful, but tonight I'm in charge of my friend Rachel's surprise birthday party, so I won't be able to go."
Tony looked quite wistful. "You're right," he smiled, "It's an offer I can't refuse."
Anne glanced at her watch. "Uh oh. I should leave to fetch the cake right now. Have fun, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Such as what?" I asked as she reached into a drawer. She took out two chocolate mint candies, which she placed in my hand.
"Um, daylight ruins skinny-dipping, so only do that at night." She smiled wickedly, and I blushed slightly when I realized her words had us both picturing me doing such a thing with Tony. "Tony will tell you what the candy is for," Anne added as she stepped into her shoes and slipped her purse over her shoulder. "I'll miss you both. Good night! Have fun while I'm with Rachel! Partying is such sweet sorrow." Then she bounced from her room and down the hallway.
I put the candles and candies in my pockets, and turned to face Tony. He took my hands in his. "Did you have in mind a book to read?" he asked.
"No," I smiled, "I thought we could decide on one together, over dinner."
Still holding my hands, he slowly spread his arms up to the sides. This pulled me forward; I giggled and tried to keep my balance but was as happy when I eventually had to step forward. He looked down at me and kissed my nose. I realized he was not thinking about his arms any more, so I leaned against him and put our hands at the small of his back. I squeezed this awkward embrace for a moment, then let go of his hands.
The clock tower chimed, reminding us of dinner. The line of students before the dining hall doors was lengthening as we looked at each other's faces for a moment, and then left the room.
Dinner and the drive to the river went quickly. My thoughts were too much on later that evening. Here I was, about to spend the night alone with a boy. And not just that, but far off in the woods and with romantic candle light. What was I thinking? What was I doing? We decided to read each other our favorite passages from The Princess Bride. When we had left the dining hall and gone to Tony's room, he asked if I would mind if he slept in only his boxer shorts, and I said no. He told me the candies Anne had given me were to eat when we woke up, so we wouldn't be disgusted by each other's morning breath. "You don't think hotels started putting mints on people's pillows for desserts, do you?"
That evening was wonderful. I'd rather not tell you anything about it, and just hoard it myself as a treasure. But what went through my mind as we fell asleep is important for the story I'm telling, so I'll share it. The reading was the best part, anyway, and that part is still mine to have and to hold.
We both had many favorite parts of The Princess Bride. It was quite late by the time we decided to stop reading and try to sleep. I think that as we read we both decided it would be nicer to sleep sharing a sleeping bag instead of in our two separate ones. In any case I asked Tony to join me and he did. He was dressed in his boxer shorts and I was wearing a very large shirt (and underwear, of course). The wearing little clothing had worried me at first, but I decided it was cold outside and it would be so nice to be warm and cozy and holding each other.
In one sleeping bag it was trickier to both get comfortable, especially on a rocking raft. Eventually we had nice positions figured out. I squirmed out of the sleeping bag a bit to blow out the candles, then returned to fall asleep comfortably. Tony gently played with my hair for a moment, kissed my forehead briefly, and whispered, "Good night, Mary."
"Good night," I wished back. I kissed him on the cheek.
After ten or fifteen minutes Tony had fallen asleep. Although I also was tired, I could not fall asleep quite so easily. Besides wanting to stay awake to enjoy holding Tony, besides wanting to kiss him again, I again became plagued by worries. I was falling asleep with a boy. Tony and I were not even girlfriend-boyfriend; we had never even told ever each other, "I love you." I expected lightning to strike the raft at any moment. But when I quieted my mind, all I could hear in the night was cricket chirping and the soothing lapping of the water on the raft. The world took no notice of what we were doing. All I could feel was Tony, held against me by the sleeping bag, one of his arms behind him and the other arm holding me. Oh, hold me, Tony, hold me, for I'm a grown up and do not want to be.
In the morning Tony was enormously happy. He awoke before I did. When I woke up he was looking at me, smiling brightly. He kissed me cheek and said, "Good morning," in a very cheerful voice.
I hugged him tightly and brushed my cheek against his. Then I yawned, "Come on, climb out of bed. Two people in one sleeping bag is quite warm. I feel sweaty and sticky; if we hadn't brought our swimsuits I might even be tempted to prove Anne wrong about sunlight and skinny-dipping."
I'm someone who normally takes nice hot showers after waking up. Washing in the cold river with Tony woke me up much more thoroughly. Kissing more also helped.
When we had arrived back on campus we said goodbye until dinnertime. Tony went to finish an art project and I went to wrap my mother's present (my friend had still taken me shopping the afternoon before—my, that seemed so long ago!).
At dinnertime I went to find Tony in his room. All day long I had been glowingly happy, and when I opened his door and he saw me and spoke, "Oh! Mary!" and stepped to me and held me. It took me a moment to realize something was wrong. There had been pain in his voice and I could feel it quivering in his arms and back as he held me.
I shifted how I stood so I could see his face, and asked, "What's wrong?"
He took a deep breath, and I saw he was crying—not the way I do, there was only one tear on his cheek, but his expression had changed from just being troubled to holding so much pain that I remember doubting I had ever felt that sad.
He failed to smile, took another deep breath, and whispered, "Oh, must we all cry before the day ends?"
His words made no sense to me, but looking at his face like that I hardly noticed. I had completely forgotten about the glowing happiness that had been with me all day. He hugged me tightly for a moment, and then took a half step back so we were only holding hands. Then he squeezed my hands and let them go too.
"Mary, something happened today, and...you and I, it can't work anymore."
His face was still so much pain, and I had been caught up in it, but as he paused after "and" I felt my own pain approaching and now bearing them both and looking at his eyes there was nothing else. I guess I couldn't even think about standing, because I was falling, and Tony caught me, and picked me up for a second time and he sat down on the edge his bed and I was sitting next to him with my legs on his lap and I cried into his shoulder and chest for long time. At first, for a long time, he was just holding me and crying too, but by shaking and not with tears. Then, finally, he grew calmer and his arms became strong again and he stroked my hair and neck until I stopped crying too. I didn't look up at his face until then. A part of me didn't want to be crying and to see him not crying; that wouldn't be as together.
My voice was soft as it broke the silence. "Please tell me," I asked.
Tony took another deep breath. "When I came back here from the art building I stopped by Anne's room to say hi and ask about how the birthday party went. I could hear she was crying from outside her door. I went in. She was sitting on her bed. Then she looked up at me, and leapt at me, pounding her fists against my chest. I hadn't recovered from the shock before she stopped and was clinging-hugging me and crying even louder."
Tony stopped talking and looked me. "I'm sorry, Mary, I never knew."
We looked at each other for a while. I'm not sure if it took me a minute to figure everything out because I didn't want to, or because I was looking at him, or because I'm just that slow.
"Tell me more," I asked. "Start from the beginning."
"I don't know what to say. We've known each other for years, since high school. I've never had a girlfriend, but she had two boyfriends during high school. Almost from the start we were like we are now, with being so comfortable together and cuddly and all that. That she too could be someone so open about all that but so afraid to say the word love..."
We were both about to cry again. He stopped talking, and held me tight. "Oh, Mary, Mary...You're such a wonderful person. Thank you so much for all you have taught me and helped me see. I haven't said I love you, but I can. I love you. There; it's true. But I hardly know you. What I feel for you must deserve to be called love. But it is so much attraction and chemistry and how well we spent time together. All we've been through in the past few days, I so enjoyed it and so hoped it would become something fit for forever. But other feelings already are."
I was crying and we were holding each other and I could feel in the hugging how everything he said was true. The "fit for forever" part scared me: he was the first person I really felt in love with and I didn't know what he meant. That there existed a love even more wonderful than how I felt for him enticed my mind, but was unable to comfort my tears. I didn't know what to do. But the holding and hugging was warm and I let it continue and soothe me.
We stayed like that until dinner was over, even after I had stopped crying. Neither one of us said anything. Then the clock tower rang. The bells reminded me of time, and time reminded me how happy I had been all day. I stood up and smiled at Tony, who again tried to smile but failed. I looked down at his face (he was still sitting on the edge of the bed), then kissed his forehead. We looked at each other a minute more. Then I ran a finger down his cheek, ruffled his hair, and left his room.
Thinking about bells and time and how happy I had been all day had told me what to do. I checked my jacket: the candles were still there. I took them out and held them. They were lighter than when I held them last night; that seem appropriate somehow. I went the few doors down and across the hall to Anne's room, and knocked. She opened the door, and I quickly held out the candles and said, "Here, Tony's talked to me and you're the one who needs these now." Anne did not look her normal, bouncy self. She looked like she had been crying a lot. I realized I must look that way too.
"Thank you," she said. Her voice was not steady as she spoke. I reached out and hugged her, as best I could while holding the candles. She slowly moved her arms and then hugged me back, tightly. Then I realized that when I had assumed Tony and Anne had said so much more to each other than what Tony had related to me, or that Anne had even been able to go to dinner, that these were only assumptions.
I let go of Anne and pressed the candles into her hands. "There's another person needing hugs sitting on the edge of Tony's bed. Go and hold him and cradle his head on your breasts and even if it seems years too late don't say you're sorry for anything."
Then I turned and ran back to my own dorm and my own room, without looking back. I think I heard Anne crying as I went, but it might have been me.
For breakfast the next morning I went to the dining hall by Tony and Anne's dorm. Falling asleep had taken a very long time. But by the time it happened I had thought about everything enough that I thought seeing Anne and Tony making each other happy would make me happy.
I expected them to show up much later than normal and together. But, not much later than normal, Anne arrived alone. As she carried her tray of food to my table I saw she was angry. I was about to ask her what was wrong, but she started talking as soon as she set down her tray.
"He left! This morning I woke up and he was finishing getting dressed! I look at him hurt and confused, and ask him to come back and talk, but he said he couldn't and left! After all this time and it turns out he's no better than all the rest of them! Men!"
"Shh. Calm down," I asked. Most of the people around us were staring at her. And I couldn't think at all about how to help her while she was yelling.
"Humph! Blah!" she spat, and threw herself into her chair. She looked down at her food briefly, and then looked at me, then stared at the table.
We both sat in silence for a few minutes, looking at the table but not touching our food. I thought of what to do.
"Hyagh!" I yelled, leaping from my seat towards her, sticking out my tongue, throwing my arms out and knocking my cup of water over and across the table.
Anne screamed and leapt backwards in her chair. Then she glared at me. "What was that for?"
"I just wanted you also to have felt scared this morning." I sat back down and tried to take a bite of my breakfast as if nothing had happened.
Anne's not as slow as I am. I counted only two seconds before she muttered a profanity and bolted back towards the dorm.
By now everyone in this room of the dining hall was looking at me. I don't think I knew any of them; this wasn't where I (or any of the freshmen) normally ate. And even if I had known anyone I don't think I would have cared right then. I picked someone random girl looking at me and smiled a Cheshire Cat smile at her, took Anne's cup of juice from her tray, and then happily finished my breakfast.
After breakfast I went to Tony and Anne's hallway. I would be late for history in five minutes, but I didn't care if I missed the class entirely. I had often wondered earlier that year why so few other freshmen were like me and never missed classes. Before I had assumed they were lazy and slept through them. Now I wondered if their "more interesting and painful lives" were responsible.
Walking through the dorm to their hall, I was not sure if I would find them in Tony's room or in Anne's. I went to Tony's room first and knocked on his door.
At that moment the guy's bathroom door opened. They both came out: Tony was wearing just his towel and was carrying Anne, who was wearing only a big towel with Tony's neighbor Mitch's name on it.
Tony smiled at me. "Good morning, Mary! Would you mind opening my door and leading us in? My hands are full."
I was very confused but happy that they were happy, so I opened the door and went in. Tony set Anne on the edge of his bed and sat next to her. I took a chair by his desk.
Anne, bouncy again, giggled at me. "So, you want the story?" she asked.
"Um, if you wouldn't mind," I replied.
"Thank you for at breakfast, first," she said. Tony nodded. "So I come back to find him but he's not in his room. I hear that someone is in the men's shower, so I peek in to the bathroom and his towel isn't on the big rack by the sinks. So I say real loud, 'Tony, it's Anne. I won't say anything until you do but I want to just hold you for a while.' Then I undressed and went in with him. He had the water turned on awfully hot, I guess as some sort of attempt at being hugged..."
"McBeth syndrome," I interrupted. "Feeling guilty and trying to wash himself."
Anne smiled back at me. "Anyway, so we hold each other and are showered on for a while, and eventually he says, 'Thank you,' and I tell him about at breakfast, and then we got out and dried off and came out and met you."
"Ta da," beamed Tony.
"Hm," I said. I couldn't think of anything else to say. Then I decided to tell them a story whose idea I had made up over breakfast.
"All right, you two," I began, trying to sound matronly, "it's time for your story. I'll turn my back while you two get under the covers."
After they had gotten in bed I moved my chair beside them. Here's the story I told them. Then I was almost making it up as I went. This version will have better grammar and maybe better wordings.
"Once upon a time there was a couple named Tom and Nancy. They were walking in the park one day when they found a baby dragon. 'We can't leave the poor thing to starve!' said Nancy. So they decided to take care of the dragon, and took it home.
"Dragons are naturally greedy. As it grew, it demanded more and more of their time and energy. First Nancy had to give it most of her jewelry to nest on. Then they had to put most of their home's decorations in the attic, for the dragon would wreck things as it learned to fly. It also ate a lot, and as it grew (dragons actually grow up very quickly, despite what some stories say) it ate more and more. Soon it was eating a tremendous amount of food.
"Tom and Nancy knew that the dragon would never survive on its own; it had become too spoiled. And they felt quite attached to it. But they could see it was ruining them. They never spent the evenings holding each other and talking in front of the fireplace anymore. They never went on walks through the park or along the beach. All they did was care for the dragon.
"'What shall we do?' asked Nancy one night. She was crying and Tom could not help her.
"Then they heard a knock at the front door. Tom answered the door, and saw a wandering holy woman. 'I have heard your plea,' she said. 'Poor people, you should know there are no such things as dragons. It is something else disguised by a curse.' The holy woman went over to the dragon, and said, 'By the mercy of God, begone foul curse!'
"The dragon cried out, and fell to the ground. It rolled and thrashed about, and before their eyes it changed. It shrunk, and grew more human. When the restoration was complete, an angel lie on the floor: thin, starved, weak, and barely glowing. Tom and Nancy cried, 'Ooh!' and held hands, for the angel was more beautiful than anything they had ever seen before. The holy woman wept, for she had also never before seen an angel.
"The holy woman then told Tom and Nancy, 'Angels are not like dragons. The curse has made this one weak. Nurse it tenderly back to health. But unlike the dragon it will fly back to where it belongs once it has regained its strength. Yet it will remember your tenderness, and visit you when you call to it, so again you can share the glory of its presence.
"And that's what happened. The end."
I smiled at Tony and Anne and they smiled back at me. I kissed them both on the forehead, sighed, and then scritched their bangs before leaving.
The End