3:37 PM 9/27/02 Part three
Final

The ice cream never did come up. Something else came up though. Came up and wouldn’t go back down, no matter how much it got in the way. I'm very glad it didn't. The subject of us. US. A fantastic dream or a terminal reality? Easy, the choice was not. A choice did need to be made. I tried to take the easy way out and leave the choice up to her. "I'll be here, living with Matthew in our apartment, whether you choose a life without Mitchell or no. Albeit, my life may take a different path after the choice, but immediately my life will be the same." She was too nice to leave the decision completely on her shoulders. She knew what her choice would be and she needed to know that I could handle it. So a choice went unmade and we kept up the masquerade.

I started a notebook to her the night after the park meeting. A notebook that I put my heart into. I said things that I can't say aloud, things that I meant. Things that expressed more clearly how I felt than I even realized. Not all of the thoughts expressed were good, or even nice. But they were truth. Each word written had a distinct disadvantage hanging on it. Each word written made it that much harder to part with. It's one thing to think something; it's something completely different to say it out loud. 'Compressed heart in a notebook' is no different. The notebook ended on the 76th page with a conclusion. A final decision, so I thought. On the cover I had written a name for it. "Wait forever just to touch you." On the final page I explained to Samantha that I would probably have to.

She came over one morning a few days after I gave her the notebook. Rang my doorbell and awoke me from my nightly sleep. I stood and started for the door when I realized that it would be very improper to answer said door in my underwear. I returned to my bed, grabbed my blanket, and resumed my journey to the door. I made sure all of the proper bits of anatomy were where they were supposed to be, wrapped the blanket around and opened the door. "Its 12 o'clock and you’re still in bed?"
I confirmed her disbelief and invited her in. Brought her to my bedroom, asked her to sit, and laid back down, hoping to resume my daily ritual. Alas, it was not to be. In typical girl fashion she wanted to talk. "Fine, let her talk," I thought to myself. A pause in her speaking caused me to open my eyes. She was looking at me. Probably expecting a reply to whatever she had said. "What?" I asked, waking up. "I just wanted to make sure that this is what you want," she replied, talking about my decision from the notebook. That was my decision; I just didn't mean it completely at that point. I kind of stuttered and explained that that was the path I thought best. "Is this what you truly want?"
"No," I replied. I couldn't lie, not to her.

Once the formalities were out of the way we started in with the flirting. Then with the petting. And before I knew it, it was time for another decision. This decision she left entirely up to me, with the words "This is something that you can only do once in your life. And you'll have to live with it for the rest of your life." I thought on that for a bit. "You should probably go, I don't want you to be late for work," I said. I stood and helped her up. She gathered her things. On her way out she left me with a great reason to have her come back.

Over the next few days I did a lot of thinking. I came to the conclusion that the situation called upon a moral line to be set. One which could not, would not, be crossed. A line that I knew I would jump over if she were to visit again. So I avoided her. She emailed me. I read it and my heart cried out. I ignored it. I know, I'm an asshole. After about a week of this she came over. Awoke me from bed. Same routine. I opened the door, saw it was her and invited her in. she declined and said she couldn't stay as she had to work in a half hour. My alarm went off in my bedroom. I ran to shut it off and returned. She was seated in one of my chairs. "I wanted to hear it from your mouth," she said. "Hear what?" my stupidity replied. Even then I couldn't say it. She sighed. I felt so bad, she looked so sad and I couldn't do anything the cheer her up. Only make it worse. I explained where I stood and hoped she understood. I must have hit the snooze button for the alarm started in with its annoyance again. I ran to shut it off and when I returned she had the door open, ready to leave. "I just thought you would have said something." She walked out the door. "I probably should have," I stammered, feeling horrible. She made a "meh... what can you do" sound and turned and left. I closed the door, slid to the floor and almost cried.

A couple of weeks later I decided to write a story about our experience. I wrote the first part and asked her to read it, making her promise that she wouldn't get mad. She read it and replied that it wasn't her that I need worry about getting mad. I explained to her that I approached the story with the same attitude as I would if he came to me asking questions. I would answer him truthfully. She got off ICQ and I went home for the night. Checking my messages the next morning I noticed she had written me. I opened it and read "I would request that you remove my name, dates, and the place we met, as I am trying to repair things with him."

Fin