Narrator: Crystal Jennings
What happened to the tender embraces and the passionate kisses? His lips touched mine so adoringly only minutes before they furiously locked on Kieth’s. His heart turned into a rock at that moment, betraying every “I love you” he said to me as he would stroke my hair and look ardently into my eyes. All that became ashes out of a chimney, thrown away like the core of an apple.
Now he’s probably gasping and choking with pleasure as they take off each other’s clothes, feasting his eyes on Kieth’s crotch and plunging in for the big ride. And Greg looks so happy in my mind as he does it. To think that I had planned to be the one in bed with him, on the floor or the kitchen island for that matter…
I was going to let him have me - every part of me, to make it feel right and complete to call us ‘us’. Instead, I’m here alone sitting on the toilet lid crying and wondering why things turned out like shit. I had to watch the guy I thought I really, quite positively, loved, dry-humping a man who had been chasing after him for years. Everyone clapping and whooing as I hid in the corner of the room, waiting patiently for Greg to give me one last look to say “I’m sorry” so that my tears would go away. That’s all I really needed from him at that moment.
I remembered that day in 9th grade after school; the day I started to love Greg. It was a petty little incident; I’d grazed my knee on the asphalt of the school courtyard to get attention – from Wes. I was sitting there crying as the huge cut bled, crimson running down my leg like a river, waiting for Wes to stop flirting with that bitch from L.A. But Greg came instead, like a knight in shining armor. He cleaned it all up, gently, and as he did so,--
“Crystal, it’s Cam, may I come in?”
--he hummed and I sang to it.
"It's a good thing tears never show in the pouring rain,
As if a good thing could ever make up for all the pain,
There'll be no last chance to promise to never mess it up again,
Just the sweet pain of watching your back, as you walk,
As I'm watching you walk away."
I heard a second voice. A deep innocent voice, slightly nervous but not as distorted as my voice sounded through the sobs. I opened the door, but we didn’t stop the ballad. No, we did not stop the ballad. We sat down together at the edge of the cold bathtub, not looking at each other but singing together.
As we said the last line, I noticed how this boy had managed to drown out the soft hum in my heart. He put his arm around me and it felt warm; the way an arm of a person who truly cares is supposed to feel like. My head felt so right against his; I had to touch his hair, the softness of it was irresistible and I missed it from those mornings a long, long time ago.
He asked me to untie his hair and obliged. I could see the strands of his hair coming loose, the pressure of the ponytail slowly subsiding. Cameron always knew what a person wanted, or more importantly, needed. Somewhat similar to Greg at the beginning of our relationship, when things were fresh and blooming. My reminiscing was interrupted by the sight of Junior’s tears. He told me he was fine and I felt a pang of admiration in his ability to let himself go in front of a girl without being embarrassed.
I gave a weak smile as Cameron gave me full permission to indulge in his hair. By letting me, he was telling me he’s there and with every strand he permitted me to run my fingers through, he reassured me of it – he promised it. Just as I had, as I allowed him to fondle the layers of my dress.
As I cried next to him, attempting to control myself, he told me to understand Greg and how he was wrong to have believed he was straight. These were the right things to say; however I didn’t know where to begin to understand and more importantly, accept. But at that moment, that wasn’t as important to me as the man who was trying, and very well succeeding, to console me.
We stopped talking for a moment and I wondered what I should do. I didn’t want to hurt Cameron’s pride by treating him like the rebound guy, but my body began to ache – for something more from him. I was being selfish, but that’s only human. And then, as though he had read my thoughts and decided to return them… He kissed me sweetly on the forehead. That was it. That was the end of controlling my emotions. I didn’t care. I needed him – I needed those lips on mine and that tongue in my mouth, exploring every corner of it.
I rested my hand on his face and stared at his lips that looked so enticing. Sexy – that was the word for it; a refreshing, virtuous kind of sexy.
“What are we?” He said as he breathed in and gulped out of nervousness or perhaps lust.
I replied in a whisper, “Let’s find out.”
I didn’t know what would come of it, but as my mouth lingered upon his, I felt something extraordinary. I was brought to life again and this was pure bliss. He kissed back and I couldn’t sense any reservations on his end, although I can’t say I was in the most cognizant of states; so I lured my tongue into his mouth and teased his. I moaned in want of more, although I’m not sure I made a sound; but my heart was begging for it, it was pleading and I wanted so much to answer it’s request.
Then my heart suddenly lost it’s appetite for it. And I noticed something strange, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. My eyes weren’t clouded anymore – the rain had stopped.
“The rain has stopped,” I said gleefully. He had licked my tears away. How can I say thank you?