We were at my aunt Marilyn's house, or old house I should say. She was moving out, and getting a divorce from her husband Jim. I never knew him long enough to call him "Uncle Jim", and it seemed I wouldn't get the chance. He was reluctantly tolerating my mother and I being at his house, picking up the last few personal items of my Aunts, and appeared to be glad to be rid of it. I had heard my mother and Jim yelling in the kitchen when we got there, and Mom was in a hurry to get out.

"Okay, Mom." I replied.

Through the house, down the hall, into a small guest room was where the rest of Aunt Marilyn's clothes were piled. Grabbing the last stack full, my mother and I headed for the car, but as I packed in the last load, I heard my mother and Jim yelling again inside the house.

"Come on, let's go." She said, with a steamed look on her face as she stomped out the front door and climbed behind the wheel of the car.

It was a long and silent trip home, the tension showing on my mother's face, and I was glad to be headed back. I had only caught bits and pieces of Mom and Jim's argument and didn't really understand exactly what they were yelling about. I suppose it was a subconscious choice on my part, blocking out the meaning and the words, as it brought back distant but cutting reminders of the times I heard Mom and Dad arguing. That was before my father left and got remarried.

The familiar sights of our neighborhood seemed to lighten Mom's spirits a little, as well as mine, as I began to look forward to examining my new toy. Pulling in the driveway and opening the rear hatch of the wagon, Mom said, "Take everything up to Marilyn's new room and lay the dresses carefully on the bed. Don't just throw them on the floor." It was a shot, I knew, but couldn't help from replying sarcastically in response, " I know...!"

My mother had told me the week before about Marilyn coming to live with us for a while, and to be honest, I was looking forward to her being in the house. Marilyn was my mother's kid sister, almost a full ten years younger than herself, and had stayed with us before when she was in college. She was in her last year and Mom invited her to stay with us to save a little money and have time to study for her finals. She wasn't married to Jim yet, but I think they were dating. There were two things that I remember best about Aunt Marilyn staying with us. Number one was the fact that she was fun. She kind of treated me like a brother, and not having either a brother or sister, it was new to me and I liked it. And like a sister, she was the first to take my side when it came to things concerning my mother, defending me when I got into trouble, and teasingly coaxing my mother into letting me do things that she felt I shouldn't get or do; stay up that extra hour on a school night, eat ice cream for lunch, the typical mischievous things that aunt's are perfect for.

The other thing I remember was Aunt Marilyn walking around the house. Nothing more than that, except for the fact that she would walk around not wearing much. I suppose it was because she considered me to be just a kid, but at thirteen, I knew better. She would walk around at night wearing just a long T-shirt and panties, curling up on the sofa to watch television on the weekends with me, unknowingly showing lots of leg and an occasional panty shot. She was young and beautiful, having a magnificent chest that filled her T-shirt up and bounced magically when she walked, long blond hair that she'd pull tight into a pony tail, and all the right curves of a beautiful woman. I might have been only thirteen, but already had to disguise the tremendous boners I would get when she was around.

Marilyn would be staying in her new room, which was actually my room, but I didn't mind that either. Like before, it meant that I would get to call the basement rec room mine, as I'd done when she stayed the first time. Although the two basement rooms weren't quite finished, they were perfect; a TV, my own bathroom, and my own door to the back yard, it was as close a young boy like me could get to having his own apartment, and it made me feel older.

"What's this?" My mother asked, lifting a pile of dresses from the back of the wagon and uncovering the old computer.

"Jim said I could have it, he was gonna throw it out." I replied, sensing my mother's suspicions.

She gave me a look of doubt, and stopped for a moment.

"Honest, he was going to throw it out 'cause it didn't work so I asked if I could have it." I pleaded.

"Well, all right. But, I don't want you taking it all apart and just leaving the parts laying all around with all that other computer junk down there." She answered, again sarcastically.

"It's not junk, Mom. I just keep the parts that work so I can put together ones that will work." I said, defending the mess I'd created on the rec room work bench. I'd collected a few computers from friends and other places, and had learned enough to put together a few from spare parts. My friends and I would trade parts, always trying to find new ways to soup up our computers for gaming.

"Okay, but I don't want all that stuff just laying around. Understand?" She said as she walked in the front door.

"All right, Mom." I grunted, picking up a heavy load of Marilyn's dresses and hoisting them over my shoulder to take into the house and up the stairs.

I had already moved my things downstairs, eagerly moving into my new digs as soon as my mother had said the word, and couldn't wait to inspect the computer I'd found. Dumping Marilyn's dresses on top of her bed, I dashed back down the stairs and out to the car. Collecting up all of the cables and keyboard, and grabbing the little computer's handle, I headed down to my 'room' to set to work.

I spent a while cleaning the little Macintosh off, an old SE with a hard drive, and clearing some room for it on the work bench when I heard my mother call down the stairs, " Bobbie?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I'm gonna go to pick up Marilyn now." She said.

"Okay, Mom." I replied. Aunt Marilyn had been staying at a friend's house since she split up with Jim, in a town about an hour away.

"I don't know how long it'll be before we get back. If you get hungry, there's some left over chicken in the refrigerator." She said.

"Okay."

"And I don't want you going out anywhere." She added, sounding stern.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll be right here." I replied. I had no interest in going out anyway, content to stay home and work on my new project.

"Okay, Bobbie. I'll see you in a little while." She said as she opened the front door.

"Bye, Mom." I replied.

Chapter Two

"No way, that's too much." I protested. "All right, how about this. I'll trade you a Flightstick and an 80 meg IDE for it plus any software you've got that it'll run."

"Deal." It was Ted, one of the kids from the computer club at school. He was a little too nerdy to hang out with, but he did let me borrow an external hard drive to test out that little Mac with. When I had powered it up for the first time last week, the computer came on but nothing happened. It just sat, staring back at me with a question marked floppy disk icon, and wouldn't boot up. After scrounging through a stack of old disks, I found an ancient Apple System diskette from school and popped it in, and was able to get the computer to boot. Good news, but that was all. It didn't even see the hard drive. After talking with Ted, a 'Maccie', he mentioned that he had an old external hard drive that I could test it with to see if the SCSI port still worked. Turned out that it did. The little Mac fired right up, albeit a little slower than I remembered, but seemed to work just fine. I don't know why I wanted to waste any trades on it; it was slow, it only had a black and white monitor, and you certainly couldn't find any games to play on it. But just the same, I kinda liked the little thing, and trading away an old, beat up joystick and little hard drive that was too small for anything seemed like a fair deal to have it running. Besides, it would be fun to get back into Mac's for a change.

"All right, I'll bring them over tomorrow." I said, saying good bye and hanging up the phone. Perfect.

"Come on, Bobbie!" Let's go." My mother yelled down the stairs. We were going out to dinner, Aunt Marilyn, my mother and I. Aunt Marilyn had been at the house for over a week now but it seemed as though I'd barely seen her at all. She spent a lot of time by herself, mostly up in her room, and I sensed that she was different than I remembered her. When I asked my mother if she was all right, Mom just answered, "She's going through a difficult time right now. She just needs a little space." I did my best to stay out of her hair, figuring my mother meant for me to avoid her around the house, but felt strange about purposely leaving whenever she walked into a room. So tonight was a bit of an ice breaker, the first time since she'd been staying with us that we would all go out, and I looked forward to it.

Dinner turned out to be pleasant, Mom taking us to a local pub that we'd gone to on the infrequent occasion. I enjoyed any chance to go there, not so much for the food, but because it had a couple of pool tables as well as video games, and my mother would invariably pass a few bucks my way to go play when she wanted to talk privately. Tonight would be no different, after finishing our food and chatting for a while, Mom slipped a bill across the table and asked if I wanted to check out the video games. I took the hint, and the money , and headed off to the other end of the pub. I guess it was after about an hour, my money long gone, that I came back to the table and had a seat. Mom and Aunt Marilyn were still talking, but not long after I sat down, Marilyn mentioned that it was getting late.

"Are you sure you don't want stay a while? I can leave you money for a cab, if you'd like?" My mother suggested.

"No, thank you. I think I'd like to go. I'm not ready for that yet." Marilyn answered. I didn't understand exactly what she meant by it, but my mother obviously did. Packing up and heading out, we were soon home.

Mom and Aunt Marilyn headed upstairs to their rooms, and I hopped down the stairs to my new room. It wasn't too late and I didn't feel tired enough to hit the sack just yet, so I flipped on the television and plopped myself down on the couch, hoping to find something good to watch. After surfing the channels for a while, I settled on an old horror movie running on one of the late shows, when I heard footsteps in the kitchen above. I didn't really think twice about it until I heard the same footsteps coming down the stairs into my room. To my surprise it was Aunt Marilyn.

"Hey, Bobbie. Can I come down?" She asked, gently walking down the stairs with a glass in her hand. She was dressed in baggy pajamas, and wrapped in a overly large terry cloth robe that hung nearly to the floor.

"Um... sure, I'm just watching TV." I answered. Aunt Marilyn sat down at the opposite end of the couch and curled her legs underneath her, sipping slowly on her glass of wine.

"I couldn't sleep, and heard the television, so I thought I'd come down." She said.

"Yeah, it's an old Vincent Price Dracula movie." I replied.

"Oh, I remember this one." She answered, watching along with me. After a minute or two she added, "I remember when we used to watch these all the time."

"Yeah," I replied with a chuckle, remembering for myself the times she'd stay up late with me watching the old late show movies, laughing at the ridiculous monsters and keeping me from getting frightened at the scary scenes. "That was a lot of fun."

We sat quietly watching the movie, when Marilyn took a long sip from her glass then quietly asked, "Bobbie, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Aunt Marilyn." I answered, sensing that it was something important she was about to ask.

"Are you..." She began, then hesitated slightly. " Are you mad that I'm here, staying at the house?"

"Huh?" I replied without thinking, feeling a bit confused.

"Well... It's just that since I've been here you've been..." She started, then paused, "... aloof."

"Huh?" I said again, thoroughly confused now.

"I'm sorry, maybe it's just me." She apologized, looking a little embarrassed and taking another sip from her glass.

I sat silent for a moment, feeling dumb for not knowing what it was she'd meant, ...aloof. Swallowing a little pride, I asked. "What does aloof mean?"

"Well, it means ...distant. I just felt that whenever I walked into a room or anything, you just seemed to disappear, like you didn't want to see me..." She began to explain, but halted as her voice began to betray her emotions.

I didn't know what to say, and stammered pathetically, " I... I..."

"It's okay. I understand." She said, sounding increasingly emotional.

"No, wait.." I pleaded. "Please don't... It's not like that, not like that at all." She looked up at me with teary eyes and my heart leapt into my throat as I saw the sadness she felt.

"I just... " I started to say, then began again, "Mom told me that you needed space, and that I should stay out of the way. I thought that's what you wanted, so I just... well, I don't know..."

Marilyn let the tears roll down her cheeks, unmoving as she looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes, and began to smile softly. "You are just too sweet." She said softly.

It brought a smile of relief to my face, seeing her spirits lift, and as I sat looking into her eyes, I began to see her in a different light. Aunt Marilyn had always seemed like such together person to me, confident and strong, always happy, alive. And as she sat looking at me with her soft and loving eyes, seeing her for the first time as a vulnerable and gentle woman, I began to feel my heart beating a little harder. She looked so soft, so gentle, so... beautiful. It was like a jolt that went straight down to the pit of my stomach, and I had to look away from her. I 'm sure I was blushing with embarrassment as she watched me, but could do nothing to stop it. That was when she leaned across the couch and gave me a small peck on the head, and laughed. I didn't have the courage to look at her, afraid of what I might feel, and I just stared at the television silently.

Aunt Marilyn leaned back to her side of the couch and pulled her feet up tighter, curling comfortably into the corner of the couch, and took another sip of her wine. It was nice to know that she was feeling better, at least it seemed that way to me, and I began to forget my embarrassment and relaxed. We watched the movie for a while, talking about things; What have you been doing? How was school this year? Remembering some of the old movies we'd watched together and laughing at some of the outrageously bad monster movies we'd seen, and I was beginning to really enjoy having her back in the house. And then, as I had the uncanny knack of doing, I stuck my foot in my mouth.

"Marilyn, why are you and Jim getting divorced?" I asked. Before I had even finished the sentence, I realized what a stupid and inappropriate question it was to ask. Aunt Marilyn's smile disappeared, replaced with a somber look, and I scrambled to apologize. "I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that..." I began to say.

"No, it's all right." She said calmly.

I sat nervously, cursing myself for having pulled such a bonehead move, bringing up the subject.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about it this last week." She began, her voice still sounding calm. "I guess it's for a lot of different reasons, really. But the most important thing, I think, is that I'm starting to realize that it was the right thing to do." She said. Her voice trailed off a little, and she lightly smiled as she looked out across the room, then turned to me and smiled even brighter. I returned her smile but no idea what I should say, and then began to get that feeling in my stomach again. But before I was consumed by embarrassment again, Marilyn broke the ice.

"So... Do you like having your old room back?" She asked, looking around at my things.

"Yeah, I like it." I replied. "It's a lot more room than my other... I mean, your room. And now I can work on things and not have Mom getting all over my case."

Marilyn was looking over at my workbench, when she mentioned, "Hey, I used to have an old Macintosh just like that one!"

"Well, I think it might be your old computer then. Jim was going to throw it out when I found it." I said, proud of myself.

Aunt Marilyn's smile disappeared, and she looked at me with an odd expression on her face. "...but it was broken, I mean is broken, isn't it?" She asked in a strange tone.

"Well, I think I've got it running, sorta." I replied.

"Sorta?" She asked again.

"Well, I think there's something wrong with the hard drive on it, but I can get the computer itself to run with a new drive I got from a friend." I explained, wondering why she was so curious. "Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing." She said, and paused for a minute before adding, "Does that mean that all of the stuff that was on it is gone?"

"Well, yeah... I think." I said, then tried to bolster my computer prowess by adding, "Yeah, I'm sure it's trashed. Why?"

"Oh, I just thought it would be nice to have some of my old school papers. You know, just to have them. It's not a big deal though. If they're gone, they're gone." She said with a shrug, poking at my arm and laughing hard. "Oh, well!"

It seemed a little strange to me, like she was trying too hard to laugh, but before I had a chance to think too much of it, she quickly changed the subject by pointing out that the movie was coming up to the climactic ending; stake through the heart and all. We turned our attention back to the television and watched with excitement at the final end of Dracula, spurting blood and all, and then it was over. And as the credits began to slowly roll down the screen, Aunt Marilyn announced that she was ready to go to bed.

"Bobbie?" She called across the room as she started to walk up the stairs.

"Yeah?"

 

"I'm glad we talked." She said, smiling again at me as she stood on the stairs.

"Yeah, me too." I replied, sincere in my words. I had enjoyed finally talking to her again.

"Goodnight, Bobbie." She said as she headed back up the stairs.

"Goodnight, Marilyn." I replied.

Now it was my turn to feel sleepless. The minute she was gone from the room, I began to get that feeling in the pit of my stomach again. It was great to have her back in the house, but it was different this time. She seemed different... or maybe it was me? God, I almost felt like I had a crush on my own Aunt. "You are one twisted puppy." I muttered to myself, flipping through the channels once again, looking for something to bore me to sleep with.

Chapter Three

"TOTAL RUNTIME 09:13:46. THE SYSTEM MUST RESTART BEFORE CHANGES ARE EFFECTIVE. DO YOU WISH TO RESTART?" The little window read.

"Wow, nine hours!" I thought to myself, rolling out of bed and looking at the screen, curiously excited to see the results. As I eagerly clicked the restart button, the screen snapped to gray as the speaker sprang to life with a resounding 'BONG', announcing it's reboot. It took the better part of two days, picking Ted's brain and trying different software, in an attempt to revive the original hard drive that still resided inside of the little beige computer. It was really more of an exercise, a lesson in data recovery, than a real need to recover anything.

"Look, Marilyn. I saved.... no. rescued all of your files." I day dreamed, as the computer screen began to light up with the little icons indicating the system was loading.

The real trick would be if a second hard drive appeared, and I felt a charge of victory as the desktop appeared and the second drive popped on the screen. "Yes!" I yelled out loud.

"Bobbie, is that you?" I heard my mother call down the stairs.

"Yeah, Mom." I replied.

"What are you doing?" She called out.

"Oh, nothing..." I answered, disguising my exuberance.

"Listen, I'm going to work now. I'm taking Marilyn with me and we're going to go to the mall afterwards so we might be home late." She said, bustling around the front door as she got herself ready to leave.

"Okay, Mom." I hollered back up the stairs.

"Don't forget that today's garbage day, and I want you to clean up that room!" She added.

"All right, Mom. I will." I replied, none to happy at being ordered around. "God! It must be nice to live alone." I thought to myself.

"Okay, honey. We'll see you tonight." She called out as she stepped out the door.

"Bye Mom." I answered.

It was perfect, I'd have time to clean up the room, the garbage, and still have plenty of time set up Aunt Marilyn's hard drive to triumphantly show her my success. I quickly threw on a T-shirt and hustled up to the kitchen to grab a quick bite of breakfast, then hauled the garbage out to the curb before the garbage truck hit our street.

With every intention of cleaning the room before sitting down at the computer, I soon found myself drawn to the little screen like a fly to sugar, unable to resist just taking a peak into the contents of the resurrected drive. And before I knew it, several hours had flown by as I tinkered around, examining the system files for something new to pirate, trying out some of the programs I found, and organizing some of the recovered data files. There were a few files that were damaged beyond repair, but amazingly most of them were recovered intact. It was then that I found something that piqued my curiosity.

After clearing out most of the damaged files, I gave the command for the system to empty the trash, when a message popped up on the screen. "One item could not be deleted, because it is locked. Do you wish to continue?"

Instead of continuing, I halted the command out of curiosity and opened up the trash folder. Inside, I found the files I'd thrown out, but also found a folder I hadn't seen before named " My Diary v.2.1". Just seeing the title of the folder was enough to send a charge through me. Could it possibly be possibly be what I was thinking?

I sat for a minute just staring at the folder, debating in my mind the ethics of looking inside, but couldn't take it any more. I opened up the folder and started up the program inside.

And there it was, up on the splash screen "My Diary v.2.1, This copy of My Dairy is registered to: Marilyn Harmon."

"Her maiden name..." I recognized immediately, realizing that it was from before she was married. But as the program continued to load, a small alert window popped up, asking for a password. "Shit!" What now? I tried a few obvious attempts: Marilyn, Harmon, MHarmon, etc., but to no avail, and the more I tried the more I became fixated on cracking the password. I must have tried for nearly an hour before I realized how long I'd been sitting at the desk, and had forgotten completely about cleaning up the room. What was I going to do? I could just tell Aunt Marilyn that the drive was totally trashed and everything was lost. Or I could just leave it like it was and play dumb, like I hadn't even seen the files in the trash. If she started up the computer and saw all of the other programs, she might wonder where her diary went. Maybe she threw it out on purpose? It was getting late and I needed to make a decision.

The right thing to do would probably just leave it alone, it wasn't right to be poking into someone else's diary anyway, but I couldn't help myself. I nervously copied the mysterious folder onto the second hard drive, burying it secretly inside of several layers of folders, and then erased everything on her old drive. It was the only way. And I found myself anxiously watching as the system, slowly but surely, erased any trace of what had been Aunt Marilyn's old computer... all except for the my clandestine copy.

 

Mom and Marilyn pulled into the driveway about 9:00 that night, tired and a bit hungry, and we would all end up that evening sitting around the kitchen table eating some take out food that Mom and Marilyn had brought home with them. After dinner, Mom headed for bed and Marilyn soon followed, leaving me free to head back downstairs to my room and to the computer. I ended up staying awake late into the night, waiting to be sure everyone was asleep, trying to break the password of my newest challenge.

Chapter Four

It would turn out to be an exercise in frustration, nearly two whole weeks passed with no success in unlocking the mystery of Aunt Marilyn's secret password, and I was almost ready to give in. The Fourth of July weekend had arrived, and Mom suggested that we celebrate the holiday by going to the fireworks display at the County Fairgrounds. The county fair was in full swing, and although I first scoffed at the idea, convinced I was too old for such things, my mother insisted. And as it turned out, I had a good time. Mom stuffed some money in my pocket, turning me loose after I dragged my feet following the two of them around for a while, and I wandered around the fairgrounds day dreaming of meeting up with a girl and having a good time. It was your typical adolescent fantasy coming from a too shy boy with a raging set of hormones, but it was a fun and interesting time anyway, even if my chances of something like it ever happening were slim at best. Unlike most of the other boys my age, the testosterone seemed to have bypassed my body and concentrated itself in my brain and in my balls. So while the other guys were reaping the benefits of the potent elixir; growing muscles, facial and chest hair, I was walking around with a brain swimming in the stuff but with a body that drew no interest whatsoever from the opposite sex. That's not to say that I was unattractive, it's just that at 16 I still looked much like I did at thirteen; skinny and baby faced.

I eventually met up with my mother and Aunt Marilyn, and Mom suggested that we head over to the field and find a place to sit and watch the fireworks. The two found a comfortable spot and laid down their sweaters to have a seat, and I plopped down next to Marilyn and waited for the show to begin. That was when, after hearing my mother and Marilyn chatting, I heard my mother say to her, "Hey Leenie, remember when Mom and Dad used to take us over to Watertown to watch the fireworks?"

At first, I was a little confused, wondering who she was talking to. But Marilyn answered her with a laugh, "Yeah, I remember. Down at the river."

The two of them went on reminiscing old times while I sat wondering silently who "Leenie" was, until after a moment of silence I piped in the conversation with, "Who's Leenie?"

Mom laughed, and Marilyn just covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. I sat with a dumb look on my face, not getting the joke until my mother leaned back, looking at me behind Aunt Marilyn and whispered, "Marileenie, Marileenie, tall and skinny like a little pole beenie".

Aunt Marilyn just slapped my mothers leg, laughing, "Oh, stop it!" Mom was obviously getting a kick out of divulging what was an old nickname of Marilyn's, and went on to explain that it was a rhyme that their father used to say about her. And just as Marilyn was about to reply to the ribbing, a thunderous boom rolled across the field signaling the start of the fireworks show.

We sat and watched with 'Ooo's and Ahhh's' at the show, the night sky glowing brightly with the magic of pyrotechnics, until finally it was over. Mom was the first to suggest that it was time to go, and we slowly made our way to the parking lot and headed for home.

 

It was that same night, after getting home and saying goodnight to my mother and Aunt Marilyn as they headed straight for bed, that I had the flash of inspiration. Not ready for sleep yet, and finding nothing on the tube very interesting, I was looking over at Marilyn's little Mac when it hit me, "Leenie?" Hopping up off the couch and starting up the computer, I waited anxiously as the system booted. listening carefully up the stairs to make sure no one was awake, I carefully opened up the program and punched in the letters: L-E-E-N-I-E...

Bingo! I was in! The screen went blank for a moment as the hard drive churned away, before a small text filled window finally popped into view...

"D.D. Tomorrow is moving day, and I've got all my things already packed and ready to go. I haven't had much time to write with all of my finals being this week, but thought I'd add a bit before the move. Finals went well, all those late nights cramming really paid off and I think I did well. I haven't had any offers yet from my interviews but I'm not too worried about it just yet. Janey asked again if I was sure I wanted to do this, moving in with Jim and all. I guess I have my doubts sometimes, but I think it's the right thing to do. I know she 's worried about me making a wrong move, especially after what happened between her and Frank, and I know she's sincere about wanting me to stay for as long as I like but I think I need to go. As long as I stay here, I don't think I'll ever have a chance to clear my head and make any kind of decision about Jim.

I've debated whether or not to make this my final entry or not. I don't want to think that Jim would ever want or try to read this, but I also don't know if I can take worrying about what would happen if he ever did, especially all of the things I wrote about Bobbie..."

"Whoa!" I said out loud, shocked at what I'd read. I instantly felt a rush of both excitement and paranoia. What did she mean by '.. all those things I wrote about Bobbie..."? Was she talking about me?

I quickly found my name amid the text and continued to read on...

"... especially all those things I wrote about Bobbie. Not to mention what Janey would think." She had to be talking about me! Holy...

"... I've come close to erasing this file several times, out of paranoia, but just couldn't do it. Each time I thought about it, I'd end up going back to the beginning and reading the passages over and end up... well, you know the rest. So maybe this clean start will be the time to clean out this file also and make a new start of the diary. M.H."

And that was it, the final entry.

I sat back in my chair and drew a deep breath. It was almost too good to be true, or at least I thought at first. And then, the idea that maybe I didn't want to see what it was that she'd written began to creep into my mind. What ever it was, she was very nervous about anyone reading it, that was certain. And the more I thought about it, the more nervous I became, my own paranoia setting in as I began hear every noise in the house. It was late, way past midnight, but I knew that I had no chance of sleeping with the nervous excitement I felt, and so I cautiously pushed the mouse up to the menu and selected the first entry of Marilyn's mysterious journal.

Chapter Five

The opening entries of Marilyn's journal began while she was still in school, still living at the dormitory, but had been offered by her boyfriend Jim to move in with him for her last semester. It was obvious to me that she'd been dating Jim, her future husband, for some time but was still not comfortable with the idea of moving in with him. A few days later, my mother would invite her to come live with us for the rest of the school year, and Marilyn accepted the offer. It seemed as thought it was a convenient excuse to hold off Jim for a little while, as she seemed unsure of her relationship with him, and where it was headed. I continued to scan through the entries, several weeks worth, as she moved into the house that first time, noticing the odd mention of my own name from time to time but referred only as a side note or in reference to the usual events of the house. I was beginning to tire, pessimistically resigning myself to the fact that there was nothing more to it than the mere fact that I was just an afterthought, and considered giving up my ridiculous fantasy, but decided to read one more ...

"D.D., It's been several days since I've written, and I'm not quite sure if I should be. The past two days have the most... incredible as well as confusing days I can ever remember. There are probably a million reasons why I shouldn't write any of this down, but I just feel that I have to share this, to tell someone, even if it's only here. It all started Friday night. Nothing special during the day, went to school, studied in the library for a while and went home. Janey and Bobbie were home and we all had dinner together, then Janey went to bed. I guess it was about 11 o'clock or so that I remembered I had some of my delicates in the washer that I wanted to hang dry, so I went downstairs to grab them from the laundry room. When I walked down the stairs, I saw that the television was on, but I didn't see Bobbie anywhere. I didn't think anything of it because I know he likes to stay up late when there's no school, so I went into the laundry room and started pulling my things out of the washer, when I thought I heard something. I guess I thought it was just Bobbie walking back out to watch television, so I finished pulling out my things, flipped off the light and was going to head back upstairs. Well, when I walked back out, I still didn't see him so I thought I'd just stick my head in his room to see what he was doing (there's no door on his room yet). ... I've been sitting here for the last few minutes trying to find a delicate way to put it, but I guess it's best to just come out and say it. I caught Bobbie masturbating..."

"Oh, God..." I was in a state of shock. My mouth went dry with fear and embarrassment at the thought of it, and my mind raced so quickly that, although I continued to look at the screen, the words became a blur. I had to sit back in my chair for a moment and close my eyes, feeling my chest rising and falling quickly as I gasped for more air. After a moment or two calming myself down, and finding the courage to continue, I opened my eyes and read on...

"... I've been sitting here for the last few minutes trying to find a delicate way to put it, but I guess it's best to just come out and say it. I caught Bobbie masturbating. Maybe 'caught ' is the wrong word, suggesting that I walked right in on him or that he saw me. I guess it's best just to explain. The room that Bobbie's been using isn't finished yet, looking more like a half completed remodeling project than a real bedroom, and there is no door on the door frame. I was standing in the hallway outside of the open doorway, and as I was about to walk into his room, when I noticed something in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall of his room. It was Bobbie, standing next to his bed, wearing only his underwear, looking at something on his dresser. I felt a little embarrassed, seeing him standing there half naked, and was getting ready to turn around and leave quietly, when I noticed that he moved his hand over his underwear and was rubbing himself. I had the strangest sensation run through me as I stood there, realizing what he was doing, but I felt as if I were frozen and unable to move. I couldn't see what he was looking at, but he was definitely not just itching himself because I began to see a bulge in his underwear begin to grow. I know I should have turned around and left, and I felt guilty for not moving, but I just couldn't. My heart was pounding in my chest and I nearly panicked when he turned around, because he looked right into the mirror for a second. The hallway outside his room is very dark and because of that I don't think he could see me.

So there I was, standing in the dark, still holding my laundry basket, when I realized how turned on I was getting. I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn't help it. I'd always thought Bobbie was a cute boy, he has those beautiful blue eyes and such a cute smile, but I guess I hadn't realized just how much he was growing up. But it was more than that. I think I've always been curious about guys, about guy's masturbating, for as long as I can remember. I mean, from the time I first learned about sex, guy's always joked about it, and I knew what it was, but I'd never actually seen a guy do it before.

So I just stood there in the hallway, watching as Bobbie bent down and picked up a towel from the floor, and then sat down on his bed. He fluffed up a few pillows and leaned back against the headboard, but as he did, his face disappeared from my view in the mirror. A felt a little relieved, realizing that if I couldn't see his face, he couldn't see me either. But the relief was followed my a chill of excitement as I realized I had a perfect view of his body stretched out on his bed. His skin is so soft and beautiful, without a trace of hairiness like Jim's, I almost felt jealous. And then he started to rub himself again through his underwear, and I kept thinking to myself that the bulge looked too big for him. Bobbie was always such a skinny kid, even for his age, and didn't show any signs of muscles growing yet, but there was no mistaking the fact that he definitely had matured in at least one respect. I guess it was just a minute or two later that I watched as he lifted up his hips and began to slip off his underwear, ...and there it was. Oh my god, it was incredible! I mean, he was so big! Way bigger than Jim, but it was more than that. Jim's penis is uncircumcised, and dark colored, with a ton of pubic hair, and Bobbie's was so, ...God, delicious looking! He barely has any pubic hair, and what he does looked so soft and delicate, and his cock looked so gorgeous! I almost lost it.

Well... he took his hand and made a ring with his index finger and thumb, and started to slowly slide it down over his penis slowly, like he was penetrating, sliding it all the way down to the base of his cock and pulling the skin tight. I was getting so hot watching him that I started to get wet, I mean REALLY wet. I never got that wet for Jim before. Anyway, after he did that for a little while, just softly playing with the 'hole' of his fingers, he finally wrapped the rest of his fingers around his penis and started to really masturbate. He started off slow, but before long was really going at it. It was the most unbelievable thing I've ever seen, his smooth little balls were bobbing up and down with every stroke, and the head of his penis looked like it was starting to turn purple, when all of a sudden his balls started to pull in tight. I could tell that he was ready to come, and ( God's honest truth) I thought I was going to come too, right then and there! I mean, I was so horny my knees were shaking! And then he came, God, I'm getting hot just thinking about it! He grunted a little bit, and kept stroking on his cock when it started to squirt all over his stomach. It was incredible! I was so excited and terrified all at the same time, I was almost afraid I was going to do something stupid, so I decided I'd better leave and quick! I turned around and tried to creep up the stairs with out making any noise, but the thing was, I was so horny that my legs were wobbling that I almost tripped trying to tip toe up the stairs. When I finally got to my room, I think I set a new record for how quickly I came. I must have masturbated at least three times before I finally fell asleep! God, I'm soaked again just thinking about it."

And that's where the entry finished. I couldn't breath. I couldn't think. My heart was racing a mile a minute as I sat and read the last few lines of the screen, over and over again. I was so horny I was afraid to move, my shorts already soaked with my excitement, but I felt as If I didn't relieve myself that my head was going to explode. I shut down the computer as fast as I possibly could, still making sure that everything was well secreted away, before I turned out all of the lights and literally ran to my room. Closing the door behind me (I now have a door), I didn't even bother trying to get undressed, unzipping my jeans and shoving them to my knees while falling back onto the bed. My dick was literally covered by the slick leaking pre cum that filled my underwear and after only two strokes, I began to belch out huge streams of cum, my nuts actually aching from the force of their release. It was the longest orgasm I've ever experienced, and it left me drained. I don't know how long I laid there before finding the strength to clean myself off, and yet all I could think about was opening back up that file and reading more. It was so incredible, so unbelievable, so...

I never made it back out to the rec room that night, finding it almost impossible to let go of my dick as I could think of nothing else but my mental picture of Aunt Marilyn in the sheets of her bed, with her hand between her legs.

Chapter Six

"Bobbie?" I heard at my bedroom door along with a light knocking. It was my mother. I sat up in my bed and rubbed my eyes awake.

"Bobbie, wake up. It's almost 10 o'clock already." She announced, knocking a little harder.

"I'm up, I'm up." I replied sharply, never having been a good morning person.

"Listen, Marilyn and I are going to run a few errands and then stop at the grocery store. Do you need anything? "She asked through the door.

I was still trying to clear the cobwebs from my head, and couldn't figure out what she meant. "Like what...?" I answered in a frogged tone.

"Can I open the door?" She asked.

"Hold on a sec..." I replied, realizing I was still naked, and reached down to a grab a pair of shorts sitting on the floor ( where all of my laundry ended up ). "... okay, you can come in."

"I said, do you need anything from the store, like... shampoo, or deodorant?" She asked.

"I need some shampoo, I guess."

"Okay. Listen, why don't you do a load of clothes while we're out, and try to pick up this room a little please." She added, looking around at the mess in my room.

"Marilyn and I were thinking of laying out at the pool this afternoon if the weather stays nice, if you want to come along?" Mom asked. The 'pool' was over at the Community Hall, a sort of clubhouse for the members of our homeowners association, usually occupied by old woman wearing ridiculous looking bathing caps while bobbing in the water.

"I don't know. Maybe." I replied half heartedly.

" Alright. Well, we'll see." Mom said as she left my room and headed back upstairs.

I listened as Mom and Marilyn headed out the door, already finding myself feeling very horny in anticipation of having a chance to open up Marilyn's file again. As soon as I heard the car pull out of the driveway and take off down the street, I turned on the computer and punched in the password to open up the secreted program, and waited for the text to appear...

 

"D.D. I've just been sitting and re-reading my last entry. I still can't believe I'm writing all of this down, but It feels good to let it out. It's just been so incredible, all the things I've been thinking, along with the things I began to notice after it happened. Saturday night, Jim and I went out to dinner over at the wharf and afterwards we ended up at his place. Things went kind of the way they always seem to do and I ended up going to bed with him. I was really into it, in a playful kind of way, and I wanted to do something different this time, instead of the usual -turn out the light and assume the missionary. I kept thinking about how I'd seen Bobbie and for the first time, I really wanted to give Jim a blowjob, not just a few licks before he would want to roll me over and stick it in me like he always does, but a real honest to god blowjob. I kept thinking about how I wanted to really play with his cock, to feel it in my mouth, and how I wanted to know what it really tasted like to have a guy come in my mouth. But the thing was, just when I was ready to really start getting into it, Jim tried to stop me. I tried like hell to keep going, but it was almost like he didn't like it or something. So then I started to feel guilty and ended up like I usually did, knees up, on my back and it was over in a matter of minutes, with Jim just rolling off and going to sleep.

Jim's a great guy, I know I like him, but sometimes I wish he wasn't so conservative. Anyway, while I was laying there in his bed, still horny as hell, I couldn't stop thinking about seeing Bobbie. And when I knew Jim was dead asleep, I ended up masturbating while thinking about Bobbie. I was so afraid Jim was going to wake up, but I think it also made it more exciting, the idea of a guy watching me masturbate. Is that weird?"

"Jesus, Mary and..." It wasn't even 11 o'clock yet and I was ready. I kept reading the passage over and over, all the while unconsciously stroking my hard on through my thin shorts, until I almost came as I sat there. Without bothering to turn off the computer, I got up and walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the counter, looking in the mirror as I pulled the elastic of my shorts down and freed my straining boner. I think it took only a matter of seconds before my cock began to spew it's load into the sink, streaming out wave after wave as my orgasm peaked. I was literally standing on my tiptoes as I pumped on my cock, straining to empty every last drop from my balls with each contraction from within. By the time I finished, I felt almost dizzy, wavering as I stood on the cold tile floor with my cock in hand. Washing the sticky white fluid down the drain, and cleaning the last slippery drops off my wilting boner with a hand towel, I made my way back out to the computer and sat down again.

It all seemed so unreal; reading Marilyn's words, her secrets, all right there in front of me. For as long as I can remember, at least from the time I became interested in girls, and sex, and discovered masturbation, I'd been walking around with the idea that I was the only person on the face of the earth that felt this way. I mean, I knew that other people did it, but I never thought anyone else thought about it like I did. I'd been jerking off at least once a day, sometimes two or three times a day, since II was thirteen. It just seemed like it was all I ever thought about, everything made me horny. And girls? Man, I was so nervous around girls I couldn't even speak. All I could think of was that they would think I was some kind of pervert or something if they ever found out some of the things I would think of. But now, reading about Aunt Marilyn getting horny, and thinking about me... it was almost too much.

I continued to read through the entries of her diary, searching for more. The next few entries were mundane in comparison, days at school, nights doing schoolwork, etc., until I came upon the next interesting find...

"D.D., This entire week, Jim's been dropping hints of asking me to move in with him. He hasn't exactly asked, or even suggested it but I think he might. I'm not sure how I feel about the idea, it's been so busy that I keep trying to push it out of my mind. I don't know, one side of me thinks that it would be a good idea but sometimes I wish he would just ask me to marry him instead. I mean, it makes it seem more secure, like it would have to work then. I don't know. But that's not the only thing that's been on my mind. I promised when I started this diary that for it to work I would have to be honest with myself, no holding back. So here goes.

study for a little while then decided to take a shower. It was after nine before I was finished, and Janey had gone to bed but I wasn't tired, so I went down to the rec room to watch a little television with Bobbie. He was laying on the sofa watching a movie, so I sat down at the other end and started watching the movie with him (some mediocre science fiction movie). After a while, as I was getting into the movie, I caught Bobbie staring at my legs out of the corner of my eye. I had thrown on my long pink T-shirt when I got out of the shower and went downstairs wearing just that and with my hair wrapped up in a towel. I didn't let on to him that I'd noticed him looking at me, but at the same time, I started to think about how cute it was. Then I decided to give him a little show, just to see what his reaction would be, so I nestled down a little bit so that the T-shirt rose up my legs a little more, just enough to give him a tiny peak at my underwear. I almost couldn't believe I was doing it, but it was kinda fun, watching his reaction. I still didn't let on that I knew, but I could see him starting to squirm. God, I know it was a tease, but I couldn't help it. It was such a turn on; secretly watching him trying to hide his staring, as well as watching him trying to hide his excitement. Well, after a while I figured I'd give him a break, poor thing, and leave him alone. To be totally honest, I was thinking about going up to my room to relieve my own pent up sexual tension, so I told Bobbie I was going to bed. He was watching me as I stood up, so I thought I'd give him one more thing to think about, and leaned over and gave him a little peck on the forehead. His face flushed a brilliant red and he refused look at my face, and then I realized why. My nipples were as hard as stones, and just poking right through my T-shirt, and Bobbie couldn't take his eyes off of them. I must have given him one hell of a cleavage shot to boot, and as I stood back up I could see the outline of his hardon through the shorts he was wearing. Well, I said goodnight to him and headed up to my room, almost sprinting the last few steps, and hopped right on the bed and proceeded to have the most intense orgasm I'd ever had! God, I couldn't get enough! Laying there for a while, I couldn't stop thinking that Bobbie was probably doing the same thing, stroking away on that amazing thing of his, and all I could think of was sneaking back downstairs to see it for myself. And the more I thought about it, the hornier I got, until I couldn't take it any more. And then I did it. God, I still can't believe I did it! I tip toed down the hall to the top of the stairs and quietly peaked down to see that the lights were out and the television was off. As slowly as I could, I crept down the stairs and snuck up to the spot where I was standing before, when I saw him the first time. My heart was racing a mile a minute and when I saw that Bobbie had turned out the light in his room I almost chickened out and went back upstairs. But just when I was ready to turn around and slink back to my room, I heard a faint sound from his room. I was practically shaking but couldn't help myself from taking just a few small steps toward his dark doorway to hear, and as I stood practically in his doorway, I could hear the sounds of Bobbie's sheets rustling and then a big sigh. I almost panicked and left, but after a moment of silence, I heard the sheets start to rustle again, but this time it was different. Not the jumbled, sporadic noise they make when you're rolling over in bed, but a slow and rhythmic shushing noise. And then I realized what it was. Oh God! He was doing it! I became instantly wet again listening to the sound of Bobbie slowly stroking himself under the sheets of his bed, and I could even hear the sound of his breathing as it got deeper and deeper. I was so hot that I couldn't stop from slipping my hand into my underwear and just lightly slipping my finger inside myself and drawing it across my clit. God, I almost fell down as my knees buckled and I started to loose the strength in my legs. It scared me so much that I took a step backward and realized I couldn't stand there any longer or I would go out of my mind. I wanted to come so bad right then and there but I knew I couldn't so I slowly stepped back into the family room and tip toed over to the sofa where Bobbie had been laying and watching television. I leaned back into the sofa and put my feet up onto the coffee table, and after spreading my legs wide, I slipped my hand back under my underwear and started to masturbate furiously. God, I came instantly and kept rubbing away until I came a second time in a matter of seconds! All I kept thinking about was Bobbie in the next room, with his door open, spanking away on himself while I was doing the same right out in the family room, his fingers wrapped around his beautiful cock, pumping away until he would come, he would come and shoot all of that hot, slippery, incredible juice and all over his smooth little body. The third time I came, I literally had to grab a pillow and bite on it to keep from screaming and letting him hear me, even though I think I secretly wanted him to. Just the idea of what it would have been like to have him walk out of that room and see me like that has me wanting to come again! God, listen to me! I can't believe what I'm writing, it sounds so... dirty! I love it! I think that's enough for tonight."

That was it. As I finished reading Aunt Marilyn's entry, quickly rereading the last few lines, rubbing my boner through my shorts , my mind caught in a whirlwind of mental images of what I'd read, and I was quickly overcome by the rising sexual tension and frustration that was impossible to slow down . It all happened so fast that I didn't even have a chance to get up, quickly peaking to orgasm, and I began coming right there, releasing steam after forceful stream of warm semen into my underwear as I stared wide eyed at the little screen, rubbing away at my crotch as I came. I knew I was making a mess but I couldn't stop myself, my thoughts swirling with images Aunt Marilyn with her legs spread and rubbing herself as I was.

I must have sat there for nearly a half hour, reading and rereading her diary entry, still rubbing away at myself as I marveled in the sensation of my penis as it slid around in the warm wet confines of my underwear, before I began to realize just how long I'd been sitting there. And immediately I began to worry that my mother and Aunt Marilyn would be home soon, so quickly shutting down the computer , I waddled toward my room, feeling the bizarre sensation of walking with my goo soaked underwear as I headed to strip down and clean myself up.

It would be nearly another hour before I heard the two of them walk through the front door from shopping, and I tried to look as innocent as possible when my mother called downstairs to ask me to come help unloading the groceries.

I desperately avoided both my mother and Aunt Marilyn, still too shaken by what I'd been through to even be in the same room with them. Later that afternoon, when my mother asked if I wanted to join them for a little trip down to the pool, I found an excuse to stay home. I don't know if it was because I felt embarrassed to be near my Aunt Marilyn, embarrassed that she'd seen me jerking off, embarrassed by all of her deep and inner thoughts that I'd been secretly reading, or just plain embarrassed that if I did go with them and saw Marilyn in her bathing suit I would end up with a hard on that I wouldn't be able to hide. Either way, I was still too chicken to go and I guess I wanted to look at her diary just one more time.

And so, as I nervously watched my mother and Marilyn slowly walk down the street toward the pool, making sure that they were gone, I crept back to the computer and opened it up one more time.

Finding the last entry I'd read, and using all of my energy not to become fixated on rereading the last passage over again, I searched on to see if there was more. The entries returned to normal, again full of school, and of Jim, and I was quickly coming to the final few entries before I found one last mention of my name.

"D.D. Jim finally asked me to move in with him and I told him I would. I'm still not sure if it's the right thing to do, but I'm going to give it a try anyway. We were over at Jim's after seeing a movie, and we had a few glasses of wine together while sitting out on his balcony. I have to admit, it was a very romantic evening, and Jim seemed to be doing his best to make everything right. He had picked me up and took me to dinner ( a nice Italian place across town) and then after the movie we went for a little walk in the park. Well, after that we ended up at his place and Jim asked if I would stay for the night. Everything had been so nice, and I have to admit the wine went right to my head, and so when he asked if I would move in I said yes. We ended up going to bed and had sex, and then Jim went to sleep. I don't know, maybe it was the wine, but I couldn't come. I mean, it started out really great, slow and romantic, but then it just seemed like Jim was going through the motions. I don't know, maybe it's just me. If that's the way Jim is then I can't blame him, he does try. I just can't help thinking if he would just let me, I don't know, lead? Sometimes I wish I had a chance to be his first, you know, so I could teach him. I mean, if I had a chance to do it all over again I think I would have found an older man to be my first, instead of... him.. It would have been great to have someone that said, "It's okay, I'll teach you." Like with Bobbie. Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to talk about that anymore, but that's what I mean. It'd be hard to say no. Well, maybe I'll just have to try with Jim. We'll see."

It was the second to last entry in Marilyn's diary, just before she moved out of our house that first time. I found myself sitting again, breathless at what I'd read. Over and over the words tumbled in my brain, churning around as I sat in disbelieving numbness. It all seemed too unreal, a cruel joke that was meant just for me. It had to be. It just had to be.

Chapter Seven

Two weeks. For two weeks I walked around in a daze. The first week was the toughest, my deep sense of paranoia growing and growing with each secretive 'reading sessions', finally peaking when I felt convinced that I would be discovered and decided to erase Marilyn's file. It was a liberating moment, lifting the tremendous weight of guilt from my shoulders, at least for a little while. But as the days rolled on, I began to realize that eliminating the physical evidence of my indiscretion would do little to remove it's after effects. I was still finding it painfully difficult to be in the house when Marilyn was home, each time seeing her a reminder of the guilt I felt for having pried into her personal life, even if she didn't know. But what seemed even more confusing were the thoughts and images that continued to come to mind whenever I saw her. Never once did I feel as though my own privacy had been violated, even though the thought had occurred to me that it had been. It seemed as though whenever I tried to rationalize what the truth of the situation had been, it would quickly become convoluted amid the hormonal reactions it would invoke, ultimately squelching any truths and leave me in a sexually charged state of eagerness and anxiety.

Sure, I had thought a million different times of just going to her and saying something, or a million different scenarios and schemes to bring my interest to light, but the truth of it was I did nothing. Chickenshit? Well, maybe it was but then again the implications of it being a mistake or simply a misjudgment of what she was like today as opposed to the days of her diary writings were certainly more perilous than merely chasing after some high school girl. What I was considering was not only illegal in the eyes of the law, but could potentially be devastating if I was wrong, to my mother, to Marilyn, and to me.

Another admitted truth... I was chicken. Not only with this hot potato of knowledge that I carried around , but with any girls. I don't know what was the cause, in any other situations I felt at home with the school girls I knew; friendly, funny, even charming at times, but even the slightest of hints that the conversation might turn to dating, or sex, and I would choke like an over hungry dog. I didn't know what to say, what to do, and was just plain chicken to expose my inexperience and doubts.

But that was all about to change...

Chapter Eight

"Bobbie, come on up stairs for dinner!" My mother called down the stairs in a cheerful mood. I had been tinkering around on yet another new computer I was trying to piece together when I heard her come home. Marilyn had already started dinner before Mom got home and was standing over the stove, putting the finishing touches on the dinner as I climbed the stairs and walked into the kitchen, while my mother set the small round table that we used for everyday meals. She seemed very animated as she laid out the silverware, chatting with Marilyn, before seeing me walk in.

"Hi honey, are you hungry?" She asked as she gave me a peck on the cheek. It was definitely out of the ordinary, the bubbly jump in her step, and the kiss on the cheek for nothing more than showing up for dinner. Marilyn and I both saw the signs and looked at each other curiously as we sat down to the table.

"Sooo...?" Marilyn asked as we sat and dished out the meal.

"So what?" My mother replied, doing a very unconvincing job of disguising her excitement.

"So, when are you gonna tell us why your in such a good mood?" Marilyn asked sarcastically.

"Who? Me?" She replied innocently.

"Yes, you!" Marilyn barked at her with a sneer. "Come on, tell us."

"Oh... it's nothing really." She said, trying to downplay her obvious excitement. "We landed a new account today."

"And...?" Marilyn coaxingly said to her, knowing there was more to it than that.

"...And my boss recognized how much work I put in on the proposal." She announced humbly.

"That's great, Janey!" Marilyn said, but stopped herself when she realized that there was more to come. Mom drew out the pause to build the moment, then took a deep breath to reveal the climax.

"And so, he gave the account to me!" She shouted out with delight. It was a tremendous event, my mother had been working toward this very moment for years, and the look of triumph beamed across her face. Marilyn squealed and leapt from the table, hugging Mom and laughing with delight.

"That's fantastic!" She shouted, "I'm so proud of you!"

"Yeah, Mom, that's great!" I chimed in, the enthusiasm enveloping the room. Mom could hardly stop from smiling as she tried to give some of the details of her success.

"So what does that mean?" I asked naively.

"Well..." She began, taking a bite of her food and trying to calm herself down, "...what that means is, I will need to fly out to California to meet with the board members of this new account and get things started."

"California?" I blurted out.

"Mmmmm Hmmmm" Mom replied as she ate.

"When?" Marilyn asked.

"Well..." She began, taking a pause to swallow her food, "I fly out tomorrow morning for a week."

"Tomorrow!?" Marilyn yipped in surprise.

"Yes, I know. " Mom answered, "I've got a million things I need to do tonight."

"That's so cool Mom." I replied, feeling proud of her and happy to know how much this meant to her.

Mom, Marilyn and I sat and ate, Mom filling in some of the details to our curious ears, while Marilyn and I sat listened happily as she went on to tell every last detail of how her presentation had went and of how the clients were so impressed. Marilyn poured mom and herself a big glass of wine in order that we toast to her success, even offering to pour me one too.

"Don't you dare!" My mother barked at Marilyn, then looked at me with a look of surprise and shock.

"Oh, come on, Janey!" Marilyn retorted, "It's only a glass of wine! Besides, it's a special occasion, and Bobbie's not a kid any more, are you?" She said , throwing me a mischievous wink. My mother looked at me and saw the broad smile I wore, and faked a frown as she gave in.

"Okay, okay..." Mom said reluctantly, " ...but just this one time."

"Well then, here's to the new queen of advertising!" Marilyn announced with a laugh as we all chimed our glasses together. My mother was watching me as I sipped, looking for something... a reaction? A sign I was still just her little boy? To be honest, I had to hide the fact that had taken such a big sip that I was unprepared for the sour taste of the wine as it passed my lips, feeling smoothly warm as it went down. Mom almost never drank in the house and until Marilyn came to the house there was almost never any alcohol around. But I showed my mother the biggest smile I could muster, drawing a big laugh from Marilyn as she sat watching the little scene, and my mother just looked at me and smiled with a loving but saddened smile. I was not just her little boy and more, and she knew it.

We sat for a little while longer before my mother realized what time it was, and began to feel very nervous about all of the things she needed to do before her flight in the morning.

"Janey, don't worry about a thing." Marilyn said as we all stood from the table. "Bobbie and I will do the dishes, you go ahead and get yourself packed, I'll be in to give you a hand as soon as we're done."

The rest of the night was uneventful, Marilyn and my mother staying up for a while, packing for her trip, and after saying my goodnights to them both, I was off to bed myself.

Chapter Nine

It was mid morning when the rain began, surely and steadily, the kind of rain that you just knew would last all day. I had been doing some chores outside at my mothers request, mowing the lawn, cleaning up the garage a bit when it began, and used it as a convenient excuse to quit. Mom had only been gone for two days, but already I liked the freedom it allowed me, doing as I pleased, when I pleased, even it only meant that I could quit my chores when I felt like it.

A shower was definitely in order, to clean off the carpet of grass clippings that remained pasted to my sweaty legs and arms, the cool water refreshing my body and my spirits as I contemplated what to do for the rest of the day. I had become more comfortable with the idea that life in the house, life with Marylyn in the house, was and would remain as it had before, despite my closely guarded secret.

Marylyn was slowly but surely coming to grips with her decision to start her new life; looking to find a job (she had not worked in the two years she was married to Jim, at his insistence I was to find out), buying herself a car (with my Mother's insistence that Jim pay for it), and talking to my mother about looking for an apartment soon. My mother insisted that she take her time and not rush into moving out until she found a job, and I tried my best to second her thoughts. Although I had resigned myself to the fact that my hormonal fantasies of Marylyn would never come true, I still enjoyed having her in the house. A boy can dream can't he?

Throwing on a pair of shorts and an old T-shirt, not bothering to comb my hair, I plopped down on the sofa to watch a little television for a while. I heard Marylyn upstairs in the kitchen doing a few things, as well as hearing her footsteps as she walked to and from her room a few times while doing the everyday things that people do. Staring blankly at the television, the midday drone of talk shows and soaps beginning to annoy me to find something else to do, I saw Marylyn walking down the stairs carrying a load of laundry in it's basket.

"Crappy day." She remarked to me as she walked to the laundry room.

"Yeah." I replied, thinking to myself of what I might do to fill my time.

"Listen, I was thinking..." I heard her calling out from the laundry room as she was loading up her things.

"Yeah?" I replied only after realizing that she had paused, unsure if I had heard her or not.

I heard the clunk of the washer lid as it closed, the familiar snapping of the washer dial as she started up the machine, and looked down the hall as she emerged carrying the now empty basket.

"I was thinking, " She began again, " I have a few things I wanted to get down at the mall, do you want to come along?"

"Like what?" I asked.

"Oh, just a few things, maybe some clothes..." She answered.

The look on my face must have said it all. Both Marylyn and my mother were what you might consider "thorough shoppers", sometimes spending hours in one store alone. The idea of standing around with Marylyn for hours on end in the ladies department was not exactly what I had in mind for the rest of my afternoon.

"Oh, come on! I'm not THAT bad." She said with a snarled smile at me. I had to laugh, her expression bringing a chuckle to me as I tried to give her a look of doubt.

"Come on, Bobbie. I hate shopping alone. I promise I won't stay all day." She pleaded, giving me the soft and sweet eyed look that I found myself indefensible to.

"Well..." I mumbled doubtfully, my resolution fading under the pressure of her pleading.

"And I was thinking, since it's such an ugly day, there might be a movie we could catch. What do you say?" She asked.

"A movie, huh?" I replied, more interested.

"Sure, why not? Come on, it'll be fun." She coaxed one more time.

"Alright." I answered, realizing that I was ultimately powerless to resist her wishes, but admittedly comfortable with the idea. Marylyn was always fun to be around, and I felt so much more at ease with her that with any other girl, woman, I knew. Besides, it was nice to go places with her, noticing all of the stares she would get from any man she walked by. It made me feel somehow special to know that I knew her, that I was with the one with HER. It made me feel more... mature.

"Great," She said with a smile, "I'm gonna go upstairs and do a few quick things and then we'll go."

"Okay" I said, watching her climb up the stairs. I returned to my room and changed into some bluejeans and a heavier shirt, remembering how cold the movie theater could be, and waited in the foyer for Marylyn . We chatted along the ride, mostly about nothing, and found ourselves having to make a dash across the mall parking lot as the rain had began to fall harder. We laughed at the ourselves, panting and wet, as we felt the blast of cold air when opening the doors to the mall. It was quiet inside, given the weekday hour, and it was rather peaceful and calm strolling along the shops as Marylyn window shopped for a while.

Eventually, we found our way into one of the big department stores, into the lady's department where Marylyn had really wanted to shop, but I somehow didn't seem to mind. I was enjoying being alone with her, watching her as she shopped, having that special feeling again as I recognized that it was just she and I alone, and I felt somehow older. "Was this what it was like to have a girlfriend?" I would think to myself, having never had one before. "Just doing nothing and having a great time?" She seemed to be enjoying herself too, laughing at my little jokes, asking my opinions on the things we looked at, even asking my opinions on the lady's clothes as she perused through the racks.

"I'm going to try this on..." she said to me as she disappeared into the dressing room, " I'll be right back."

I stood for a few minutes, looking around and feeling comforted by the fact that the store seemed to be practically empty, easing my embarrassment of being the only man standing around in the entire ladies department.

"What do you think?" I heard her say from behind me. I turned around to see her standing a few yards away, looking down at the clothes she had tried on. I think the only words that can describe how I must have looked would be "stunned". Not that the outfit that she wore was anything outrageous, not by a long shot. It was, in every sense, a typical modern woman's business suit; skirt, jacket, wide lapel white shirt unbuttoned enough to show a hint of cleavage but also respectable. My mother had a closet full of them. But my mother never looked the way Marylyn did just now, stylish, chic. She seemed to fit into the outfit the way designers dream of women looking in them.

"Well?" She asked, looking up to find my opinion. I quickly tried to compose myself after recognizing the quizzical look on her face as she saw me, realizing that I must have been standing there with my jaw hanging wide open.

It's... it's , uh..." I stammered out.

"You don't think it's too... old fashion?" She said as she turned around to show me the other side. She was standing there in her bare feet, looking over her shoulder as she held on to the lapels of the jacket, pulling them taught and standing up on her toes as if to simulate the look wearing high heals.

I could only stand silent again, in total awe of her beauty; the slender yet shapely curves of her smooth legs, the tight and puckered look of her behind as she perched on her toes, the exaggerated look of her thin waist contrasted by the wide padded shoulders of her jacket - a truly classic hourglass shape, and the profile of her beautiful face as she tried to unashamedly assess herself.

"I... I think it looks great." I managed to squeak out embarrassingly.

"Really?" She said, turning around once more to inspect herself.

"Yeah," I blurted out, " I mean it, you look great!"

It was only after she'd relaxed herself, coming down from her tiptoes and stood beaming a smile at me that I realized just how enthusiastically I had made my statement.

"Bobbie!" She said with a surprised smile. I began to immediately feel the flush of blood as I blushed at my embarrassment. Seeing my color change from red to redder, Marylyn smiled even wider and took the few steps that separated us.

"Bobbie Caldwell... you are just too sweet, " She said to me as she gave me a peck on the cheek, knowing it would embarrass me even more, " I could just eat you up!" I stood stiff as a board, looking down at my feet, feeling humiliated as she turned and walked back to the dressing room, ashamed at myself for have so naively blushing and feeling like a fool. But I couldn't help myself from looking one more time at her as she walked through the dressing room entrance, only to see her glance back over her shoulder with a knowing smile before disappearing from my sight. She'd caught me staring at her again, but I didn't care this time. Something was different. I don't know what it was, I don't know if it was that I didn't care, but something had changed. When I saw her walking through that doorway, she looked to me like the most beautiful woman in the world, so young, so soft, so...

And I began to get that feeling in the pit of my stomach again. "Oh god..."

I tried to snap myself out of it, wiping the sweat from my brow as I nervously awaited for her to emerge once more. Disinterest, that was my salvation, try to act as if nothing had happened. And nothing had happened, I reasoned in my mind. You had only been honest, she did look great, nothing to be embarrassed about... "What a jerk!" I cursed myself under my breath.

"C'mon you!" Marylyn said with a chuckle as she looped her arm in mine, surprising me from behind as I'd stood there admonishing myself silently. I looked at her in surprise to find her still beaming a smile at me, but somehow I didn't feel quite as embarrassed as before, finally beginning to see the humor in it all. As I began to walk with her, arm in arm toward the clerk's counter, her infectious smile lightened my mood and I began to feel normal again.

"The opinion was unanimous,..." she said to the store clerk, looking at me and giving a little wink, "... this is the right dress." The store clerk, a rather large but pleasant looking woman with a tall and cast looking hairdo, smiled in return, looking at me with a smile but certainly not getting the humor in the remark.

"Very good." She replied and rang up the sale, handing the bag over to me to carry, as a gentleman should as we left the store and headed out into the mall again.

Marylyn walked again with her arm wrapped in mine as we headed down the mall, casually strolling along as if without a care in the world. She never said a word about what had happened, nothing at all, as if it were the most common and natural as breathing. I must admit, I felt pretty damned special walking along with her like that, and tried my best to act as if it were just an everyday occurrence for me, walking along with a beautiful woman at my side.

"Let's get something to eat, I'm starving." She said as we passed by the food court. We stopped and looked around for a minute, checking out all the different food venders, before we both seemed to wordlessly fix our eyes on the same spot.

"Ice cream!" We both said together, bursting out in laughter. For as long as I could remember, whenever or wherever Marylyn and I happened to be together, ice cream had always been the special treat of the day, most times Marylyn having to twist her sister's arm till she would relent and let her son have some. It was almost a standing joke between us all.

Sitting at the food court table, slowly enjoying our favorite flavors of the swirled and coned slice of heaven, more than once I seemed to get the feeling that Marylyn had been watching me, looking at me a s my eyes browsed the sights of people mingling around us. I never could say, each time I looked back to her, she would return my gaze as if it were the most natural of responses, nothing out of the ordinary... and yet I still felt the same.

"C'mon, I think we have just enough time to catch the first matinee" Marylyn said, standing up and reaching for her shopping bag.

"Here, let me carry that." I said, taking the bag from her and finally understanding the importance of such "gentlemanly" conduct. Marylyn looked at me with a surprised smile and then said, " Thank you very much!"

We walked briskly down to the other end of the mall, not bothering to window shop as we had before, and found that we still had time to make the first show. There wasn't much to choose from as far as movies went, but I really could have cared less, I was just enjoying myself for the moment.

Taking back the torn ticket stubs, we made our way through the darkened hallways to find our theater and took a seat, scooting into the middle of the row of the mostly empty movie theater. We sat for a while, quietly chatting, from time to time challenging our prowess to answer the quiz slides that shown on the screen as we waited for the movie to begin, and occasionally watching as the movie theater slowly filled with the occasional , mostly older couples, a few groups of teenagers here and there, until the lights began to dim.

But just as the trailers for the new slew of movies to hit the theaters began roll on the screen, a rather large and boisterous group of teenage girls found their way into the seats two rows behind us. Without even having to look behind me, I could already recognize how they were; a clique of girls from my high school class. They were what most of my classmates considered to be the "jet set" girls; cheerleader types who dated the best looking guys, and were drooled upon by the rest of the male members of my class. They were respectfully quiet as the movie began, although they continued to whisper back and forth as the movie went along, pausing only when they realized that the movie had become quiet and they could be heard . But as the movie went along, they continued to talk and gab at ever increasing levels as to be distracting but not totally obnoxious. If the movie had been the least bit interesting I think that I, or we, or everyone would have been annoyed enough to say something, but as it turned out the movie was predictable at best, and boring at least so neither Marylyn or I seemed to care too much.

I could hear them as they talked about a party one of the girls was planning to have as her parents were going away for a week, leaving her at the house alone. Marylyn had leaned over to me an whispered, wondering if I knew who these girls were. I nodded my answer yes, realizing that she, too, must have been listening in on their conversation.

"...so who else should we invite?" One of them whispered.

"...well, what about David Steegle? The other replied.

"Yeah, and his brother too!" Another chimed in, all of the girls giggling at the suggestion, the humor of it lost on me.

"Hey, what about that guy that was in your math class, Cindy?" One asked.

"Which one?" The reply came.

"You know... He's kinda skinny, brown hair, he sometimes hangs out with all those computer guys?" She replied a little louder, "He sat next to Charlie Wexler."

"Who... Bobbie Caldwell? One of the other girls replied.

The sound of my name perked my ears, drawing my attention totally away from the movies and onto their conversation. I felt Marylyn's elbow nudge my arm, realizing that she had heard it as well.

"Yeah, he's kinda cute." One of the girls replied.

He comment drew another and more forceful nudge from Marylyn, and I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was smiling sheepishly as she continued to watch the screen, but listen in intently to the conversation.

"I don't think so." The girl answered.

My spirits sank a bit. It was the kind of reaction that I had somehow expected but never willingly wanted to admit to myself.

"Why not?" One of the other girls asked. My spirits, and my attention were lifted once more. I listened with mixed apprehension for her answer. Strange, I almost felt philosophical about the whole thing. If she had a reason, I almost felt as if I needed to know, that maybe it was something I could correct, something I could change in order to get girls like that to notice me more.

"Well, because he's..." There was a long and silent pause, and I could only reason that she had either whispered her reply softly, or made some type of gesture.

"NO WAY!" One of the girls sitting close to the girl whispered forcefully. Her reaction caught me off guard and I felt a knot grow quickly in my stomach. What could she have possibly said?

"What? What?" The girl on the end asked curiously.

"He's gay, Beth."

Death... I died at that very moment. I felt it as clearly as if having been shot with a bullet right between the eyes. No, as if having been run down by a runaway cement truck, caught in it's wheels as I was being dragged along cruelly, losing my flesh as it scraped me mercilessly along the ground beneath it's weight.

"Oh my god!" The surprised girl giggled in reply.

"That's what I heard." The girl answered, sounding bolsteringly sure of herself.

With each moment, with each word I felt the weight of the cement truck grow heavier and heavier, rolling faster and faster, more wildly out of control.

There was a flurry of giggling and hushed whispering for a moment, until the girl spoke again.

"Well, I heard from Pauline, that she heard from her brother, that he heard..." The girl began to explain, but I couldn't hear her any longer. Not that her words had grown softer, only that the ringing in my ears, the sound of my pounding and panic stricken heart was drowning out the world around me. The knot in my stomach had grown, a knarled cancerous tumor that felt as if was about to consume me from inside.

"Why was this happening to me?" I screamed inside my head. "How? Who? Where the hell did they come up with this?" My instinct to stand up and scream was only overcome by the thought that if I move to open my mouth I might very well vomit.

I don't think there can be any more condemning statement of a teenage boy, a straight teenage boy, than to be labeled as being gay. If teenage life was not difficult enough, the stigma of being even accused as being gay was a sentence of death in our high school social circles; the girls would laugh at the idea of dating, but worse yet would be the punishment from the rest of the guys, punishment for some sort of betrayal to the masculine code, and for those intolerant - an excuse to deliver their own prescribed punishments. No one talked about it, at least no one I knew, but we all knew that it happened. Suddenly, one day, someone would just not show up for school any more, or worse yet, you would hear the stories of the beating. I had been condemned to Hell.

I sat silently and frozen, slumping slightly in my seat at the thought of being seen by anyone, when it suddenly occurred to me that Marilyn had been listening to this whole conversation. Again, another wave of nausea rocked my body.

I felt the brush of Marilyn's arm as she slowly and carefully leaned toward me to whisper something. I didn't know what to feel any longer, my mind exhausted and overwhelmed with devastation.

"I'm going to put a stop to this." Marilyn whispered in an acid tone to me.

I don't know why, but I grabbed her hand as it rested next to mine, squeezing it tightly as if to silently tell her not to. It occurred to me that only one possible scenario had yet to be played out, one last humiliation in a mountain of pain, that the girls would find that I had been sitting there in front of them all along.

I whispered to Marilyn quietly, "No... please..."

But it was too late. Marilyn turned in her seat, looking directly at the girls with a glare as she spoke in a hushed but forceful whisper, "Do you mind! People are trying to watch the movie!"

I sank in my seat another inch, pale and feeling sick to my stomach still. Marilyn turned herself back around and slid down into her seat to join me in my shrunken position.

"Asshole girls!" I heard her mumble under her breath, but it did little to soothe my nerves, thinking to myself all of the thoughts of a man condemned to death row.

I heard the girls behind make a few hushed comments about "the nerve" of the woman, but by and large, Marilyn's speech had accomplished it's intent, as the girls fell mostly silent for the rest of the movie.

Marilyn and I sat silently for a while, me staring blankly at the screen, lost in other thought, and Marilyn occasionally looking my way, obviously aware of my distress. I felt her hand gently slide into mine, and she squeezed it tenderly. She leaned closer and leaned her head down onto my shoulder, pausing to her my sigh at her comforting touch.

"I'm so sorry, Bobbie." She said softly, but I couldn't say a word, just finding the need for another sigh as I leaned my head over to touch hers in reply.

The movie was soon over, and as the lights began to illuminate the theater once again, I heard the clamor of the girls as they left their seats. Marilyn squeezed my hand again softly, asking sincerely, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine" I replied, an untruth.

"Do you want to go?" She asked again.

"Are they gone yet?" I asked.

"Yes, their gone. Let's go on home." She said, squeezing my hand one last time as if to assure me, or to transfer the strength to act.

"Okay." I replied, slowly standing but purposefully looking nowhere other that where I needed to walk directly out of my seat and right out of the mall.

Reaching the lobby, Marilyn took my hand again and gently pulled me to a stop, announcing that she needed to use the ladies room before we left. I nodded my understanding and stood silently in the now bustling lobby, quietly waiting for Marilyn's return but also still trapped in the thoughts of what my life was now to become. I knew with every fiber of me that those girls had said was not true. I was NOT gay. I could not even imagine how they could ever come up with the idea that I was gay. But it didn't really matter. It didn't matter that it was a lie, what mattered is that the mere rumor was enough to do it's damage. It wasn't possible to simply deny the accusation, who would I deny it to? Those girls? If I did, they would only realize that I had overheard them saying what they did and my denial would mean nothing. Even if I did, how many others had they told the same thing to? How many others would believe? It was as evil as McCarthyism, socially outcast by accusation.

And as I stood there, rolling in my self pity, I looked toward the restroom doors to see, not Marilyn emerge but the same group of girls that had been sitting behind us. They were scurrying out of the restroom door, laughing and giggling as they nestled together like a school of excited fish, heading out the door. I was too stunned to move, standing silent and shocked when one of the girls looked directly into my eyes, recognizing me immediately. Just as quickly, she leaned back into the huddle of ponytails and giggles, and soon all eyes were on me, one by one of them, looking at me with wide but excited eyes. Two of the girls continued to stare like deer in a car's headlights, while the others quickly tried to look the other way, giggling and blushing red. I just stood, once again, pale and ill.

The group of girls made their way quickly out the movie theater doors, huddling once again outside it's glass doors, peeking occasionally inside to capture another look at me, then huddle again. I felt their eyes on me and knew my humiliation was now complete.

Marilyn soon emerged from the restroom, strolling over to me with her look of total confidence, a comforting smile on her face. "C'mon, let's go." She said. She looped her arm in mine and nearly dragged me toward the door. She paused, a silent gesture of opportunity for me to open the door for her, as I stepped through the door following her, she reached out and took my hand once again, in a very obvious fashion. I was a bit surprised but only momentarily so as she beamed her familiar smile to me. I followed her lead as she guided my hand to her back, gently pulling my herself close to me and wrapped her arm around my waist, and silently urged my to walk with her. She lead us both directly toward the gaggle of whispering girls, and with a confident stride she lead me as we walked casually by them. I tried not to look at them, looking down the long hallway of the mall as we passed, only to feel as we passed the girls, the distinct feeling of Marilyn's slender hand as it slipped into the rear pocket of my blue jeans. It suddenly dawned on my exactly what she was doing and I began to feel a rush of triumph. She had wanted those girls to see me in no uncertain terms, and she wanted them to also see that they had been dead wrong their assumptions. Marilyn was acting the part of my girlfriend, and playing it up with elan, making sure that the gossiping group of teenage girls saw every little motion in our embrace. There was a hushed silence as we walked away from them, and I felt a smile begin to creep back onto my face. Looking over at Marilyn as we casually strolled away, she returned my smile with a knowing wink and a chuckle.

If ever I felt that she had saved my life, it was never greater than at that moment, and that I loved her more than words could describe.

The trip home from the mall was like a dream, real but somewhat of a fog as I tried to contemplate what had happened. Never in my life had I felt such a roller coaster of motions; the calm and serene pleasure of strolling along the mall with Marilyn, to the total despair of the movie theater, and then redemption at her doings. I felt exhausted, and the trip home was mostly silent. I didn't nor couldn't, begin to describe to Marilyn what I was thinking or how I felt. But I think she understood, not attempting to bring the subject up, allowing space in our silent journey home for thought.

I retreated to my room when we arrived home, feeling the need for sleep and reflection as I sprawled out on the comfort of my bed, soon drifting off into a listless slumber.

Chapter Ten

"Hi, Bobbie." Marilyn said in a hushed voice as she reached the bottom step of the stairs, carrying her glass of wine, and walked over to the sofa as I sat watching the tube. "Can I watch with you?"

I had slept for a while that late afternoon, waking groggily in my clothes and feeling hungry. I had gone upstairs to make myself something to eat, settling for a small sandwich and some chips, and listened to the shower down the hall running. I tried not to daydream, listening to the warbled splashing of the water, knowing that Marilyn was in there. Knowing that she was...

"Shit." I thought to myself, standing up from the kitchen table and putting my plate in the dishwasher, "...you're pathetic.", and headed downstairs.

"Sure." I replied, snapping back to my senses. Marilyn was wearing a set of flannel pajamas, her hair still wet from the shower but neatly combed.

"Mmmmm..." She sighed, taking a sip from her glass after curling up on the end of the sofa as she always did. Marilyn never asked what might be on the television to watch, always content to just jump in to what ever I happened to be watching and never complaining or saying a word.

"It's been quiet a day." She said aloud, but very softly, never taking her eyes off of the television.

"Yeah, I guess..." I said quietly.

After a few minutes of silence, other than the televisions drone, I heard Marilyn clear her throat to speak.

"Bobbie..." She said, looking at me this time, "... Thank you for coming along with me to the mall today."

I looked at her and tried my best to smile. The time we spent together shopping was fun, and somehow I wished that I had the courage to tell her how it made me feel, how she made me feel, walking around arm in arm with such a beautiful woman. But I couldn't.

She smiled back at me, but with a look of tenderness and sadness. "I had a really great time." She said softly.

"Yeah?" I asked doubtingly, surprised at her statement.

"I mean that Bobbie. I had a great time." She said again, forcing a wider but genuine smile. I tried to do the same, but it was obvious on my face that I didn't exactly feel the same, and the expression on her face showed it as she tried not to pretend that she could see my sadness. "It was nice to have such a gentleman along with me." She said, trying to cheer me up.

I knew what she meant, and I also knew why she said it, but I couldn't disguise the fact that hearing her say it just got me more depressed. "Such a gentleman...", I thought to myself, " ...a gentleman by association." It made me think of how being such a gentleman had gotten me into the miserable state my social life was in. I had always felt that the proper way to treat a girl was to be the perfect gentleman, never a hint or a clue that I was anything but a gentleman; courteous, proper, never suggestive of how I really felt about them or what I dreamt of. And this is where it had gotten me, the most popular girls in school convinced that I must be gay, not interested in them in the least. And all the time, as I watched silently the other guys in my class, the ones who seemed to have a never ending supply of girls waiting to date them, watching how they treated the girls, how insensitive they could be, how... harsh. And yet, they were the ones still getting the girls and here I was, defending my heterosexuality against rumor. It was at that moment that I saw the true irony in it all: how does one defend their heterosexuality when one is asexual. I mean, don't you have to have some sort of sexual life to BE heterosexual in the first place?

We both sat silently for a while, thinking of what to say but unsure of what. I think that I wanted to talk about how I felt, but was still unsure what Marilyn would think, how she would react if I brought up the subject of sex. Would it make her uncomfortable? I knew from all that I had read that it was definitely something she thought about, or at least used to. But that was such a long time ago. Had she changed? Did she still feel the same way? The time that she'd been living in the house for the second time, I never once got the impression that she felt any differently than any normal aunt looking at her nephew, a normal relationship in every respect, and that alone fueled my doubts that all that I had read was pure and total fantasy, the words of deep inner thoughts that were nothing more than that, something to stay deep and buried.

I had turned my attention back to the drone of the television, still deep in my own thoughts when Marilyn turned back to me and softly spoke.

"I'm sorry about what happened in the movie theater." She said.

I was a bit surprised to hear what she'd said, wondering to myself why she would feel sorry, until I realized that she felt sorry for me.

"It's not your fault." I said, looking back into her saddened eyes. My words bought a soft smile to her face.

"I know, I know." She said consolingly. "But I feel terrible just the same. Those girls have no right saying such things." She looked at me with probing eyes, as if waiting for my reaction, a look of doubt in her eyes that spelled out to me that somehow she was wondering if there might be a truth to what they'd said. In all honesty, I suppose she had the right to wonder. I don't think that I had ever mentioned to her or in front of her , or my mother, my thoughts or feelings about any girl. I wasn't dating, I wasn't even going out on dates in any sense of the word. My only social circle was comprised of male classmates, and most of them were not what you would consider to be the masculine type by any stretch, techie types more interested in cpu's and silicon chips than silicon breasts. That's not to say that weren't interested in girls, they were. Probably just as much as I was, but like myself, they saw that their world was so removed from the "dating crowd" that pursuing it only made life more depressing.

"It's okay, it's not a big deal. Really." I replied, lying through my teeth. It had been more than obvious that it had been a big deal, and I felt suddenly smaller for having tried to hide the truth from Marilyn.

"Still..." She offered, her tone sounding a bit angered, as if directed at the girls.

Her bitter tone coaxed my mind to ease it's shyness, allowing me to openly spell my thoughts more freely with her. "I just don't understand where they would come up with such an idea. " I said.

Marilyn sat silent for a moment, taking another sip of her wine, before speaking again, but sounding more as if she were speaking to herself than me as she announced toward our feet more venomously, "Young girls can be so stupid... talking about things they know nothing about."

I was again surprised at the tone of her voice, the anger that it carried and the suggestion that there was some deeper reason behind them. "A memory of the past?" I wondered silently.

"I guess." I replied, not knowing what to say. I wanted to say something to end her anger, to let her know that whatever it was that she was feeling, that all she had done for me that afternoon more than made up for the pain I'd felt.

And after a long pause, I blurted out, "Yeah, but you showed 'em."

Marilyn looked back up at me and I saw a smile growing on her face again. I suppose she could read the sense of satisfaction on my face, the taste of revenge that shown in my smile that she had indeed showed the girls that they were wrong in what they'd said, and I thought to myself of how Marilyn had been the perfect punctuation of my small triumph. Her smile grew to a laugh and soon the both of us were laughing together at the thought.

"No, I just showed them how lucky they could be to have someone as special as you." She said.

I felt embarrassed at the compliment, again feeling as if it were the type of compliment a mother might say to a son a million times out of pride, but also wanting or wishing that was not how she meant it. I wanted to tell her how she had made me feel, letting me daydream somehow that I had been her date for the day, and of how good it made me feel but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Instead, I can up with the only response I knew of, and that was to begin blushing again as I secreted away my thoughts.

This brought on an even bigger smile from Marilyn as she realized that she had embarrassed me for the second time that day. She tried to hide her laughter as she spoke again. "I mean that, Bobbie. You could have girls much prettier than them, if only..." She began to say, but stopped herself.

"If only?... If only...what?" My mind raced. The anxious look on my face forced her to pause even more hesitantly, perhaps even embarrass her as she became suddenly still and quiet as if she'd stepped suddenly into a very serious subject. And in a way, she had. I wanted desperately to know... to know the what... just as I had as sitting in the movie theater listening to the gossip of those girls, and my expression of angst showed it.

"I... I'm sorry..." Marilyn stuttered out, "I shouldn't have..."

I could tell that she was definitely embarrassed, but I wanted desperately to hear what she was going to say, and quickly heard myself blurting out, "No, wait..."

She looked back at me with somber eyes. "...I... I want to know... what you think." I admitted hesitantly.

She looked at me unsure, and I pleaded once more, "...honest."

Her smile returned, as mine mirrored hers, and she said, "Okay, well..."

I waited anxiously for her to begin, and was felt a sting of disappointment as she began in a mildly sarcastic, pseudo-adolescent-tone, " you are definitely the cutest guy I know..."

"C'mon!" I snapped sharply, "I'm serious!"

"I'm sorry." She apologized, realizing just how serious I indeed was. She took a deep breath and sighed, all the while looking into my eyes.

" I think that you're handsome..." She began in a serious tone, looking me dead in the eye, not giving me an opportunity to fall back into blushed embarrassment again. "... and smart...", she continued with a soft smile, "... and funny..."

I found myself hanging nervously on her ever word, anxiously listening but cautious awaiting for her to mention the "only if" words that I wanted to hear her say.

" I love how honest you are..." she continued with a more serious tone, and I suddenly began to feel a knot grow in my stomach, feeling the weight of guilt grow in me. "...and how it shows." She read the look on my face to be on of confusion, and she was right in a way.

"Well, like today... in the department store." She said with a knowing and wry smile, and I knew exactly what she meant. I suddenly felt very embarrassed again, and couldn't stop the inevitable signs of it emerging as I began to blush once more.

"That's exactly what I mean." She said with a giggle. "Girls, ...women, love it when a man shows how he feels, or what he thinks. It's just..."

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I heard her say it.

"Just what?" I heard the voice call out in my head, and my anxiousness showed as never before as Marilyn studied my face, knowing that this is what I wanted.

"Well, girls, especially young girls, feel ... uneasy, when a man seems unsure about himself. It reminds them of how unsure they really are about themselves, and..." She went on, "... so they feel more comfortable around men that seem confident all the time." I sat silent, trying to digest what she'd said, and it again must have shown on my face, as she continued, "That doesn't always mean that those men DO, because they invariably DON'T, but they give the appearance that they do, or are."

Marilyn paused for a second, then asked cautiously, " Am I making any sense?"

I must have sat with a questioning look on my face, as before I could answer her question, she continued on.

"What I mean is, I think if you..." She said, but halted herself to change the words, "... if a man shows that he is confident about himself, about what he thinks and wants, then women feel more comfortable in themselves."

"Do you see what I mean?" She asked again, sounding still unsure herself.

"Yeah..." I answered, sounding just as unsure of myself as she had. I did know, I knew exactly what she meant. I had seem it a thousand times, guys in school who walked around as if they knew everything in the world, knew that they had the secret. But I also knew that most of the time they were full of shit, that they walked around cocky and bold but in truth they didn't know the first thing about women. And it made me angry most of the time, but somehow I just seemed to get more and more confused, and angry, at the irony of it all.

"But..." I began to say, unsure of what it was I wanted. My thoughts were as confused as ever and I could feel a sense of frustration and anger growing inside of me.

"That's bullshit..." I thought to myself, "... I mean, don't those girls know how full of shit those guys are? They treat them like dirt, but they still don't care? Just because a guy is cocky?"

It didn't make sense to me, but yet it made perfect sense. Marilyn was right, and right about another thing. I was possibly the least sure of myself of anyone I knew. At least when it came to girls. And again, the irony began to set into my thoughts, and I became lost in my own thoughts and anger.

And soon enough, I began to hear the words of days, months, even years of frustration, ramble out of me, "... but, how do you get to be confident if you're so unsure of yourself to begin with? It's like, I never seem to feel unsure of myself when I talk to girls about Math, or Science or whatever... "

The words poured out like a tap bursting open. " ...but talk about sex? Forget it. I mean..."

I could hear myself saying the words, but I could not stop. I didn't seem to care. It was as if I needed to say them aloud, to let them out, or they were going to choke me. "... I mean, they teach you about everything in school, they show you everything in school, but... sometimes I wish... sometimes, I just wish I could find someone to teach me about, you know... women, and sex, and..."

It was just then, as I heard myself exposing my every though aloud, that I realized just what I'd said. And I became aware of a deafening silence in the room. I slowly looked at Marilyn, horrified at what I'd just said, realizing that they are almost the same exact words Marilyn had used in her diary, and I began to feel a sense of panic.

Marilyn sat next to me, silent and still, and when I looked at her face, my stomach wrenched once more. Her eyes were wide, her jaw slacked as if in total shock. "Oh, god.... what have I done..." I though in desperation.

But there it was. I had said it, and I meant it too. Every word of it. And yet, if I could have taken it all back I would have, seeing the look on her face. She sat, still silent and in shock, until quickly realizing that I was looking at her, staring at her, and she blinked quickly and looked down at her feet.

" I... what I mean is... " I began to stammer uncontrollably again, " well, ... it's not like I don't know, I mean I've seen books and stuff, I even saw a porno tape that Jimmie snuck from his brother's room..."

I couldn't believe what I was saying, but it was like I had been bathed in truth serum, the truth escaping from me like a balloon bursting.

"...but it's different for real. I mean, I just get so nervous, and..." I finally found the power to stop, to cut myself off before I had said it all, before...

"... Bobbie?" I heard Marilyn say in a trembling and terrified voice.

I couldn't say a word, frozen by the frightened tone of her voice.

"I need to ask you a question..." She began , her voice still trembling, "... and I need you to tell me the truth..."

I felt the knot in my stomach turn tighter.

"... Bobbie... " She began again, her hands clenched tightly on her lap as she stared down, "... when you fixed my old computer..."

"Oh, god..." My heart swelled up into my throat.

"... was there anything on it?" She asked, lifting her strained eyes to look at me.

I wanted desperately to lie, to tell her what I had before. But as I stared into her pained and frightened eyes I just couldn't, and I found myself slowly nodding the truth.

I saw the horror in her eyes swell, and the color drift from her skin. She was still staring deeply into my eyes, the tears welling , as she searched my face for the truth.

"... did you..." Was all she said, and at that moment it became apparent to her that I knew exactly what she was asking, the truth showing on my face.

"Oh my god!" I heard her squeak out in a muffled voice as she covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes still staring horrified into mine. Her tears began to stream from her face, and I could no longer stand to look into her eyes, dropping my head in utter shame.

Her body began to shake as she began to cry, and I looked up again at her and tried to speak.

"Marilyn..." I choked out, my voice failing me, when in an instant I felt the sharp sting of her hand as it lashed out and slapped across my cheek.

I sat in stunned silence, shocked not by the numbness of her hand, but by my own horror as I looked into her eyes. I had done this. I was the cause of such pain. And I wanted to die.

"I'm so sorry..." I tried again to speak, my own tears rolling from my eyes, when I felt her hand again crashing against my face; this time harder, full of rage.

"How could you!" I heard her scream, as she stumbled to her feet and ran up the stairs crying.

The world around me felt as if it were crumbling apart. The only sound I could hear were the words of my own thoughts as they screamed inside me. I could hardly breath and yet my heart was pounding so fiercely that I thought that it would explode. It was then that I heard the sound of Marilyns footsteps as the ran down the hall from her room, the front door bursting open , and the squeal of tires as she raced out the driveway.

I was going to be sick, and I felt the room begin to spin as I dashed for the bathroom.

Chapter Eleven

Darkness.

Dread.

I paced the floor endlessly that night, waiting, hoping, begging to hear the sound of Marilyn returning home, but it did not happen.

Morning came and went, as did the day, and still nothing. I was beginning to fear the worst. The lack of sleep, coupled with the stress of my guilt, sent wild thoughts running through my head, each one building upon the other, until I began to feel numb with pain.

I sat listening to the clock upstairs ring ten, it's chimes almost seeming to echo through the empty house, when I heard the muffled rumble of Marilyn's car pull into the driveway. And again, I began to feel that terrible twisting inside, my guilt... my penance, return.

The motor fell silent, and I listened nervously to the clunk of the car door as it closed. I stood cautiously, unsure of what to do: should I say something? Will she even talk to me? But as I stood in worry, the front door groaned as it opened slowly, the light in the foyer snapping on and sending it's warm light down the short flight of stairs to where I waited. I listened to Marilyn softly close the door, and wondered whether or not I should climb the stairs.

"Bobbie...?" I heard her call out in a soft but weathered voice.

I listened to the strange sound of my own voice as it tried to reply, crackling as if I hadn't spoken in a thousand years, " Marilyn..."

I watched her slowly and deliberately walk down the stares, never looking my way, reaching the bottom of the stairs and standing hesitantly still. I could only see her silhouette, her face hidden in her own shadow, but it was unmistakable that the stood as I did, pained and troubled.

"I... I cant' see..." She said softly.

Without a thought, I stepped closer to her , leaning down to switch on the lamp that sat on the small end table next to me and cautiously looked up. Marilyn was standing quietly, her arms folded across her stomach tightly, holding onto herself as if she were frozen cold. Her face was hidden under the ruffled hair as she stared at the floor, the suddenness of light having stung her eyes, but as the light seemed to soften to us both, she slowly and gently lifted her face to look at me.

I felt the stabbing of a hundred swords in my gut as I looked into her sunken eyes, the look of pain and exhaustion telling me more than I wanted to know.

"Bobbie...?" She said softly , tilting her face pensively and bowing her knee to carry her weight on one leg, her hips tilting gently in feminine pose.

"Marilyn..." I began, taking a another hesitant step toward her as I searched for the words to express my shame, "I... I know you must hate me..."

Marilyn's lip began to quiver, her eyes filling with tears as I spoke, and I felt another stab of pain in my gut, thinking that I was hurting her all over again.

"I didn't mean to hurt you..." I managed to say before finding myself unable to speak, my own tears flowing as I looked into her weeping eyes.

Her face began to clench with impending tears as she stepped toward me, and I froze in fear; willing her to strike me again, wanting to feel the pain I so deserved, hoping it would ease her suffering.

But as I closed my eyes, waiting for release, I felt her arms gently wrap themselves around my neck, pulling me tight, her cheek burying into my shoulder as she began to sob.

My arms instinctively wrapped around her, and I felt her pull me tighter at my touch, her body shaking with the power of her crying. I felt both stunned and relieved, confused by the desperation of her embrace but overcome with the tenderness of her touch, the feel of her in my arms.

She clung to me like a frightened child, fighting the urge to cry but knowing that it was useless, each wave of emotion welling within her and releasing itself in another clenching wail. I held her tightly, wanting her to know that I was there, know that I would hold on to her until the end of time if that was what she wanted.

"I'm so sorry..." She choked out, succumbing to another wave of tears. I held her tighter still, listening to her cries and knowing that I was the one who needed to be saying those words, the one to be begging forgiveness.

"No!" I cried out in sobs of guilt, "Please..."

Time seemed to stand still as we stood locked in embrace. A minute? An hour? It mattered little to me as I only wished to comfort her as she released her sorrow in my arms, her deep and powerful sobbing

"...I'm so ashamed..." She cried.

"Please, don't cry..." I pleaded, "I'm the one who needs to apologize. I had no right ..."

"Oh, Bobbie..." She began to say through her sniffles, "... you must think I'm horrible..."

"Please, no..." I begged her, " ...Please don't say that. I'm the one, I'm the one who was wrong. I had no right to read your personal things. Please don't think I'm mad at you, I could never..."

Marilyn squeezed me hard, then took in a deep breath, holding it tightly as she tried to end her crying. "... but all those things I wrote... the things I did..." She said hesitantly, still fighting off the tears.

All through the night I had convinced myself that Marilyn must have thought I was the most evil, horrible person on earth; sneaking around in her diary, and lying about it to her. And then, as I held her weeping in my arms, and listening to her apologize, I thought that she felt that way about having hit me. I never once occurred to me that she was crying not because I had read her diary, but because of what it was that she had said in her diary, the things that she had done. I felt like a fool.

Marilyn began to ease her grip on me, catching her breath, and slowly draw away to look at me. She looked at me with sorrowful and questioning eyes, her gaze cutting right through me as I stood running circles in my mind, trying to think of what to say. I felt as if I could read her thoughts through her eyes, and found myself uttering out the words, "I swear, I'll never tell anyone..."

Her eyes began to immediately fill again with tears, and I quickly blurted out, "No, wait...please don't cry... I would never say anything..."

Marilyn just looked into my eyes and I found myself beginning to babble helplessly. "I mean... if you want... if... I'll... do anything... for you... with you..."

And the more I babbled, the more upset Marilyn became, the tears again rolling down her cheeks.

"... I'm sorry..." I said, wanting to somehow to end her pain.

"No, Bobbie..." She said with a quivering voice, "Don't you see? What I did was wrong, and the thinks I said, the things I wrote... I just..."

"I don't care." I pleaded. " I don't care what anybody thinks."

"But Bobbie..." She protested, her voice sounding clearer for the first time.

"I don't care!" I demanded, "All I know is that I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world... and that I would do anything to make you happy... and that if I... if you... would be my teacher..."

My words seemed to take her breath, her eyes looking glassy, and she began to look suddenly faint. I quickly guided her to the sofa, helping her gently sit down. I sat down on the edge of the cushion next to her, looking hard at her frail and exhausted face, hoping to know that she was okay. She laid her head back dizzily and closed her eyes.

"Let me get you some water." I said excitedly, but when I tried to stand up, Marilyn gently reached for my arm, halting me.

"It's okay, Bobbie." She whispered. "I'm okay."

"No, please... let me..." I protested.

"No Bobbie... just..." Marilyn whispered again softly, pulling my arm and guiding me to lean back on the sofa next to her, "... just stay here..."

Leaned back slowly, focused on the tenderness of her touch, the softness of her hand on my skin.

"... stay..." She said softly, in an ever drowsy voice. " I just need to rest..." She whispered, her voice trailing off in a sigh.

I sat cautiously, watching her. Watching her face, watching her chest rise and fall in ever softer, ever slower rhythm. She sighed again, her body relaxing more, and I began to feel her tiredness, my own body beginning to betray me. I felt the surge of a deep sigh within me, and as I released my breath, softening myself as I sat, I felt her hand gently stroke the soft skin of my arm. Her touch felt magical and I relaxed even more.

"I don't know what to do..." Marilyn whispered out loud, the sound of her thoughts escaping her lips, asking the question to herself.

I sat silently, wondering the same question. Marilyn sighed again deeply and I wondered, and worried to myself, what she was thinking.

"Please tell me what you're thinking, Marilyn" I asked hesitantly, the pressure of silence beating heavy on me.

She huffed out a laugh of surprise, almost regretfully.

"Oh, Bobbie..." She said sadly, "I don't know anymore."

I knew what she meant. The last few hours, the last two days, all that had happened, it all seemed so... unreal. So... difficult. And I sighed in recognition.

"I can go if you want me to." I offered, wondering if she wanted to be alone to think.

"No, Bobbie. Don't you see?" She said, opening her eyes and looking at me sadly. But I didn't, I didn't understand what she meant and it showed on my face.

"You're my NEPHEW, Bobbie. My sister's son. It's wrong. I was wrong." She tried to explain.

I began to feel my stomach turn once again, and I closed my eyes and began to slump deeper into the sofa as I felt sick.

"Bobbie, you're..." She began, but halted as she watched my reactions to her words. She lifted her head from the cushion of the sofa to look at me, and tried to explain again.

"Bobbie, please understand... I love you. I love you more than anything in the world, but..." She paused, searching for the words. "... but I love you as my nephew."

She looked at me with inquisitive eyes, hoping that I would understand.

"Those things..." She began again, "... those things I wrote, those things were... lust." I opened my eyes and looked at her.

"All those things..." She began to say, dropping her eyes and looking distantly down to our hands, "... what I wrote in my diary were thoughts and feelings I had about... sex."

"I know..." I tried to answer, not feeling sure that I did. I knew in my heart that Marilyn was never in love with me, but just the same I didn't care. I didn't care about anything, except the way it made me feel when I read those things that she wrote... about me. It made me feel... like a man.

"No, Bobbie, you don't..." She said, "... you can't."

I felt the sting of her words. "Why? Why couldn't I? Do you think I'm just a little kid? Some snot nosed..." My thoughts stormed angrily in my head.

"Wait, Bobbie! That's not what I meant..." Marilyn apologized, seeing my anger.

"It's just that, well..." She hesitated, swallowing her pride and blinking away some tears as she tried to explain herself, " ... when I was younger, even younger than you, I used to think about things... boys..."

Marilyn hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath, searching for words and courage, "... about sex. A lot."

I looked into her eyes, wanting to hear more.

"Okay," She chuckled embarrassingly, "... all the time."

I smiled at her in recognition.

"... and, you see, I was just so curious. there was so much I didn't know." She continued.

I passed my understanding to her in my eyes, as I saw as she began to relax a little.

"I , umm... well, I guess I made the mistake of trying too hard to lose my virginity and it ended up being an awful experience."

I nodded in understanding.

" I guess it kinda scared me in a way..." She said softly, admitting it to herself as much as to me. " I mean, after that... happened, I guess I just was afraid to... I don't know... afraid to admit to anyone all the things I was still curious about, all the things I would think about. "

I tried to speak, wanting to tell her that I felt the same way, that I knew how she felt, but she stopped me and continued on.

"And then, when I came to stay here that first time, and I... when I saw you... I guess I just felt like I did when I was young, so curious all over again."

"Marilyn..." I said, after a long pause. " I think I know what you mean. Really I do."

She smiled at me, but it quickly faded away as I could see her thinking again. somehow I knew I didn't want her to, to keep thinking, to keep doubting, and so I continued on.

"... And I think I know what your thinking. But it doesn't matter to me. I don't care that... I'm... that we're... I mean, I just know that when I'm around you I feel like I can say anything, I can do anything... and not be afraid of what you'll think."

"What I'm trying to tell you, Bobbie, is that I... that we, can never be in love." She said.

"I know." I answered. "But we can still be friends...?"

"I will always be your friend, Bobbie." She smiled in surprise.

"... special friends...?" I asked hesitantly, and saw her smile fade again.

"... we could help each other, we could ... teach each other, all those things you wanted..." I pleaded.

Her eyes grew somber as she stared into mine with seriousness. And as I looked at her, watching as she thought, deep in her eyes I saw a glimmer; an almost imperceptible flicker that she wanted to say , "Yes."

"... no one would ever know..." I added with a seriousness and conviction I've never felt before. "... I swear it to you."

" Oh god..." she whispered as she began to cry again, but I needed to know. I needed to know right then and there, and I stared back at her with imploring eyes.

"... if you say no, I'll understand." I said, feeling the guilt of my pleading, but still, I needed to know.

"Bobbie, I... I 'm so..." She stuttered out among her tears, " I can't do this any more. I can't think..."

My heart sank with her pleading. She was being torn apart and it was at my doing.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, Marilyn." I said remorsefully. " I promise, I'll never say another word..."

"No, Bobbie..." Marilyn pleaded, "It's... I'm just so confused. I just need some time..."

"I understand." I answered her, my dread growing deeper.

"I'm so tired..." She sighed as her tears waned.

"I understand." And I did. All of the anxiety, all the emotion, all of the fear... had drained my body to it's limits. The mere suggestion of her words sent my body crashing, crying out for rest, relief from the strain.

" I am too." I admitted with a reluctant sigh.

There was a long and awkward moment as we both sat silently on the sofa. Marilyn's discomfort was beginning to become apparent ,as she folded her arm about herself once more, as if cold and seeking her own warmth.

"I think..." Marilyn spoke , breaking the chilling silence, "... we both could use some sleep."

"Yeah" I answered uncertainly.

"How on earth are you ever going to sleep?" I questioned myself.

Marilyn stood from the sofa, still tightly wound in her own arms, and I awkwardly stumbled as I stood along with her. She remained standing in front of me, more cautiously than ever, and nervously avoided looking at me.

"Goodnight Bobbie." She said softly, her voice sounding very nervous. Only then did she look at my face. I felt a chill of shame run through me as I looked at her, and suddenly felt as if I could no longer stand to look into her eyes.

"G... Good night Aunt Marilyn..." I fumbled out, my gaze falling to the floor as I fought to control my nervousness.

And then she was gone, walking slowly and cautiously up the stairs. With each receding sound of her footsteps, making her way up the stairs in to her room, my stomach churned faster and faster. What in the world had I done? How could I have screwed up so badly? And once again, I began to feel the all too familiar wave of nausea begin to well it's ugly head.

Chapter Twelve

It was a gentle knock on my bedroom door that woke me from my sleep, a hard and dreamless sleep, and it took a brief moment for my mind to recover from it's blank emptiness and realize just where I was. I glanced over to the alarm clock that stood sentinel on my desk; 11:00 AM, and the soft rap on my door repeated it's call, along with the voice of my Aunt Marilyn.

"Bobbie? Are you awake?"

"Ummm... yeah... I'm... awake." I gargled out, my throat and mouth dry and groggy.

"When you get dressed, can you come upstairs?" She asked.

"Ummm... yeah. I'll be up in just a minute." I replied, suddenly feeling the return of my senses... and my uneasiness.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt, I headed to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Standing over the sink, looking into the mirror as I combed my hair, I studied hard and deep into the eyes of the image that reflected as my own, and felt a wave of shame come over me.

"... a fool." I thought.

Wiping my face dry, I looked one more time at the pathetic figure in the mirror and thought to myself in self pity, "... and now you have to pay the price for your stupidity."

Mustering my courage, and finding no more excuses to delay the inevitable, I slowly climbed the stairs, pausing only briefly as I turned the corner of the split stairway to climb the final few steps. Marilyn was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands cupped around her coffee cup as if to sap it's warmth. She looked up briefly at me, seeing that I was climbing the stairs, but returned her eyes to the coffee cup, and I felt the tension in her gaze.

"Good morning." She said softly, looking once more at me as I entered the kitchen.

"Good morning" I replied, nervously walking to the refrigerator and staring blankly inside, my appetite nowhere to be found.

"Are you hungry?" She asked with sincerity.

"No... not really." I admitted, closing up the door but not finding the courage to turn around.

"I'll... make you something, " She said hesitantly, "... if you'd like?"

"No, I'm not really hungry." I turned around and looked at her, listening to the concern in her voice, and seeing the same in her eyes. I felt my stomach turn as I saw the same troubled look in her eyes that I had the night before.

"I was thinking..." She said, looking back down into the swirl of her coffee cup, and I tensed, waiting to hear what might come.

"I was thinking of going for a drive..." I was a bit stunned, having prepared myself for some horrible event, some devastating thought to come from her, and I stared blankly as she continued.

"It's not too far, and I thought... would you like to come along?" She asked, looking trepidatiously at me. I didn't know what to think, and found myself fumbling for words.

"Uh... where?" I stumbled out, feeling stupid for asking. Did it really matter?

"Just a place..." She answered.

"Uh, yeah..." I said trying to recover myself. It was obvious that this was important to her and I felt doubly foolish for having questioned her. "I mean, sure. I'd love to."

"Okay." She said with a lighter note to her voice. "I thought we could go whenever you're ready."

"Ummm... sure.." I said nervously, "I mean, whenever you want to."

"Okay."

She took a slow sip from her coffee and gently set it back down on the table, still holding it cupped in her hands.

"I'm just going to get a few things, and then we'll go." She said.

"Uh, sure. I'll... I'll just get some shoes on and meet you outside." I said, feeling strangely nervous.

"Okay, I'll be right there."

I waited by Marilyn's car, trying not to stare as I watched her close the front door and head toward the car. She was wearing an ordinary pair of blue jeans, and a white shirt, fit tightly to her shapely figure. Her hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail, nothing she wouldn't normally do, but somehow today she had the aura of youthfulness; of the girl next door, and it was difficult for me not to want to stare. She gave me a faint smile as she climbed into the car and I joined her, working hard to keep my focus outside the car as she went about the business of driving.

We both sat quietly, content to listen to our own thoughts for a while, the whistling of the open windows enough to entertain us as we drove along. I wondered curiously as we headed out of town, climbing onto the highway, where it was that we were headed. But I didn't ask. I was content to go where ever it was that she wanted. The cloned monotony of the suburbs soon gave way to open country, and I enjoyed contemplating the unfamiliar sights as they passed by my window.

Marilyn slowed the car gently as we headed back off the highway, an exit sign naming a place I didn't know: Watson Grove. We headed into the town, the road clustered with gas station's and mini malls as we drove, until Aunt Marilyn pulled down a side street, taking us into a residential neighborhood. I began to wonder more and more where we were, where we were going, but still I felt it best not to ask. Marilyn continued to slow the car as we made our way deeper and deeper into the neighborhood, the streets become narrower and narrower as we drove. The homes along the streets were older, a neighborhood that had obviously been there for some time. But as Marilyn turned the car one last time, down another small street, ahead I could see that the road ended. But as we approached the dead end of the street, I saw a parking lot and small sign; Thomas C. Logan Park.

Marilyn wheeled into the near empty lot and parked the car, turning off the motor without saying a word, and opened her door. The feeling was strangely eerie as she stepped out of the car, looking around the park with a distant look in her eyes. I was watching her carefully, and she shot me an embarrassed smile as she realized that I had been looking at her curiously.

"We're here." She said, matter of factly, leaving me to wonder where exactly "here" was.

I smiled back at her, my questioning obviously showing on my face as she smiled back gently.

"Are you thirsty?" She asked.

"Umm... No. Not really." I replied, looking out across the park in an effort to understand just where and why we were here. It seemed to be a park not unlike a million other municipal parks; a few small softball fields spread out back to back, and beyond them to one side was a children's playground, complete with swings and other things. It was lined around it's perimeter with trees, with the occasional shade tree thrown in among the other grassy areas.

Marilyn started to walk from the car, stepping out onto the grass and into the warm sunlight. It was exceptionally hot, and the occasional breeze felt good as it would sweep by. I followed her silently as she continued to walk on, growing more curious by the moment, but feeling as if I would be disturbing Marilyn's thoughts if I were to ask the million questions that seemed to be popping in and out of my head. I walked out into the grass, looking across the large field, seeing some kids playing in the playground beyond, and hearing the familiar sounds of a park mower as it tended to it's duties, when I heard Marilyn speak up softly from behind me.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" She asked. I turned and saw her standing on a small bicycle path, half turned as if to begin her walk.

"Uhhh... sure." I replied, willing to follow her anywhere.

We walked slowly along the path, still saying nothing to each other as Marilyn had a contemplative look to her face. She would smile gently whenever I she would find me watching her, but still offered nothing to break the her strange and silent mood. I felt increasingly embarrassed at my attempts to watch her, to figure out what she was thinking. The path followed along the edge of the park, occasionally winding it's way around the odd stand of trees, until it seemed to come to the far end of the park. But just as it appeared as though it would turn to follow along the park's wooded enclosure, to wind back into the park, I realized that it continued on into the woods. Marilyn continued on, strolling along at a leisurely pace, and no sooner had the path found us into the cool shade of the trees, it turned and opened up once again. To my surprise, it did not open back up to another field, but turned sharply to follow along a river's edge. The river was very wide, and I realized that it was only the hum of distant cars passing over the bridge down the river that had kept me from noticing it before. The path was lined with a row of small street lamps, spaced well apart but enough to light it at night. Travelling down the expansive river was a large tug, pushing gently an even larger barge as it made it's way downstream. I could see across the river, several large docks, all of which appeared to be commercial in size, and further up river, some type of factory,

I walked along the rivers edge, it's broken stone and concrete walls alive with the splashing sounds of water. In my curious enthusiasm, I had made my way ahead of Marilyn, and I turned to see her smiling at me, acknowledging my fascination of this new place.

"It's the XXXXXXX River." She said without my asking. Marilyn continued to walk along the path slowly as I stood at the river's edge, inspecting the sights and watching the muddy water as it splashed gentle along the walls. But after a few minutes, I began to realize that I had been standing for longer than I had thought and looked up the path to see Marilyn still walking along casually. I stepped down off of the river's wall and back onto the path, speeding my steps in order to catch up with her. I was only a matter of steps behind her when she slowed, gently sitting herself down on a small bench opposite the river along the small path. I slowed cautiously as Marilyn sat looking out across the water, a distant look in her eyes and her mood somber.

She looked up at me and gave a half smile, and I felt my stomach twitch.

"Bobbie..." She asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah...?" I answered tentatively.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure." I replied, unsure of myself but somehow knowing what she wanted to talk about. I had been thinking about it all the time we drove in the car, wondering when she would want to talk about what had happened last night, and sometimes wishing that the whole thing would disappear.

"Do you want to sit down?" She asked, looking up at me with concerned eyes.

"Ummm... sure." I sat down cautiously, making sure to give her room on the small bench.

She didn't speak right away, still looking out over the water deep in thought. My tension continued to mount as I sat waiting for her to talk, to say something... anything...

"I'm... I'm sorry if I haven't been good company today." She apologized. I almost wanted to burst out in a nervous laugh, but found the strength to stop myself. But as I tried to find a quick quip, something to lighten her mood, she spoke again softly.

"... I've been doing a lot of thinking." Her words throttled my nervous excitement, and I sat rigidly still, waiting for her to continue.

" I guess we both have a lot to think about." She said, looking at me with an acknowledging half smile. I knew exactly what she meant, but found it hard to hold her glance, too nervous of what might come.

"Yeah..." I mumbled, looking down at my feet.

I knew that she was still looking at me but I couldn't respond; looking into her eyes almost seemed painful.

"Are you nervous?" She asked sincerely.

This time, it was too much for me to contain, and I blurted out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah." I admitted, feeling the irony in her question, and finally looked up at her. Her smile grew and her face softened as she chuckled a bit with me.

"Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question." She laughed. I enjoyed seeing her laugh, it was a comforting feeling seeing her happy. But her smile slowly faded and her look drew more serious.

"I'm nervous too..." She said, "... if that helps any?" It was a question that didn't need answering, and I sat silently waiting for her to continue.

But she didn't. We both sat nervously, looking out across the water, watching the barge slowly drift by.

"Marilyn..." I finally mumbled out, my voice choked as I began to speak, " I... I'm so sorry this happened. I wish..."

"No, Bobbie, wait..." She interrupted me. "Please don't think it's your fault."

I wanted to try again to apologize, to let her know that I was willing to forget the whole thing ever happened, but she spoke again before I could explain myself.

"It's... It's my fault really..." She began to explain, "... I mean, I guess I did want it to happen... in a way."

I was stunned.

"... and in a way, I'm sorta glad it did happen." She wasn't looking at me, just looking down at her hands and speaking her mind freely.

" When I decided to leave... Jim," She started, hesitating as if it were painful to even mention his name, "...well, guess I'd been thinking about it for a long time. I still love him... in some ways... but..." She paused for a moment, purposefully unclenching her hands and nervously laughing at her own tension.

" But I guess I just began to realize that I felt... trapped. I felt as if I was hiding, hiding away who I really was from him... and myself."

I don't think I really understood what she was trying to say, but I found myself nodding in agreement, if only to make her believe I understood. It was obvious that it pained her to talk about, but also that she felt as if she needed to get it out.

"You see, there were so many things I wasn't able to talk to him about... I was afraid to talk to him about..." Marilyn's eye's reddened as she spoke, her voice trembling a bit.

"And I decided..." She said with a sniffle, as she tried to regain her composure. " ... I decided that I wasn't going to live like that anymore." Marilyn looked to me with eyes that pierced, but her conviction wavered. After a moment, she sighed and sat back in her seat, realizing that I didn't really understand exactly what she was trying to say.

"I'm sorry Bobbie, I know I'm not making much sense." She apologized again.

"No... I think I understand." I replied, sounding a little more unsure of myself than I had wanted to. She smiled and sighed again, then looked back out across the water.

"Bobbie, there's a reason I brought us here today." She said softly.

I looked at her in confused surprise.

"You see... when I was just a girl, I used to live here..." She began.

"Here? At the park?" I thought stupidly to myself.

"... over there, just behind that end of the park." She continued on, pointing to the far end of the park, behind the trees that hid our view of the rest of the fields.

"It looked different then, this path wasn't here... and the park wasn't this big. It used to be woods all the way up to the river's edge. But just down there, down the path a little bit, there was a clearing. It wasn't very big, and nobody ever went there... except me. I used to go there almost every day."

" I never knew..." I stuttered out in curious fascination.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't. It was before you were born, I was just a girl, younger than you are now."

"Mom never said anything about this place." I added.

"Yeah, well she probably wouldn't. I mean, we didn't live here very long, she never really lived here at all. You see, we moved into that house after your mother left the house. It was just your Grandmother, your Grandfather and me."

"Oh..."

"Not long after we moved in, Dad got sick."

I never knew my Grandfather, he had died of cancer before I was born.

"And after he died, Mom sold the house and we moved to Chester. So you see, we didn't live here very long." Marilyn spoke with a certain sadness in her voice. She took in another deep breath and continued on.

"But all that time, I used to come down here to the river, just to... be by myself, to think about things. It was like... my own special place."

I nodded again in understanding.

"When I was here, in my secret place, I just felt like I could think about anything I wanted... nobody was there to distract me, nobody to bother me... I could think and do anything I wanted... say anything I wanted."

Marilyn began to look at me with a very serious but questioning gaze.

"You see, here... I was never afraid of anything. Not even dying." I began to see, and began to realize that it must have been tough for her, watching her father dying.

"I think I know what you mean." I said softly.

We both took a deep breath, allowing ourselves to relax just a bit. I looked out across the water, as Marilyn did, thinking of how I felt when thoughts of my own father would enter my mind. The anger, the pain, the confusion. And then I heard her softly continue.

"But there's some thing else... I used to come here to think about... other things."

I looked at her curiously, and saw her eyes fixed on her hands once again.

"I used to come here to think about... boys. About... sex."

"Oh..." I stuttered out, feeling somehow embarrassed, as if I were suddenly out of place being there.

"... and it was kind of the same way..." She went on, "... I used to come here because here I felt like I could think about whatever I wanted, I could say and... do ... anything I wanted."

And with her words, it suddenly became very clear to me what she meant. And I began to blush.