Chapter 21: Where The Shit Hits The Fan

Where The Shit Hits The Fan


Time moves quickly for high school students, myself being no exception. In no time, Regents examinations had come and gone, and my summer was lined with graduation parties. A lot of my friends – not my best friends, but the next outer circle, so to speak, were seniors. Being in mostly advanced classes, I met most of my school friends in my classes that were designed for the grades above me.

There’s another set of friends that I haven’t mentioned. I have Roger, but he’s not the only of my online relationships. As I mentioned before, I had quite a few male (and female) friends that I knew and “hung out” with from all over the world. Some from England, some from Australia, Canada, and all across the United States. I had some in Netherlands, Venezuela, Brazil.

Anyway, one of my closer friends, not mentioned before this point, Angela, also indulged like I did in the perilous world of online dating. This means, since we were both about twelve, we engaged in various online relationships. One of the boys that she dated, his name was Tom. And we never knew that when we were twelve, that we would know him to this day, you know?

The reason I mention these two is they play an important part in the summer of my Junior year. Hell, I was a senior now, I had a license, a job. I could go anywhere, do anything.

Ever since we were twelve, when Angela and then myself met Tom, Tom insisted that some day he would come and spend a summer with us. Tom lived in England. And we…were twelve, you know? Its not like we actually believed him. And then towards January of my junior year, he became more serious. Angela and him had broken up at least a year before, but we all still knew him. He was a jerk, but a jerk in the way that made you want to still be friends with him.

Now I need to defend my actions a tiny bit. I was not necessarily romantically interested in Tom, when I was twelve, and definitely not when I was fourteen or seventeen. However, one summer, when Tom and Angela were still going out, I…we…mutually…made him cheat on his girlfriend. If you consider cyber sex cheating. Its obvious they weren’t serious, and neither were we. He swore never to tell, and he told Angela the next day. She didn’t really care, she just acted mad for a few days. Of course, Tom never knew that Angela had been going through “real life” boyfriends for quite a while.

Continuing on with my story…on June second, Tom IM’d me and asked me a very startling question, one that I probably should have shot down. It could have saved me a lot of problems farther down the road.

“I have enough money to go on a trip there, if I stay with people there. Can you help me?” He asked me. I have a problem – well, not anymore, but I used to have a problem saying no.

And so, with me saying yes, I basically screwed myself over for the next two months. He was due July first, and was going back to his own country on September 5. Angela had a real life boyfriend; Tom was still madly in love with her. It was like a stalker story, except less creepy. I arranged the entire trip, contacting friends of mine that he knew, to ask them if they could take him on for a week or two.

Remember the “I was almost raped” conversation with Roger? The one where the boy stayed with me for two weeks after that incident? Roger knew I had cybered with this boy. Roger would have to know that the boy was staying two weeks at my house. My stomach churned just thinking about it.

I’m not really sure why I accepted in the first place. Partly because it was a challenge, I suppose. And the other reason – the one I was going to use to defend myself: I had promised Tom when we were younger that if he ever came over to the States, I would guarantee him a few weeks at my house. Maybe it was because Tom had the same arrogant nature that Alex had, and I craved that dominance submission play subconsciously. Who knows? If you knew your girlfriend was allowing another male to spend two weeks at her house, eating with her family, going on mini vacations with her, when your name was not even known by her parents? I’d be furious. So was Roger.

“God damn it, Storm, what the hell is up with this? If you wanted to break up with me, all you had to do was tell me. Not go around inviting boys to spend time at your house.”

Oh, by the way, besides the past record with this particular male, I had another defect that Roger knew about. I had an innate liking for the English accent. Roger’s records with girlfriends weren’t exactly great either – every single woman cheating on him.

“I don’t want to break up with you, and I’m not going to cheat on you. Why can’t you trust me?”

“Its not you I don’t trust. I don’t trust that little fucker, what’s his name?”

“Tom.”

“He doesn’t deserve a name. I think I’m going to take off for a while.”

“No! Please don’t…” I wasn’t sure if that pissed me off or made me want to cry more.

Whenever Roger says that he’s going to leave me for a while, it makes me want to scream, cry and rip my own heart out. I hated people leaving me. My first online relationship had ended by him leaving me - changing his phone number, his screen name. I would have visited him, but he lived halfway across the world.

“Whatever.”

“I hate that word.” I said quietly, fighting back tears. “If you don’t trust me, fine, but please don’t leave. I swear to you I won’t do anything with this boy. I don’t like him like that.”

“You did a year or two ago.”

“That was before.”

“Why does he have to stay with you? Why can’t he stay with Angela or some of his other friends? Or get a fucking hotel room instead of leeching off of everyone else?”

“Angela has a boyfriend. And he is staying with other friends. And he doesn’t have enough money to stay in a hotel for 2 months.”

“And why is he coming over here anyway?”

“I guess he wants to see America. And he always said that he would visit. I think he wants Angela back, too.”

“That’s a lost cause, and you’re getting yourself into a lot of shit.” He growled. My tears had gotten pushed back into the proper ducts. I wouldn’t let him know that he was upsetting me by yelling.

“I don’t get you sometimes, Storm. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I had gone into the conversation armed like a warrior. I had every right to let the boy stay at my house. He wanted to see America, and it wasn’t like we were going to fuck, or kiss. He was short, thin, and ugly.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know.” I sighed. “Its only two weeks. Don’t leave me alone to deal with him, alright? I’m pretty sure he’s going to get on my nerves.”

“Then why did you invite him?”

“Because it was the charitable thing to do.”

“Just because a serial killer wants refuge from the police doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to him.”

“Tom is not a serial killer.”

“You know this?”

“Look at who is speaking to me. My online boyfriend, who is eleven years older than myself, who I have never met before. And you are lecturing me on serial killers.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence. If you don’t want to be with me, just tell me.”

“I love you, and I’m going to marry you. You’re the only one that keeps insisting I don’t want to be with you. But I can’t exactly tell him that he can’t stay at my house. His flight leaves tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

“You haven’t exactly been around. You’ve been working, or sleeping, and the few minutes we did get together was kind of few and far between. This is the first time we’ve had a chance to talk, and the only reason we did was because I told you that we needed to have a talk.”

“I thought you were going to break up with me.”

“I’m not now, nor ever, going to break up with you.”

“You say that now, but in a few months, you’ll have some new boyfriend to play with.” He said grumpily, and I could tell, that for the moment, I was in safe territory.

“You know I won’t.”

“No one can handle me for very long.”

“I can handle you as much as I want. And I’m not tired of you yet.”

“Sure baby. That’s what they all say.”

“I’m not going to leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I still don’t like the idea of that fucker eating at the same table as you.”

“I know, but its only for two weeks. Okay? Nothing’s going to happen. Don’t leave me alone through all of it, okay?”

“Whatever.” He said. That didn’t bode well for me, but I let it slide.

“So what did you do today?”

“Same old. I went shopping for some new shirts, helped my boss with some extra stuff. You still going to marry me?”

“Yes! Stop worrying! You’re worse than me sometimes!”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, and I could tell he felt a little bad about harassing me. “I’m just feeling all possessive right now. You can understand. Would you let some woman live with me?”

“I wouldn’t really have a choice, now would I? You can have a woman spend time with you if you want. I won’t complain.” I trusted him. I was more scared of him breaking up with me because I did something he didn’t like, than of him cheating on me. If he did cheat on me…well, shit happens. I’d break up with him, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He wasn’t that type of guy anyway. “I trust you.”

“Why’d you wait until now to tell me?”

“Stop beating the dead horse. I was frightened of how you would react. And my fears were proven right. I should have just not told you.”

“And you think I wouldn’t notice the presence of another male?”

“That’s why I told you.” Not really. I would have told him even without that threat hanging over my head, I think.

“Right. And if we didn’t have the special connection we have, would you have?”

“Probably.” I told him, though I wasn’t one hundred percent sure of that.

I’ll take a moment to explain what he meant. I’m not sure what your personal beliefs on ‘miracles’. Or anything ‘paranormal’. We have a strong empathic connection. Basically, I can feel when he feels hurt, or guilty, or sad, or happy, or any other strong emotion, including arousal. And he could do the same. Which meant if I had harbored an individual at my house for two weeks, he would have figured it out. And my behavior would probably change because I was feeling excessively guilty. So, a mixture of common sense and empathy left not much to be hidden between us.

“You’re something else, Storm. I love you, though.”

“Don’t you owe me a story?” I asked him suddenly, remembering what he had told me earlier. If there was anything that could heal a relationship, it was sex play.

“Sure do. Get online, and I will send it to you.” He said. I could tell we were both relieved to take a small break from the serious talk. I signed on to my computer.

“Your computer survived the virus, right?” He asked playfully. I felt my hand made into a mock fist, and realized that if he had been at my side, I would have punched him in the arm. I shifted in my seat.

“Yes, sugar, I saved it from the evil demigods of virus heaven.”

“Wow, three Christian terms in one sentence. You must be annoyed.” He laughed at me. My computer made the funny little Microsoft noise that indicates the computer is booting up the Windows program.

“Nah, just not very good at analogies.” I clicked on the Yahell! Icon as soon as I could, when the computer stopped working on booting up. I had so many damn programs opening when the computer booted up that it took several minutes to completely load, and my computer was only a few months old. I turned my volume off.

“Agreed.”

“Pop-tart?”

“I’m going to assume that was a new nickname directed at me. Yes, dear?”

“Bite me.” I said, triumphantly as I clicked on the small button that said “Buzz!”. Seconds later, I heard his response, a strangled moan.

“God damn it. Now I’m not going to give you the story!”

“Please?” I asked him, right as the accept-file screen popped onto my screen. I grinned.

“I win. I always win.” I clicked the accept button and waited for the file.