It felt so good to be held, to be understood. Laying in my bed with Annabelle's arms wrapped around me, just resting there in that calm, comfortable silence - I felt so free that sunny day during Spring Break, and so safe to be alone with her, off campus. I remember the warmth of her body pressed against mine and feeling her compassion wrap around me as if it were a large security blanket, soft and warm.
I couldn't have anticipated how I would have felt, if I had imagined Annabelle finding the suicide note from Amanda. I wouldn't have imagined it concluding like this. Rather than feeling exposed, or angry I was surprised to find myself feeling at peace, relieved even, to no longer shoulder such a big secret alone. It helped that Annabelle forced me to accept the moment, holding me so tight, telling me over and over that she was not going to let me go. How did she know what I needed? I hadn't even known.
At the time, my mind flashed to the incident from a few days before, when I had witnessed Annabelle comfort Colins after the poor depressed girls pet, a porcupine of all things, had died. Wise beyond her years, Annabelle pulled the girl into her, held her, and to my amazement moved Colins shirt sleeve, exposing the cutting I'd been so concerned and curious about, but also afraid and uncertain about how to address. "Oh, honey.." Annabelle had said, pulling Colins in for an emotional embrace. She found the weakness, confronted it, accepted it, embraced Colins in more ways than one. I wish I had been able to be like that for Amanda.
Annabelle has more wisdom than most girls her age, certainly more than I had at her age. All those adventures with Amanda when I was a junior and a senior. Why had it taken me so long to figure out that liked Amanda as more than a friend? Why had it taken me so long to figure myself out? I wonder how long would it have taken if Amanda hadn't grabbed my hand that snowy day we had off together, the winter of senior year, where we, bundled in our winter coats and scarves, were off exploring the farthest edge of the school's grounds together, just the two of us.
Racing around in the snow, roughhousing, eventually tumbling around on the snow-covered ground, we were laughing and breathing so hard, our cheeks so red, our noses so cold. I stood and extended my hand to help Amanda up, but she pulled me down onto her instead. Suddenly we were face to face, mere inches apart. I could feel her breath on my face.
I noticed we weren't laughing anymore. The mood had shifted. She held me with her eyes, which were radiant and commanding. We shared a long gaze, one which for me was filled with doubt and apprehension, however it was also comfortable, and engaging too.
I had always felt at ease with Amanda. If anything, I felt less at ease with myself when I was not with her, but with her, everything felt right and so good. How long was I lost in thought during that interaction? I wonder. "What are we doing?" Amanda had not asked so much as stated, almost impatiently. "I.. I don't know." I began to stammer, incredulously. I remember being so unsure of myself!
Before I was able to finish that sentence, Amanda was pulling me into her and suddenly we were kissing. I had kissed two boys before, but this was nothing like that. I felt love and lust and a powerful connection - every atom of my being ignited, and connected with Amanda, connected with the entire universe. I felt so alive, so in love. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, the blood coursing through my veins, the air filling my lungs. I felt awakened.
"Come on," she said, breathily, and suddenly we were racing back to the dorms, to our room, which was empty, thank God. Most of the girls were gone for winter break. I locked the door, afraid Mother Immaculata or Father Harris might happen upon us. Amanda and I kissed fervently and discarded our winter coats. In a rush we hastily removed the rest of our clothing, Amanda unbuttoning my blouse, her cool hands unclasping my bra.
Later, Amanda told me that was her first time with a woman, but at the time she seemed to know what she was doing, taking me to the bed, climbing on top of me, sliding her hands all up and down my body - exploring my curves, caressing my supple breasts, squeezing me at the waist, grinding her hips against mine. I mimicked her movements, as much as I could, before I began to feel so amazing I could hardly move or breathe.
She locked those bold, brilliant eyes with mine, gaining consent I think, now looking back, as everything was happening so fast, though too she could feel my longing, urges and urges, and upon recognizing my desire, she slid her hand along my thigh, to the warmth of very wet... private area. That's how I spoke back then, a good catholic school girl. Not so private anymore, I spread my long legs further exposing myself to Amanda, further expressing what I couldn't articulate after all this time, but thankfully what my body was able to express. I felt her fingers rub against my vaginal lips, and soft, bushy pubic hair, amid so much wetness. She asked if I was ok, and I moaned affirmatively.
She then slid her fingers inside of me, slowly but decisively. Her other hand was on my hip, and she began fingering me rhythmically. She possessed me. I almost screamed out I felt so good, and fast her hand was upon my mouth, her breasts pressed against mine, the tiny cross on her necklace swinging slightly by my face. After a momentary repositioning of her body, she continued moving her fingers in and out of my body.
I came.
I cried.
I said I love you.
It was all very intense, and very sudden - though we'd been building up to this. She said she loved me too. Said it was okay. She held me when we were done, though I hadn't done much of anything to her. I expressed guilt about that, but she assuaged my concern, said there will be time for that later. I felt so content, so safe in her arms, so understood by her, so excited and so wanted.
Being with Annabelle brought all those feelings back to me. Brought Amanda back to me. Brought hope of a new kind of peace. I haven't been able to let go of Amanda. In part, I haven't been ready to, but also I hadn't wanted to. What we had was very special, and lasted for several years, up until she… her death, like the beginning of our romance, felt so sudden. But, she'd been building up to that too. I saw the signs, just like with Colins, but I was afraid and uncertain about what to do. So I didn't do anything. Then it was too late.
If only I'd been able to talk to Amanda like Annabelle spoke with Colins, maybe things would have been different. A new "what if" scenario for me, I've been running many "what if" scenarios since Amanda died. Killed herself. In my pictures, Amanda began to look less happy as time progressed. You could almost see the depression in her posture, in her eyes, in the edge of her lips, forcing a smile. Similar were Colins poems, darker as time progressed, more specific, more desperate. I had planned to talk with her too, like Annabelle had. Another person noticing, caring about her, wanting her to stay with us. But that's not something I can do now.
I've slept alone for so long, boarding at the school so I can stay close to my girls, and spare myself a lengthy commute. Occasionally I'd stay over at Michael's house, but that... That was a different kind of lonely. I slept alone in my bed after Amanda died, maintaining my side of the bed for way too long. Still, this feels loneliest of all. A fold down prison bed, thin foam mattress, thinner blanket. Alone and locked up away from the world, from my Annabelle, awaiting trial.
My mind wanders… There is little to do here other than remember or imagine. I remember our one and only night together so well. The smell of her hair, the warmth of her body, the knowing of her hands. She had more experience at her age than Amanda had, I remember noting that. I had more experience too, this time around, which I was happy about. I felt so free with Annabelle, I explored her body with my hands, her pussy with my tongue, and fingers. She did the same. Her every atom belonged to me, and I her, we were one. Connected.
Did I truly do anything wrong?
Legally, Annabelle is almost an adult, the distinction seems so arbitrary - she's more of an adult than a lot of people are at her age. But she is young. Time feels different when one is younger. Will she remember me? I doubt she'll wait for me. For her sake I hope she lets herself move on, and she's so wise, I'm thinking she will. Though, she's such a romantic, I worry she won't be able to discard what we may have any more than she was unable to attend school without her Buddhist prayer beads. Stubborn and determined, Annabell is and I am, well, I was her teacher. It is a position of influence. I could have been stronger. I don't know exactly what is going to happen, but I don't think I will see Annabelle anytime soon. Especially since her mother is a prominent political figure who can probably apply additional pressure to a situation like this.
Sigh… It was worth it. Annabelle was worth it. I just wish I could have waited. Another year and this all would have turned out so differently.