A few days later, Columbia picked up the journal once again.  She took a deep breath and turned to the entry that came directly after the one that she had read entirely.

Frank found me last night.  He took the initiative to go out looking for his one-night-stand.  He told me that he felt he needed to "know me."   Of course I thought this was just more talk for another…not that the thought of another night with him was terrible, that thought is quite the contrary.   Well, he persuaded me to listen to him…O.K., he sang.  Ridiculous, I know, but God, no wonder musicals have happy endings more times than not.  He seduced me in front of everyone at the club and I could see envious stares from my friends as I left with him.

He told me I was gorgeous…and he meant it.  Silly that a compliment like that, from someone I hardly know, could mean so much; I again blame John for that, it wouldn't have killed him to express something he liked about my appearance once in a while.  Feeling a bit guilty, I told Frank that I saw him the night before…and that now, without the makeup, he was beautiful.  For some reason, that must've triggered something inside of him.  He picked me up and carried me off to a night of pure ecstasy. 

He didn't care about his own sexual wants…he seemed intent on worshiping my body; sending me to the edge of everything sensual, erotic…dare I say, romantic?  Are sexual experiences always supposed to be so incredible?  Was I doing something wrong with John that he had to go to my sister for gratification?  Frank seems to be very pleased with me…the funny thing is that when I returned his attentions, I felt like I was being guided on what to do.  With John everything was so " by the book."  Foreplay (if I was lucky), missionary position (yawn), John falling asleep a half hour later (again, if I was lucky).  I'd never done the things to him that I did to Frank last night.  I let my tongue literally dance across his skin, I let my hands massage his body as I…I made love to him.  I love him.  I love a man whose last name is a mystery to me.

We engaged in the paradise of each other's bodies again before he left this morning…He promised to come back tonight.  If he does, I feel that I have to tell him I love him.  These aren't the rantings of a woman on the rebound…these are the confessions of someone who has fallen in love with a stranger.

Columbia skipped ahead a bit to a shorter entry:

Frank is the most wonderful thing to come into my life. He's everything that a woman could want and need. More importantly, he loves me. It's funny, but I'm beginning to believe that he actually has NEVER been in love before. Everything seems so new to him. It's exciting, but in a way, I feel awful for him. Never knowing love until now...it's a depressing thought.

We're soon going to have proof of our love. I went to the doctor today...I'm pregnant. I should be scared, I should be terrified, but I'm not. I couldn't be happier and I just know that Frank will be happy as well. I just hope that I can actually tell him without scaring him away...

Columbia was starting to feel beyond jealous.  Frank's baby?  How could this woman actually carry his child?  She never fully believed that there was ever a baby at all until reading this.  Shortly after reading the passage, Frank burst into her room and put a quick stop to all of her thoughts.

"What are you doing in here?" he growled.

"N-nuthin', Frank," she lied as she hid the book under the covers.

"Then go help with dinner.  I don't know why I let you stay here, you never do anything."

Fighting back tears, Columbia went downstairs to help Magenta with dinner.  She debated whether or not to tell her about the journal, but she wasn't sure she could keep it to herself any longer.

"Why was he so nuts over her?" Columbia blurted out.

"Vhat are you talking about?" Magenta answered.

"Why was he all, Frank I mean…why did he show her so much affection and stuff?"

"Have you been into the master's morphine?"  Magenta was convinced that Columbia was on some sort of "trip."

"No."

"Have you been into his things?"

"A little."

"You'd better hope that he never finds out.  He hates when people go through his things."

"I'm sure he forgot about this though."

"About what?" Magenta asked, now interested.

Columbia decided that she said enough.  What if Magenta told Frank what she took?  "Never mind."

"Columbia, you vorry me sometimes."