The Mistake
The minutes ended too soon. Shawn parked his car in front of the office trailer, and quickly made his way through the stretches of trailers. He prayed that her house would still be where he left it, but if it wasn't, the new owners would know where she was, and he would drive to California if he had to to find her.
He didn't have to. He neared the house, and it had not changed a bit.
Shawn walked up to the door, and knocked. A woman of twenty-one answered. Is she really that old? Shawn thought, as he looked at her tiny frame. She hadn't changed a bit, either, though her hair color was slightly darker, he speculated.
"May I help you?" she asked, clinging to the screened door.
Shawn said nothing, but he looked up and smiled slightly at her.
"Shawn?" she questioned. "Is that you?"
He nodded in reply.
"Please come in. I was just about to make some coffee," she said, pushing open the glass door, and letting the two doors close behind both of them.
Shawn seated himself on the sofa. He looked over at Stacey, who was standing in the kitchen, and said, "I'll have some."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she began, and poured an extra cup. "I'm not used to you liking coffee, you know. You were only thirteen last time I saw you."
"I know." Shawn sighed, and took the cup from her. "It's been a long time."
"So," Stacey said, sitting in the chair opposite Shawn, "How've you been?"
"I got into Pennbrook."
"That's good," Stacey replied, taking a sip of her coffee. Shawn was glad she did not ask him to embellish further. No one had been more surprised than he, and he still didn't know how he had gotten in.
"And you?" he asked, returning the query.
"Same old stuff," she answered, shifting slightly in her seat. "I'm still workin' at the diner. They made me assistant manager. A little more money's comin' in, which is always good."
After this, there was an awkward silence. Stacey broke it.
"Shawn, I can't pretend to act like you comin' here is normal. It's not. I don't know why you didn't even call me once in the last five years, and yet here you are, at my house. What made you come?"
"I don't know, Stacey," he answered honestly. "But I will tell you that me not talking to you had nothing to do with you. It was me. My mom left that year, and then my dad. I've always felt at home here, but after a while I didn't want to hang around here and be reminded of how screwed up my life was. I'm sorry. I know I should have at least called you. But I thought that maybe leaving it at our last meeting, maybe I would forget about you. Maybe you would forget about me. It didn't work out that way. I guess that's why I'm here." Shawn finished the last drop of his coffee, and cleared a space on the side table for it.
"Oh, I'll take that," Stacey offered, getting up and moving towards Shawn.
"No. I'll get it," he said, and made his way to the sink.
Quietly, Stacey turned on the water. Shawn handed her his cup, and she placed them both under the water.
Looking at Shawn, she said, "Whatever reason you decided to come here, I'm glad you did." She turned off the water, and returned to Shawn's gaze. Slowly, she inched towards him. Shawn could do nothing as she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.
She broke away, and tried to read Shawn's expression. He looked surprised, but she couldn't tell if he was displeased. She kissed him again, this time harder and more passionately. She felt Shawn's arms around her waist and neck, and she kissed harder.
They walked backwards, and they fell onto the sofa. Shawn had not opened his eyes the whole time. He wanted desperately to stop, but he couldn't. When he noticed Stacey was no longer on top of him, he forced his eyes open.
She had taken off her shirt. Shawn's breathing quickened. This was where he should pry her off, tell her that he was in love, tell her he could never be in a relationship like this with her. But he didn't.
