Letters With Boys

Memphis and Gray, Week 9 - November

**CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains memories of s****l assault that could be triggering to some readers. They are not explicit, but caution is advised.**

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Hello Mem,

How was your weekend? Mine was really lousy. I tried to leave you alone, which, as you know, I managed to do on Saturday. But by Sunday I started really having second thoughts about what I said—or not second thoughts, because I meant it, obviously, but doubts, because I’m afraid that now you’re mad at me, or sad. Neither of which I wanted.

Also, you screened my calls, which sort of fueled that fear.

I feel like I should offer to take it back—to just let things continue the way they have been—but I don’t think I can. I don’t think I could kiss you again and know that you might be kissing someone else, or worse.

For example—I met Matt, your ex, at Tally’s party. You were dancing with the girls at that point, I think. I had excused myself because it was really hard to dance with you and not do more than just dance with you, if you catch my drift, because you are an excellent dancer, and you smell really good, as I’ve mentioned before, and you were kind of sweaty, and I was having trouble keeping my hands to myself. Anyway, Matt came up to me and introduced himself. He said that you had told him about me, which I found flattering, but then he also said, “Be careful.”

“What does that mean?” I asked him.

“Well, if you know as much about her as I think you do, then you know to be careful not to hurt her. But you should also be careful not to get hurt. She’s a lot of things, and some of them make you feel like a million bucks, but some of them break your heart.”

Something like that, anyway. I had a lot to drink.

I don’t tell you this to make you said, Mem. I hope you won’t resent the guy too much; I think he had good intentions. My point is, I think I could handle that risk—the risk that you might break my heart into smithereens—if I knew that at least it was just the two of us, you know, in this together. I know you were hurt, and that you’re still figuring out how to deal with that hurt. And I want to help you with that. 

But I want to be the only one who helps you with that.

Whatever you decide, I hope you’ll remain my pen pal. It will be hard to keep writing with you if you say no, but I care about you, and I wouldn’t want to stop having you in my life, even if it was hard.

Love,

Gray

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Gray,

I don’t think it’s fair that Matt said that to you. It’s almost like he implied that I cheated on him, and I think that’s how you took it, too, which is maybe why you got scared. 

That never happened, Gray. I would never do that.

I was a virgin when I was r***d. I was at a Lancaster party with Matt, and the host, Josh Snyder, started hitting on me, and Matt got jealous, and we got into a fight, and he left the party. It had been a problem before, the whole jealousy thing. We were so young when we got together, and I was really skinny and freckly and pimply until I hit puberty, and then my body and my face and pretty much everything started changing, and his didn’t. And even though I loved him and had no intentions of dumping him or cheating on him, he got scared.

Anyway, he left the party, and I stayed. Tally and Bridge weren’t there, and I, stupidly, didn’t realize that it’s not a good idea for a 16-year-old girl to be alone at a Lancaster party. I didn’t drink much back then, but I accepted a beer from Josh to be polite, and I drank maybe three quarters of it, which means I ingested only three-quarters of the drugs that it was laced with.

So, unfortunately, I was one quarter conscious when I was r***d.

And I remembered about one quarter of it the next morning, when I woke up alone in Josh’s guest bedroom.

I found a baseball bat in one of the kids’ rooms—Josh’s little brother, I guess—and I took it outside with me and smashed Josh’s car to smithereens, as I told you before. 

It wasn’t Josh who did it, though. I’ll never forgive him for handing me that drink, or for hosting a party where something like that could happen, but it wasn’t him. For all I know, he didn’t even know about the drugs. I never talked to him again.

I went kind of crazy after that. I didn’t tell Matt, Tally, or Bridge what had happened for a few weeks. I tried to sleep with Matt, because I thought that would make it better somehow—like I could just pretend it was my first time, and everything would be okay. It didn’t work, though. He was down, of course, being a teenage boy and not yet knowing what I had been through, but I had a full-on panic attack, and cried, and finally admitted the truth.

After that, things fell apart. He stayed with me initially, of course, but not for long. We tried having s*x a few more times, but it never went well. If I didn’t have a panic attack, he did. I think he hated the thought that someone had been there before him, when it was always supposed to be him. He couldn’t handle it any better than I could. So, eventually, we broke up. I told Tally and Bridge the truth, and they helped me get through it without Matt, as best they could.

I never cheated on him, though. What I told you about erasing what happened with s*x—that was after him. And it never really worked, anyway.

I guess the point of all that is, I don’t think it was fair of Matt to say that to you, because whatever happened between us wasn’t my fault. And if he doesn’t get that, frankly, I’m not sure I can even call him my friend.

While I’m putting all my cards on the table, I might as well mention that I think it would happen between us, too—the panic attack thing. It hasn’t happened since Matt, but I haven’t actually cared about anyone since Matt. I have this way of numbing myself that doesn’t really work with you. And I’m glad for that. But I think s*x would be really, really hard.

So there you have it, Gray. That’s all my baggage.

If you can handle that, then I can handle being your girlfriend.

Ball’s in your court.

Mem

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Mem,

Well, you’re right—Matt is a prick.

Am I allowed to hit him? Please?

I’m not kidding. Well, maybe about the hitting him part, I guess, but not about him being a prick. If you had been my girlfriend when that happened to you, especially if you were a virgin, I wouldn’t have left you high and dry. And I wouldn’t have “not been able to handle it.” I mean, don’t get me wrong—it would have been hard. It’s hard for me to even read your letters without wanting to hit everything and everyone within a mile radius of me. But I would have found a way to handle it, for your sake.

And it really pisses me off that he told me that, you know, about you being a heartbreaker. As if you had any control over what happened to you, or to you and him.

Sounds to me like he’s just a p***y. Excuse my language.

I can handle your baggage, Mem, and I don’t say that lightly. I know it’s a lot, and I know it’s going to be hard. But I don’t care, because you’re worth it.

So, I guess my next question is, where do we start? Back to the Velvet Room? Movies and dinner? Walk on the beach? I don’t care, as long as I get to see you again, and maybe touch you again, just a little.

If you have no preference, I could always come up with a surprise—that is, if you trust me.

Which you can. 

Promise.

Love,

Gray

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Gray,

Please don’t hit Matt. We were young, and it was confusing for both of us. He never meant to hurt me, just like I never meant to hurt him. We should all just let bygones be bygones—including what he said to you at the party.

Also, as I’ve said several times now, I would like you to please not hit anyone, as I can’t have you getting kicked out of your school and, thus, out of Granger.

Thank you for saying that, though, about how you would have found a way to handle it if it had been you. I wish I had known you back then. Then again, maybe I’m glad I didn’t meet you until now, because I’m sure I would have f****d it up somehow back then. In fact, I often fear that I will find a way to f**k it up now.

It’s hard for me to say that I trust anyone, as you can probably imagine. I don’t know if I mentioned this in my last letter, but I met up with Kai’s mom this weekend for our first session. That’s what she said my biggest problems are right now—trust issues, including an unwillingness to accept love. I told her she was either very good at her job, or I was very bad at pretending. She told me it was probably a little of both.

Anyway, despite that, I think I can handle trusting you to set up our date this weekend. Just keep it local, if possible. And maybe let’s not fall asleep in the same bed for a little while longer. It was really nice, like you said—you’re an excellent cuddler, and you smell nice, too, kind of like the ocean (or maybe that’s just because we went swimming before hand)—but it’s way too tempting for me. Which I hope you will take as a compliment.

I hope you’ll take a lot of things as a compliment, because you deserve all the compliments in the world for putting up with this crazy girl.

Mem

P.S.: You know what would be really nice? If we didn’t talk about any of this on our date. I just want to have fun, and be happy, and be with you. Does that sound okay to you?

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Crazy Girl,

I’ll hold off on beating up Matt, since you asked so nicely. Maybe this Josh guy who hosted the party, though? The list is getting pretty long. I might have to do some independent research.

I’m glad you’re seeing that psychiatrist, because you’re going to have to find a way to accept love, and fast, Mem. Sorry, but I can feel it creeping up on me more and more by the day.

I’ll see you tomorrow. Pick you up at six. And yes, it’s okay with me to not talk about any of this. We can talk about, or not talk about, whatever you want.

Bring a swimsuit, if you’re feeling bold.

Love,

Gray