would be more physical contact, with less clothing. We hadn’t gone all the way yet, and Mr. Stevens was always very careful about my feelings – he asked me if I was okay with what we were doing every five minutes, it seemed – but we were both getting braver, and closer. I didn’t know if I could be close to him without really wanting him, but I was afraid of getting hurt.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was also starting to fall in love with him.
***
He had asked me to call him Tom after a couple secret meetings, and nothing delighted me more. It gave me a sense of belonging and intimacy – a secret that we shared together, rather than a secret I shared only with a teacher. He had started writing me letters, and I adored them. I blushed, smiled, giggled, and sighed with content when reading about his feelings, desires and emotions.
Today was one of the days when I had to head straight home from school – to maintain some appearances, Tom said – and my heart was heavy at the thought of going home without seeing him. I found a letter in my locker, though, which improved my mood. I rushed down the two blocks between the school and my house, ran through the door and into the house, shouted a quick hello to my mother in the kitchen, and rushed to my bedroom.
“Isabel, are you okay?” she shouted after me, her voice worried. She had asked me the same question several times, and I wondered how much she knew. I thought that she had probably noticed my extended absences and preoccupation. I was sure that she’d noticed my obsession with being at swim practice every afternoon. She’d also made comments about the fact that I’d begun to wear more fitted clothing and wear makeup to school, something I had never done before. She hadn’t asked me why, though, and I didn’t plan to tell her.
This particular secret wasn’t ready for sharing, quite yet. Given the nature of the secret, I told myself, I didn’t know if I would ever share it.
“I’m fine, Mami,” I shouted down the hallway. “Just have homework that needs to get done.” I waited for a moment to see if she was going to respond, then closed the door to the outside world and jumped on my bed. I got cozy under the fluffy comforter, then pulled the letter out of its envelope.
Dear Isabel ,
I read your letters over and over again before I destroy them – and even then, that’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t have a choice, though. I wish I could keep them, and reread them whenever I want. Your words ease my mind and bring a joy that I have not felt in years. But I’m terrified that they’ll be discovered .
I’ve never felt totally comfortable writing to you, because I’m very concerned that someone will find the letters and use them against me. But I know we both express our feelings much more honestly on paper than face to face, and I want you to know what’s in my heart when the words coming from my mouth fail me. As long as you destroy the letters I write to you, or return them to me, I have no reason to worry .
I wanted to tell you, Isabel, that you’re doing great. You do such a great job ignoring me when we’re in public that it almost hurts, though I know that it’s necessary. I’m not as good at it – sometimes I’m foolish and I get too close to you when we’re at school or at the pool, and I should know better. I know that you’re protecting me, sometimes much more than I protect myself … and for this, I’m very grateful .
You’ve turned my life upside down, Isabel, and I don’t mean that in a bad way at all. I know it wasn’t your intention, or mine, to end up in this kind of relationship. I’m not the most poetic or romantic guy in the world, but I can tell you this: my heart skips a beat when I see you walk by; my heart races when you glance my way and smile; and the way you look at me, that look that you save just for me, it makes me forget to breathe. I’ve never been the jealous type, but it bothers
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was also starting to fall in love with him.
***
He had asked me to call him Tom after a couple secret meetings, and nothing delighted me more. It gave me a sense of belonging and intimacy – a secret that we shared together, rather than a secret I shared only with a teacher. He had started writing me letters, and I adored them. I blushed, smiled, giggled, and sighed with content when reading about his feelings, desires and emotions.
Today was one of the days when I had to head straight home from school – to maintain some appearances, Tom said – and my heart was heavy at the thought of going home without seeing him. I found a letter in my locker, though, which improved my mood. I rushed down the two blocks between the school and my house, ran through the door and into the house, shouted a quick hello to my mother in the kitchen, and rushed to my bedroom.
“Isabel, are you okay?” she shouted after me, her voice worried. She had asked me the same question several times, and I wondered how much she knew. I thought that she had probably noticed my extended absences and preoccupation. I was sure that she’d noticed my obsession with being at swim practice every afternoon. She’d also made comments about the fact that I’d begun to wear more fitted clothing and wear makeup to school, something I had never done before. She hadn’t asked me why, though, and I didn’t plan to tell her.
This particular secret wasn’t ready for sharing, quite yet. Given the nature of the secret, I told myself, I didn’t know if I would ever share it.
“I’m fine, Mami,” I shouted down the hallway. “Just have homework that needs to get done.” I waited for a moment to see if she was going to respond, then closed the door to the outside world and jumped on my bed. I got cozy under the fluffy comforter, then pulled the letter out of its envelope.
Dear Isabel ,
I read your letters over and over again before I destroy them – and even then, that’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t have a choice, though. I wish I could keep them, and reread them whenever I want. Your words ease my mind and bring a joy that I have not felt in years. But I’m terrified that they’ll be discovered .
I’ve never felt totally comfortable writing to you, because I’m very concerned that someone will find the letters and use them against me. But I know we both express our feelings much more honestly on paper than face to face, and I want you to know what’s in my heart when the words coming from my mouth fail me. As long as you destroy the letters I write to you, or return them to me, I have no reason to worry .
I wanted to tell you, Isabel, that you’re doing great. You do such a great job ignoring me when we’re in public that it almost hurts, though I know that it’s necessary. I’m not as good at it – sometimes I’m foolish and I get too close to you when we’re at school or at the pool, and I should know better. I know that you’re protecting me, sometimes much more than I protect myself … and for this, I’m very grateful .
You’ve turned my life upside down, Isabel, and I don’t mean that in a bad way at all. I know it wasn’t your intention, or mine, to end up in this kind of relationship. I’m not the most poetic or romantic guy in the world, but I can tell you this: my heart skips a beat when I see you walk by; my heart races when you glance my way and smile; and the way you look at me, that look that you save just for me, it makes me forget to breathe. I’ve never been the jealous type, but it bothers
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