The Fourteen Years War - 1993 - Volume III

I did call him. I went to see him and explained everything. I cried and I figured he and my mother had had quite the pow-wow on the phone and he had had time to deal with it before I talked to him about it. He was the first man to touch me sexually after that happened. He did all the right things. Two things stand out in my mind. The first was when he ran his hand up my naked back and he stopped and drew a breath. I’m not sure if was my vertebrae sticking out or the fact my skin had broken out terribly along my shoulders, which is very unusual for me. Regardless, I knew it was either of those which drew him up short and, as I said, I was very sensitive about the weight I had lost and how I looked, so I stopped short too. Wow, this is one of those tough things that hurts, in a way, to remember. I wanted to crawl away in a hole. I did. I was ashamed and scared that he was going to reject me. If I remember correctly, I was sprawled out on top of him, it’s dark, but I knew my eyes were closed, my head was hanging, and he brought my forehead to his lips and enveloped me in his arms. On occasion, he still kisses my forehead, and it’s the same rush of love and acceptance every time. The second thing was after we fell asleep. AZ has a king size bed not just because he’s tall but also because he flops like a fish out of water, not to mention, he’s a very light sleeper. The noise of the answering machine kicking on, in a closed drawer, under a wadded up t-shirt could still wake him. Having slept with him before, I knew this, so I perched on the edge of the bed allowing him the maximum room to flop. But I had a dream. Must have not been a very good one because he told me later I was moaning and twitching, all guaranteed to keep him awake. All I remember is trying to get out of the dream. You know where you’re trying really hard to wake up and it’s like you’re swimming up from the depths? That kind. The scary, chest crushing kind. I felt like I was literally clawing my way out of something. Then I sat straight up in the bed. I tired, disoriented, and scared. AZ sat up too, wrapped his arms around me, and laid me back down, still in his arms, still holding me tight, soothing me. All the right things. Who knew life would step in and clobber us? The fall of 1993, saw me back in college, taking more advanced classes where I met a member of the police department which Jeff worked for. My instructor was the chief of the detective bureau and was a member of the FOP. He invited to me to participate in the annual Haunted Trail held at a local park. I was still a bit leery but since it meant possible brown-nosing points, I gamely signed on. I was some kind of screaming witch and the Lieutenant said, "Hey Nanner, scream for Jeff here." And I did. That was mine and Jeff’s first meeting. Nothing Earth shattering, no sidelong glances, not another word spoken between us. Things get a bit fuzzy toward the end of 1993, but I know this was around this time that a woman named Julie came into Steve’s life. Between Julie and Jeff, AZ and I would find ourselves at impasse after impasse in 1994. That story is one of the most incredible I’ve ever heard or been a pseudo party to. (Lex filled in many missing blanks in this story, so you will get the full story, not just the half-assed one that I did for so many years.) Our year had started out with two people getting to know each other better and asking questions, blue bras, ice cubes, and that yellow dress he loved to take off of me. It ended with Julie having a direct influence on my relationship with AZ and therefore, later with Jeff and we began a steady decline into 1994.