CHAPTER 19

DESTINY

I didn’t know if I felt like a mother, or even an older sister. I just knew that my heart was breaking right along with Amy’s as she wept. I sat next to her and held her until her sobbing subsided.

“Do you want to talk about what’s troubling you?” I asked when she removed her face from her hands.

“I’m just majorly frustrated,” she said with a shrug. “I found out that Dirk has been seeing the news reporter, Whitney Waconia. As a matter of fact, he had to take me home when he did because he has a date with her tonight. I got the feeling from his brother’s innuendos that Dirk and Whitney are going to consummate their relationship tonight as well.”

Amy put her face back into her hands and cried a little more.

“Oh, honey,” I soothed as I rubbed her back.

“That especially hurts because he had told me that sex should be between two committed people,” Amy croaked. “How could they be committed in such a short time?”

I didn’t know what to say. We were silent for a minute when Amy took a deep breath and exhaled unsteadily.

“So you met Dirk’s brother?” I asked.

“Yeah, his name’s Devin,” she told me. “You would not believe how much they look alike. I almost asked if they were twins, but then I remembered Dirk told me that Devin was a couple years older. But whereas Dirk’s hair is shaggy, kind of like a surfer dude, Devin’s hair is like one of those retro 50’s style. I even thought he looked like James Dean when he lit a cigarette.”

“Are the two brothers at all alike?”

“Not at all,” Amy said with disgust. “Devin’s a creep. He leered at me the whole time we were with him. He made crude remarks and he even commented on my breasts.”

“You’re kidding! What a creep!”

“Yeah,” Amy agreed, nodding. “But Dirk reprimanded him.”

“So Dirk dating Whitney is what upset you?” I asked gently.

“Yes, plus the fact that I know there is a mutual attraction between us. We just really click, but Whitney got to him first. And she’s much prettier than me.”

“I beg to differ on that.”

“I think you’re biased,” she giggled.

“I think I’m a realist.”

“Thank you,” she said with a warm smile. “Anyway, on our motorcycle ride, we stopped at a park and got to talking. Time seemed to stand still. But then Dirk panicked when he noticed how time had gotten away from us. He suddenly declared he needed to get ready for his hot date.”

“He called it a hot date?”

“No, he called it plans. I called it a hot date. Oh well, I just need to put Dirk out of my mind and move on.”

“Sweetie, maybe you just need to be patient,” I told her. “I spent a decade dreaming about Brock. Ninety-nine percent of that time it was purely fantasy. Shoot, I went nine years without even seeing him. Now he’s my husband and we have a daughter. It has exceeded my wildest dreams.”

“You’re pregnant! I thought you couldn’t have kids.”

“No, sweetie, I meant you.”

Her eyes clouded with tears yet again, as did mine. Her arms went around me and she hugged me tightly.

“I love you so much, Dee,” she said softly into my ear.

“I love you, too, honey,” I replied before I kissed her cheek.

“You know what, though?” she asked as our bodies separated. “I just know they are going to have sex, and that definitely ends it for me.”

“You don’t know that,” I tried to reassure her.

“Now, Mom,” she chuckled. “Shouldn’t you be telling me I just have a crush and this will pass?”

I was touched by her calling me that, even though I knew she was partly joking. As for telling her it was just a crush, I disagreed. Call it woman’s intuition or a gut feeling.

“You’re mostly right,” I conceded. “Let’s take it to God.”

Amy and I knelt, facing each other. We joined hands and bowed our heads, and I prayed  for the girl I loved like a daughter. I concluded by asking God to put into Dirk’s mind what he had talked about with Amy about sex, love, and commitment.

DIRK

Amy would not leave my mind after I dropped her off at the Knight-Storm residence. I should have been thinking about Whitney, the exceptionally pretty woman who was waiting for me. She was the reason I was going home to clean up; the person I was going to be with that evening. But my mind wouldn’t leave the young lady I had just left.

What I was feeling was mostly foreign to me. Before Amy and Whitney, Angie was the only girl I had ever deeply desired, but she and I never really moved beyond friends. I wanted Angie and me to be more, but she had kept her distance, despite my subtle persuasions. I didn’t understand her mild rejections of my romantic inclinations until she took her own life.

She never had confided to me about the horrible abuse that she had endured by someone who was supposed to have been her guardian. She had felt unworthy of my love because of being defiled by her abusive stepfather. I will never know whether she would have restrained from her act of self-execution if she only knew that it would not have been an obstacle with me. It wasn’t her fault, and it would have only made me show her more love and understanding with her negative, angry, depressive mindset. One of the things that drew me to her, was that behind her tough, goth bravado was hurt little girl. I just didn’t know the why behind the pain.

To say life is difficult and complex is an understatement. There are countless psychological ingredients that make up a person, a character. The most dramatic thing in my life that shaped who I became was the unexpected death of my parents. Even though my brother and I weren’t in the accident that took our parent’s lives, our minds were severely injured because of it.

I don’t know what Devin and I would have done if our loving grandparents didn’t take us in. However, even with a safe place to land, our lives were forever altered. I became more withdrawn, and Devin became more aggressive. I became increasingly shy and timid; Devin got into fights and all manner of trouble. I watched my classmates and wanted no part of cliques or bullying. My brother became homecoming king and the leader of the most desired clique in his class. For the most part, I adhered to my grandparent’s strict religion. Devin not only thumbed his nose at it, but also declared atheism and survival of the fittest as his life philosophies.

By the time Devin graduated from high school, he had had sex with several girls. By the time I graduated, I had barely kissed and held hands with only one girl. A girl I loved more than she ever knew. I had spent several years becoming emotionally invested in a girl that was infinitely more broken than me.

After Angie died, I was even more devastated than with my parents tragic demise. Her suicide left me with the helpless, endless thought, what could I have done to stop it? I spent the next couple of years wandering in a bleak, lonely mental wilderness. I sometimes felt suicidal myself. But I somehow never completely lost all hope. It’s a tragic and bizarre thing when your own mind wants to kill you.

When I saw Amy at the hospital and then during her visit at my apartment, I thought she was an adorably cute teenager. She seemed so young and girlish that I didn’t give any thought to any romance. Then she showed up at my apartment a second time and had somehow transformed into a stunning young woman. Then during the motorcycle ride, we stopped, walked, and talked at a park. I marveled at her depth and insightfulness. She had a maturity beyond her years. First impressions aren’t always accurate.

I showered, shaved, and readied myself for dinner with Whitney. It was still a bit too early to go over to her place, so I sat on my couch and quickly entered into a trancelike state. However, the focus of my meditation was not Whitney. The person in complete view of my mind’s eye was Amy. Why?

In the week or two I had been dating Whitney, I was nervous to the point of nausea before every encounter. Now we seemed destined to become intimate tonight. Yet I was hardly nervous because she wasn’t foremost on my mind. Amy was. How?

I kept seeing Amy’s lovely, exotic green and blue eyes as they danced when she told me about Destiny, Brock, and their goofy friend, Bentley Bonnano. I saw the way her cute little nose sometimes crinkled when she laughed or giggled. I saw her hand as she gently stroked her red gold braid as she expounded on deep spiritual thoughts. I smiled as I recalled us laughing over her Looney Tunes ring tone.

No doubt about it, I was majorly attracted to Amy. The million-dollar question was whether she was attracted to me. I ran through all of the possible indications. The clearest sign had to be that thing with the credit card. How did a credit card just pop out of a wallet that was in her purse? Then she knew right where to look for it. Did she leave it for an excuse to come back to my place? I think she might have.

I had an old cuckoo clock, and I looked at it as I watched the bird cuckoo seven times. I was supposed to be at Whitney’s at seven! Luckily, I lived less than ten minutes away. I called her and told her that I was running a little late. Even though she said she understood, her cool tone of voice let me know she was irritated. Her response bothered me because I hated to displease people in general, let alone a gorgeous woman. A gorgeous woman I had a date with! When I arrived, she greeted me with a huge toothy smile, and I was instantly relieved.

“You had me worried,” Whitney said as I entered her condo. “I’ve never been stood up before.”

Seriously? I was only ten minutes late, plus I called her at one minute after seven.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” I stammered. “I was with a friend and we got to talking. Then I had to take my motorcycle to my brother’s place and get my Jeep.”

“I think I can find a way to forgive you,” she said with a sultry voice as she lightly ran a finger over my jaw, then over my lips.

She wore a tiny form-fitting red dress. It was so short that ninety percent of her bare thigh was exposed, and her oversized chest barely covered. Her face closed in on mine, and she kissed me passionately. Amy had been on my mind ever since I saw her walking out of my apartment building. I’m ashamed to admit that, after this very wet, warm greeting, thoughts of Amy were rapidly replaced with Whitney’s ample cleavage and bare thighs.

Dinner was some type of stir fry. I can’t remember the specifics as I became more hungry for Whitney as we ate. As we conversed and dined, my thoughts began to shift in favor of Whitney over Amy. After all, Whitney clearly desired me, whereas I wasn’t sure about Amy.

But didn’t I tell Amy that I believed in sex taking place only in a committed relationship? Whatever I had with Whitney, it wasn’t that. Oh, I was telling myself it was the beginning of such. Besides, a man had needs and I needed this, didn’t I? Can you blame me? You should have seen Whitney in the little red dress, all legs and chest.

After dinner was finished, it didn’t take long before Whitney and I were kissing hot and heavy. I lost track of time and nothing else on the planet mattered. In those moments, Amy had left my mind. Before I knew it, we were in Whitney’s bedroom with the lights dimmed and our clothes becoming scarce. I removed my pants, dug in the pocket for the prophylactic, and climbed into bed with her.

“What kind of condom is that?” she asked with a frown.

“I don’t know,” I replied with my own frown.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Out of a dispenser in a restroom.”

“Oh, babe, I don’t think so.”

Whitney reached into a nightstand drawer and handed me a twelve count box of condoms that said ‘Trojan.’ There were two left in the box. Did she have sex with ten different guys or ten times with the same guy? Or something in between?

Oh well, you should have seen her, laying there in her birthday suit. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment but making use of one of those condoms.

What happened next may sound strange, but something miraculous happened when I tore open the condom wrapper. Looking back, I truly believe God intervened on my foolish, carnal behalf. It’s been said that God works in mysterious ways. I’m here tell you He also works in mysterious places.

Right at the same instant I ripped the cellophane wrapper, an image of Amy popped into my head. It was of her right before we parted ways just a few hours earlier, when we were gazing into each other’s eyes. In the heat of this passion, my mind had been completely obsessed with carnal desire. How did Amy appear there?

Then I actually not only recalled what I told Amy, I didn’t think I could go through this. Was I crazy? Whitney looked like she was right out of the pages of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. But she was live, breathing, and not wearing a swimsuit! And she wanted me!

Wanted me for what?

“What’s the matter?” I heard Whitney say.

What was coming to my mind had paralyzed me, though. ‘This is not right,’ I thought so powerfully it might have been audible. ‘You don’t love this woman and you never will.’ Then I pictured Amy’s big beautiful, exotic eyes looking into mine. Such amazing eyes, one blue and one green. In her look, I saw the future, and it was as if she telling me that she herself was my home. Not a place, not a structure, but wherever she was, I would be home.

“I can’t do this,” I told Whitney.

“What do you mean you can’t do this?” she asked incredulously.

“I don’t love you. I don’t know that I ever will.”

“What’s love got to do with it?” she snorted.

“I want to be in love with the woman I have sex with,” I told her. I began to get dressed.

“You’re actually serious!” she exclaimed. “No guy has ever turned down sex with me, ever! Are you gay or something?”

“Or something,” I replied.

She went on a tirade, strung with a lot of profanity. She called me derogatory names.

“Look, Whitney. Once again, I’m sorry,” I told her. “You’re just not my type, and I know I’m really not yours either.”

She called me a derogatory name for a homosexual, and declared that was the reason that she wasn’t my type.

“No, Whitney,” I said. “You’re not my type because I prefer women more wholesome and natural. Also women who don’t have boxes of condoms in their nightstand drawers. Mostly empty boxes of condoms, no less.”

“Hey, I’ve had that box of Trojans for almost a year,” she protested, pointing a finger at me. “Well, months anyway… I don’t like what you’re implying, just because I have an active social life.”

Her witchy behavior was getting under my skin, and I momentarily indulged in an attitude more suited to my brother.

“An active social life, huh?” I said. “What an interesting way to acknowledge that you’re promiscuous.”

“Get out!” Whitney demanded, pointing at the door.

This action caused the real me to surface.

“Look, Whitney. Let’s not part ways like this,” I told her.

“Just leave,” she said with a calm but stern voice.

“You are a smart, sexy, smoking hot woman,” I said meekly. “What I’m doing is one of the most difficult things that I’ve ever done in my life. I’m just not comfortable with recreational sex.”

Her features softened considerably as she folded her arms under her ample, bare breasts. I made my eyes stay on hers. Whether because it was the right thing to do, or I didn’t want to torment myself with what I was turning down, I didn’t know. I do know being human can be twisted, hard, and confusing.

“Friends?” I asked, smiling and offering my hand since she had now put a robe on.

“You’re a special man, Dirk Easton,” Whitney told me. “I’ve never met a guy like you.”

“Thank you,” I stammered. “Take care.”

“Okay then. Bye,” she said with a disappointed sigh.

I walked away from her place feeling numb. When my brother asked me how this went, he might just slap me when I told him. But my bigger concern was Amy. I still wasn’t sure of her feelings for me. Then I recalled the condom dropping incident with my brother. She probably thought I was using it tonight with Whitney. So what was Amy thinking about me now? If she even was. What did I do now?