Nothing Changes

(Part 1 from 2)

"I don’t love Sam. I don’t love Sam. I don’t love Sam."

I thought that maybe if I had written it enough, it could solidify. I could have fallen into the ingenious Sam-complex, although I am starting to believe her mysticism is just that – a mystic gift, not a psychology complex.

The sand I upon which I lay was burning. The cruel summer sun boiled every droplet in the air until the air itself was burning. And Sam had been burning since that day she was burned, a seemingly eternal flame over the grave of her relationship with Jackie.

Jackie can be burning in hell for all I know, for all I care. I guess I was burning too. A different kind of burning. 

I placed the book gently on my lap, lay down completely, threw my head back so my chin could have a nice spot on the grill that was the sun, and sighed. My friend Ed, who had apparently immersed himself in my writing from his vantage point over my shoulder, suddenly chuckled. “Well, it’s better than your last lover.” He snorted at me. “I think you just loved the Firebird.”

“Car fetishes doesn’t count as a love interest.”

Ed shook his head and took off for the ocean, yelling back at me, “What’s up with the boring repetition? It sucks!”

“Great! Don’t read it.” I yelled back. “It’s a diary, buddy! A diary! Not your restroom reading.”

“You don’t get anywhere with a diary.”

“If you’re a writer you do!”

Ed flipped me off, smiled at me, and dove into the incoming wave.

I’m not quite a writer. Not yet, at least. But I am writing this account, am I not? Although I can only write in tribute to Sam.

In my first account, I was just the “Friend of Sam.” That was the only identity needed. Jackie was with Sam, Jackie hurt Sam, I was Sam’s friend. I was Sam’s friend after both ex-girlfriends broke her heart. Sam was a swinging single. I’m still her friend.

It’s obvious. You can easily guess it before you hear it. Two truths before the story begins – I loved Sam, and Sam did not know. I was in the sidelines again.


*******

I didn’t see Sam in the week I had lounged on the lovely beaches of the Jersey shore. She called me only twice, and I did not get a clear sense of her exploits in my absence. If there were any exploits. After Ana, she seemed ready for Round 2, but I doubt she’s in shape for a new heartbreak. So much for persevering in an attempt for purity in love. I wonder if she’s renounced purity. But not love. May she not give up on love…

The unpacking ordeal was over, and Ed went home. I jumped back into the Firebird the moment I finished, before Sam even got a chance to call me. In fact, when Sam answered the door, her phone was attached to her ear, midway through he third ring to my house. She grinned and hung up, greeting me with open arms.

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

“Great, buddy. My back feels like I fell asleep on my car engine, but I’m otherwise cool.” I tried to sound nonchalant. “What are you doing tonight?” I don’t think she got a chance to answer before I jumped down her throat. “You wanna go out again? We don’t have to go clubbing; we can go somewhere else. Wherever you want. Just to get you out.”

Sam smiled sweetly, heavenly. It was an all-too familiar smile, and I was vaguely reminded of two other angels I had known before. When her grin repositioned itself so it was beaming fully at the ground, I briefly thought about ants gazing up at her contentedly the way I had stared at the sky, basking in the smiles from above.

“Sorry, I’ve got a date. You have no idea – I have so much to tell you!”

*******

Sam ended up joining about three different groups for gay students – a social group, a school group, a local gay youth group. When Sam returned to school three weeks ago, Jackie was nowhere to be found. Sam connected with one girl from one of her many groups who, it turned out, had dumped Jackie two years before for “manifested confusion.” Lack of commitment may have been another reason, as Sam had speculated. I resisted the urge to shout “DUH!” in her face, out of pure dignity. 

But let me get back to Sam. This girl she had met was nice, was upset by Jackie and had to save herself by getting rid of Jackie, and obviously understood what Sam had gone through, and what Sam had no desire to go through again. After only two innocent dates with her, Sam had fallen into total enchantment with this understanding yet frustrated young lesbian whose name was Valeria, or Val for short. 

Sam believed she was back in heaven, despite her wariness for all things female at this point. On this third date, Sam was dressed to kill. Quite literally. I was scared to hug her good-bye for fear of the spikes around her neck. Val was femme. Sam figured she could play a new game for awhile.

*******

Forget what Sam said. I was loitering around her house at 7PM when Val drove up with Sam. I turned tail and darted into a bush by her window posthaste when the two went into her room. I heard them enter Sam’s room, still talking.

I always seem to see the wrong things. As Sam removed her superfluous Goth-punk accessories, I watched Val ogle her, then finally rip Sam’s shirt off. Sam looked surprised, but she gave in. Maybe she figured there was no reason she shouldn’t, or if she didn’t, she could never win over this seemingly compassionate, unique young woman she had met. Sam had told me that, like Ana, Val seemed perfect with everything; but unlike Ana, she bragged about nothing. 

She seemed pretty good at seducing the same sex, I could see. I saw her start to massage Sam’s nipples with precision and dexterity, then softly start to suck on Sam’s neck hard enough to make Sam squirm and grind her body against Val’s, but gentle enough so that it didn’t leave a hickey. Valeria’s hand snaked down Sam’s loose pants and brushed up against Sam’s sensitive lips, and farther in.

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