And Then

So summer came, and Jeff headed back to his home town to work and save and I stayed in Victoria to do the same.

We lived a ferry ride and five hour drive from each other so travelling to see each other wasn't an option.

We hadn't really talked about what a summer apart meant and we'd never taken the time to define our relationship (who does at that age?) so I didn't know if we were boyfriend girlfriend or if we were just two people who'd slept together and then been cruelly split up by fate or what.

I went home for a week that summer, to see friends and have some fun and it was a fun week. I was legal drinking age for the first time in my home town and was able to walk into a liquor store and purchase alcohol. Oh, the power. The freedom. The coolers!

I was staying with a girlfriend for a couple of nights and we went out with her and her boyfriend. I'd introduced the two of them and had also dated his best friend for a month or two before leaving for university.

It was great to see him again, and all the feelings I'd had for him came rushing back and in one of the most romantic evenings of my young life one thing lead to another and we slept together.

My girlfriend, the next morning, asked me the obvious question: "What about Jeff?"

I didn't know.

Had I cheated? It felt like I had, but we weren't even together, were we? No promises had been made, he rarely called me, this was an old flame of mine and things had just happened that should have happened before I went away, and it shouldn't be that big a deal.

So why did I feel so guilty?

I didn't know, I just knew I'd screwed up and I had to get home. I had to talk to him. Somehow if I told him, it would all be ok.




To be continued . . .