We would be together and as much as it surprised even me, we both had expressed a desire to take the conventional route and get married. Something inside me wanted to take all the "normal" relationships steps once we both were free of Kinsman Hall and all its rigid "guidelines" so we could have a good life together. The steps we wanted to take at this point seemed to have nothing to do with what Kinsman Hall had dictated. Having my heart governed by other people who I felt didn't have a clue as to what I felt or needed or wanted and didn't really care just didn’t seem right, so we spent as much time as we could together before the day came that I left Kinsman Hall. I worked. He worked. We did what we were supposed to do and the rest we rest of the time we spent with each other when we weren't sleeping or working.
Marriage seemed like a simple way to commit to a lasting bond and the eternal love we both professed we had for each other. I knew it sounded corny and cliche, but it was how we felt. Love does strange things to people and I was just beginning to learn love…real love was so much about trust and sharing. It was about doing the right thing even when that thing would hurt someone else. I had to rise above my fears and meet Bruce half way in order to make this thing work. My relationship with him was my first real step into adulthood. I was a young woman now and the days of being told that having the kind of relationship I once shared with Wayne, my first love was wrong were over. I was no longer a child and knew the ache I felt whenever I was near Bruce, was from suppressing the passion I wanted to share with him. Soon I could do just that whenever and wherever I wanted. Soon we could be together. Soon I could forget Stacy and the pull he still had on me. The truth of the matter was I was in love with two people. One I felt a special connection with but would never be with and the other was someone with whom I had a chance to share the future.I spent most of my last day packing and saying good bye to people. The Kinsman Hall way of properly departing was with no fanfare, but I didn't want to do that. Many people who left, I never realized they were even going home until they just weren't there anymore. Their bunk was empty and their clothes were gone, but each person who left created an empty spot in the lives of us who still remained to carry on without them.
Barry would be driving me to Portland that night to drop me off at the hotel for my flight to Florida the next day. I tried desperately not to think of what lies ahead because in reality, I had no crystal ball and the future was still a little hazy. I regretted hurting Stacy and how he looked at me made my heart sick, but I think he knew that we would have never been able to have a relationship no matter how desperately we both had wanted one. The obstacles would have been too many to overcome under our present circumstances. When I said my good bye to Stacy before I left, he called me a "snotty Radcliffe bitch" one last time and told me to take care of myself and to be happy as he held me tightly in his arms. Before that day I had never been able to actually feel anyone else's pain, but when he hugged me his pain was immense. It radiated from him. It was a true"holy shit" moment. I stepped back and looked him directly in the eyes and told him to do the same as I walked away. I wanted my last memory of Stacy to be of him looking at me. He was my hero! My Viking God, Thor! That's how I'd always remember him.
That last day together for Bruce and I was awkward. As the time grew closer for me to leave, we became totally engrossed in each other. We sat on the bottom few stairs just outside the kitchen that led up to the dorms. Those last few hours seemed to fly by no matter how hard we tried to slow the minutes as they annoyingly ticked by. It was as if any movement off that spot would hurl us into a place we couldn’t touch or speak or emotionally connect. The noises from people working furiously in the dishpan didn’t distract either one of us, but somehow I was ever so aware of my surroundings. It was almost like a dream…one from which you really didn’t want to awaken.
The occasional person walking past us to go up to the dorms went virtually unnoticed as we savored those last moments. We kissed each other over and over again until our lips were numb. Between kisses we whispered words of love to each other not caring who walked by or what was said to us in passing. I'm sure we were told to get a room a few times by people passing by. Seeing that type of physical contact openly displayed just wasn't seen anywhere in Kinsman Hall. I'm sure it was quite a spectacle to witness for those people fortunate enough to have to walk up or down those stairs while we were sitting there.
It was difficult wanting a physical relationship with Bruce, but knowing that we’d have to wait until we both were far away from Kinsman Hall to have one. Although we had stretched the rules since leaving the marathon, we both wanted our first real sexual experience to be one that wasn’t hurried or looked at as being wrong, so we decided to wait until we could be together in the real world.
Due to the very short amount of time between the marathon ending and me getting the news of being granted a home visit and me "deciding" for that visit to be the end of my time at Kinsman Hall, Bruce and I both felt it impractical for us the go through the proper channels to get a recognized relationship. I told staff that I wasn't going to come back from my home visit. I thought that was the "grown up" thing to do. I had to make it official! Going home for a visit and not coming back without telling anyone seemed like a cheap shot and I knew it was the wrong thing to do even though Dean and Mike already knew I wasn't coming back. No objections were made so I started to make plans to go home permanently. I think staff was expecting me to make that decision and was surprised I had stayed as long as I did after my birthday. It had been over three months since I turned eighteen. I was off probation and I was finally free!
Due to the very short amount of time between the marathon ending and me getting the news of being granted a home visit and me "deciding" for that visit to be the end of my time at Kinsman Hall, Bruce and I both felt it impractical for us the go through the proper channels to get a recognized relationship. I told staff that I wasn't going to come back from my home visit. I thought that was the "grown up" thing to do. I had to make it official! Going home for a visit and not coming back without telling anyone seemed like a cheap shot and I knew it was the wrong thing to do even though Dean and Mike already knew I wasn't coming back. No objections were made so I started to make plans to go home permanently. I think staff was expecting me to make that decision and was surprised I had stayed as long as I did after my birthday. It had been over three months since I turned eighteen. I was off probation and I was finally free!
That’s when Bruce and I decided to just do our own thing. I doubted that we would be put on a ban because Bruce was on staff and I was an older resident with two years of Kinsman Hall under my belt. We just stretched the rules where we could and felt little would be said to either one of us if I stayed on the floor at night after the rest of the house went to the dorms. Mike Morra was assistant residential director and a good friend to both of us. I knew he’d look the other way and as long as we didn’t get too outrageous we could spend time together as long as it didn’t get in the way of our job or anything else we had to do. So in the end I became one of those people I resented in the beginning who got special favor over those who had to sit and watch and just be envious. All the time I told myself that I'd never do that, I jumped at the opportunity to do just that. Never say never! Maybe what I was doing wasn't being done as part of the Hepper's inner circle, but nonetheless I was just as guilty of parading around like I was on top of it all when I wasn't.
Besides, Mike was in the throes of trying to get a certain someone to notice him, so he knew the pangs of desire that both Bruce and I were feeling. I spent many hours listening to Mike go on and on about Anne. He was always so animated that our talks were almost like a performance from some great theatrical presentation or a stand-up routine by a famous comedian. It wouldn't surprise me if someday I saw his name was in lights. Spending time with Mike was always a pleasure. I gave him encouragement to go for what he wanted and to just be honest whenever he talked to Anne. It was clear to me that no matter how rough and tough Mike came off being, underneath it all he had a tender heart and was insecure when it came to women. I had often wondered how much rejection Mike had dealt with before coming to Kinsman Hall. Had no one ever seen the Mike some of us had come to know? One thing that I was certain of and that was Mike was my friend and he would support me in anything I wanted to do except have a relationship with Stacy. He had our backs so I knew all the time Bruce and I spent together after the house left the floor each night would be overlooked. For that I was thankful.
As we sat on the stairway outside the kitchen wrapped in a passionate embrace, the thought of knowing that the next time we kissed it would end differently made saying good-bye a little easier. Naturally, there were tears, but each tear that fell as I drove away was shed with a bittersweet memory. As I drove away up the road to freedom, I turned to take one last look at the place in which I had become an adult. Bruce stood on the front porch watching me drive away and just before I was completely out of sight, he threw me a kiss. I closed my eyes and whispered once more “I love you.” And then both he and Kinsman Hall were gone.
The blanket of darkness that covered the landscape as we drove south on Highway 201 prevented me from soaking in the natural beauty of the countryside one last time. The blackness almost forced me into being alone with my thoughts. I was quiet most of the drive to Portland. The small talk Barry made in attempt to have some company as he maneuvered the car along the winding road was met with resistance from me. I suppose he knew I was a little scared and upset about leaving without Bruce. And what nobody but me knew was that I was equally as upset to leave Stacy behind.
As we sat on the stairway outside the kitchen wrapped in a passionate embrace, the thought of knowing that the next time we kissed it would end differently made saying good-bye a little easier. Naturally, there were tears, but each tear that fell as I drove away was shed with a bittersweet memory. As I drove away up the road to freedom, I turned to take one last look at the place in which I had become an adult. Bruce stood on the front porch watching me drive away and just before I was completely out of sight, he threw me a kiss. I closed my eyes and whispered once more “I love you.” And then both he and Kinsman Hall were gone.
The blanket of darkness that covered the landscape as we drove south on Highway 201 prevented me from soaking in the natural beauty of the countryside one last time. The blackness almost forced me into being alone with my thoughts. I was quiet most of the drive to Portland. The small talk Barry made in attempt to have some company as he maneuvered the car along the winding road was met with resistance from me. I suppose he knew I was a little scared and upset about leaving without Bruce. And what nobody but me knew was that I was equally as upset to leave Stacy behind.
I really didn’t know what to say and my mind kept wondering about the rather large bag of mail I was given as I was leaving. At first, I was puzzled by its contents because I never realized that in two years anyone had tried to contact me. When I first glanced inside and saw the bag was filled with mail, my mind scrambled as to who could have written all those letters. How could anyone find me? Surely, my family wouldn’t tell anyone where I was. I safely assumed that each letter was from some family member and was filled with words of support and well wishes. I held the bag tightly closed all the way to Portland.
A mixture of fear of the unknown and a healthy curiosity made the contents of the bag an object of careful thought during my journey to Portland. When I was safely tucked away in my room at the hotel, I’d explore my fan mail. I’d discover who had remembered me and who had offered me their support as I had spent the last two years feeling as if I was completely alone...completely forgotten...completely abandoned. The life I had once known was severed from me as if it had been a cancerous tumor. Recovery had been slow, but the prognosis I was given was optimistic. I had a life and a new beginning and best of all, I had someone who loved me.
When we pulled up to the Holiday Inn, I immediately jumped out thanking Barry for the ride. He looked a little puzzled over how timid I suddenly looked. I felt so out of place and almost didn’t know how to act around "normal" people. Here I was in the real world finally and all I could feel was how small I am in comparison. It just wasn’t like me to act that way. Barry walked around to the back of the station wagon to remove my belongings from the back and stopped to ask me if I was going to be okay before handing me the duffel bag Bruce had given me. Everything inside me screamed for me to answer him quickly and just go inside. Instead I hugged him and reassured him that I was going to be great. I just needed to get something to eat and needed some sleep because I was tired. What I had said wasn’t a lie, but I knew more than likely I’d be reading all this mail all night trying to fill in the gap the last two years had created.
I needed to be inside alone behind a closed door so I could touch and feel the words that had been sent to me by what appeared to be many people by the size of the sack. Their words were calling out to me as I hurriedly checked in. I thought of how I had felt after arriving at Kinsman Hall believing few people even knew where I was or how long I’d be gone. I never imagined anyone would write to me. At first two years had seemed like an eternity, but now looking back, it had gone by quickly. As time snuck by, I forgot about wanting to hear from old friends or family. I had almost forgotten I had a past. It seemed like my whole life had begun the day I first sat on the chair.
The dark room was perfumed with the unfamiliar scent of past guests and Holiday Inn cleaners. As I stood just inside the door searching for the light switch, I set the duffel bag on the floor next to me, but couldn’t release the bag of mail from my hand. It had become a prized possession in just the short time I had it, so I kept it close to me. The light from the hallway made finding the light switch a little easier once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the freshly opened room. Instantly the room was illuminated with the soft glare of the artificial lighting. I shut the door and walked away from the duffel bag as I walked towards the bed. Standing at the foot, I opened the bag and turned it upside down. Tumbling out, came two years worth of unanswered mail. It was then I spotted it. Yes, I knew that handwriting! It was Wayne. Oh my God! My hands started to shake as I reached down and picked up the letter to examine it to make sure it wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. I examined it carefully. I smelled it and then held it to my chest as if I was holding Wayne close to me.
Before opening it, I started to cry without even knowing why. I sat on the edge of the bed and wept. Thoughts flooded my head and then the reality hit me. I was alone! Here I sit in a hotel room in Portland, Maine supposedly savoring my first moments of freedom and what do I do? With that thought, I laid the unread letter down on the bed and went downstairs to order some dinner and possibly have a drink or two. Yes, some exotic alcoholic drink with fruit and an umbrella seemed more appropriate than sitting alone crying over an unread, unanswered letter from someone who had broken my heart long ago.
When we pulled up to the Holiday Inn, I immediately jumped out thanking Barry for the ride. He looked a little puzzled over how timid I suddenly looked. I felt so out of place and almost didn’t know how to act around "normal" people. Here I was in the real world finally and all I could feel was how small I am in comparison. It just wasn’t like me to act that way. Barry walked around to the back of the station wagon to remove my belongings from the back and stopped to ask me if I was going to be okay before handing me the duffel bag Bruce had given me. Everything inside me screamed for me to answer him quickly and just go inside. Instead I hugged him and reassured him that I was going to be great. I just needed to get something to eat and needed some sleep because I was tired. What I had said wasn’t a lie, but I knew more than likely I’d be reading all this mail all night trying to fill in the gap the last two years had created.
I needed to be inside alone behind a closed door so I could touch and feel the words that had been sent to me by what appeared to be many people by the size of the sack. Their words were calling out to me as I hurriedly checked in. I thought of how I had felt after arriving at Kinsman Hall believing few people even knew where I was or how long I’d be gone. I never imagined anyone would write to me. At first two years had seemed like an eternity, but now looking back, it had gone by quickly. As time snuck by, I forgot about wanting to hear from old friends or family. I had almost forgotten I had a past. It seemed like my whole life had begun the day I first sat on the chair.
The dark room was perfumed with the unfamiliar scent of past guests and Holiday Inn cleaners. As I stood just inside the door searching for the light switch, I set the duffel bag on the floor next to me, but couldn’t release the bag of mail from my hand. It had become a prized possession in just the short time I had it, so I kept it close to me. The light from the hallway made finding the light switch a little easier once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the freshly opened room. Instantly the room was illuminated with the soft glare of the artificial lighting. I shut the door and walked away from the duffel bag as I walked towards the bed. Standing at the foot, I opened the bag and turned it upside down. Tumbling out, came two years worth of unanswered mail. It was then I spotted it. Yes, I knew that handwriting! It was Wayne. Oh my God! My hands started to shake as I reached down and picked up the letter to examine it to make sure it wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. I examined it carefully. I smelled it and then held it to my chest as if I was holding Wayne close to me.
Before opening it, I started to cry without even knowing why. I sat on the edge of the bed and wept. Thoughts flooded my head and then the reality hit me. I was alone! Here I sit in a hotel room in Portland, Maine supposedly savoring my first moments of freedom and what do I do? With that thought, I laid the unread letter down on the bed and went downstairs to order some dinner and possibly have a drink or two. Yes, some exotic alcoholic drink with fruit and an umbrella seemed more appropriate than sitting alone crying over an unread, unanswered letter from someone who had broken my heart long ago.