Paoli

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Love, loss, and living.
2.9k words
4.33
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I looked out the window of the plane and was taken aback by the breathtaking sight. He and I often talked about the moon; if he could see it, and I could see it, then we were never too far apart. I had never seen the moon like this before.

It seemed to be looking straight at me, right there in front of me. It was huge, and shone with a soft pale light, as bright as the sun. It was my sun, right then, and it held for me the beauty of a promise. The stars twinkled around it and I could feel a desire tug at my heart. I wanted to reach out and touch it, to hold it in my hands. I wanted to give it to him. For a moment, I forgot I was on the plane, and I imagined I was floating on a cloud in the sky, with the moon right next to me. It was so brilliant and beautiful. I will never forget that sight, and what it meant to me.

My eighteenth birthday was two days ago, and I was on a plane to see my baby. He and I had met on the internet about 8 months ago, and we were desperately, painfully, in love.

Looking back, I think I had a mental breakdown. I had quit my job that month, and on the same day, my great-aunt died. I had just spent the last few weeks with my now suicidal grandmother, who had just lost her only baby sister. There were instances I had to literally wrestle the knife from her hand to keep her from hurting herself. I felt that I deserved a vacation, and more than anything, I wanted to see him. So I bought the plane ticket. My parents wanted to either kill me or have me locked up, but in the end, they gave in and let me go. My mother even drove me to the airport at four 'o clock in the fucking morning. I had been too excited to sleep.

He and I had fallen in love almost from the day we first met online. We spent eight hours on the phone, talking. Somehow, I felt like I trusted him. I had a wall up around me and he tore it down immediately. Everything I had ever known, or felt, came rushing out and he listened to it all. He was enthralled by me, and I by him. We shared our innermost secrets.

The sexual chemistry between us was off the hook. Almost every night, I would call him and we would get off together, moaning and whispering to each other. His voice in my ear made me dizzy with passion and longing. His sexy moans and whimpers in my ear made me weak at the knees and awakened a sexuality in me that I had never known was there.

He had an innocence about him that I didn't have. At eighteen, I was as jaded as most adults. He was a few months older than me, but he was like a child, constantly exploring new things and learning. He was constantly discovering me, breaking down my barriers. It was frightening, and I wanted to push him away. He tore down my walls again and again, and he loved me with an intensity that I never knew existed. This may sound unrealistic for a long distance relationship, but it was real. We had our own little world, just the two of us. In our world, it was okay to write sappy poetry and read it aloud, or sing songs for each other, or just giggle about nonsense. He made me feel okay to be me.

I knew I had to meet him. So here I am, miles in the air, on my way to see him. My stomach was twisted in knots and I was so excited and scared all at the same time. My joy was like a miracle. I felt happy in a way I never had before.

His mother picked me up at the airport at about ten that morning when I arrived. I had spoken to her on the phone on many occasions, and she had taken the time to get to know me and take an interest in my life. She must have been crazy to agree to let me stay with them, knowing I was his girlfriend from a thousand miles away. I was nothing but thankful, and she made me feel like part of the family.

Due to my birthday's late placement in the year, I had graduated high school at the age of 17, but he was still a senior in school, at least, that day. He'd have the rest of the week off to spend with me. I'd be there for a whole week, from October 28th through November 5th. I remember that because there was a presidential election that year.

So we got to their house and his mother showed me to the guest room where I'd be staying. That was also the room with the computer that he and I had met on. I found that concept fascinating.

I looked like hell from my long flight; I had purposefully worn no makeup so that I could sleep comfortably, but that hadn't happened. I quickly went about fixing my hair, putting on makeup and finding an outfit to put on. I wanted him to see me looking my best. I was so nervous my hands were shaking.

His little brother, had rode the bus home and he practically ran into the guest room and tackled me with a big hug. I was amazed by the warmth and friendliness from this family I'd never met before. Of course, I knew his brother as well; he often stole the phone from him to talk to me about silly adolescent stuff. He was too sweet and funny; I loved him to death.

He spent the next half hour teasing me about meeting him, which did nothing to help my nerves. I was also nervous about meeting Paul's father later that night; he would never talk to me on the phone and he was apparently a tough old bird.

So finally, it was time to load up in the van and get him from school. His mother was the quintessential soccer mom, apparently. I sat in the front with his mom and his brother sat in the back. I did it that way so that I wouldn't have to sit next to him just yet. I was so nervous I could hardly breathe.

We finally pulled up to the curb and I recognized him immediately. My boy; he stood out from the crowd in his black, punk type clothing. He looked at me through the window and smiled. I tried to smile back, but I couldn't.

He looked a little different from his pictures; the red hair was a little longer, he was a little slimmer in person and like me, he had the pale coloring and freckles dotting his cheeks. When we had first exchanged pictures, we had marveled in the fact that he and I could almost have passed for brother and sister; we both had the same red-headed features. I had changed a little since my last picture, too; my hair was longer and I had streaked it with dark red highlights, and hopefully, I was a little slimmer too.

Paul climbed into the back of the van and I could feel his presence behind me.

"Hey," was all he said.

"Hey," I said back.

Ah, what a grand display of affection. I couldn't help it; I felt like a nervous little kid. So I just held it back.

Paul and his brother joked around in the back seat all the way back to the house. I could tell in his voice that he was just as nervous as I was.

When we got back to the house, I went straight to "my" room and closed the door. I needed a few moments to myself, to gather my thoughts. God, what if he didn't like me? Was I stupid to come out here? What if I didn't like him?

He must have sensed the way I was feeling. A few minutes later, he knocked softly, then entered the room. He sat down beside me on the bed, and we remained that way for a few minutes.

"How was your flight?" he asked in a nonchalant way, but I could hear him breathing uneasily.

I smiled. That was one thing I could talk about. It had been amazing, and I told him how beautiful the moon had been, and how clear the sky was. He listened intently.

After I finished talking about the flight, there was another long pause.

"So, do you still think I'm cute?" he asked shyly. "You're not disappointed with me, are you?"

I broke into a grin, and made eye contact with him for the first time. EVER. "As long as you're not disappointed in me."

At that point, his brother came flying into the room and began talking and making jokes. It was the perfect icebreaker.

They showed me around their big house. Paul's room was right next to mine; Justin's was down the hall and their parents were on the other side of the house. They had birds in the kitchen that I could remember hearing on the phone when I spoke to him.

He blushed when he showed me the kitchen, because, if I recall correctly, he had been home alone a few weeks ago when he decided to get really freaky and jack off on the kitchen table while he was on the phone with me. At the time, I didn't believe he had actually done that, but I realized that with the birds being so loud on the phone, he must have actually done it.

He showed me the family cat, who was in the master bathroom perched on top of the toilet tank. I didn't think it was a real cat at first; it was completely motionless until I went to pet him.

"This cat will stay in this exact spot for days," his brother proclaimed. "One time, we thought he was dead!"

Paul's father came home soon after and my anxiety about meeting him melted away. He was nice, funny and sweet. I remember Paul had said something about him collecting money and apparently I hit a nerve. He was in there pulling out all of his old money for me to see, which was fascinating. Have you ever seen a dollar bill in color? It was a beautiful, vibrant piece of art, and I've not seen another one since.

We sat at the dinner table and ate together. My family never did that. It was so nice, spending time with these people. I didn't know them all that well, but it didn't seem to be an issue. They took me in and treated me wonderfully.

I sat next to Paul and we secretly held hands under the table as we ate. I could feel his loving gaze on me.

After dinner, he went to "my" room with me and closed the door. His family didn't protest; we definitely weren't having sex yet or anything like that. I was still a virgin, and he had only been with one girl in his life. We were very innocent.

I felt nervous again, being alone with him, but I also felt excited.

We sat back down, and made some light conversation. He shyly read me a poem he had wrote about me at school that day, and I was reminded of how sweet he was.

I finally worked up the courage to hug him. I put my arms around him to embrace him, just as he reached for me, and we ended up falling onto the bed together. So we just lay there, our bodies pressed against each other. Immediately I felt aroused. I could feel him against me. I was too shy to look in his eyes, so I buried my face in his shoulder and pulled him closer to me.

I couldn't help it. My hips pressed into his and immediately I could feel his hardness growing through his pants. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him, deep into his embrace. We were both breathing hard, obviously aroused.

"I don't know...should we...should we be doing this?" he said softly, breathing into my ear.

I was brought back to reality, hard. The full force of meeting him suddenly hit me. This was Paul; the guy that I told my innermost secrets and fantasies to. The guy I loved, who loved me back. I tried to speak, but the words choked up in my throat as I started to cry. The guy I had flown a hundred miles to see. It was too much all at once, a dizzying wave of passion hit me, and all my emotions came rushing to the surface. I was in love with him, so deeply.

I couldn't hold them back, and I began to weep, sobbing openly. He must have thought I was crazy, but no, he understood. He just continued to hold me close, stroking me gently. I finally looked into his eyes and I could see the intensity in his gaze, the passion, the love. He kissed me through my tears and wiped them away softly. I finally said the words I was trying to get out.

"I love you, Paul."

Paul kissed me softly, deeply, holding me close. His breath came softly into my ear. "I love you too, Stephanie."

The rest of my visit was like a fun vacation back into my childhood. Well, a good childhood. We held hands, we passed love notes, we kissed. We experimented with each other's bodies, we bathed each other, we admired each other. We went to the movies and made out.

We made up little hand signals to communicate with each other when his parents were around. We had a special signal for "I love you," I would discreetly point to my eye, then touch my chest, then point at him.

One day, with his parents gone, we lay in bed together.

We had condoms, just in case we got carried away, and we were seriously considering using them. He was laying on top of me, we were nearly naked, and had been making out heavily, touching each other's bodies. I felt guilty for going so far with someone I had just officially "met" but it couldn't be helped.

I remember the heat between us, the passion, as we tried desperately to control ourselves. His lips were soft, his hands were strong, and the lust in eyes was more than intoxicating. I wanted him inside me so bad, it hurt me. We were practically in tears when we made the decision not to do it. I almost regret it now.

I remember the day I had to leave.

I looked around the house one last time, before I left, thinking about how much I'd miss him and his family. That damn cat was still sitting on the toilet in the exact same place it had been days ago. I don't think it ever moved.

His mom was taking me back to the airport. It was a rainy, gloomy morning. It was almost like the day knew the crushing sorrow I was experiencing. It matched my mood perfectly. It was five o clock, in the fucking morning again.

We had stayed up the whole night together, crying. I had never seen a boy cry, but god, he cried. We both cried our eyes out. I did not want to leave. Not only did I love him, I loved his family. They loved me. I was going to miss him, and all of them. I knew I couldn't stay though. I had to get back to my "real" life.

He helped me pack my stuff, and we loaded it in the car. We said goodbye like a million times. Even in the maddening rain he came out to the car, to wish me one last goodbye.

We kissed for the last time. It was frantic, desperate. I was crying my eyes, out, still. He pulled back from me, gently wiping my tears away. Before he shut the door, he pointed to his eye, touched his heart and pointed at me.

That's the last image I have of him. It will stay with me until the day I die.

As the car pulled away, I refused to look back. I knew he'd be standing in the rain, crying, and I didn't want that image in my head.

I was an absolute mess. I cried on the plane so hard the stewardess came over to make sure I was okay and not having a medical problem. All the business people on the flight must have thought I was a total psycho. I was beyond comfort. I finally put on my headphones and tried to calm down. I remember, I was listening to "On my own" by the Used on my CD player, and.....

That's when I looked out the window of the plane and was taken aback by another breathtaking sight. It had finally stopped raining. I looked down, and there were clouds everywhere. Very distinctly, there was a cloud shaped exactly like a heart, perfectly. There was a rainbow right through the center.

It held, for me, the beauty of a promise. That love, no matter how young, no matter how fleeting, will never die. It is kept safe and warm in the heart.

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AnonymousAnonymousabout 14 years ago
Very nice

What a sweet story. You really captured the innocence and the bittersweet emotions of a teenage girl. I hop you do a follow-up where they meet again.

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