Mamma Mia or How I Ended Up in Bullies AnonymousChapter 2
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Mamma Mia - Or How I Ended Up In Bullies AnonymousChapter 4 free porn video
I didn't know what to do. Everything came rushing back at me and I felt like I was being crushed by King Kong or something. Then we all sang a hymn and the minister said it was time to greet each other and pass the peace, or something like that. And everybody stood up and started moving around shaking hands or hugging people. Everybody was smiling and like ten people I'd never seen in my life shook my hand and said they were glad I was there.
I looked for Mia, and saw her shaking hands and talking to people. She was alone, meaning she hadn't come in with anybody, and had been sitting alone in her pew. So I wanted to go talk to her. But I hadn't seen her in over four years. I was sure she'd gotten married or something, and I knew that if I found that out, my life would be over.
I know. I was being dramatic. But it was just how I felt.
Then she turned and saw me and our eyes locked. I swear that for the next five minutes everybody couldn't see us and went on about their business, gripping and grinning and passing the peace around, while Mia and I stood like statues, staring at each other.
And then it was too late to run, because she was suddenly walking toward me. It was that confident stride that you see models use on the runway, long legged and sassy, like she wasn't worried about anybody getting in her way. And they didn't. The sea of people parted before her like a different sea parted for Moses' staff. And then she was there, standing in front of me.
"Bob," she said. That was all. Just my name.
And I lost it and started sobbing and telling her how sorry I was. I had no idea what I was apologizing for, but it just gushed out of me like beer when you've had way too much. I know this sounds gross and unromantic. But think about it. Repenting and begging forgiveness for your sins is rarely a party.
And yes, I am also aware that putting all this in the context of a church service seems a bit trite, but that's where it happened. It turns out that sometimes fate determines where and when things happen.
Or maybe not fate. We were in church, after all.
Anyway, about a dozen people helped me sit down and were patting me on the back while I had my little breakdown. They were telling me everything would be all right, and that whatever was bothering me was already in God's ears and stuff like that. I hadn't been to church since I was about fourteen, when my parents stopped making me go, and prior to that I hadn't actually paid much attention to what they were trying to talk to us about. But I did have a little "church knowledge," and I think that helped me calm down. When a whole congregation of people, most of whom are complete strangers, stop doing what they were doing to pay attention to only you, it kind of jerks a knot in your tail.
So everybody sort of filtered back to their seats and I realized Mia was sitting next to me, holding my hand. I didn't turn around, but I knew that Randy and Brenda were sitting behind us. They were probably glad that the madman they brought to church wasn't sitting with them anymore.
I don't remember much about the rest of the service. That's no surprise. The last time I had been in church I hadn't paid any attention either. All I know is that Mia kept my hand in hers, even when we stood up to sing. She held the hymnal in her other hand, in front of us both. She has a beautiful voice, by the way.
And after the service Randy and Brenda surprised the hell out of me - sorry, but I guess church is probably an appropriate place for that to happen too - and invited us to go have Sunday lunch with them at Sirloin Stockade. They said that was a tradition with them, because it was the first place Randy took her to on a real date.
So we went, and we chatted like nothing was wrong. Mia acted like Mia, except she was all grown up. It turned out she had gotten a teaching degree and had come back home to teach second grade at Theodore Madison Elementary. Of course she hadn't moved back in with her parents, next door to us, which is why I didn't know she was back. I later found out she came over to see her parents fairly frequently, but I had stopped paying attention to the Falcon house.
That was another thing that helped me get through that day. Mia's last name was still Falcon. No wedding ring. Thankfully, both Randy and Brenda were intelligent enough not to ask her about her love life. Maybe they saw my puppy dog eyes and tumbled to the fact that I was insanely in love with a woman I hadn't spoken to long enough that she got a college degree, and a job, and six months of experience.
I'm not trying to bore you with inane details.
The point is, I wasn't able to be alone with Mia for something like six hours after I saw her that day.
Actually, as I look back on it, maybe Randy, or Brenda, or even Mia, may have realized in what bad shape I was, emotionally, and intentionally manipulated things so that I wouldn't have to actually talk to Mia alone for a while. And that was probably good, because if we'd left church alone and gone somewhere, I'm quite sure I would have self-destructed, babbled, and generally screwed the pooch, in terms of making Mia sorry she'd held my hand and sat with me in church.
But by the time lunch was over, and coffee had been drunk, and it was time for Brenda to go home and get off her feet so her ankles might lose some of their swelling, I had calmed down enough that I was capable of intelligent conversation with Mia.
She offered to take me home, which was fine with Randy and Brenda. I'm sure they were ready to leave off being the emergency response team to handle Bob's breakdown.
It was quiet in the car for the first few minutes, as Mia steered out of the parking lot and toward the side of town where her parents and I lived. It turns out she knew I still lived in my parent's basement. She had asked her parents some questions about me over the years, it seems. Would have been nice to know that, but I won't complain. She did, and that's the main thing.
"I missed you," she finally said.
"I missed you too," I croaked, trying not to cry again.
"Why didn't you write?" she asked. "Or call?"
"I didn't think you wanted me to," I said.
"Oh." That was all she said. Just "Oh."
It was silent for another ten blocks.
"You were wrong," she said. She kept looking straight ahead. "But maybe I did some things to mislead you."
"Mislead me?"
"I guess I kind of pulled away from you a little."
I asked the question that had burned in my mind for a long time.
"Why?"
"Because I knew we both wanted more, and I knew we couldn't have that. You know how frustrating that was."
I nodded.
"And when I got to college, and everything was new and exciting and different, it was easier somehow, because you weren't there to drive me crazy every time I saw you. So I threw myself into all the new things, and started neglecting you," she went on. "At the same time, I missed you so much, and it was then that I reminded myself I had a boyfriend, and didn't need any college guys in my life. Not in the way you were in my life, anyway."
"Why didn't you tell me how you were feeling?" I asked.
"Yeah, right. Tell your boyfriend you're glad to be separated from him because it makes life so much easier. That would have gone over like a lead balloon. Bob, you were my first boyfriend ... my only boyfriend. I didn't know how to be a girlfriend. I felt so stupid, and I was sure you would just go on with your life, but I clung to the fantasy that we were still together, somehow. And my parents..." She stopped, but then went on without explaining what her parents had to do with anything. "It drove me crazy to think about all that, so I just didn't. I shoved you in a little corner of my mind and let my education distract me from thinking about you."
She glanced over at me briefly, and then looked back at the road.
"I was being pulled in multiple directions. I just did what I had to do to get through it."
"Different directions," I repeated. "I don't understand that."
She turned into my driveway. She put the car in park, but didn't turn it off. She turned in her seat to face me, unbuckling the seat belt to give her enough freedom to do so.
"I want to talk about this, but not if we're in a hurry. Can I see you again?"
I blinked. "Are you kidding? Of course you can see me again. But you can keep seeing me right now if you want to. I'm not doing anything."
She looked away. "I can't right now. There's something I have to do."
"Name a time," I said. My heart was pounding in my chest.
"Friday night?" she asked.
"Absolutely," I said.
"This won't cause any problems with your ... girlfriend?" Her voice was hesitant.
"What girlfriend?" I asked, quite honestly flabbergasted she would think any girl could compare to her.
"Oh," she sighed, blushing. "I just thought..."
I naturally thought this was a prelude to her telling me she was engaged or something, so I bit the bullet and just asked.
"Is there a ... guy ... who might not like us going out?" I asked.
The look on her face was unreadable, but there was obviously something going on inside her head.
"I didn't date in college," she said. "I couldn't."
"You couldn't?" That pretty much confused me.
"Of course I couldn't," she said. "I had a boyfriend back home."
Now I know there are a bunch of you out there who are looking at the screen askance. I mean just reading the last few pages of what I've written makes me want to scratch my head too. But I see it differently than you do because I already know about the conversation we had the following Friday night, when we went bowling.
I picked her up and the first thing she said was, "So tell me about all this trouble you got in while I was gone."
"Trouble?"
"My parents - my mother, actually - wrote to me several times, telling me how lucky I was that I was at college because you kept getting in trouble and she was so glad I wasn't ruining my life with you and all that."
"Oh," I said, thinking about the beautiful Mrs. Falcon, who I had had so many adolescent fantasies about. It saddened me to know that her opinion of me was so low. I decided to add her to the list of people I needed to apologize to. It probably wouldn't do any good, but my behavior had caused her negative feelings, so I needed to take responsibility for that. "I was a bit of a bully while you were gone."
She nodded. "You were a bit of a bully before I left, Bob."
"Oh," I said again. Of course she had noticed. Everybody had noticed. "Yeah. Well, that got me in trouble a few times. But those days are over. I've been calm now for more than two years."
"What do you mean ... calm?"
Suddenly I was on firm ground. Bullies Anonymous had taught me how to talk about my addiction.
"Calm is the word we use, like alcoholics use sober. They try to stay sober. Bullies try to stay calm."
"You said we. Who are you talking about, Bob?"
"I'm in Bullies Anonymous," I said. Didn't everybody know that? Then it hit me. Of course not. She'd been gone ... off in college meeting normal guys. I'd been calm long enough that people were simply wary of me these days, as opposed to being actively worried I would attack them or something. But she didn't know about any of that ... about what I had done in my ... recovery.
"I never heard of that," she said. We were almost to my house. "Bullies Anonymous? How interesting."
"I got sent there by Judge Judy," I said.
She laughed. I knew why.
"Not the one on TV," I said. "Judge Judy Zimmerman. She was the judge on my last assault charge. She gave me probation on condition that I got counseling and joined BA. I had to be a member in good standing for two years. It all had to do with making me spend the same amount of time getting better that I would have had to spend in jail, if she sent me there instead."
"I see," she said. "That's good, Bob. I'm really glad to hear you cleaned up your act." Her head turned toward me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's okay," I said. "You were right. My act was pretty messed up. I'm just sorry it screwed things up with us."
"You didn't screw things up with us," she said. I'm the one who screwed things up with us."
I didn't know how to feel about that. I was too used to thinking that I was the one who caused problems, and broke things. My anger control issues had wrecked almost everything in my life. I was still thinking about that, and trying to figure out how she could think she was responsible for anything when she seemed to change her mind, and go on the offensive against me.
"Why didn't you write to me?" she asked.
"I did ... a few times," I said, lamely.
"Why didn't you keep writing to me?" she asked, exaggerated patience in her voice.
"You stopped writing to me," I complained. "I thought you didn't want me to write to you anymore."
She didn't defend her actions (or inaction, as it were), but went on with her assault.
"Why, when I stopped writing, didn't you come see me to ask why I had stopped writing?" she asked.
"I didn't think you wanted to see me," I said. "I thought you'd found another boyfriend."
"Why didn't you come fight for me, then?" she asked, her voice rising. "You fought for me once. Why didn't you come fight for me again?"
"That was different," I said. "I fought to make Jerry stop what he was doing."
"Did I ever tell you what you were screaming while you beat the crap out of him?"
I looked over at her. She was so beautiful that my heart hurt. "I don't think so," I said.
"You kept screaming 'She's mine, she's mine!' There were a few 'motherfuckers' thrown in there too, but basically you kept yelling that I was yours, and for him to remember that."
"You're kidding," I said.
"Nope."
"I don't remember that," I said.
"Well I do. That's why I thought, when you stopped writing and didn't come see me, that you had found another girlfriend."
I knew that was ridiculous. There couldn't be any woman for me other than Mia. But I didn't say that. Instead, I reverted to the assumption that everything was probably my fault.
"I'm sorry. I should have kept writing."
"Me too," she said, softly. "But I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because all it would have been was the screenplay for a porn video," she said. "When I thought of you, all I could think about was how wonderful you made me feel with your fingers, and mouth, and..." She didn't finish, but I was pretty sure what else she had been thinking about. It was the same thing I had been thinking about as I lay there stroking my boner.
"If you'd have written that, I might have come to see you," I said.
"I know. And that was the problem. If you'd have come to see me I would have let you do anything you wanted."
"And that's bad because... ?" I was getting frustrated again. It seemed that Mia and I were doomed to endure frustration.
"Because I still couldn't chance getting pregnant," she said. "I had to finish school, and get a job."
"But you were at college," I pointed out. "You could have gotten on the pill there ... right?"
"I thought about that," she said. "But I didn't want to do that."
"Why?" I asked, the frustration creeping into my voice. I took three deep breaths and let them out slowly. It was one of the techniques my counselor had taught me.
"Because I'm not blind, Bob," she said. "There were lots of guys there, and they were just like the guys in high school. They wanted to do things with me. And I was horny a lot, Bob. I didn't want to give myself an excuse to cheat on you."
"But there was no me," I groaned.
"I didn't say it all made sense." She sighed. "I just had all these feelings, and the easiest thing to do was to just make it so I had to be celibate. From you, mostly, but I have to admit I was tempted sometimes by other guys."
"Did you go out?"
She was silent for a long time, and I got the impression she wasn't going to answer. Finally, though, she did.
"A few times." She looked out the window, her face away from me, as she said it.
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