Blunt Force Drama Ch. 07-09

Like the rest of this story, these chapters depend intimately on the earlier ones. This chapter starts the morning after Angie gave an impassioned speech at the awards dinner where her father had made a scene and stormed out.

Chapter 7

I'm showered and dressed by a little after eight in the morning. I could get some work done, but it's break week and, even though I really want to get completely caught up by the end of the week, I want to relax a little bit. I decide to see if Angie's already up. I would much rather hang with her.

hey Angie, you awake already?

morning lover boy, what's up?

thought maybe we could hang before breakfast, unless u r real anxious to get something done

❤️meet you downstairs in 10

"I have one big complaint about last night," she says when I get to the lounge.

"What's that?"

"We never got to try any of the hors d'oeuvres. They looked really good."

I laugh.

She's so full of confidence and strength this morning. This is not the bubbly excitement from a few weeks ago when I first mistakenly thought she had beaten her demons. She's capable of great things and she truly understands that now. She understands she still has demons that she will need to battle, maybe for her entire life. But she does believe she has a life. And that I will be part of that life.

We talk for almost two hours, sitting together on the couch in the lounge. Not idle chitchat, deep conversations, full of hope. Talk of the future, our future, individually and together. She wants to know all about my parents. I warn her my father might ask her if we want kids. He definitely wants grandkids. My mother does too, probably even more, but she would not ask.

Angie wants kids, but not too soon. She wants to enjoy life with me first. Maybe some time during grad school. Grad school's not even a question in her mind now.

Our conversation is interrupted when her phone rings. She pulls it out; it's not a number she knows, so she lets it go through. A moment later, she has a voice message from the call. It was the Dean, he wants her to call if she's free.

She looks at me and I nod. She returns the call.

Angie?

"Yes, what's up Dean Fernandez?"

Please call me Ethan. I suspect we will see a lot of each other over the next year. And Anna and Matthew are on a first name basis, so it feels weird for us not to be. Anyway, I'm sorry to disturb you on your first morning of break. Do you have a few minutes?

"Yeah, what can I do for you?"

The communications office wanted me to ask you if you would be willing to meet with some of the local media today. Apparently there were murmurings about your speech even before they managed to post the recording. It's starting to get attention and views, They think you might be about to go viral.

"I guess so. What do they want?"

Just to run a human interest story about you, The school obviously loves the publicity. They may start asking you to do a lot of this if you let them. This is not required for your award. Feel free to say no. Just let me know and I will run interference for you, keep them off your back.

"I'm okay now. I'm just not sure what to expect. Where and when I guess, right now."

Are you in your room now?

"No, Matt and I are sitting in the lounge downstairs. We were about to think about where to get breakfast."

That would be a great location. And I have an idea. Somebody from marketing will be over to meet you there in a few minutes. I will come over, too. They can take all four of us out to breakfast while they explain the process to you. Then I think we will have a group of reporters come to interview you in the lounge after breakfast.

"Do I need to get dressed up?"

I don't think so. I think it's only written media, no TV. They may want to take a photo of you, but the marketing person will have a better idea about that than I do. Does that work for you?

"It seems kind of weird, but sure. And a free breakfast is nice."

They have a real budget. They might as well use some of it for you and Matthew. I think they are going to want to milk you for everything they can get. You may turn out to be the first University Scholar to be a net money maker for the school. I will be there in a few. Thanks for agreeing to this.

She sets the phone down and looks at me. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah. How are you doing with this?"

"Am I really going to go viral? Can this be happening?"

"It was an amazing speech. Every single person in that room felt it. They weren't just saying that to you. They really meant it."

Aya comes out and says, "Dean Fernandez just called me and said to check if you two needed anything and to check that the lounge looked good. What's going on?"

"Angie gave this amazing speech last night and I guess it's going viral or something. And some press are going to come here in a little while to interview her."

"The Dean and a marketing person will be here soon to take us out to breakfast to prep us for the interviews. Then we are coming back here for them. I'm not sure of any more than that. Ethan said the marketing person would explain everything at breakfast."

"So you're on first name terms with him now?" Aya asks.

"Matt and I spent two and a half hours with Anna and him last night. It almost felt like a double date. He asked me to call him Ethan when we were talking on the phone a few minutes ago. Probably right before he called you."

"Who is Anna?"

"She's my neurologist I meet with regularly. That Angie drives me to three times a week. I kind of did a bit of matchmaking between her and Ethan and they've become an item, She was his plus one for the award dinner last night."

"We had already talked a few times around Matt's appointments. She was a good support for me last night. And she was gorgeous in that gown."

"She was, wasn't she," I say, getting a light slap on the chest from Angie for the comment.

"You're only supposed to have eyes for me, remember?"

Aya laughs. "It's good to see you two fully back together again. So I take it things went well last night at the ceremony? I know how hard you've been working on your speech."

Angie and I look at each other, then she says, "Not exactly. Just before I was supposed to give that speech, my father made a scene about Matt and I. Matt had to physically step between us before it got too ugly. My father stormed out and then I had to get up and talk. Everyone there had watched that scene. I couldn't ignore it."

"I thought you said your speech went really well?"

"She just gave a different one. She made up a whole new speech on the spot. It was amazing. You should watch it. I want to watch the recording of it."

A woman comes into the lounge from outside and introduces herself.

"I am Marci McShane. I recognize you, Angela, from your speech. And I'm guessing you're the Matt she mentioned."

"Call me Angie. And that's Aya. She's the RD for this dorm, so she's queen of this domain. So what's the plan?"

"Well, Dean Fernandez insisted that I feed you two in exchange for doing this. So we will grab some food as soon as he arrives. Do you want to come, too, Aya?"

"No, I want to stay here and make sure the place is spotless. But let me know what you need from me when you get back.

Just then the Dean arrives. He's excited for this, but he's also grumpy about being dragged out of bed with Anna. Things must be going very well there indeed. He's expecting her to spend the night again tonight. It will be hard to avoid getting too many details out of Anna on Monday.

"How are you feeling this morning, Angie?"

"Good. Not sure what to make of this. Is it really okay to call you Ethan?"

"I'm not going to insist. You can call me whatever you're comfortable with. But Ethan is a lot fewer syllables. And how is the head this morning, Matthew?"

"It stays okay right now as long as I don't concentrate too hard or be in too much of a crowd. Last night was a bit touch and go."

He still doesn't understand the crowd bit. He really wants to know, wants to nag Anna about it, but he knows he shouldn't. He wouldn't object if I volunteered information about it to him.

Marci's a bit anxious to get us moving. "We should go get you your food. The main dining hall's closed for break. I guess we can eat at the cafe. Thinking of break, why are you two still here. Don't the dorms close, too?"

She's leading us out the door as we talk.

"This is the Honor's dorm and we have slightly different rules. Some are stricter, like no alcohol or drugs in the dorm at all. But we get some privileges, too, the biggest being we get to stay during break if we have a need to. With everything that has been going on, Aya's being generous with me."

"Hey, you're my ride on Tuesday -- I have an interview for an internship at the Mason on Tuesday -- and you have your appointment Tuesday morning. And I guess you're my ride to my appointments with Anna. So you need to be here all week."

"Is Anna your doctor, the one Angie mentioned in her speech?"

"That's her," I answer, "Anna Chekhov. She's a neurologist."

"And why was your doctor at the award ceremony?"

"She was my date," Ethan speaks up.

"The four of you seem quite friendly and intertwined. It's somewhat surprising," she says.

Ethan explains as best he can. "Anna and I knew each other years ago, but had lost touch. Our common work with Matthew has just brought us back together."

Angie adds, "I've gotten to know Dr. Chekhov from bringing Matt to his appointments with her. She was a big support for me yesterday."

Marci asks, "I have one more big question from the speech. What was the incident you referred to?"

Ethan, Angie, and I all look at each other.

Ethan's ready to say something if Angie doesn't. But she decides she can talk about this.

"Just as I was getting up to give my speech, Matt noticed how nervous I was. He held both my hands and told me that I had this. I gave him a peck on the lips as a thank you. My father believed that was inappropriate, both because we are not married and because we were in public. He scolded me about it loudly enough to draw attention. There was a lot of emotion and it looked like it might blow up into worse, but he decided to leave rather than push the issue too far."

"That makes a lot of sense, given your speech. Did you really ad lib that whole speech?"

"It was completely different than the speech I had written. But a few of the phrases I had considered for other possible speeches for last night."

"Wow, I wish I could think of things like that off the cuff. And under that kind of pressure. Hey, I wish I could think of things like that when I had time to plan them out. I do PR. I work with speeches all the time. That one was special. You never know what will catch the public's fancy. But that had everything it needed to succeed. Your passion's so obvious during the entire speech."

"That was an emotional moment for me. And an emotional issue."

We've arrived at the cafe and we get seated. Fortunately, the restaurant is fairly empty, being a Saturday mid-morning during a break week.

While we are waiting for food, Marci explains how she expects this to work.

"It will be a mini-press conference, trying to keep it as casual as we can. I want Angie and Matt sitting on the couch next to each other. But no clinging on to each other. You can hold hands if you feel the need for support, but nothing more.

"I think there will be four reporters. I want to drag the chairs over to have them sit in a semi-circle around you. Dean Fernandez will stand at one end of the couch and I will stand at the other. I will call on the reporters to select who gets to ask a question next. Either the Dean or I can cut off a question or the entire session at any point. If you need help, look to one of us.

"Does that make sense to everyone?"

"What are they going to ask?" Angie asks.

"Most of it will be pretty basic. Much of it's covered in the press briefing I will give them, but they will ask anyways. Someone will probably ask about how you feel about getting famous. Someone will ask you about your career goals. I expect stuff like that. If any question goes too far afield, I will cut it off immediately. The worst thing I could imagine being asked, and I'm almost certain it won't be, is wondering if you two are sleeping together. I would cut that off before it finished getting out of their mouth. And they know they would be uninvited from anything with the school in the future. Which is why I'm pretty sure they won't ask. But I will warn you, there are people who will want to know."

"Will I be asked anything?" I ask.

"You might be. I suspect at least one. You got mentioned pretty prominently in the speech and again in her acknowledgements at the end. Oh, who is Janet? I forgot to ask about that."

"Janet's my assistant. Janet Essen."

"Oh, I know Janet. Good for her. And good for you, Angie, for acknowledging her. An acknowledgement like that's very rare in a student speech. Probably even rarer in a faculty one, unless it's their own assistant. Any more questions?"

"Can you keep feeding us here?" I ask, mostly joking. "This sure beats the breakfast sandwiches I've been limited to for breakfast for several weeks."

"Is that all the dining halls serve for breakfast now?" Marci asks, sounding confused.

"Matt has been limited to eating from the FoodMart. His concussion symptoms are bothered by crowds, apparently," Ethan replies. He still really wants to know what's up with that. It does not make sense to him and he's certain Anna's leaving out some crucial detail. The one that lets me understand his real question.

"Will you be okay with the press conference, Matt?" Marci asks.

"I think so. I can make it through an entire class. They all have at least as many people as it sounds like will be here today. Is it a huge issue if I need to bail because it is making my head hurt?"

"If you feel it coming on, just leave. Ethan and I will explain appropriately. Angie mentioned your condition in the speech, so it shouldn't surprise them."

"Will they all have watched my speech?"

"I'm sure they have already, yes. Them and about ten thousand other people last I checked. We have never had a University Scholar speech reach a thousand views. It is conceivable you will hit a million views this week."

"Is everything going to be written?" Angie asks. "No cameras or TV?"

"This is all what used to be called print media, so no video or movies. Some of them are likely to bring a voice recorder. I would not be surprised if someone wants a picture of you or maybe a picture of you and Matt. I want to get us back in time for you to get changed if you want to and fix your hair or whatever."

"Is my hair a problem? Is it a mess?" That comment panicked Angie a bit.

"I'm sorry, Angie. I didn't mean it needed anything. But some people, women mostly, but not exclusively, insist on time to fuss with their hair or their makeup, even if it's already perfect. You two are fine as you are. You look like healthy college students, not paid actors. There's already a video of you in a nice blazer that has been widely viewed. You do not want to wear something like that again. And neither of you are wearing tee shirts with objectionable things on them."

I laugh, thinking about what Todd usually wears, He has been kicked out of more than one class for what was on his shirt. Marci looks at me and I say, "I'm just thinking of my former roommate. He wore many objectionable things."

Ethan rolls his eyes thinking of Todd.

"Okay, I think we should probably head back now to give Angie and Matt time to clean themselves up if they want to. And we need to work on getting the room set up. The reporters should be here in about forty minutes and some of them like to show up early to try to get less scripted access. So everyone should be ready in about twenty five minutes, let's say at 11:45 at the latest."

Angie decides to go put a nicer shirt on and brush out her hair. She's still worried that Marci did really mean there was a problem with her hair. I decide I am what I am. And everybody cares about her. I'm just the boyfriend. It's a nice day for mid-march and I sit outside on a bench to relax and clear my head.

A few minutes later, Ethan comes out, saying, "May I join you?"

"Sure, although I'm not sure I'm great company right now."

"Can I talk to you a bit about Angie?"

I nod.

"Is she doing okay after last night? We are less than two weeks from her near breakdown. Last night was a lot and now this. I'm worried about her. I obviously cannot tell you what I know, but anything you feel comfortable telling me, good or bad, may help her."

"I think she's healthier right now than at any time I've known her. I thought she had beaten down her demons two weeks ago, when it all went wrong. I saw some warning signs at the time, but I ignored them, which I kick myself for regularly. In retrospect, I see more of them I should have recognized. But I wanted it to be true too much to be objective. Having seen the downside, I just want her to be fully healthy now.

"The meetings with Jennie seem to be helping. I've only heard a few snippets of what they talk about, but Angie seems to really like them and she thinks they are helping. Winning the award helped more than anything else. If you don't understand, her major problem is the pull between wanting to stay true to the beliefs she was raised in, really her father's beliefs, and what she has come to believe herself. The award took much of the pressure off that."

"Why the award?"

"She was terrified of her father cutting off her support for school, forcing her to drop out. The award emancipates her. The difference in her this week versus last is enormous. She still has her demons, but she expects to defeat them now, which was not true a week ago."

Ethan's shaking his head. "If it had come down to that, the school would've found a scholarship for her rather than let her drop out."

I sure wish Angie had understood that.

"I have another question to ask and this one's in my official capacity as dean. You said she was being hit by her father?"

"She told her mother about us on Tuesday and her father found out and slapped her on the face hard enough she had to wear makeup on Wednesday to cover the mark. I would not be surprised if she still has a bruise she's covering from me. Tuesday night was another rough night for a very different reason. She still loves her father, but she will not seek a rapprochement with him in the foreseeable future. I worry about that hurting her, but I don't see a choice. I'm hoping he will come to accept me, to accept us, and they can put this behind them."

"You should know that I'm legally obligated to report the accusation you made to the authorities. It happened off campus, so ultimately it's not a university incident and is outside my jurisdiction."

"I think we both realize that. She decided not to let either Aya or Jennie know about Tuesday, because they are both mandatory reporters, at least as we understand it. I know we had numerous mandatory reporters in the room last night, including you and Anna. If you didn't notice, Anna asked her if he had hit her and she admitted it."

"Anna and I discussed the incident only in so far as we decided I would report it instead of her. We intentionally did not compare stories, so I was unaware that Angie admitted that her father has hit her. I will leave that out of my report. I suspect someone will contact Anna as well. I will mention that she was present and she allowed me to report the accusation. With Angie's new found celebrity, I suspect someone will visit with her father about this. And probably ask her mother if she's getting hit as well. Without the speech last night, I think this might well have been ignored."

"Thank you for letting me know. Can I tell Angie?"

I do not tell him I knew he was reporting it a few minutes ago, just after he sat down on the bench.

Suddenly, I hear Angie shriek. Or rather, I hear her internal voice shriek. "Something's wrong with Angie! I need to go check on her."

I go sprinting inside the door into the dorm and up the stairs. I can hear Ethan a short distance behind me, trying to keep up. All I can see in her head is shock and some sort of hideous picture. I knock on Angie's door. "Angie it's me, are you okay."

"Oh, Matt, it's awful!"

Aya and Ethan are not far behind. Aya unlocks the door. Angie's sitting at her desk, staring at the screen.

There's a poorly photoshopped picture of three hispanics lying on the ground with their heads chopped off. The words say, in big letters, Go home wetback! Your not wanted here! This is warning to you n all yer kind.

I hold her head against me so she cannot see the screen.

"I just checked my mail and I had gotten half a dozen nice messages about the speech. And then I saw this."

She's very shaken.

"Why are people like that?"

Ethan has his phone out making a call.

"Elaine? This is Ethan Fernandez. Can you look at something as kind of an emergency for me?"

"Angela Lopez, our new university scholar, is getting actionable hate mail to her school account. I think it's from her speech last night. Can you do anything to block that?"

"Good. How long will that take?"

"I will tell her not to read her mail until then. Once everything is set, can you send a note to me and Aya Hammami, the RD at the Honor's dorm. If you have any questions for Angie, Aya can reach out to her for you."

"Thanks for your help."

He turns to us. "Angie are you okay? Do you want us to cancel the press conference?"

"No, I will not let them cancel me. It's what they want. I will do this."

"I need to report this to the police. I'm going to call the campus police and let them handle talking to the authorities. Is it okay if they look at your computer?"

She nods.

"I assume you would like this to be deleted off your computer once they have a copy of it."

"Yes, please. I never want to see that again."

"Aya, can you and Matthew find a place where Angie can gather her wits before the interview?"

"We can go down into my room," Aya says.

"Thank you, Aya. I will stay here and wait for security."

As we leave, I hear him on the phone with security. He's taking the threat very seriously.

Aya lets us into her room. She has a corner room like Angie and I, but it seems like she has at least two rooms, because this is just a living room layout and she has a door into what I assume is her bedroom.

Aya tries to talk to Angie. "I just watched your speech. It really was amazing. I'm proud of you. Proud to know you."

"Thank you, Aya."

Angie's still pretty rattled and I'm trying to think of something innocuous to talk to her about.

"If you do your honor's thesis on Jane Austen, have you thought about what you want to do your other scholarly talk on?"

"If I had to say right now, it would probably be something about either Mary Shelley or George Sands, but there are a few writers left in my course that I don't know at all. One of them might catch my fancy."

"Shelley wrote Frankenstein, right?"

"She wrote several other novels as well and had a very interesting, but tragic life. Sands is amazing in that she wrote over 100 books, including 70 novels."

"You say she. Isn't George a man's name, even the French version of it?"

"She had to take a man's name as a pen name so they would let her publish, silly. I forget her real name. It was some fancy French name. Something something something Dupin. I think there might be another something in there. She was one of the most prolific writers of the romantic era. And they both came from outspoken feminists, Shelley's mother Mary Wollstonecraft and Sands's great grandmother Louise Dupin."

"I guess I know almost nothing about either one. You're going to have to educate me this summer. We can have one evening a week where you teach me all about your favorite women writers. But I already know who my favorite woman author is going to end up being."

"Who?"

"You, of course."

She laughs and gives me a hug.

"We should probably go head out pretty soon before Marci comes looking for us," I say. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

"As ready as I'm going to be and I'm not going to be silenced. Let's go."

Marci cuts us off before we get to the lounge. "Are you sure you want to do this, we can postpone a day or two if you need to. Ethan told me about the mail you got. I'm so sorry."

"I'm going to meet Matt's parents tomorrow, so the next two days are out of the question and Tuesday is kind of busy. I will not be silenced and this seems like the best time."

"You're a brave woman, Angie. I admire you."

She leads us back to the couch, where Angie and I sit, comfortably close but not unseemly so. There's already one figure I don't recognize in the room, presumably a reporter.

Marci goes to meet the others as they come in and Aya runs interference, making sure any of the other handful of students still here don't crash the party.

About ten minutes later, there's a reporter in each of the four seats arranged around us. Marci introduces them all, but I immediately forget each of their names, let alone who they represent. Three of the four are men, ranging from a little older than us to their fifties or sixties -- older than my parents, not as old as my grandparents. The lone woman reporter is about thirty.

Marci introduces the two of us and Ethan. She says "If anyone needs a picture, this is a good time to take it. I'm not sure that they will be available after the questioning period has ended."

Three of them stand up and take pictures, I think just of Angie. Marci calls on the reporter closest to her.

"The press briefing says you're from here, Angela. Did you grow up in town or is that just because you're here as a student?"

"Please call me Angie. My mother calls me Angela when she's about to tell me to clean up my room."

That gets a laugh from all four reporters.

"The house I grew up in, where my parents still live, is only a few miles from here. That house and on campus here are the only places I've ever lived."

The next reporter in line, the woman, asks, "In your speech you mention that you're part of a local religious group. Do you want to give them a shoutout?"

"Given the incident that just happened a few minutes ago, I would rather not disclose certain information about myself and my life. I hope you understand."

All four reporters now want to know what happened. Ethan volunteers an answer to that one. "Shortly before this interview. Angie received a death threat. The police have been contacted and are, at this moment, beginning their investigation. The investigation's obviously early, but given the specifics of the threat, it's hard to imagine it not being treated as a hate crime."

The reporters all want more details.

"I'm afraid further questions will need to be asked of the police. When Angie discovered the threat, I informed the campus police, with the expectation of involving the local police. A detective arrived approximately when you did. I cannot disclose any more information."

Marci changes the subject, by asking the third reporter for her question for Angie.

"You mentioned an incident at the beginning of your speech, apparently something that had just happened at the awards dinner. Can you describe the incident?"

"Dean Fernandez had just told me that it was time to get up to the podium. I was nervous, as I hope you can all appreciate. Matt noticed that I was nervous, held my hand and gave me a little pep talk. I gave him a quick thank you kiss before I went to the podium. In my father's belief system, I was wrong for doing that both because Matt and I are not married and because it was in public. He scolded me loudly for my behavior and then left the dinner."

The woman reporter shouts out. "Can you show us what kind of kiss it was?"

She leans over and gives me a peck on the lips. Someone takes a picture at that instant.

The reporter who asked about the incident shouts out another question. "Have you talked to your father since the dinner? Does he have any reaction to your speech, which you say was in reaction to that incident?"

"No, I've not spoken to either of my parents yet. I would be very surprised if my father even knows anything about the speech. I've never known him to watch a youtube video."

There are some chuckles about that.

"Are you and your father on speaking terms right now?"

Marci breaks in, "That will be your last question, no more follow-ons, please."

"As I mentioned, I've not spoken to either of my parents since dinner yesterday, so I cannot say for certain what's happening right now. It's definitely true that I'm angry at him and I assume he's angry at me, but he's still my father and I love him. And I feel bad for him. The collision of cultures that my speech was about is pulling us apart right now and I know that's hard on him."

"You said - "

Marci cuts him off and moves on to the fourth reporter.

"You said that you had another speech prepared. Were you really saying that you gave that whole speech off the cuff?"

"I had considered the basic concept of something like that as one idea for the acceptance speech and a few phrases I had thought about along those lines, but yes, the speech as a whole was an ad lib. I was just speaking from my heart. I believe very deeply in the ideal of the liberal education and understanding all of humanity's aspects. But I also see the very real damage that can be done by the blend of cultures that this country was built on."

Marci circles back around to the first reporter, the oldest of the men.

"What does the University Scholar award mean to you and how do you see it changing your life?"

"The award means everything to me. It's enabling and freeing. My family is not wealthy and I've been working three days a week to help pay my college bill. I think Matt would probably tell you that freeing up more of my time to spend with him is the best thing about it. And it's already changing my life. I would not be here talking to you if one of the other very deserving candidates had been chosen. But I was, and it has already forced me to articulate ideas I had but never quite pinned down. It will force me to develop more academic rigor for my two scholarly presentations I must give next year. And it means I will probably pursue my doctorate now, which was really a distant dream a week ago."

Marci calls on the woman, "You mentioned that your honor's thesis will be on Jane Austen. What does she mean to you? As you said, she lived in a different time, a different place, a different part of society than you have. How did you gravitate to her?"

"Jane Austen was the writer who first made me want to write. She changed the way that the English thought about women. At least upper class women. I would love to help change the world's view of women like me. In my dreams, that's my destiny."

"In what ways like you?" asks the women reporter before Marci can move on.

"Not just Latina, but certainly that. I want to speak for all women who are not born rich and famous. Who do not sing and dance or star in movies. Who work hard and no-one notices. We are everywhere and mostly ignored. I am one of them and we all deserve to be noticed."

Marci moves on to the next reporter.

"You are certainly being noticed now. Do you like being famous?"

"Dean Fernandez called me less than two hours ago to ask if I was willing to do this session. Until then, I had no idea I was becoming famous. I still don't quite believe it. But the four of you certainly would not have been asking me questions yesterday, so something has changed. But if fame comes with the ugliness of that death threat, I don't like being famous. And I want to say there's a big difference between being noticed and being famous. When I said being noticed, I mean that as opposed to being taken for granted, ignored. For too long, too many people have been ignored, taken for granted, their needs and wishes not a factor in the decisions made that impact all of our lives. I hope that will change, just as society women are no longer just considered pieces of the estate, as they were just over two hundred years ago when Jane Austen was publishing her novels."

"Angie, You mentioned Matt's concussion in your speech. Would either of you like to tell us more about his injury. And why was his doctor at the ceremony?"

Ethan chimes in, "His doctor, Anna Chekhov, was there as my date for evening. And before you ask, it's an odd coincidence at one level. Dr. Chekhov and I had known each other many years ago but had lost touch. Our joint work with Matthew reconnected us."

I speak up, "I can talk about the concussion a little bit. I fell on the ice during the ice storm we had last month. It was a fluke fall and I split my head open. I needed a few units of blood and surgery to repair the back of my head. I still have severe headaches at times and have to limit my activities in many ways. Because of the particular details of my condition, which I would rather not discuss, Anna has been closely monitoring my condition. Angie, who has to drive me to all my appointments, has gotten to know her there.

"And I want to publicly thank Dean Fernandez and his office for their support through my recovery, Without that, I almost certainly would've been forced to drop out of school this semester."

Marci asks for the next question.

"You thanked the Dean and Matt in your speech, who seem like obvious choices. But who was Janet, your third person you wanted to thank?"

Ethan takes this one, too. "Janet is Janet Essen, my assistant. She really is the one that makes sure everything happens. In many ways, she's one of the unnoticed women Angie was discussing. I was very proud of Angie for noticing her. She's absolutely one of the unsung heroes of this institution."

Marci says, "One more question for each of you."

"Do you have any plans to celebrate your achievement, Angie?"

"If you did not realize it, this is our break week. Matt and I are going to visit his parents tomorrow, my first time meeting them. I think I'm more nervous about that than I was about my speech yesterday."

The reporters all laugh. She can have them eating out of her hand whenever she wants to,

"But we have to be back here for Matt's next Neurological appointment and then he has an interview next week to hopefully get the internship that he wants for the summer. And I think we both have lots of school work we want to get done before classes start up again."

Marci signals for the next question, the woman reporter this time.

"I know that the awards dinner is one big meet and greet, where you meet members of the administration of the university and many of its most notable alumni. Angie, was there someone you particularly enjoyed meeting or was particularly memorable to you?"

"I was glad to meet President Williams and I'm looking forward to the monthly teas she has invited Matt and me to. And I met so many other interesting and amazing people. But I was happy that Bella Gordon was at our table for dinner, so I got to speak much more fully with her. I already mentioned that I want to be a writer, so meeting a successful woman writer is thrilling and inspiring. She and her husband Graham were both gracious and charming and she is just fun to talk to. I think she's a truly nice person."

The next reporter, the youngest of them, asks his last question, "You two are so obviously in love, it's refreshing. How did you meet?"

I look at Angie and I take this one. "It was the one good thing that came out of my fall. Angie happened to be there and she was the one who talked to me to tell me the ambulance was on the way as I was lying on the pavement in a pool of blood. I looked up and saw her angelic face looking at me and I was in love. When I was released from the hospital, I saw her and went to thank her. I mentioned I needed a ride to the hospital the next day, since I can no longer drive.

"And then, at Dr. Chekhov's request, Dean Fernandez moved me to a single to help with my recovery, By coincidence, the available single was in this dorm, not far from Angie's room. Because I cannot eat in the dining hall, she and I've eaten almost every meal since then in this lounge, where we've grown very close to each other."

Marci says to reporter number four, "You get the last question."

"This one's for Matt. How does it feel to have your girlfriend suddenly famous? Does it surprise you? Are you worried that you will be lost in shadows? That the fame will change her?"

"As Angie mentioned earlier, I don't think either of us quite understand what's happening yet. But we are both very shy people. That's who we are at our core and I can't see anything changing that. If she's really going to become famous overnight, of course that surprises me. I would expect it to surprise anyone, especially since it's not something she pursued in any way.

"But I'm absolutely not surprised that she did something so amazing that this could happen. I am biased, but I think I can also step back and see just how amazing of a woman I've been lucky enough to fall in love with. That speech last night was remarkable and it got me thinking about our future, individually and collectively. In my heart, I absolutely believe she will write four great novels, the same as her beloved Jane Austen, and come to be regarded as one of the great writers of the century. She has greatness in her.

"I also enjoyed having Graham and Bella at our table for dinner. They've each accomplished so much individually, but they are still a wonderful couple. Still obviously in love with each other after decades together. It gave me hope for our long term success. I may be an art history major like he was, but I'm no Graham Gordon and I never will be. But Angie, my angel, is amazing. She will do amazing things. And I hope to be by her side the entire time."

Marci speaks up now. "Thank you Angie and Matt for your time. And have fun at his parents. I'm sure they will love you, Angie."

Ethan nods to us and we follow him outside. As we are going, I can hear Marci talking to the reporters. "I can answer basic clarifying questions, if you have further questions for either of them or Dean Fernandez, please send them through my office and we will get responses to you as soon as we can."

The three of us sit on the bench where Ethan and I were earlier.

"You two were wonderful. Be careful or they are going to have you making weekly appearances. You were both very charismatic back there. I have to check on how the investigation into the threat is going.

"But before I go, Angie, if you did not pick this up earlier, stay away from your e-mail for a few days. That you're going away tomorrow is probably a good thing. IT is working on a solution and I'm hoping it's working by Monday. They will keep Aya up to date on the status, so if you have questions, you can talk to her or me. I don't think there's anything real to be concerned about. Do you have any questions?"

"How did you know I had gotten that message? How did you know that something was wrong?"

Ethan says, "I was wondering the same thing. Matthew and I were sitting out here talking when he suddenly said you were in trouble and went sprinting up to your room."

I say, "I must've heard her shriek or something, I guess. I don't know, I just knew."

But of course I do know. And neither are satisfied with my answer. But no one chooses to push on the issue any further.

Angie and I stay sitting here as Ethan steps away to make his phone calls. Marci comes out a few minutes later. She's effusive in her praise of our performance.

And then we are finally alone, after two hours in the hurricane around us. I have a mild headache, but I realize I managed to shut out all their voices, even Angie's, during that interview. It wasn't even a conscious effort, it just happened.

Angie's a bit shell shocked by everything. I read her mind easily now that that's over. I don't think becoming an overnight celebrity, even a minor one, was on either of our bingo cards for today. Or this year. Or this life.

And she's still horrified by that image. But more determined than ever to achieve her dream. A dream which is taking a much more solid form in her mind. She will write great literature that makes people stop taking all the background players for granted. She will become the voice of the everywoman. And she really appreciates my faith in her. She liked my last answer a lot.

"Thank you Matt, for what you said at the end. I really liked that. Are you really certain I will be a great writer?"

"Absolutely. I just wish I saw as clear of a path for me. Oh, I should tell you what Ethan and I were talking about out here before that awful message changed everything. As I think we both guessed he would have to, he's reporting my accusation that your father hit you. He thinks that the authorities will take it seriously, especially because of your sudden fame. He suspects someone will ask your mother if he hit her as well. Has he hit you a lot? Does he hit her?"

"Tuesday was the hardest he has ever hit me, by a lot. It's not like he beat me regularly. He has hit Mama occasionally, I've never known why. It was always in their bedroom. I've watched her put her makeup on to hide the mark. That's how I knew how to do it. I assume you realized I did that."

I nod and then say, "That you knew how to do it made me very nervous."

We sit on the bench for a while, just holding hands. I think we are mostly trying to integrate what seems to be happening. Right now, we could both use a boring week, but it doesn't seem to be in the cards for us.

Finally, Angie says, "It was nice to be out here for a while, but I'm getting chilly. Are you okay going back inside now that we have the place to ourselves?"

I think about offering to hold her tight to keep her warm, but I decide moving inside is a better option right now. Besides, I want to save all my chips for what ever she's willing to do tonight. Though she's not feeling sexy right now at all.

"Do you want to talk about what you're thinking?" I ask as we take up our old spot on the couch. I can get most of this, but sometimes she will verbalize something I'm missing. And it allows me to comment on it, have a discussion about it. Even if she knew I could read her mind, I know how much it annoys Anna when I just react to her thoughts without any active input to the conversation by her.

"Mostly, I'm wondering what will come out of my speech. Is this my fifteen seconds of fame and will everyone forget about this by next week? Will I look back at this in fifty years as the pinnacle of my life? Is this all there is? And does this up the ante for my graduation speech? Is everyone going to be expecting another amazing Angie Lopez speech. Can I do it twice? Am I doomed to disappoint everyone?"

"Deep stuff," I say. "Think about this as a test run for dealing with trying to write your second novel after the critics rave over your first novel, having called you the most exciting new writer of the century."

She laughs and then looks at me. I'm staying completely serious. "You don't really mean that, do you?"

I finally chuckle. "I had you going. But somewhat I do mean it. You may not give another great speech. No one gives a great speech every time. We just remember the great ones. I know you will give a very good speech at the least. And everyone will appreciate that and forget it and life goes on.

"But I do think there's a very real chance you will write a great novel, And there will be immense pressure on you to do it again. I can easily imagine it being so good that critics rave about it and you. And you becoming more famous in literary circles than you will ever be from this speech. So I wasn't completely joking."

She isn't sure whether to think that is exciting or terrifying. I think both is the answer she's settling on. She does like my confidence in her, though.

++++++++++

Chapter 8

We settle into a good discussion mode, more like we were having this morning. Of course we were in blessed ignorance of her speech going viral then; that reality has a heavy bearing on almost everything we talk about.

There's an elephant in the room we ignore the entire discussion, the death threat she received. I know it's in her mind lurking, but she chooses not to discuss it. I respect that choice.

This time our discussion isn't interrupted by a call from the Dean. Instead my stomach starts growling loudly. Angie laughs and says, "I guess it's time to feed you."

She looks at my expectant face, and clarifies, "Feed your stomach. Your other hunger will still have to wait a little longer."

I wonder if little is referring to weeks, days, or hours.

I ask, "Are you okay doing something relatively cheap for dinner tonight? I've been burning through my bank account faster than I was hoping."

"Of course we can. I will pay you back for the blazer soon. And then I can help pay for more things. Right now, I'm capable of working and you're not. Did you have anything in mind?"

"Do you like -?" I start asking before I laugh.

"What?"

"I was going to ask if you liked Mexican food. I guess that's probably a stupid question, isn't it."

"Well, do you mean real Mexican food? Or that garbage from the big chains? I can live with either, and they should cost about the same. Just be warned, I may laugh at your gringo palate in either case."

"I will try real Mexican food. But don't kill me. Norwegian food like pickled herring and salted cod lacks any real burn."

"Is that what your mom is going to feed me?" she asks with a bit of dread in her voice.

I laugh. "I'm one quarter Norwegian. I don't think I've ever eaten a Norwegian meal in my life. I have no idea if they eat salted cod or not. It sounded good. My grandfather does like Norwegian pickled herring. I tried a taste once. It was disgusting. My father grew up eating boring American food; his mother was no more Norwegian than you are. I've had Swedish ginger snaps. They were good and Swedish is almost Norwegian."

Angie is laughing. "Okay, buster. And with that prank, I have no mercy on your palate."

We walk hand in hand to the car, in a more light hearted mood than I can remember us having. Spending all day talking has made us more comfortable with each other than ever before. And the laughter about our dietary backgrounds was a perfect counterpoint to our deep conversations about the world and the future.

She pulls into the parking lot of a rundown building. I have to admit to being a little dubious. A middle aged heavy set woman greets her by name when we walk in and she seats us at a table. Angie talks to her for several minutes in fluent Spanish. I took five years of high school French, including the AP course. And I've taken two semesters of Italian. But I know no Spanish.

I'm worried what she's getting me into. I try listening in on her thoughts. Damn it. She's thinking in Spanish now.

"Am I going to survive this?"

"Just trust me, I will order for both of us. You will love it."

I'm pretty sure I'm being set up.

She rattles off a long order and the woman chuckles. I picked up two things from my limited knowledge of Spanish: 'Dos agua" and "gringo".

A glass of water is placed in front of us. A few minutes later, the woman places a plate in front of each of us. My plate has three tacos. Angie's plate has a burrito. She's too eager for me to take a bite.

Okay, I'm hungry. I take a big bite. And immediately regret it. My mouth has never burned so much in my life. I grab my water and drain the glass. Angie bursts into laughter and pushes her glass towards me. I drain that glass, too.

Her eyes are tearing up from the laughter, as she says, "Let's swap meals, I think you will enjoy this one more."

The older woman is laughing herself as she brings over two more glasses of water. Angie says, "I want you to meet Theresa, my mother's favorite cousin."

I nod to her as I drain another glass of water. I look at Angie, saying, "Are you really going to eat those?"

She picks up my first taco, the one I had just almost died on and takes a healthy bite of it. She licks her lips and says, "Seriously, I think you will like the burrito. I know you're hungry. And it will help kill the spiciness from the taco."

I tentatively taste the burrito. It's delicious and pleasantly flavorful, not the concentrated lava that was inside that taco. I cannot believe Angie can eat that. She finishes that taco with just a single sip of water.

I turn to Theresa and tell her that the burrito is delicious.

"Gracias, Matt," Theresa says, before walking away.

I'm surprised she knows my name. I look at Angie quizzically.

She explains, "Theresa has watched the speech. So has my mother. They both really liked it. I'm so glad my mother got to watch the recording. Theresa and my mother are basically best friends, so she already knew about you and had seen the two pictures of you. Theresa was always my favorite relative in my extended family. I would not be surprised if she has already texted my mother to say we are here."

We finish our food. The food she got for me really is delicious. She does end up drinking two glasses of water with dinner. We have a flan for dessert, which was also wonderful.

I ask Theresa for the check. She says, "No charge, Matt, You and Angie are family here."

She gives Angie a big hug and they chatter in Spanish for several more minutes before we head back out to the car.

"I still can't believe you could eat that. Do you really like that?"

"To be honest, that was way spicier than I prefer. That's the spiciest thing they can make."

"But you still managed to eat that first one without draining your water."

She laughs. "I was dying from the burn. But hell if I was going to give you the pleasure of seeing me need the water. I really was planning on not drinking any water with the first taco, but I couldn't live without at least the sip I took. You notice I did drain two glasses of water to finish it. I was about one bite from bursting out in a heavy sweat when I started really drinking the water."

I walk with Angie to her door and she says, "I'm sorry, Matt. I really had planned on taking us further tonight. And it was a wonderful day today. Except for one moment. But that still has me a little too shaken. I know you really want more. So do I, but I also know after what happened before, I cannot force myself faster than I'm comfortable with."

She kisses me. Another passionate goodnight kiss, before she breaks off and goes through her door, leaving me standing in the hallway, disappointed again. I walk to the stairs and to my room, feeling let down. I really expected something tonight. I wasn't sure it would be going all the way, but I thought we would go at least as far as we had earlier. I tell myself, I would rather have it this way than have her cry all night again. I believe it, but I want it all. Sex and her staying happy.

I strip to my boxers and climb into bed, planning on listening to her, hoping she will masturbate again. Before I can even focus on hearing her, I hear her inner voice shriek again. I listen for her carefully. She's running, I think to my room. I open the door and she's running down the hallway towards me, wearing only a night gown.

I know she needs a hug, so I open my arms and she grabs hold of me, burying her head in my chest.

"I can't sleep down there tonight. I was lying in bed and I looked over at my desk and saw my computer and all I could think about was that message, that picture. I need to sleep up here, with you tonight."

"I'm certainly not going to complain!"

"I still am not ready for anything more, Matt. Especially right now. This is like Tuesday, just for sleeping."

"I understand and I shouldn't have joked about it. But I also mean it. I'm not going to complain about spending the night together, even with no sex at all. I really liked Tuesday night. Other than I don't sleep on my back very well. Can we try both being on our sides?"

"Of course we can. These beds just aren't big enough for two people to be comfortable in. In our apartment next year, we can get a nice big bed. But not too big. I want to be able to sleep well, but I want to snuggle a lot, too."

"Should I put some clothes back on?"

"No, you're fine. I'm not going to go back downstairs and get dressed again. But no groping and no reaching under my nightgown, okay?"

I nod.

"Besides, I kind of like the feel of your bare chest. It feels nice against my cheek."

I lie on my side facing her and she climbs in facing me. We have our arms around each other, basically hugging. It feels wonderful. Her nightgown is not very thick; I can feel her breasts, minimally contained, pressed against my chest. Her nipples are protruding through the cloth, just noticeable to my bare skin. Every time she breathes, the soft cloth of her sleepwear brushes against my nipples. I never realized they were sensitive, but I'm getting very horny. I had mostly lost my erection when I was worried about her, but it's back in full force now.

"I'm sorry, Matt. This isn't going to work. I don't feel like I can breathe. And something is poking me in the belly."

I roll over facing away from her. I certainly couldn't curl around her right now. I'm not sure I could resist that temptation. I sigh. I really, really need some relief right now. Before she came up, I was going to jerk off, but I don't think I can do that with her in bed with me.

She's pressed against my back, which still feels nice, her arm across my abdomen. "I'm sorry, Matt. This is really hard on you. I'm not being fair to you."

She kisses my back and then her hand slides down and grabs my cock through the boxers. "It really is very hard on you, isn't it?"

I moan softly.

"Let me do something for you tonight."

She's stroking me through my boxers. I'm so ready, I'm not going to last very long.

She reaches inside my boxers and wraps her hand around, stroking up and down. A few moments later, I erupt. Oh god, I needed this one and it's powerful. She keeps stroking and I finally have to tell her to stop.

I roll over and kiss her passionately, holding her tightly against me.

"Can I do something for you?"

"No, tonight was all about you. I'm still not in a good mental state for anything for me. But I liked doing that for you. Does it get too sensitive at the end?"

I nod. "Thank you so much. I really did need that. To be honest, I was about to give myself some relief when you came running up."

Her inner voice is suddenly wondering how I knew to open the door. She was expecting to knock. Those screams by her inner voice are just too obvious, even when I'm not trying to listen to her thoughts. I really don't want her thinking too much about this.

"I should probably clean up. I think I got the wall pretty well."

I climb over her, out of bed and turn on a light. There are gobs of white goo slithering down the wall for a few feet from where they came. Where I came.

She's giggling. "I knew it erupted. I didn't know you would shoot out that far. Wow! That's kind of amazing."

She really is naive about sex in so many practical ways.

She sits up, giving me easier access. I get a box of tissues and wipe off the wall next to the bed.

"Did I get your hand at all?"

"No, everything seems to have gone way over there."

"Well, I got my boxers pretty badly. I'm going to put on a clean pair."

I walk over to my dresser, open a drawer and pull out a clean pair of boxers. Without even thinking, I pull off my old ones. I can sense her looking at me, at my naked backside. She's mesmerized. I'm sure this is the first time she has seen an actual naked man. Even she has seen some internet porn, but it never excited her much. This is different.

"Can you turn around?" she asks meekly. "Can I see it?"

I slowly turn around until I'm facing her. Her eyes are transfixed on one thing. I had dropped to about half mast, but I'm hardening again as I watch her stare. I can hear her lust in her mind. Little by way of coherent thoughts, just pure lust.

"I thought it would be getting smaller now," she says, hunger in her voice.

"It normally would be, but I'm so horny right now. I'm ready to go again. I know now is not the time, but I want you so badly. I want to make love to you."

"Maybe now is the time, Matt. I want you, too. Take me, but be gentle with me."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I've never been more certain. I need you inside me tonight. Right now."

I turn back to my drawer and pull out one of my condoms. "I assume you're not on the pill."

She shakes her head, relieved that I'm doing this. She had actually forgotten all about any realities. She just wants me to fuck her. Tonight. Now. I'm trying to quickly decide how best to do this. She's expecting me to orchestrate everything. But she wants to leave her nightgown on; she does not want to be naked in front of me.

I sit next to her and turn and kiss her passionately. She's returning the kiss with every bit as much passion. I reach my hand down and feel her breast through the soft cloth. I pull my fingers up and pinch her rapidly hardening nipple. I twist my fingers around her nipple, pulling the fabric around it.

She's moaning, loudly, lustfully. She wants to feel it all.

I reach my hand under her nightgown and find her pussy, already sopping wet.

"I want something more than your fingers tonight, Matt."

"We will get there. I want you to really enjoy this. Don't think, Let me make you happy."

I suddenly sense her remembering her conversation with Aya, explaining to her that many women don't orgasm when they lose their virginity. She's happy that I'm different. I am her special lover. She feels so much love for me right now.

I have to suppress another thought about how naive she is.

I find her clit with my hand. She shudders when I first touch it. She squirms on my hand as I continue to give her attention. I keep at it until I'm afraid I'm going to lose her. Someday soon I will see if she is multi-orgasmic, but I want just one special one tonight, hopefully a well timed one.

I pull my hand out from under her nightgown and lie back on the bed. I open the condom and roll it on.

"Come straddle me," I say, "Grab hold of my cock and guide me in as you lower yourself on to me. Take your time easing me into you."

It obviously feels wonderful to me, just like it has the other two times I have had sex. But this one's so much more meaningful. And I'm completely sober, completely in the moment, aware of every motion, every sensation.

But I also feel every one of her sensations. Every bit of rubbing my cock feels, she feels the other side of it. Every push against me, has an equal and opposite push against her. I do not have to choose between the hammer and the nail. I am both. I am the hammer and I am the nail. And we are one.

I can feel her losing her virginity. New sensations she's never felt. I've never felt. Not every advance is purely pleasurable. But she pauses, lets her body adjust to this new reality. To its interloper. To me. And soon it's pleasurable again.

It takes a minute or two to take all of me in her. Finally, she's resting on my hips, having fully consumed me.

"This feels wonderful, Matt. I never knew what this would be like."

"Stay still for a moment and enjoy this. Then just slowly rock on and off me. Let yourself be emptied and filled. There's no hurry. We should savor every sensation."

She does start to rock on and off me. I'm glad she had just gotten me off or I would be losing control about now. I reach up both hands and start to fondle her breasts, still through the cloth of her nightgown. She's moaning again.

Despite my earlier release, I'm not going to last forever. And I can feel her levels rising. I take one hand away from the breast it has been attending to, sliding it under her gown until I find her clit once again. She shudders and swoons the instant I touch it. Her rocking on me becomes frantic, frenetic.

A few seconds later, it comes. I watch her face as the orgasm erupts. My cock feels her muscles squeezing it, claiming it fully as hers. But my mind feels her clenching the invader, trying to milk it for its precious seed.

This is more than I can take, and thrusting up into her, I explode again. My groans harmonize with her moans as I release spasm after spasm. Her whole body is trembling with mini-seisms, shuddering with the intensity of the feeling.

Finally, she collapses onto my chest, her arms wrapped behind my head. I have a momentary fear that she will start crying, like the last time I gave her an orgasm.

My concerns are alleviated as she gives me a kiss and says, "I love you, Matt. That was beautiful. Why do people not want that to happen?"

I almost start a conversation and then I realize the question was rhetorical. She knows, But she now understands why people will go through so much to have sex. I don't even hear a stirring of the demons inside her right now. I expect there will be moments of self doubt, of regret, but I think she's in a good place. And I'm exactly where I want to be.

We end up going to sleep with her curled around my back. I never do put new boxers on, so she's in her nightgown and I'm stark naked. When we tried this an hour earlier, I was beyond frustration; now I'm sated, euphoric. On Tuesday, I had speculated that sex and spending the night with someone was immensely better than either on its own. I was so right. This feels so good.

++++++++++

Chapter 9

At some point early in the morning, I notice her sliding out of bed. I realize she's leaving the room, but she's propping the door open slightly, so I'm sure she's coming back. She does return, but she's sitting in the desk chair rather than climbing back into bed. I go solidly back to sleep.

When I wake up sometime later, I realize she's fully dressed and sitting in the chair writing in a notebook. She notices me sleepily eyeing her.

"Good morning, lover boy. I guess I can say that for real now, can't I? I love you so much."

"I love you, too. What are you writing?"

"I keep a journal. I don't write in it everyday, just important ones. But I thought last night counted, don't you?"

"Can I read it?"

"Hands off. This is private to me. I will be very angry if you ever try to read this."

Suddenly, I feel a pit in my stomach. I know I need to tell her about my ability. But it's kind of like reading her diary. Maybe worse.

I decide to change the subject. "You got dressed already."

"We may be lovers, but I'm not very comfortable sitting around in a nightgown in front of you."

I laugh inside at the odd remnants of her prudishness. Last night would've been even better if she had pulled her nightgown off.

She blushes, saying, "I ran into Aya in the hallway when I was going back to my room to get dressed. She just looked at me and smiled. I nodded to confirm what she already knew. She said, 'No tears. That's wonderful.'"

I say, "One of your hall mates was coming back from the shower when I left Wednesday morning, obviously having spent the night in your room. She smirked at me."

"Who was it?"

"Blonde girl, two doors up on the left."

"Stacy, Oh well. At least she's right now in what she was assuming."

"Are you still feeling okay about what we did last night?"

"I feel wonderful. Part of me wants to go again right now. That part of me would like sex as often as you could provide it. Over and over again. Other parts of me are less sure. Is this the new norm for us? Is this an occasional thing? Every night? Are we going to essentially move in together? I don't think I'm quite ready for that, although I've been assuming we will in the fall at the latest. I think I'm glad we are going to your parents. There's no way we are having sex tonight or sleeping in the same bed. It gives me a chance to integrate all this, gives us a chance to take a breath. I'm sorry, you asked a simple question and I drop off into a monologue."

"No, it's alright. Those are all good questions. Important questions. I liked how much we talked about real things yesterday. We need to do a lot of that right now. Way more talking than fucking."

"Please don't use that word. It's ugly. What we did last night was beautiful to me."

"I'm sorry. It was beautiful last night, you're right. I just don't hear that word as ugly. It has a connotation of a more physical, almost violent act than what we performed last night. Most of last night was what I think of as making love. But at the very end, just after I touched you, something more animalistic appeared for just a moment. Sometimes the loving and caring sex that we started with is what you want. But sometimes you need the release of more raw energy, almost with a violence to it."

"Have you had sex with a lot of women, Matt?"

I laugh. "I'm talking like I have, aren't I. No, only a couple of times. It occurred to me last night that this was the first time I was ever sober during sex. Or that my partner was sober. More importantly, this was the first time when there was any feelings between my partner and me. The others were just a carnal release for both of us. They were all the f word I won't use any more. Not at all like last night. But I guess I think about this a lot."

"I think about it a lot, too. But I always think in somewhat more abstract terms, never the gritty details of what happens. More like it gets written about in nineteenth century novels."

"Wasn't Fanny Hill nineteenth century?"

"No, that was mid-eighteenth century. As far as I know, the nineteenth century was pretty much devoid of big name erotic literature. I guess Richard Burton translated a bunch of eastern works, like the Kama Sutra and the Perfumed Garden. But I haven't taken a course in sexuality in literature yet, so I may be missing something else."

"Back to your questions, if I have a vote, I want sex lots of times."

She laughs and shakes her head at me. "You're hopeless."

"Seriously, obviously I want sex with you. But Tuesday night I was trying to decide if I would rather spend the night with you or have sex. I think it depends which is more important to me at the moment. Last night was going to be tough on me if we just slept. I was pretty anxious to get some relief. I really needed what you did for me; I think you realized that and I thank you for it. I will never forget the rest of the night and it was beautiful. But I would've survived happily on just having you spend the night, nothing else. I want as much of you as I can have, awake or asleep. Sexual or not. Sex should only happen when we both really want it, not because it's expected. I also really like the idea that we can each give the other a release when it's needed, without feeling the need for sex."

"I like that idea, too. It takes some of the pressure off."

"I'm going to take a shower. Would you be more comfortable going back to your room before I get out of bed?"

"No, I rather like watching you," she says.

She sees no irony with her desires given her prudishness about her own body. But I do like what watching me last night ended up with, so I'm not complaining about this side of things.

I get out of bed in all my glory, sporting pretty good morning wood.

"Is it always like that when you get up?"

Her eyes were focused on exactly one thing as soon as I got out of bed. I have no doubt what 'it' refers to.

"Frequently, yeah. Of course, having you sitting here staring at it might have an impact as well."

"Out of idle curiosity, how many times a day could you manage?"

"I've never tried to push it. I've never had the chance. But maybe a half dozen times, I guess. I could certainly go right now, and that would be three times in about nine hours, but I'm pretty sure I could not keep up once every three hours for a whole day. Of course, I could take care of you any number of times in between if you really want to go crazy about it."

"Just gives me food for thought."

"Sounds more like fantasy than thought."

"But it would make a fun weekend to try, wouldn't it."

"If you want to try it, don't wait too many years. My number per day is never going to be higher than it is now."

"Men are such wusses."

This is quite a sexual side to her that's getting unleashed. I can only hope we try something like that.

I leave and take my shower. With the discussion and my state, I think briefly about giving myself some relief in the shower, but I remain hopeful for what may happen today. I would rather not miss an opportunity because I shot my wad already.

When I get back to the room, she watches me take off my robe and every movement I make until I'm decent again. My awareness of her watching, and my knowledge of what she is thinking while she is, has me rock hard again. I'm starting to wonder if I'm going to wander life with an erection non-stop until she has completely drained me and I cannot walk comfortably.

We discuss the plans for the day. We will hang out here for another hour or two, then we will each pack up stuff for the overnight trip, before we grab breakfast somewhere. It did help that both meals yesterday were free and my parents will feed us dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow.

Angie mentions that we are supposed to register for classes the week after break, so we should start to look. It would be nice to have compatible schedules as much as possible. She says she's going back to a normal load next semester, since she also has to do the scholarly presentation and that will be like an entire class for her. I bet she puts more work into it that presentation than most students here put into two whole classes. Oh well, that's why she won the award.

We both want to finish our distribution requirements and the requirements for our major as best we can this fall. She needs a math class and a sexuality in literature class. I need a natural science and two more courses in Art or Art History. She is looking through classes on her phone and I have my computer open, looking for things and building a calendar of our classes.

"How about this," she says, "Twentieth century eroticism. The transition in literature from Romanticism to Eroticism. Readings include Lawrence, Miller, Nin, Jong and others."

"It ties into your nineteenth century work. And I assume it satisfies the requirement for sexuality in literature."

"Of course it does. I am more concerned about getting my requirements for sexuality satisfied. With as horny as I'm going to be reading all that, you better be ready to go multiple times a day," she says.

I like how she thinks. She is getting wet right now as she is thinking about the reading for that class. Not long ago she was dreading it. Something has let go in her.

"If you're taking that, I think I should take History of Erotic Art. And Astronomy satisfies my natural science requirement and should be fun. With no labs. Hopefully not too much math either. And I want to take Photography. So I just need two other courses to fill out credits and I'm golden."

"What do you think I should take for a math class? I hate math."

"I'm not big on math either, but how about Stats. I'm enjoying that class this semester and it could be useful for you in grad school."

"Okay, I will call it stats as my math class. So I just need three classes that sound fun to fill out my credits."

"Your dirty books class is the same time as photography. You want to find a class that meets at the same time as my Astronomy and another at the same time as my art class."

"You mean your dirty pictures class."

I look at her.

"If you're going to call mine dirty books... Fair is fair."

"Mine has sculpture in it, too. It is not all pictures. And yours IS all books. Anyway, we know what each other means. Would it be too weird to take a class together? Just some fun intro class that should be an easy A for each of us anyway."

"I don't know. It could be fun, but it could be really weird. And do you think we would get competitive grade-wise?"

"I'm not real worried about that. You are so perfect, school-wise, I feel no need to compete with you. I would lose that. Having said that, I think I would like to match you for grades next semester. See if we can both get straight A's all year."

"I better get straight A's. I may have lost my virginity to you, I feel no need to lose my 4.0 to you."

"Shall we get packed up and grab some food before the drive? It will only take me a few minutes to pack. Charlie's for food?"

"Give me ten. I will meet you in the lounge then. Charlie's is fine."

Charlie's is popular with the students. It is kind of a local version of Denny's or iHOP, but better food. You get lots of food for not too much money. Big on pancakes, scrambled eggs and potatoes.

In a few minutes, we are making the short drive to the restaurant. We walk in, it isn't too crowded, but it is a bigger crowd than I have dealt with in a month. And I can hear them all trying to get into my head. I try to focus on shutting them out so we can enjoy our meal.

About half way through the meal, I realize I can't handle this anymore; my head is about to explode.

"I'm sorry Angie. I was feeling so good this morning, I forgot about the issue of trying to eat in a restaurant."

"Are you okay?" She is suddenly concerned.

"I should be fine if I can get out of here. Can you have the waitress pack up my food and I can eat in the car or something. I just can't be in here any more."

I walk out of the restaurant. I can't even listen to how Angie is doing. I need to get far from the restaurant, far enough to diminish the voices so that I can ignore them. My head does slowly clear. A few minutes later, Angie brings two to go containers with our food.

"You could've relaxed in there and finished your breakfast," I say.

"I was worried about you. Are you okay? Is it getting worse?"

"I've been feeling so good and had so few problems recently, that I tried to do too much. I'm feeling better out here. Don't worry. It's okay."

See seems less than satisfied. I still avoid listening to her inner voice, so I'm just reading body language. I need everything to calm down first.

I explain that I need to be away from the building, which confuses her, but she pulls the car over to the far corner of the parking lot and we eat in the car with both windows open. As the food settles in me, and I breathe the fresh air away from the building, my head returns back to normal. I tell Angie that I'm feeling well enough for the ride and I text my mom that we are leaving now.

With my head calm enough now, I listen to Angie's inner voice. She is petrified that I'm dying. That I have a brain tumor or something. I decide to try and start a very different conversation to help distract her. I need to tell her the truth soon.

"What positions would you like to try next?" I ask.

"Positions?"

"Sex positions, of course."

"Do you mean like everything in the Kama Sutra or something?"

"I wasn't expecting anything really complicated. But there are a bunch of different positions that I think lots of people do. Missionary is the only other one I've ever done."

"You mean with you lying on top of me?"

"Yeah, that one. It's nice because we can hold on to each other and kiss each other during it. I would like that part of it with us."

"I think I would, too."

"I almost tried that last night. But I think it is the least likely position for the woman to orgasm in. And I was afraid you might feel trapped or something. After the fiasco from a few weeks ago, I wanted you to feel in control."

"Is it normal, for you to reach in and touch me? That surprised me."

"I don't know normal is a good word to use for anything in sex. I did it because I know many women cannot orgasm just from intercourse and I wanted to make sure you enjoyed it. At some point, I would like to find out if you can climax just from the penetration. But you might miss an orgasm altogether that time. Oh and I've heard some women are multi-orgasmic."

"Multi-orgasmic?"

"Yeah, can have a bunch of orgasms in a row. Neither of my previous women did, but that may have been my ineptitude as much as anything."

"You seemed to do pretty well to me."

"I was sober last night, which helped. And I cared more about your outcome than mine, which I can't say I have in my past. Exactly the opposite, I'm ashamed to admit."

"But you came too, I'm pretty sure at least, right?"

"I absolutely did. And it was wonderful. I enjoy fu-, er, having sex with you so much, that's not really a concern."

"Is there anything I could do better for you? I have no idea what I should be doing."

"Other than positions, there are lots of things we can try. We haven't tried any oral sex."

"You mean you sticking your dick in my mouth. Yuck. You might pee in my mouth by accident or something."

"That wouldn't happen, but if you don't want to do that, okay."

I'm disappointed to hear that.

I continue, "Would you like me to try oral on you?"

"Where you put your mouth on my privates?"

"More lick, but yeah."

"Do you like that?"

"I've only done it once, but yeah. And I think almost all women like it being done to them. I bet you would like it too"

"We can try that sometime."

"I know something else that would make it better for me. Let me see you naked."

"I'm sorry, Matt. It's probably a lingering stigma from my upbringing, but I'm not comfortable with it."

"But you get to watch me naked. You said you liked to. How come I don't get to watch you. I would really like to. I'm a very visual person. It's only fair."

"I'm sorry Matt, but I think it's who I am."

"But..."

"We said we weren't going to pressure each other to do things we didn't want to, right?"

"You're right."

I clam up, fold my arms in front of me and somewhat sulk for a while.

A while later, I try to start up a conversation again.

"After that taco last night, I should've told my mother to make you salted cod and pickled herring for dinner tonight."

She laughs and then turns her head briefly and sticks her tongue out at me.

"How is your mouth feeling today?" she asks, sounding a bit more sympathetic.

"I can still feel where the lava burned holes in my cheeks and the roof of my mouth. Part of breakfast stung."

"I have to admit, my mouth stings in a bunch of places. That was insanely too spicy, even for me."

"Well you deserve that after trying to kill me. My burrito was really good though and Theresa seems nice."

"I think I want to try to go there every couple of weeks just to keep contact with my mother. When things are ready to heal, if they are ever ready to heal, I think she will text me. But I worry my father would get upset if I was texting her directly."

"I feel bad for you that things went so south with your dad. Mostly because of me."

"You were the final straw, but not the whole cause. He was already upset that I had stopped coming to church on Sunday with them. He has never forgiven me for that and was sure that I was sacrificing my soul at school. He isn't a big fan of college in general and having me realize that I disapproved of his church reinforced that."

"So it really was a much bigger issue than just me. I worried that this was all my fault. I wanted to apologize."

"For what?"

"For falling in front of you in the parking lot, I guess. For falling head over in heals in love with you."

"You hardly chose to slip on the ice. I doubt you would have done it if you had a choice."

"Even with the headaches and everything, if that was the price to meet you, I would gladly pay it."

She says nothing, but I can feel her happiness at that. Pride that I'm that in love with her. It also reduces her tension over my condition. It probably means I'm not dying, because I probably wouldn't want to die as a cost of meeting her.

We chitchat about mostly nothing for the rest of the drive. I do tell her a bunch of stories about my family and growing up. She tells me some about her upbringing.

I give her the directions and we pull into the driveway a little before 2:30 in the afternoon. I look over at Angie. She is sitting in the seat terrified. More nervous than she was going up to give her speech.

"Don't worry Angie. They are going to love you. My older brother brought home two girls and they were very welcoming to both of them. They both want us to work as a couple, unlike your father. It is more like meeting Theresa, except my mother is not plotting to kill you with a death taco."

Angie laughs. "You're right, it was a death taco. But your face was so funny when you took that big bite. Okay, let's go in. And thanks. Making me laugh was the right remedy for the moment."

We walk up to the door, holding hands. My mother waits until we are about halfway there and the comes charging out of the house. Angie flinches for a moment. Mom comes up to me, giving me a big hug. I have to let go of Angie when she does.

"How is my baby doing? How is your head?"

Angie frowns at the question and my mother picks that up but says nothing.

"And you're obviously Angie. You are just as pretty as all the pictures I have seen of you."

She gives Angie a big hug, which catches her off guard, but she doesn't mind after she realizes what is happening. Theresa gave her a hug, so she comes from a hugging family, too, fortunately.

My mom offers us drinks and snacks. Angie says she would like a coffee, but she needs a restroom first. I show her the powder room and come back to the living room where my parents are.

Dad asks me, "How serious are you two? Proclaiming her love to you on international TV seems like a big step for not having known each other very long."

"We are very serious, Dad. We are going to get an apartment together for next year. We just meshed really quickly. And she didn't know she was saying that on international TV, although I think she would've said it anyway."

"I thought it was really nice what she said about you," my mom says. "What was the incident she talked about?"

Angie walks back in the room. I say, "My parents apparently watched your speech and were asking me about it."

"Here is your coffee, dear. I brought cream and sugar if you want it."

"Black is fine. And you want to know about the incident."

My mother nods her head.

"My father has some very conservative ideas about dating and things like that. I was nervous about to having to give my speech and Matt gave me some encouragement. I gave him a quick peck on the lips as a thank you for all of his support, My father believes that people shouldn't kiss before they are married and should never kiss in public; he got angry enough to attract everyone's attention. He stormed out of the ceremony just before my speech."

"Have you seen the article in today's paper?" my father asks.

Angie and I look at each other and shake our heads no.

"I saved our copy," my mother says. "I can probably find another copy of it if you want one for yourself."

She goes out into the kitchen and holds it up for us to see. It is a long article, but right above it is a large picture of Angie kissing me; it must've been the picture taken when she was asked to demonstrate the kiss from the incident.

"I wish they had not run that one; they knew that the kiss was what caused the problem with Papa. I hope that Mama manages to hide that from him."

"Angie and I gave a little press conference yesterday afternoon. When Angie explained about the incident, someone asked her to recreate the kiss, and she cooperated. I knew someone had taken a picture while we were kissing."

"Was Dr Chekhov at the ceremony?" my father asks. "That seemed to be what Angie was saying, but it seemed odd to me."

"She was actually the Dean's date for the ceremony. I guess they used to know each other. Matt figured it out somehow and played matchmaker. They seem pretty serious now. I really appreciated her being there. I've gotten to know her from taking Matt to all his appointments. She usually comes out at the end to talk to me briefly."

"I should hit the restroom, too," I say, and leave the room. I do need the restroom, but I'm also being a bit disingenuous. I want to hear what my parents ask her when I'm out of the room. I focus on listening to her inner voice as I leave.

As soon as I'm out of the room, my mom asks, "You made a face about his head. Is everything okay?"

"We tried to eat at a restaurant this morning and it gave him a splitting headache. We had to get it packed up and finish our food out in the parking lot. He still cannot handle being in any kind of crowd."

She is thinking about saying something about her fears, but she decides not to say anything. Thank you Angie, they do not need to worry about me. I'm not telling them the whole story.

"What are your plans after next year?" my father asks. Of course he did.

"My award includes free tuition and support for seven years of grad school, so I plan on working on my doctorate. I would like to be a writer. One of my favorite things at the dinner was sitting with Bella Gordon. Her husband Graham got Matt his interview at the Mason this week. They were both nice, but she is a writer and she seemed interested in helping me navigate the waters to become a writer."

"You and Matt know Graham Gordon?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah, Matt had already met him, but we sat at the same table for dinner. We spent half an hour at the ceremony just being introduced to people. Do you know him?"

"God no, I wish. I know of him. I think he's the richest person in the state. So he's a nice guy huh. I always figured he was an asshole."

It goes silent for a minute, then my father gets to his real question.

"Matt says you two are getting serious and are going to share an apartment next year."

Angie nods. "That's our plan. We were working out our schedules for the fall so we only have to be on campus at the same time."

"Are you planning on getting married?"

"We've talked about being together long term and I think we both expect that to be associated with being married, but we've not talked about getting married specifically."

I'm heading back to rescue her. I know what is coming next.

"Do you plan on having kids? I'm losing hope that Matt's older brother is going to give me any grandkids."

I walk in at that moment, saying "Dad!"

"It's okay, Matt, you warned me he would ask this. I've thought about this one and we've talked about it. I think we both want kids eventually, but not immediately. That could be five years from now or fifteen years. Way too many unknowns between here and there to be any more specific."

My father seems satisfied with that answer.

The rest of the afternoon goes smoothly. I think all of the hard questions are already out of the way and the discussion is mostly my parents, especially my mother, getting to know her better.

During dinner, Angie and I take turns telling the story of last night's death taco. My father almost snorted his drink when I said I had worried her that she was going to get fed pickled herring and salted cod for dinner tonight.

My mother orchestrates it so that Angie comes out to the kitchen after dinner and I go into the living room with Dad. I'm trying to pay attention to the interrogation going on in the kitchen while appearing attentive to my father.

My mother mostly seems to be offering support to Angie. Trying to make sure they are on good terms. I've heard horror stories between daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law, but I don't think my mom is like that. She never seemed to feel very challenged by either of my brother's serious girl friends. She just wanted the relationships to work out. She seems to be doing the same thing with Angie.

My father starts with the big question. "Are you and Angie being safe. I want grandkids, but not yet from you two."

"Yes, Dad, we are being safe. Don't worry."

He wants to ask me if she is good in bed, but that is beyond even his bluntness. He has been checking her out since we got here. I don't think Angie has noticed. I only know because I can read his mind. Hands off her, Dad. She's mine.

I never realized he had such a wandering eye. Given my mom's reaction in the hospital, I think she knows and reluctantly accepts it as part of the package. I get no sense he would actually cheat on her. To be honest, I will be happy if we have as active of a sex life as they do at their age.

My dad starts rambling on saying that meeting Graham Gordon was probably worth the tuition on its own.

A few minutes later, Mom and Angie return to us. Angie seems happy. I announce, "I think Angie and I are going to go for a walk."

My mother says to me, "Can I ask you something real quick before you go, Matt?"

"What's up, Mom?"

She walks me around the corner and quietly asks, "I made sure both bedrooms are ready. Do you want one bedroom or two tonight?"

I smile and say, "We will stay in two, Mom, but thanks for asking."

We are holding hands before we even get to the door. As soon as we are clearly out of hearing range, Angie turns to me and asks, "What did your mom want?"

"She asked me if we were staying in one room or two."

Angie laughs. "I can't believe I was so nervous about meeting them. Your mom is an absolute sweetheart. You were right to compare her to Theresa. Your dad is a bit of a bull in a china shop and nothing seems to be off limit in his mind. But you at least know where you stand. I'm so glad we came so I could meet them."

I think, except you have no idea what he is thinking about doing with you. And he apparently does have a limit on what he will ask. But I'm really happy she feels comfortable with them. She handled the marriage and kids questions really well. We probably want to start thinking about wedding planning, as hard as that is to believe.

We walk around the block, holding hands the whole time. It was a nice early spring day today, but it is a little chilly out tonight. We stop several times for a kiss.

By the time we get back to the house, I feel recharged. I seem to need my Angie time to stay healthy right now. I think the walk let Angie shed the remnants of her pre-visit stress. She feels almost completely at ease.

We sit in the living room with my parents for a while, before we announce we are going to go to bed. At this moment, I'm glad we have separate bedrooms. My father would've made some leering comment about us having fun. My mother insists on coming up and making sure Angie knows where the towels are and whatever else she natters on about.

All I can think is go downstairs, Mom. I want to give Angie a real goodnight kiss and I'm not going to do that with you still up here. She senses my impatience and quickly breaks off and heads downstairs.

We have a passionate kiss and profess our love to each other, then retire to our own rooms. I wish we were spending the night together. I will miss her next to me in bed. I'm not sure what we will do for sleeping arrangements the rest of the semester. That is probably a good topic for discussion on the way home.

As I'm lying in bed, I snoop on her thoughts for a moment. Mostly similar things to what I'm thinking. She is worried about her father seeing that picture in the paper. I let her fret on her own. Since her comment about her journal this morning, I'm trying to not spy on her more than I feel is necessary. What the hell did I just say? Why is any spying necessary? Something for me to think about.

Right now, I choose to think about our discussion on sex on the drive up here this afternoon. It was a good start to a discussion. I don't think she even realized there were decisions to be made, things for us to learn. I didn't like her full rejection of giving me any oral sex or letting me see her naked. Maybe, if she likes getting oral from me, she will decide she owes it to me. I don't like that mindset, but it is a hope. I think once she gets over the stigma in her mind, she will be fine with it.

I don't know what to do about her prudishness about being naked in front of me. I'm very visual; it's why I ended up in Art History. I really want to watch her. I really, really want to watch her.

I start fantasizing about what I want. If I'm not going to get it, go all the way imagining I guess. She is wearing my dress shirt. She doesn't have a bra on under it. She is wearing her new blue blazer over it. She is wearing her gray skirt. and hose.

She is in her room. I'm sitting on her bed. She seems like she is dancing, but I cannot hear any music. She turns away from me and slowly takes off the blazer and throws it on her desk. As she turns back to me, I can see her nipples clearly through the white cotton of my shirt.

She slowly unbuttons the shirt, leaving it hanging open. As she moves, I see flashes of portions of her breasts, but never an entire breast. She unfastens her skirt and lets it slide down her. She is not wearing any panties, just thigh high stockings. I can only see glimpses of her privates, because the shirt tail is mostly keeping her covered.

She turns her back to me and lets the shirt slide off her. She is standing in front of me, stark naked except her stockings. She turns around and I can see her full frontal for the first time ever. She is so beautiful. She is still writhing to music I cannot hear.

She turns around again and, spreading her legs, bends over, giving me an intimate view of her privates. She runs her fingers through her pussy and then pulls out a finger. It is almost dripping, it is so wet. She is so wet.

She turns back around. She sits in her chair and spreads her legs. I watch as she masturbates. In my fantasy, I now have my cock out stroking it as she masturbates for me. My fantasy cock erupts just as she climaxes. I shoot all of my wad on her stomach.

My real life cock has ejaculated at the same time my fantasy cock did, I guess I'm sleeping in the nude tonight. My boxers are a mess. I've never given myself an orgasm just fantasizing before. Somehow this one was more powerful, more real than anything I had ever had imagined before.

I listen to Angie's inner voice. I think she is asleep. I leave her dreams alone and go to sleep myself.

I sleep very soundly. And late. I don't know whether it was the familiar environs or just being surrounded only by three familiar friendly voices, but it is the best night sleep I've had since the fall, maybe even longer.

I listen for Angie and she is downstairs in the kitchen talking to my mother. I think my father went to work. It is a Monday, after all. My mom has taken the morning off to be with us.

I get dressed quickly and head down stairs.

"There he is," my mom says.

Angie gives me a quick kiss and says, "You were sleepy this morning."

She wants to tell me something, very excitedly, but I can't quite figure it out yet.

"I slept really soundly last night. Better than I can remember. And I feel really good this morning."

"I guess being back in your old room is what your head needed," my mom suggests.

Angie is trying to subtly tell me something, but I think I'm not awake enough to understand. I try listening to her thoughts. She is excited by a dream she had. She wants to tell me about it. She did a strip tease for me. She was wearing her new blue blazer and my dress shirt and her gray skirt. And she really liked showing her body off to me and she masturbated for me because she was so excited for me to be watching.

She dreamed my fantasy. Did I do this to her? Was she thinking it already and I heard it? I sit down in a chair before I fall down.

Angie is alarmed. "Are you okay, Matt? You suddenly went white as a sheet."

"I think my head wasn't quite ready to be upright after being in bed so long," I say, trying to fabricate a lie quickly.

"Do you need to go to the ER?"

"I will be fine. I will tell you what. I promise I will explain everything that happened to Anna and she can send me down to the ER this afternoon if she is worried. That is only six hours from now. Does that work? If I go to a hospital, I want to go to hers anyway."

My mom is pretty concerned now, too.

"Relax, both of you. I'm fine. I just slept too long."

Inside, I'm terrified. Have I developed a new power? I didn't even know I did it. I need to hear what Angie says about the dream in the car.

My mom fixes us a big breakfast, although Angie had a snack when my mom ate her breakfast almost three hours ago. They've been chatting together for over three hours.

My color returns and Angie relaxes a bit. But this has resurfaced all her fears that there's something much more seriously wrong with me than Anna and I have told her. After breakfast, we gather up our stuff. My mother apparently spent all day Saturday baking and I have a cake, brownies, and like six dozen cookies to take back for snacks in the dorm. There are worse things in life.

Angie promises to text Mom when they get back and to tell her if Anna says anything about the incident this morning. So they exchanged phone numbers. They really do seem like good friends now.

As soon as we are in the car, Angie says, "I have to tell you all about the dream I had last night. You're going to be so excited. It must've been from talking in the car yesterday. It was a really weird feeling dream. Like it wasn't really mine. If I was in ancient times, I would've believed it was a message sent by the gods or something. And I kind of feel compelled to follow what the dream says. It's so weird."

I'm trying to seem interested and not terrified.

"We were in my room. You were sitting on the bed watching me. I had on my gray skirt, although it was all wrong. And your dress shirt. And my new blue blazer. And nothing on underneath, except some thigh high stockings, which was also weird. I've never worn a pair of those in my life."

"What was wrong about your skirt?"

"The way I unfastened it was wrong. In the dream, I unzipped it in the back, but it has a side zipper. You would think if my subconscious knew about my skirt, it would know everything I know about it. I don't get that. But anyway, I did a strip tease for you and I loved doing it. And I got so excited, I masturbated in front of you. And you masturbated while I was doing it and came all over my stomach. Isn't that a weird dream?"

"Very strange."

"I must really have wanted to show you my body and my prudishness was another lingering issue from my father's stupid church. But I think I can show you my body now. And I think I'm going to like it. I almost feel like I have to do it. I've never wanted to act out a dream before, but I do want to act out this one."

I feel so guilty right now, but I'm trying to sound enthusiastic. And part of me is. My fantasy is about to become real. And she is going to show her body off to me, which is what I really wanted. But I didn't want to brainwash her into doing this.

I decide to change subjects, quickly.

"I'm really looking forward to seeing you. All of you. I fell asleep last night thinking about your body. But I have two other things that I was thinking about last night we should probably talk about. I really missed having you in bed with me last night. How do we want to work our sleeping arrangements for the rest of the semester?"

"I really want to spend the night with you, too. But our dorm beds are not very comfortable for two. And I'm not sure Aya would approve of one of us moving into the other's room. The floors are supposed to be single sex. The showers definitely are. I think I want to talk to Aya before we do anything."

Not the answer I want to hear, but she is probably right. I hope we can get an apartment as soon as the school year ends.

"My father asking about marriage actually got me thinking about it. You were right, we are both planning on a full future together and I think we both think of that as being married. I don't know if you've been thinking about this, but I certainly have not thought about the middle step of actually getting married and the wedding and all that. One possibility would be getting married next summer, after we graduate. I know a lot of college couples do that. But if we want to do that, we probably want to start planning it this summer."

"Matt, you kind of lost me in there. Are you asking me to marry you?"

"I guess I am, but I kind of felt we had already decided that is what we are doing."

"I think we have, but I will say yes now, just to make it official. So I guess we are engaged now. And next summer sounds right to me. Our first decision has to be how big of a wedding. And that depends on how many people we want to invite."

"It might just be me, especially with me and crowds right now, but I would prefer a relatively small wedding. No further extension than first cousins. And neither of us are exactly social butterflies."

"I probably have a bit bigger family than you, but small sounds good to me. I don't really have a close friend to be maid of honor. Maybe Aya?"

"I guess my brother for best man. Yeah, I have no interest in inviting any of my old friends. The only people I want to invite right now are Ethan and Anna. And I guess Janet."

"We should leave spots for people we meet. If I start working with Bella on my writing, I might invite her. And I might want to invite my Honor's thesis advisor if we are getting along well."

We slowly build up another fifteen people or so we would invite. So inviting like 60 or 70 people. More than I will be able to handle if my head does not improve.