Reality

            Her name was finally called at 8:46 A.M.  The nurse walked through the door connecting the waiting room to the rest of the doctor’s office and in a calm voice called Chloe’s name.  As soon as her name was called the crying stopped, her face became stoic, and her eyes shot toward the nurse standing in the door.  I gently, and slowly, unwrapped the blanket from her shaking body and motioned her to get up from her chair.  As she stood up I wrapped my arm in hers and guided her toward the door.  As we got closer it seemed to me that her steps got shorter and slower as if she was trying to buy all the time she could.  Once we got to the door the nurse said, “Follow me.”  We started to make our way through the doorway, into the hallway filled with doors half-closed, when the nurse shot her arm outward separating me from Chloe.  Almost simultaneously the nurse said, “We only need the patient.”  At that moment I stopped dead in my tracks and watched the two women walk away from me for what seemed like hours.  They reached the end of the hallway and the nurse showed Chloe into her room, the 3^rd room on the right.  Still standing there motionless, all I could do was watch as she walked into the examining room slower than ever before.  The nurse then slowly shut the door as it creaked for a good five seconds before it actually shut.  The last thing I remember before the door was completely closed was the look of sheer terror on Chloe’s face.  This was it, and it was all my fault.

My parents were gone for the week and I had the house all to myself.  At the time it seemed like a good thing to do.  You would have done the same, I know you would have.  And just like me you wouldn’t have thought about the result, or the consequences.  It really did seem like the perfect time to do it, I loved Chloe so much, and it just seemed like the right thing to do.  But as we were sitting in the waiting room, her face shining from the tears sliding down her pale cheek, my arm behind her neck, and with a blanket wrapped around her body, it started to seem as though we had made a big mistake.

We talked about it for months before we ever really built up the courage to go through with it.  All of my friends told me just to suck it up and stop being such a loser, but I couldn’t decide whether I really wanted it or not.  And on top of me not being sure I didn’t want to rush her, I wanted her to want it.  As the weeks passed I was hassled about it more and more by my friends, they didn’t want me to think about her feelings, and they didn’t care if she got hurt.  They pushed me to the point of breaking, I couldn’t take their harassment anymore.

“I don’t know,” She said in a tone full of guilt.

“Well think fast,” I responded with overwhelming sternness.

“Stop rushing me!” Now sounding rattled and unsettled as her face fell into a dark sadness.

“But I want this now!” My voice was now rising with each and every word I spoke.

“I need more time! I’m not ready to jump into something so serious without thinking about it first.”  

Even with the tears streaming down her face nothing was going to change my mind.  I had my thoughts targeted on one thing, and one thing only.  It happened that same night, we fought, she cried, I yelled, and it happened.  It happened and I couldn’t regret it anymore than I do at this moment.

  By then I knew what I wanted, I wanted it, I wanted it so badly.  Yet at the same time I wanted to wait as long is it took for her to want it as bad as I did.  I wanted it to be special; I wanted it to mean something.  With all the pressure my friends were putting on me I couldn’t make up my mind.  But at this point nothing mattered anymore, what’s done is done.  Seventeen years old and I thought I knew what I really wanted out of this, seventeen and I thought I knew what I was doing, I couldn’t have been anymore wrong.

 I always used to crack jokes about things that could go wrong.  I never stopped to think about what would happen when something really did go wrong.  Would I be ready to take responsibility for my reckless actions?  Or would I be the one to run from my responsibilities and hide from reality.  Reality, the quality or state of being actual or true.  Would I be true to who I was and what I needed to do?  Would I be an actual man about what I had done?  Reality.