Junior year at Boston College began for us in the fall of 1993 with all of our money pooled together in a joint bank account. The morning air grew crisper and the trees around campus began to turn breathtaking shades of yellow, orange, and red.

Autumn was my very favorite time of year. I loved walking across campus in just a sweater and jeans, sun warming away the slight chill. I delighted in the deep blue sky of autumn, a backdrop for the leaves twirling and dancing their way to the ground. I had a bounce in my step and a flutter in my stomach. I was unspeakably happy and content.

I had recently switched my major from biology to psychology, with a concentration in neuroscience. I was really beginning to enjoy most of my courses and I had fallen into a nice routine that school year. I had morning classes, work in the afternoon, and I’d hit the gym before dinner. Evenings included study time and heading to the dining hall with a group of friends, grabbing Roly Poly, or making a late night ice cream run to White Mountain Creamery. Evenings included Duff. Evenings were my favorite.

Fall at Boston College meant football season, which brought crowds of people swarming to the campus on weekends for tailgating and games. It meant drinking often commenced before noon and continued on into the night. Sunday, was simply a day to recover from Friday and Saturday. Duff and I began to question the meaning of it all.

Why go out to a crowded bar on a Friday night, when we could stay home and watch a movie?

Why attend yet another keg party of intoxicated foolishness, when we could stay behind and prepare a meal?

Why fight the crowds to get in and out of the stadium, if we could watch the game from the comfort of our living room?

Why brave the elements, when we could sit on a warm cozy couch with chips, dip, and good beer?

We didn’t care that we had pre-paid tickets…

That football season, we chose to watch many of the home games on television, from Duff’s dorm room, not 100 yards from the stadium.

Yes, I believe some of our friends were concerned.

Perhaps baffled is a more accurate description.

They couldn’t comprehend where we were coming from. Didn’t really get that we just wanted to be together. Couldn’t fathom that we were done with the dance and had found that person. The one you curiously daydream about for years– trying to catch a glimpse of their face, wondering about the color of their eyes, the sound of their voice, and the things you’ll share.

They wrote it off as a phase, I’m sure.

The “fairytale phase”…

Those first 6 to 12 blissful months in a relationship when people behave like lovesick puppies.

They subsequently cut us some slack, and stood by waiting for differences to surface. They waited for the minor annoyances to emerge. They expected a few core issues to arise.

But they never expected to return to the dormitory one Saturday evening, pleasantly buzzing, to find Duff and Kelly cooking cornish game hens in orange sauce.

This was just too much for them. Too out there. They smiled and shook their heads, truly dumbfounded, all the while drooling over the delicious smells that lingered in the air.

They struggled to put their impression of us into words,

“You just….

“You don’t…

“You’re like…

We reminded them of an old married couple.

We were the pathetic elderly couple that was missing out on their “college experience”.

We were “Gram and Gramps”…

from henceforth.

It was Christmas time in the year 2000. Auntie Colleen was visiting and we were heading home from Jumpin’ Jupiters, an indoor playspace that Maddie loved to frequent. I suspected I might be pregnant and just had to know. I suggested we stop by a store on the way home and grab a pregnancy test. I wasted no time, and in minutes we were celebrating two pink lines.

My parents and siblings would be arriving any day, with a car full of parcels, to celebrate Christmas. We considered how we would share the news. Let’s present it as a gift, we decided. Without hesitation, we agreed who the recipient of this special package must be…my dad. Pop had a history of opening gifts that confused him. Gifts he didn’t comprehend. Gifts he was sure, he had mistakenly received. We had enjoyed many tear jerking laughs before, when my Dad, with a half opened gift in his lap, had ever so discretely attempted to identify the correct recipient. Only to find out, the gift was indeed intended for him.

The pregnancy test would be perfect! There was no way he’d be familiar with the appearance of such a gadget. I giggled, just imagining the look of confusion on his face. We placed the package, tagged with his name and wrapped with anticipation, under the tree.

Pop did not disappoint. He ripped open the paper and lifted the box lid. He turned to Mimi, with eyebrows knit together, for some sort of explanation. My mom looked up with immediate recognition on her face and exclaimed, “You’re pregnant?!”

It really wasn’t long before the nausea, hunger, and fatigue set in. This was very reassuring, because I had miscarried only a few months earlier, after feeling very little morning sickness.

Our house in Raleigh was on the market and sold in the first few weeks of the New Year. We were looking to find a new place with a bit more space and closer to Duff’s work. We moved to Apex and rented a home while we continued looking for something to buy. We eventually found a neighborhood we liked and began building a home that would be completed about 2 months after the baby’s birth.

My prenatal appointments were going well and everything looked fine. Baby was growing and developing perfectly. We decided not to find out the gender at our ultrasound and looked forward to being surprised this time around.

I had undergone a cesarean with my first, due to a footling breech presentation. When I miscarried the subsequent pregnancy and began researching more about the long-term consequences of cesarean, I realized I really wanted a natural childbirth. I spent hours and hours researching VBAC. I read all about the Bradley Method. I considered hiring a doula but was discouraged from doing so by my obstetrician. “They create love triangles in the delivery room”, she had warned. (Yes, I actually believed this! Bah-hahaha)

I paid close attention to what I ate and exercised regularly. I developed my birth plan which involved as little intervention as possible. I wanted to avoid narcotics, epidurals, pitocin, and AROM (artificial rupture of membranes). All of these things could decrease my chances of delivering naturally.

I was due at the beginning of September. On September 4th, I began showing signs of impending labor. I called my Mom and Dad to let them know, and they began the long drive South that evening. They drove through the night and arrived early on the morning of Sept. 5th. I was having contractions off and on but nothing very regular or strong yet. My parents tried to nap a little and by the afternoon my contractions were growing more regular. Dinner time approached, and I felt it was time to head out. We grabbed our bags, leaving Maddie behind with Mimi and Pop.

When Duff gets behind the wheel to drive, he often discovers he’s tired or hungry, and this time was no exception. He suggested we stop to get a bite to eat. I really wasn’t up for eating. We stopped at Whole Foods and Duff picked up some yumminess while I walked around the store breathing through contractions.
Satisfied with his selections, we continued on to Rex Hospital.

Now I knew I was only in the early stages of labor, but I really didn’t want to wait until the last possible moment and experience the adrenaline rush of a mad dash to the hospital. We parked the car in the garage, grabbed our bags, and headed up to the Labor and Delivery floor. After checking in at the main desk, we were shown to a room and the admission process began. They drew blood samples, filled out paperwork, and got me settled. It wasn’t long before the doctor on call checked in on us.

He seemed like a nice enough obstetrician, and then I handed him my typed up birth plan. He quickly perused it, sort of laughing to himself as he did so.

“What?” I inquired.

“Well, it’s just that this is all nice on paper and all. But the fact of the matter is, you’re attempting a VBAC. And unless you adhere to the timeline, intervention is going to be required.”

I couldn’t believe it! My entire pregnancy, all of the doctors had been so encouraging. So supportive. And now I’m in labor and he’s changing his tune?? How dare he just throw my birth plan out the window! I was livid!

I attempted to reiterate how intervention would just complicate matters and reduce my likelihood of delivering naturally.

“Well, then what are you here for??” He wondered out loud, “If you don’t want intervention, then you should go home.”

That was it!! This man was impossible!!! There was no way I was staying in this hospital to have my baby. We gathered our things, got our discharge papers, and were on our way.

But where exactly were we headed?

We had no idea.

And my, these contractions were getting stronger.

I was hurting. This was intense.

I was having trouble thinking clearly.

And I was STARVING!

“Duff, I need food! I’m famished! Let’s drive down the road and find me some food.”

We jumped in the car and began scoping out some places.

Everything was closed.

“I need to get out of this car. I can’t be in this car! This car is killing me!”

“Well what do you want me to do?”

“Just take me to a hotel or something! Somewhere peaceful, where I can be left alone. I am not going back to that hospital!”

“You want ME to deliver this baby?! I can’t just bring you off to some hotel. I have no idea what I’m doing!”

The argument went back and forth, back and forth, into the wee hours of the morning as we tried to come up with a plan.

“I’m taking you back in there. We have no other choice.”

And so back into Rex Hospital we went.

We were readmitted.

Paper work was redone.

Blood redrawn.

And we settled into the hospital room waiting for the doctor…

A new doctor.

Because, as we learned upon readmission, the 24 hour on-call period had ended, and now my very favorite OB was covering the floor.

Hooray!

Dr. P entered the room, she was caring and kind. She reassured me that the baby’s heart rate was looking good and explained that she’d be watching the monitors and would regularly come by to check my progress. It was approaching 7 am on the morning of September 6th.

I was having agonizing back labor. I couldn’t speak, move, or have a coherent thought, throughout each contraction. We tried the shower, we tried walking, we tried intense counter pressure for hours. Nothing was helping.

And then my doctor would come in and do a cervical check and explain that there was little to no progress. Talk about discouraging!

I didn’t know how much longer I could last. This was insane!

And the thought that kept entering my mind throughout all of this was- Be the sheep? Ha! What a load of crap!

You see the Bradley method is supposedly based on a man’s observations of watching animals birth their young. They don’t fight the contractions. They go off alone, to a quiet place, relax, and allow their body to respond to the contractions. The more relaxed you are, the more productive the contractions will be, thus dilating your cervix.

But I was in sooo much pain, I couldn’t possibly relax!

Dr. P was becoming more concerned by lunchtime that my progress had been so minimal. I was still only 2-3cm. She shared that my cervix was beginning to swell from being in hard labor when the baby’s head was not well engaged. She suggested I try getting an epidural.

“Sometimes an epidural, in cases like this, can be helpful. It will allow you to relax which may hasten your progress.”

I couldn’t resist the dangling carrot any longer.

The epidural took affect and I rested my eyes for the first time in hours; Duff falling fast asleep in the chair beside me.

We had those few peaceful moments before my doctor hurried back into the room.

“You’re having late decelerations, Kelly. We need to turn you onto your side.”

After several attempts to restore the baby’s heart rate to a more reassuring pattern, an emergency cesarean was recommended. Late decels can mean baby isn’t getting enough oxygen. They slapped oxygen over my face, gave me a pen to sign the consent, and whisked us off to the OR.

It wasn’t long before Duff leaned down near my face to report,”It’s a boy!” I saw a tear trickle down his cheek. He was in complete awe of God’s perfect creation. Miraculous. Truly miraculous.

The baby was posterior(sunny-side up) and had a triple nuchal cord (umbilical cord wrapped 3 times around his neck).

This probably explained why his head wasn’t engaging and my failure to progress.

He was also a rather large baby, weighing in at 8lbs13oz.

He had fair skin, blonde peach fuzz for hair, and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen.

He was absolutely perfect. The sweetest little thing, with a deep husky cry.

Happy Birthday, Gavin Matthew O’Melia!

As the spring semester of our Sophomore year came to a close, we decided we couldn’t spend the summer apart. We began searching for inexpensive summer sublets in Boston. While we would have loved to find a cute little apartment for the two of us, I was troubled by the obvious potential for upsetting our families.* We decided on separate apartments, just across the street from each other, on Commonwealth Ave. Now we just needed summer jobs to pay for rent, grub, and leisure.

I planned to continue working at the School of Nursing, where I had worked throughout the school year. The pay wasn’t great but I liked the people and it was convenient. Picture me riding my red Huffy ten-speed along Commomwealth Ave. towards Boston College. I would jump off my bike, lock it up in front of the gym, and race up the longest set of continuous stairs ever. I would arrive for my office job doing clerical work, gasping for breath. The girls I worked with would ask all about “my man” and beg to meet him. I took Calculus that summer and conveniently had Duff available as my private tutor. It still baffles me to this day, how he made sense of it all! (The Calculus, that is!)

Even then, Duff was never satisfied with mediocrity. He found a job working in downtown Boston for triple what I was making on campus. He bought some nicer clothes and traveled into Boston everyday on the ‘T’. Duff loved being able to read a good book as he rode to and from work. He loved exploring downtown on his lunch breaks and trying different ethnic foods. He often did a little shopping as well, and would come home with interesting purchases. I can remember him arriving home one day, hiding behind a giant bouquet of roses. He really was the sweetest.;)

The summer of ’93 was a fairytale summer in so many ways. We spent every moment we could together. Grocery shopping that summer was an adventure. We weren’t conveniently located near any grocery store. So we would hop on the ‘T’ and head up a few stops to the closest Star Market. We had to walk a few blocks from the train stop to get our goods. This was fine going out, but coming home we would be trying to carry a month’s worth of groceries. Our fingers would lose sensation and turn white from the plastic bags pressing into our hands. We’d run, trying to make it those couple of blocks without stopping, and stumble onto the train dropping a circle of bags to the floor. Why we didn’t purchase a little cart is beyond me! Either we were too poor or we enjoyed the challenge.

Cooking meals was very fun back then! We loved preparing delicious food and eating it together, at the little table made for two in Duff’s apartment. Now cleaning up the mess was another story. There was no dishwasher and neither one of us really enjoyed doing the dishes. When the pile would rise in a mound above the sides of the sink, we would head out to the bowling alley. We would wager everything. The stakes? The contents of the kitchen sink.

Back then, it turns out, I was a better bowler than Duff. I would start out with a bang, always winning the first few games. Then he would offer to buy me a beer…and the tides would slowly turn, as I sipped away at my golden frothy beverage. Before long, I’d earned the privilege of tackling the mountain of dishes solo. Oh sure, I’d try to pout and look pathetic so he would feel inclined to help, but it never worked. He really enjoyed watching me do those dishes. Every last one of them.

Exploring the city together was another fun thing we did that summer. We’d jump on the ‘T’ and head for nowhere or anywhere, never really having a specific plan. One day in particular, I can remember the two of us standing at a stop along the Green Line waiting for the next train to come along. We were having a conversation. Apparently a very interesting conversation. With Duff, you never talk about the weather.;) And so we stood there for 40 minutes, chattering away, before either of us realized the line was closed. We were just oblivious. So dern happy in that bubble of ours.:)

We snuggled on the couch and watched movies. We bought tickets to see Miss Saigon. We enjoyed an evening dinner cruise aboard the Odyssey. But the event that really clinched it for me that summer, was when we went to see “Sleepless in Seattle” at a theatre in Chestnut Hill. I can recall that day so vividly. Sitting in the dark theatre, holding my boyfriend’s hand while watching that adorable romantic comedy. And as the credits began to roll there was no doubt in my mind; I was Duff’s Meg Ryan and Duff was my Tom Hanks. We were meant for each other.

Now, hmmmmm (we brainstormed)…how to show the world our commitment toward each other?

Why, of course!

The ultimate step toward togetherness…

A Joint bank account.

And off to Bay Bank of Boston we headed…

*NOT Christians at this point. Not even familiar with the word…fornication.

We started off by trying out the Great Pumpkin Jump which is a HUGE 2500 square foot jumping pillow. Duff and the 4 oldest loved it but it was a little too much for Gab and Makinley.

But that didn’t stop them from having a good time!

Next came the giant sling shots in which you attempt to hurl tennis balls at hanging targets.

The older kids loved running at top speed through the corn maze and trying to find each other. The youngest two just kind of meandered along.

Then it was off to the corn crib where everyone enjoyed “swimming” in the corn!

The 80 foot underground slide was fun!

While waiting for the kids to emerge from the slide we spotted a brand new foal.

The train at Vollmer Farm called the “Udder Run”, caught our kids attention!

Duff made the mediocre zip line super fun by pushing the kids at top speed!

Everyone LOVED Bernie the calf! So friendly and affectionate!

Then it was time to head out.

Such a blessing to spend time together as a family!

She is now 18 months old and a little mama in training to be sure!

Always toting an armful of dolls around and loving’ on them.

Occasionally she’ll invite Luke to play “the daddy”.

She dons her sunglasses before running out,

straps the babies in, and off she goes to run her errands, often with a little purse in the crook of her arm.

She feeds her babies,

pats their backs,

makes them comfortable,

and coddles them.

Always playing the part of the perfect doting mommy until…..

something more interesting comes up,

then she hastily throws her “babies” to the floor and runs to take part in the fun!

Duff and I decided without a doubt we wanted to be together. I gradually became convinced that everyone would see the big picture. We were all adults. We wouldn’t be in college forever. We wouldn’t be bound to this group of friends for much longer. If Duff and I were destined to be a couple and live “happily ever after” it was worth the short term awkwardness. I figured we would give everyone a little time to digest the news of the recent break up before going public with our status.

We began with the best of intentions. We would limit our time together. We would play it cool for a while and hang out with friends. Get absorbed in our school work.

Yet I knew Duff’s schedule and where I could “bump” into him. I new exactly when he would be leaving one building to cut across campus for his next class or where he usually ate lunch on Wednesdays. So we found ourselves meeting up for lunch, running into each other at the library, and hanging out at the computer lab. These secret rendezvous became more frequent and we discovered people were beginning to track our whereabouts, follow us places, and ultimately question our integrity.

Mike became angered, saddened, and bothered by the entire thing. He moved out of the quad he had shared with Duff and two other guys with only two months remaining in the spring semester. Mike confronted Duff late one night with a group of intoxicated friends wanting to fight and a restraining order was set in place. Friends wondered, “How can you do this to Mike?” Rifts formed, people took sides, and I hoped that one day everyone would come to an understanding.

To escape the scrutiny, the planning for our encounters grew more involved. It was March now, Duff’s birthday weekend, and we devised a scheme to be together. We each had a friend off campus cover for us and we met a few stops away from college at the T- station . We traveled the remainder of the way into Boston together where we playfully wandered about shopping and eating, fully enjoying the freedom to be in each others company. We ate dinner at Legal Seafoods that night where we dined on creamy chowder and buttery seafood dishes accompanied by full-bodied red wine. There we sat completely absorbed by one another, the world around us fading into a blur. Fulfilled entirely by the person sitting across the table.

Do you remember the Atlantic Starr hit from the 80′s, “Secret Lovers“?

Here we are, the two of us together

Takin’ this crazy chance to be all alone

We both know that we should not be together

‘Cause if we’re found out, it could mess up

Both our happy home

Secret lovers, yeah, that’s what we are

We should not be together

But we can’t let go, no, no

‘Cause we love each other so

This became our theme song. Anywhere we could go, to be alone together as a couple, attracted our attention. We took off for the North End of Boston to share Italian food one night and met on campus the next. My birthday approached in April and Duff went shopping for a special gift. He chose a delicate gold necklace with a pearl and diamond pendant. He presented it to me on my birthday, took me in his arms, and shared that he was done masquerading. From this day forward he would introduce me to the world as his girlfriend.

If you’re challenged in the planning area but thrive on spontaneity (like us) then you may want to purchase the annual membership for $59.00 because that’s about what you’ll end up paying for the day. This membership works for many other children’s museums and aquariums across the country.

Once Duff and I got over the fact that we missed out on the homeschool discount, we had a blast! We were a little nervous initially when after visiting our third habitat of the day we still hadn’t seen a live animal. But after the slow start we made out really well. We saw monkeys, bears, elephants, giraffes, seals, and we even ran into our friend Anne and her children by the buffalo!

The kids never tired of traipsing around from habitat to habitat.

Wish I could say the same about Duff:)

If your familiar with the NC Zoo you’ll agree with our friend Margaret,” it’s kinder to the animals than it is to the people!” You get some serious exercise! Makinley and Gabrielle walked at least 75% of the time which amazed me.

The kids LOVED cooling off at the misting station in Africa.

After lunch we spent some time in the Kidzone where Gabby and Makinley had a ball painting with water!

Gavin and Luke suggested that we take pics with them on top of the giant bison!

We spent much of the day looking at this view of Makinley making her escape:

always in the opposite direction from the rest of us.

Nothing frightens,

intimidates,

or unnerves her……

She is a complete mess!

Winter break came to an end and the guilty verdict soaked into my conscience. I headed back to college to start my spring semester of Sophomore year with my mind a complete jumble. I needed some clarity about this situation. I needed to reach some conclusions. The tiny analytical portion of my brain would need to come through for me and preserve normalcy once again by balancing the overbearing emotional side of me.

“So what’s going on with you and Mike?”, inquired the logical section of my brain.

I don’t know. Something’s missing. Something has changed. Mike and I are spending less and less time together. It seems like we have very little in common these days. He seems more distant, more distracted. I want to break up with him but I don’t want to hurt him. I feel guilty dumping him.

“If Mike’s not the right guy for you then you should just end it. There is NOTHING to feel guilty about! “, persuaded my left hemisphere.

Perhaps I feel guilty because I’m not being completely honest about my feelings? It’s not like I just came to the conclusion that Mike and I aren’t compatible on my own. My friendship with Duff has definitely influenced my perspective.

“How you came to the conclusion is not relevant. The first step is to break up with Mike. Only then can you begin to explore whether Duff and you even have a future together.”

The advice sounded so logical, so easy. Yet guilt still tugged at my heart preventing me from moving forward. I couldn’t very well continue in this suspended state forever, could I?!

Mid-January Mike went away on a ski trip for the weekend with his father and best friend. I was surprised when I wasn’t invited to join them but not disappointed. Over the weekend, the slight impetus I required to take action was presented to me. I learned Mike had cheated on me. I learned he flirted with girls outside of my presence and boasted about his philandering ways. I learned Mike was pond scum. I suddenly couldn’t break up with him fast enough. I planned to finish things the moment he returned from skiing.

Mike was hardly settled back in from his weekend getaway before I was ending our relationship. It actually went really well. No tears. No anger. No hard feelings at all. Wow, that was easy enough, I reflected, as I rode the elevator back downstairs and headed across campus to my dorm. I hadn’t an inkling of what lay ahead.

Duff and I had some very deep conversations in the days that followed sparked by the controversy surrounding our relationship. We couldn’t deny the attraction between us, the enjoyment of one another’s company, the desire to share the details of our daily lives but pursuing this could jeopardize so much. The only way we could rationalize moving forward was by determining if this would be something worthwhile.

Would this be more than a fling or just a case of the grass is always greener….? A case of wanting the forbidden fruit?

Perhaps it was just the power of everyone suggesting something was going on that was deceiving us?

Could we seriously see ourselves together a few years from now? Were we even compatible? Did we have the same hopes and dreams?

We needed to be sure this was the real deal if we were going to rattle our closest friend’s lives by starting a relationship together. And so we attempted to set our own feelings aside and look at the whole thing from an outsider’s perspective weighing all of the moral and ethical issues of dating within your inner circle of friends and we sought to determine the likelihood of long term success.

Before my mother fell ill with the stomach flu we had a great time visiting the UConn Animal Barns! Mimi (my mom) and I took my 6 kids and my brother’s 2 children up to see all of the animals one day while we were staying in Connecticut. My mom had never been as quiet as she was this particular day. I should have known something was up. Maybe it was repeatedly buckling and unbuckling 8 children over a 6 hour period that made her sick?

Here are the kiddos minus Maddie the budding photojournalist:

The horses were great!

These two towheads were very silly together and LOVED the Goldfish!

Maddie did put her camera down long enough for me to snap a few pics.

Whoa! These horses are mighty friendly!

Luke’s dream come true! He was able to hug this horse around the neck.

This little foal was born the day before we visited.

Makinley spent too much time in the stroller for her taste!

We sang about lambs many many times on our trip North. The kids had recently purchased Baa! We’re Lambs which is a parody of “Barbara Ann” by the Beach Boys. Every time the two youngest grew antsy we blasted this song and it immediately soothed them. So when we arrived at the pen housing the lambs and sheep the kids immediately burst into song. When those animals joined in for the chorus the kids were thrilled!

A few pics from our trip into the Big Apple:

Our next stop was Massachusetts where we hung out with more adorable nieces and nephews! We took this cute train of kids up to the park for some fun!

My adorable nieces swinging.

We enjoyed some AMAZING sushi prepared by our brother-in-law.

We spent many hours around the campfire talking, cooking smores, and watching Gavin tinker with flames.

Here is the whole gaggle of cousins. Aren’t they adorable?

They can only go for so long before they need some quiet time. Here some of the girl cuzzies snuggle in to watch the Backyardigans while their parents dine on delicious sushi and have quiet adult conversation.:)

It was a wonderful trip!

After a couple of days spent relaxing, skiing, and shopping, Mike and I made plans to attend a friend’s New Year’s Eve party. It would be a gathering of Mike’s old high school buddies. I only knew a handful of these people and was relieved when Duff called Mike to say he’d be there.

This was great! It would be just like old times! The three of us hanging out having a good time together. Mike and I obviously a couple again. The ring on my finger. There would be nothing left for Duff to speculate about. After tonight it would be evident that my bold overtures that last night in Boston were purely whimsical.

We arrived at the party ready to bring in 1993 with a raucous crowd of college aged coeds. It promised to be a wild night. I grabbed a beer and mingled with acquaintances while Mike quickly assimilated with his cronies. Spotting Duff’s familiar face through the crowd melted away my uneasiness. I crossed the room to greet him and received a wonderfully strong embrace. What was it about his hugs? They always made me feel so important.

We began to catch each other up on our adventures over the last couple weeks never once mentioning my fading confession of love. It was odd to me now that Duff and I had ever struggled to get along. We had grown so familiar with one another, so comfortable. I respected his opinions and him mine. We often sought the approval or advice of the other person. We both loved a good discussion and had covered everything from abortion to the best breed of dog in the many hours we had spent conversing.

I don’t recall the exact conversations we had that night which served to distract us from noticing we’d been left alone. The rest of the party had long since moved downstairs into the basement and neither of us made any move to join them. Rumors circulated that there was some illicit drug use going on down there but we never bothered to confirm. We just kept on gabbing away interrupted only by the occasional person running upstairs for food or drink. We sat that way talking in the living room long after the ball had fallen, completely absorbed, and fully expecting we hadn’t been missed.

It wasn’t until the next morning when the accusations began to fly. What were Duff and Kelly doing up there alone all night? Something is obviously going on between them. I saw them kissing. Mike, she’s two-timing you…

“What?! NOTHING happened!”

“Oh sure….”, the accusers responded.

“Honestly! We’re completely innocent! We were JUST talking!”, we defended ourselves.

There was nothing we could say to convince the accusers otherwise. We had already been tried and convicted. The verdict was in. Duff and Kelly were guilty of something…….but nobody was sure of exactly what!