“What do you mean? It’s Maria’s journal. She’s Shane’s friend... You know – SHANE – he’s supposed to be your perpetrator?”
Jake pulled back, stunned and embarrassed for a moment, and then reached down and picked up the journal. It was one of those little cloth-bound college note-taking booklets that you use for a single subject - which you can buy anywhere. They all look the same.
Jake ran his fingers over the spine and felt the well-worn corners of the cover and the water stains along the bottom.
“Where... where did you get this?” He stammered.
“I have friends... and connections”
“This is evidence,” Jake said, a bit taken aback at her impertinence.
“So’s that,” Sandy said, gesturing at the other journal that Jake had tried to hide under some magazines.
“You got me,” he replied, smiling.
“Don’t worry – it’s already been processed, dusted – the whole works.”
Jake pursed his lips and shook his head as Sandy gently pushed past him and sat down on the couch, placing the two journals side by side. He sat down next to her and they eagerly compared the two side by side. Same cover, and, best of all, same price tag from Wal-Mart.
I’m Maria, and this is the diary I kept during one long, hot summer, when me and our friends were out of high school and wondering what we would do, who was staying and who was going, and how my life fell apart only to be reconnected at the end. When you’re that young, it seems like the world is ending when love stops, but then again, doesn’t it?
“Were they in some sort of writing class?” Sandy wondered aloud. Jake didn’t really care; he was enjoying feeling Sandy’s warm body next to him. She took a sip of wine and carefully opened up Shane’s journal and they started reading together.
Part 1 - Chemistry
By the time summer rolled around the smart kids in our school had things all planned out; they had already had college admissions, tuitions and loans had been sent and approved, and doting parents were eager to cart them off to the best school. But for us, the future was anything but clear. Oh, some of us were already in community college, but for the rest, the cold reality of the working world loomed ahead, embroiled within some distant thunder of a storm off in the distance, quickly gathering itself to crush us into submission.
I'd had girlfriends in school before, but mostly they were the kind that wanted to just be friends. I was lonely even when surrounded by my friends; I knew that something was missing and now I know we all felt it; even when we were together we were alone, all in our shells, each craving a loving caress or a tender kiss. But at the same time forces primeval were thrust upon our young bodies, making us heedless of each other's tender hearts, and driven, like madmen, to sexual release by any means - by ourselves, mostly, with the opposite sex if we could, and with the fellows of our gender, in dark shame, as needs be.
I had known Maria since we were kids, and even though you often drift away from your childhood friends, we were still OK. She knew my other friends, too, and we hung out together as a group. She grew to be a little taller than me, and she had gained quite a bit of weight by the time she had turned 18. She had always been nice to me, and given me cards and cute hand-written notes. She was the artist among us and she always was drawing something or making something creative. Being young and stupid, I didn't get it; that maybe there was something more than just friendship, but I still liked being with her even though my dreams were filled with other girls.
When we were kids she used to make me hold her hand when we crossed the street or did something frightening, but I notice now she would sometimes put her hand in mine again. She was a big girl, good looking, full-figured, and she was warm and had smiling, laughing eyes. We had seen each other often that spring in school, and I had noticed her making sure to sit near me when the opportunity arose. She would glance up at me from her work, asking me an occasional question that I knew she knew the answer to, and then look up at me with those big dark eyes. One day I decided to let my hand rest on her thigh, and I was pleased and surprised that she didn't pull back, but ever so slowly let her hand slide down and gently interlocked her fingers with mine. I'm not sure why, but I found my heart racing as she let her thigh press against mine under the desk.
That summer we were both taking chemistry at the community college to make up for some bad grades we had. It was a lot of work and I didn't realize how little high school had prepared me for college. There were plenty of new concepts that stumped me, but Maria was always there with the answer.
“OK,” Sandy said, “Now let’s see if we can line this up with something in Maria’s diary.” Jake nodded, and then as Sandy opened the second diary, he put his hand on hers and said, “Wait - Sandy, I gotta know how you got this. What does this have to do with anything?”
“Well, Jake, maybe you haven’t been reading Shane’s journal, but we know about this Maria girl, and where she lives. I did a little detective work myself and, well, to make a long story short, I flew up there and met with the mother.”
“You FLEW up there... and met with the mother?”
“Yeah, it was kinda expensive... but there’s this FBI guy, Rudy – well, he likes me, and he encouraged it.”
“What!?” Jake’s face was turning a bit red by now. “I mean… do you know how much trouble you can get in for that?”
“No trouble, Jake. Don’t worry so much.” She put her hand on his, then reached over and took his vodka tonic in her hand and handed it to him, and said, smiling “now, drink your drink!” Then they turned their attention back to the diary labeled Maria:
June 1st: Dear Diary: Chemistry class is turning out to be a bit harder than I thought. I think I understand the basics, but it’s been a lot more work than I’d expected. There’s a lot more homework, but if you keep up, it’s OK. Poor Shane, I don’t think he’s keeping up! It’s hard to think about how long we’ve known each other, what is it, since middle school? I can’t be sure, but I know it’s been a long time. It feels good to have a familiar face nearby. I don’t think he knows that when I was a kid, I had a crush on him - or maybe he does? No, I don’t think so. He was so cute as a kid, and now he’s grown into a fine young man. I think if he wanted me, I’d probably do him, but there’s someone else I can’t get out of my mind, so I think that Shane was just an infatuation and I really need to move on. I mean, come on! It’s time to grow up.
I saw Keith the other day at the gym, and My God, that boy is HOT!!! Muy caliente! Kim keeps hanging around him, but I don’t know if they are having a relationship. She’s cute. I like the way she does her hair. They would make a cute couple. So what if she’s a little thinner than me. I know I can lose this weight! OK, that’s not my priority now. Gotta get through this class before the REAL college classes start in the Fall. I need to push these boys out of my mind, but God, it’s hard. Ha ha. Get it? I keep thinking about what it might be like to be with Keith and what’s inside those trousers.
I have to make a confession, diary. Lately I’ve been sitting next to Shane on purpose, and I let his arm brush against mine a few days ago, and since then I’ve been holding his hand under the desks. Why did this take so long? I mean, we’ve known each other a long time. I wish I knew what he’s thinking, but for that matter, what an I thinking? What am I doing? I can’t help but have feelings for Shane, but at the same time, every time I think about Keith, I feel that weakness in my knees and warmth at the center of my being. I have something even darker to admit, diary. I want to be with Shane, but I want to sleep with Keith - I mean, actually, that I think I want to go to bed with Keith but wake up with Shane.
Shane's diary continued:
Soon it became a regular thing to hold hands under the desk, and so I found myself sometimes stroking her thigh gently, not in a sexual way, but as a loving caress, and she would reciprocate by stroking my hand... including running her index finger over my palm, meaning I want to fuck you. That made me hard, but she said nothing, nor did I, except to reciprocate.
Searching for a matching event in Maria’s diary, Sandy found this:
June 6: Dear Diary- still confused about all these feelings going through me. The other day in class my mind was wandering off, and Shane started stroking my hand. I guess I was thinking about Keith and those soft, kissable lips of his, and those broad shoulders, and my God that tummy of his is to die for! Anyway, I guess I started daydreaming and was stroking Shane's palm like I wanted him. What was I thinking?? I must be crazy.
Kim called the other day and wanted to talk about Keith. What is it with that girl? She's gotta figure this stuff out on her own. He takes her for granted, and she comes back again and again. I think she's got men on the brain. Anyway, she started talking about how they went and made out, and he had his hands all over her, and down inside her panties, well it was pretty hot. She said he made her pull it out and it was HUGE! I guess she wasn't sure what to do with it, so she called me. Somehow, thinking about her naked on the bed, open and waiting, gives me a tingle inside. Is it because I want to be that girl? Or do I want to be with her? It made me a little aroused talking to her and I think she might have thought I was rude because I couldn't keep talking; I just had to go. No, I have to force these thoughts out of my head and keep working.
Jake felt himself blushing, but Sandy took another drink and said, “Go on, find the part that’s in Shane’s diary that matches. After a bit of fumbling, Jake found this:
One day when there was some particularly complicated chemistry problems to be worked out, Maria and I agreed to exchange phone numbers so we could work on them later that night. I was nervous and a little confused about how much was us and how much was homework. I don't know why. Why should that have mattered? Maria had never expressed much interest in me, or was I just too blind to see it? No, I have to just concentrate on my work, I thought to myself.
She called me that night, pretty late, to ask about valence bands. Valence bands? I sort of knew about this, so I made sure I had the textbook with me. I was living at home then, as she was; I made sure that I could go out on the porch and talk privately.
“So, I don't understand these orbitals,” she asked on the phone.
“Orbitals?”
“Yeah...”
“Right... the atoms have electrons that are in different orbitals” - I continued reading.
“Each different orbital is described by four quantum numbers, n, l, m, and s”, I read from the book.
“OK, I see. So, an orbital is associated with the valence of the atom?” she asked.
“I think so,” I replied.
“OK.” There was a long pause.
“Maria?” I asked
“Yes?”
“I sure like having you next to me in Chemistry,” I said.
“I like being with you too,” she replied. “I... I want you to tell me about chemistry.”
“Right” I got back to business.
“Like, when two atoms get together, did you get the answer to #4? About the valence determining how they join together?”
“I didn't get that,” I replied.
“I think it means that if the two atoms are compatible, and they come close enough together, then they feel an attraction to each other,” she said.
“Like the Van der Waals force?” I asked
“I think that's for weak Hydrogen bonds,” she corrected me. “I think you mean ionic bonds. They feel so strongly together, that they push themselves together and the electrons in the valence bands are shared between the two.”
“It's like they're mating” I replied. “covalently”.
“It's like they're lovers, intertwined, and they can't be separated except by extreme violence”, she replied softly.
“I hadn't thought of it that way.”
“Oh, yes, it's very romantic,” she replied, “even, well, sexual”.
“That's amazing,” I replied.
“It's electric,” she said. There was a long pause.
“Maria,” I said, “I feel electricity when you hold my hand.” There was a pause, but I could almost feel her blushing through the phone.
“So do I,” she replied.
“And what about when I touch your thigh?” I asked
“Yes.”
“I think about touching you often,” I said.
“Me too,” she replied.
“Tell me what you think about,” I teased. There was a pause, and then she replied.
“Well, why don't you tell me what atom you are?” She teased back.
“Uh, I'm oxygen,” I replied, thinking of something reactive.
“Oh, Ok. I'm carbon. What happens next?” she asked.
“We meet in a dark alley,” I reply, to which she laughs and replies, “OK, we meet. We're in a gas. It's like a party. We're bouncing around, jostling from atom to atom. But as we come together.”
“We feel a strange attraction,” I interject. “We reach out ... our electron clouds sense each other.”
“We find ourselves drawn together by a force we don't understand,” she continued. “We're soon pressed together, and it's hot and it excites us. We feel our bodies entwining, becoming one, you're inside, I'm inside you - and we can't be pulled apart.”
“God, that's hot” I admitted to her.
“Of course, that's a covalent bond,” she noted. “Which might be endothermic, I can't remember.”
“I can't remember either,” I admitted. “Maria?”
“Yes”
“I think I'd rather be a beam of light.”
“Why?”
“Well, if I was hot enough, I would strip off your outer layers.”
“Yes?”
“And then, if I was just the right match for you, I would probe deep into your innermost shell, matching your internal rhythms while I stimulate you over and over until emission.”
“And I'd shoot out a beam of light... I'd be your laser,” she replied.
“You make me hot, Maria,” I admitted.
“What?? I can't believe you said that.”
“Come on,” I said jokingly, “I know you like pervy science talk.” There was silence on the other end of the line.
“I'm hanging up now,” she said. And she did.
Sonofabitch! I thought to myself. I can't believe I screwed that up.