<p>It felt as if I was in a dream, walking past the front lobby reception desk. Tracy was standing next to it, crying, a mutual friend of ours consoling her. Surely this wasn’t happening. This was all my fault. I had failed in every way. Missed every warning sign. Ignored every voice of caution. I knew whatever happened in this office, I couldn’t admit to anything other than friendship. Nothing had happened, really. Nothing “reportable,” anyways. In reality, all allegations were false, so I just had to tell the truth, right? But the truth contained more than whether or not anything had “happened” between us. I knew what I felt. I knew it was different. I knew from the start…</p><p>We had met each other in passing at various points before training week, but I really only noticed Tracy when we were all starting to learn new songs as a group. It was a big deal, starting up the summer travel groups again. Six teams of piano players and singing groups would spend the week after the end of spring semester learning new songs before hitting the road to travel in various regions of the country. We would tour churches, Christian schools, and Christian camps, promoting the college, testifying, and singing. I would have the added novelty of playing trumpet specials. I was a music major but it was considered an honor for anyone to be selected to represent the school in this way. I was already a Resident Assistant and well respected by staff and faculty, had a core group of friends, including my younger sister, but was never the life of the party. I was more of the “responsible” one in the group. Like most other women at my college, I really wanted to be a “preacher’s wife” but I knew I didn’t quite fit the mold. But something new happened that week of singing group training, when Tracy and I spent more time around each other. Something…sparked. She was short and cute with an infectious laugh and a pretty smile. It was a magnetic pull to catch her gaze from across the room, to share an unspoken joke just by smiling at each other, to be around her any chance I could. I was keenly aware of her presence in the room and anxiously anticipated it when she wasn’t there. I started making excuses to interrupt her group practice or play little jokes on her during breaks. “This is a different level of friendship,” I thought.</p><p>We were placed on separate teams that went to different parts of the country, but we started talking on the phone nearly every night of our summer travels. It felt nice since all the other girls in my group had boyfriends they were always talking to in their downtime.I was the oldest in my group but had never had a boyfriend. I felt like less of a reject having Tracy to talk to. Our attention towards each other started getting noticed. I was getting silly, leaving voicemails on her phone of me singing romantic songs, and behaving in some irresponsible ways I never had. I kept telling myself she was “just a friend” but once we got back to school for fall semester and I was around her in person more often, it became obvious we were more than “just friends.” I was having feelings in my body that I had never had before around another person. I was looking at her in ways that I knew were inappropriate. I would angle for some way our bodies could touch when we sat next to each other in church: shoulders, thighs, something. I could tell she was doing it, too. She would reach over and doodle something cute on my sermon notebook during the sermon. Her smile made me warm. Again, people started to notice. I stopped by the table of one of my travel-group mates, Kylee and her boyfriend, Brad, one afternoon. Tracy came up in conversation and suddenly Brad joked about Tracy being my girlfriend. Kylee giggled nervously, and I felt my ears get red and my face fall. I got out of the conversation awkwardly and walked away a bit stunned. “I have to be more careful,” I thought. “People are getting the wrong idea and this could turn out very badly for Tracy if I don’t do something to put the breaks on things.” </p><p>I had a conversation with Tracy about dialing back how often we were alone together and how much we hung out in public spaces where people would see us, because maybe we were just too close. I didn’t explain what I meant by that, and she didn’t take it well, either too naive or too much in denial to reveal she knew what I meant without spelling it out. She responded with hurt and offence, as if I was saying she wasn’t a good person or just didn’t want to be around her anymore. There was a girl in my dorm who was getting very jealous of the time I spent with Tracy and I knew she had the capacity to make trouble if she wanted to. I worried her fixation on me would eventually hurt Tracy, too. </p><p>But “dialing back” didn’t really work for very long. I missed being around her. Missed her smell, missed the feelings I felt when she was close. The electric surge when she would touch me, casually. We never “did” anything sexual but I found myself wishing we could, somewhere deep inside me where I couldn’t even think that thought out loud. The bus ride back from the Gatlinburg trip just before Christmas break where she laid her head on my shoulder felt like agony and ecstasy, simultaneously. When even my sister expressed confusion about our friendship because “she’s just kind of immature and not someone you normally would want to hang around” I felt my stomach drop. On some level, she was probably right, because I normally wouldn’t hang out with someone who was having such an effect on me. But I didn’t want to let it go. I didn’t want to let her go. It felt better to be around her than not and I had never felt this way before. It didn’t feel fair to have to give her up. It felt dangerous to keep it going, but I didn’t know how to quit. </p><p><span style="font-size: var(--bs-body-font-size); font-weight: var(--bs-body-font-weight); text-align: var(--bs-body-text-align);">When I passed that front desk and started down the administration office hallway, it seemed all the warning signs I should have heeded were flashing through my mind. Every innuendo, joke or side-eye from someone I dismissed as “no big deal” and “it doesn’t matter, because we are just friends” was suddenly mocking me. I had to face it now and decide what to do in this office. Vice President Sadler had the first office on the left and I saw him at his desk through the glass door. I knocked to get his attention and he waved me in to enter. I moved as confidently as I could, trying to maintain my composure and the reputation I had built at this school for the past three years. I sat in the chair across from him and focused on his always-perfect hair to keep from panicking. I had never had much cause to interact with VP Sadler, but he generally had my respect up to this point. </span></p><p>I already knew what this was about but I was confused about why I was here and what had happened to land me in this chair. I sat nervously in front of his somewhat ostentatious wooden desk, his impressive bookshelf looming over him from behind his chair. He casually clasped his hands in front of him and began in a voice with both authority and a hint of discomfort in the choosing of his words, “I have been told there might be some concerning things going on between you and Tracy.” He gave no indication from whom he might have heard this, and I was frozen by the accusation. Too frozen to even consider questioning where this rumor originated. “OK…” I said, pausing for him to add more information before I continued. “I am trying to get at the truth here, so I just need to ask you if there has been any inappropriate conduct between the two of you.” </p><p>It was clear this was my out. I could very easily deny any “inappropriate conduct” because nothing physical had ever happened between us that anyone could deem as “inappropriate.” I knew the handbook well. I had plenty of plausible deniability around the word “conduct.” “Absolutely not, sir,” I said confidently. I was putting some connections together in real time about how he had come upon this information and added, “This is all made up by people in my dorm and it’s completely false. We are just friends.” VP Sadler again asked more pointedly, “So there has been no inappropriate behavior between the two of you?” I felt my voice shake. My neck felt hot and was surely red and flushed as it gets anytime I’m nervous, but I confidently stated an emphatic “No, sir. Never.” As he pushed himself out of his seat he said, “Well, that will be all, then. Just try to be more aware of how things look to others and conduct yourself accordingly.” I stammered another “Yes, sir” while he moved around his desk to open the office door and usher me out. </p><p>I felt detached from my body walking back into the lobby, as if somehow floating, and I saw Tracy still crying near the front desk, our friend still trying to console her. I realized Tracy had been called to VP Sadler’s office before me and gotten the same questions I had. I was mortified thinking about what she might have told our friend. I walked up to her and tried to say…something…anything…but it all felt too little, too late. I had failed to protect us both. It was my fault this had happened. My fault that others had somehow seen my feelings and made assumptions about what we might be doing in my room alone together. Tracy looked at me with hurt, and maybe a flash of anger crossed her face. “I can’t talk right now,” she said, as she grabbed her book bag and left the lobby, tissue in hand. My feet suddenly felt like they were in cement, but I wanted out of there so badly. Anywhere to avoid the curious eyes around me in the lobby about what might have transpired to cause such a reaction from her. Or worse, suspicious looks, because they did know what transpired. I again felt outside of my body as I pulled my things together to leave the lobby. It was over, after all. The questions answered, the rumors settled. I should be ok now. My secret was still safe, even from me. But I still wondered - what if I’d admitted to feeling a certain way about her in that office? Would I have been kicked out immediately? Told to go pack my things and be out of the dorm by the next day, like the stories I’d been told about other girls who had disappeared because of “inappropriate conduct”? I didn’t want to face what was behind my feelings; I couldn’t think too far down that road. Instead I stayed focused on the relief that I was able to ardently deny that anything was going on, and channelled all my other feelings into anger at those I suspected put us in that position. Going forward, I tried to pretend like it had been no big deal and that I was totally fine. </p><p>I wasn’t totally fine. I wouldn’t be fine for another 14 years.</p>
💕 They love it! 💕
2
There are no comments to display!