No Walk of Shame

Dearest Rachel –

When I was talking with Kerstin about you the other night, one of the stories I brought up was the time I came down to university over Homecoming after I’d graduated. I couldn’t recall whether it was your junior or senior year, but the more I think about it, the more I’ve convinced it was the latter; there are certain critical things that wouldn’t have transpired (and certain attitudes that lead to those things) were it not for the two of us already being engaged.

Obviously, there wasn’t anywhere for me to stay on campus, what with having graduated and all; when I came back, I’d have to put myself up in a hotel room for the night. So I did, and we went out together, and… in the lack of anything I can think of that made the evening (or even the weekend) particularly notable, I have to assume things went well. It’s always the misadventures you remember; when everything goes according to plan, there’s nothing special about it that makes it worth committing to memory. Maybe because you assume that’s what every day is supposed to be like?

I wish I could remember how it came to be; only the two of us were privy to the moment, and with you gone, it’s left to my unreliable memory to recount the events. So I don’t know if you offered, or I asked, or if it just happened without anything being said. But when the events of the night were over, you didn’t just go back to your dorm, nor did I take you there. Rather, you came back with me to the hotel, and… we spent the night together.

And the thing is, we didn’t do anything that anyone on the outside of this relationship (especially in this day and age, when it’s treated so casually) would have expected. We simply, literally, slept together in that king-sized bed (which, in fairness, allowed for plenty of distance between the two of us. Heck, even our queen-sized bed offers plenty of space, as far as we’ve always been concerned). And that’s it.

The more I think about it, the more I realize why your mom was so amazed when you asked her, as you were putting yourself together on our wedding day, some point of anatomy or mechanics that allowed it to dawn on her that we hadn’t actually done anything beforehand. I wish I knew what that telling question was, too, now that I mention it. From all the ways we behaved toward each other in public, and the things we did as we were withdrawing from the public eye, it’s no wonder others would have assumed that we would be on each other like rabbits when everyone’s backs were turned. To discover otherwise would have been a shock.

And had we been like that, I’m not sure I would have minded, although I’m sure that’s coming from a vastly different perspective than I had back then. I know I warned you, back in those days – particularly after you explained that the meaning of your name was along the lines of ‘female lamb’ – that I was something of a ‘wolf,’ to use a rather archaic slang term. I would also remind you of my own name, and the meaning it had that I could guarantee my parents never thought of nor intended to convey about me, but was true nonetheless. And yet, it never seemed to bother you.

“I trust you,” you would say.

And I wanted to be worthy of that trust, even during the days when we were simply friends and fellow students. If we were sitting next to each other in the TV lounge, I could put an arm around your shoulder, which would lead to you leaning your head against my shoulder. Sometimes I would wrap my arm around your waist and get a similar reaction. You gave me a lot of leeway, even back then, now that I think about it. But you would let me know if I was getting too close for comfort, and since I appreciated the trust you put in me – and wanted to keep things that way – I would back down when you asked me to.

That Homecoming evening was merely the finest moment of your expression of trust. I can only guess that it was an exhausting night; maybe you were tired from it all, and assumed I’d be likewise, or at least, too tired to do anything untoward. Maybe you just really wanted to be with me for as long as you could, while I was still in town. I wish I could remember.

All I know is that you trusted me not to do anything (and I’m sure I warned you again about me, too), and when that was offered to me, I couldn’t bring myself to damage such a precious gift.

***

The interesting part about all this is that, when you finally came back to the dorm the following day, everyone knew where you had been, and who you had been with. Most people would have made the obvious connections. Some might have asked about it – like your roommate Elizabeth, who, to be sure, you would have told the truth and what limited details there were, and she would have believed you – but most would have never bothered to do so, and simply hung onto their assumptions (if, that is, they thought about it at all). It was a quintessential ‘walk of shame’ moment on the ‘morning after.’

But knowing you, you didn’t see it that way; indeed, I’ll bet you didn’t even think of it, unless someone in the dorm had the nerve to speak her mind about what we had done looked like to her. And even then, you would most likely have laughed it off. After all, ours is a guilt-based society, not a shame-based one; you knew the truth of what happened, and that you had nothing to feel guilty over, and so there was nothing to be ashamed of, in turn. Maybe it looked bad; but if nothing happened, so what? You didn’t let it bother you, especially since it may have been as much your idea as mine.

***

I do miss being able to be trusted like that, honey. You put your life in my hands when you said “I do,” you know. Not that I was dangerous, as such, but you never know how life will turn out. Would I be able to provide for you? Would I change drastically upon being secure in your feelings toward me? Would this be nothing more than a ‘starter marriage,’ like your parents feared? Would I leave you someday, and break your heart? Life is always a gamble, honey, and I appreciate you put your chips on me.

I wonder if that’s what I’m hoping for again with regard to the future.

Well, if it is, you’d best keep your eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.