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The Velvet Glove

I'd been seeing Carla for almost three years. It was a fading romance, with the emphasis on fading, rather than romance. A year of separate colleges hadn't done anything to pull us back together after the fading started in our last year of high school. I'd looked forward to the Memorial Day holiday as we'd both be home and maybe things would be better. In hindsight, looking forward to spending time with Carla and rejuvenating our relationship was optimistic of me.

We'd gone out for a reunion dinner on the Friday night and while it was pleasant, the spark still wasn't there and I didn't even try to prolong the evening by inviting her to visit to my bedroom. We'd made a tentative arrangement to meet up Sunday and planned to spend Saturday with our families. it was hard to figure what had gone wrong as we still liked each other and cared about each other, but the excitement that keeps a young relationship fired up was absent with no recent sightings. It seemed like all we needed for one of us to be brave enough to stop the agony.

I didn't rush over to Carla's house early Sunday. There seemed little point and I didn't know what we were going to do anyway. Her car was there when I pulled into the driveway just after lunch, so I expected her to be at home but I think that if no one had answered the door I would have been relieved. There was movement inside though and Kristi, ...

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