the story that needed to be told, part 2

In early July, the phone calls started-- 5,6,7 of them a night some nights. At first I tried to tell Scott that I didn't feel comfortable with him calling me anymore, but I think he took that as some kind of a challenge because he just kept calling. I started hanging up. He still kept calling. Then he started driving by my house. Sometimes in his car, sometimes in his truck.Always multiple times going back and forth. I got to the point where I couldn't be home alone without all the blinds closed and a constant sick feeling in my stomach.

I didn't want to tell my mom. I didn't want her to know how stupid I'd been to let anything get started with this guy in the first place. Nor did I want her to do something that I viewed as extreme, like call the police. One night about 10, there was a knock at the door. Mom was sitting on the couch reading a book, so I looked out the window to see who it was. When I saw Scott standing there, I didn't know what to do--I HAD to answer the door or draw suspicion from my mother. Before opening it, I told her it was a friend from work and that he must want some company. Assuming this friend was just a boy my age, she said I could go with him for an hour. She even handed me a few dollars and asked me to buy her some bread.

And I got in that stupid car of his that I had never wanted to get in again. And we went to the store. And we bought the bread. And I hoped that would be enough for him--that he'd seen me. He said that's all he'd wanted to do--just see me one more time and hear my voice. That he'd missed me.

The next week I left for college in a town five hours away. He called me there two more times, messages relayed by my roommates.

Then it stopped. Just like that. I went on to enjoy my new life as a college student, believing I had finally seen the end of Scott. But 15 years later he showed up on my doorstep again....

(part 3 tomorrow)