You were the match, I was the rock

Not quite half your age, I was 15 and you were 29 that summer. It was the first time you ever touched me, arms around my back, outside the staffroom. Take care of yourself, Laura. It was like being kissed by a Priest, tender, gentle. You were my teacher and the object of every desire I had that summer and for a lot of the summers afterwards. I imagined being your wife, your other half, the mother of your children. The whole future lived out in my head before I was even old enough to marry you.

If I could be with you, I knew, just knew, that I would be one of those lucky people who get to be with the one they really should be with. The sexual attraction to you was jolting, a kick in the stomach whenever I saw you, and I had never had sex. I just knew, without doubt, that we were supposed to be together. You wore a blue shirt that day, which prickled with static under my hands, on your back. The electricity made us both jump and I looked at you, so much older than me, with all the trust that I would have for my father, none of the men in my life had taught me not to trust. I longed to touch you. The attraction that punched me in the gut set my skin on fire. I wanted to feel your skin and have you on and near and in me. I had never known an urge so strong, a desire so great. I had never been so compelled to do anything as I was to be close to you.

Six months later, and well on the way to whatever it was, grooming, slow-burn, I sat in my bedroom and stared out at the black of the night, wondering where you were and what you were doing. I wonder, did you ever think about me in those months, before you told me, hand wringingly, that you loved your wife but that you were sure too, that you loved me, and when you thought about the future, really thought hard about being old and having children, it was my hand you were holding- not hers. You must have thought of me. Imagined me. That night, 13 months before it happened, I prayed a silent prayer; that one day I would hold your hand and you would tell me that you loved me.

Be careful what you pray for, little girl.