Free Falling in Love by Stephen Bradlee

pangs of pain in my chest, just looking at his face, the intense agony. “Then I did hit bottom,” he continued. “When I molested my own step-daughter, my darling, defenseless, ten-year-old Amy.”
    Suddenly, revulsion overcame me and I couldn’t breathe. I rushed back out the door and let it slam behind me. I stood outside fighting for air. I rushed back to my car and squealed out of there. I had gone several blocks before I finally stopped hyperventilating. I wasn’t sure what my problem was but I knew I was not one of those people. I would never do what that guy had done. Never! Whatever I was, I wasn’t a sex addict.
    At our next meeting, I made sure Helen knew that. “I may have some problems,” I told her, “but I’m no sex addict. They’re perverted.”
    Helen asked me to give it another try but I knew I was never going back. She asked Paul if he had gone to the codependents meeting and he shook his head. When the session was over, Helen said she was now confident that I wasn’t suicidal and that I would no longer have to see her. But she again recommended that both Paul and I seek therapy.
    Paul and walked out together. We hadn’t spent anytime together outside of the therapy sessions and, once more, I was afraid that I might never see him again. Maybe Paul had the same feeling, or maybe he was just being polite, but he asked me to lunch. Because Paul was due back at his office shortly, we went to a nearby fast-food restaurant called Burger Heaven. We made small talk, avoiding this huge weight between us but neither Paul nor I had the courage to talk about it, to talk about us.
    A guy eating a burger in a corner booth kept staring at me. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place him and figured, or at least hoped, that I didn’t know him. But when Paul returned to the salad bar, the guy finished his burger and came over.
    “Hey, Honey, how about a nooner?”
    I looked up at him, startled. Then I recognized him. He was the guy from the party they called Tex, and he was one of the guys with which I had humiliated myself. I felt sickened. “Forget it,” I snapped back.
    “I could never forget you,” he said with a wicked smile.
    Paul returned to the table. “Hey, Manning. Are you really with this babe? I heard you thought she was a virgin.” He laughed.
    “Get lost, Tex.” Paul looked like he wanted to hit him. Other patrons began staring at us.
    Tex turned toward the door, saying, “Manning, you’re the dumbest guy on earth.” He glanced back, laughing, “Have you even had her yet?”
    When Tex got to the door, he turned around and acted like he was pulling a train whistle near his crotch, saying, “Choo, choo.” Then he walked out, laughing.
    I sat there, too disgusted and humiliated to eat. Paul didn’t sit back down. Finally, he said, “I can’t take this. I can’t.”
    He walked toward the door and I began crying. I couldn’t let him just walk out of my life. I ran out the door.
    Paul had already started his car. I ran up to him, pleading, “Don’t leave, Paul. Please. I can change.”
    A family heading inside the restaurant stopped to stare at me. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but Paul. I cried out, “I love you, Paul. I do.”
    Paul hesitated for a moment. Then he backed up and raced out of the parking lot. “Please! Paul!” I screamed after him. But he was gone.
    I fell to my knees, heaving and crying. After a bit, I felt an elderly man trying to help me up but I twisted away, too mortified to even touch anyone. I jumped into my car and raced out of the parking lot, almost hitting a truck. After a few blocks, I pulled over and sat there crying. I knew I had to get out of that town. Immediately!
    I headed for the biggest city I could find, where I could get lost. Where no one knew who I was or about my past and all the mistakes I had managed to make during my short span on this planet. I was going to start a new life.
    As I crossed the George