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What's Done is Done

I didn’t expect him to tell me he had had sex with that boy. I wasn’t even sure I would have ever wanted him to tell me that detail.

No, I thought wearily as unsolicited images flooded my mind, I didn’t want to know that.

But what’s done is done, right?

“Please Ally,” John begged into the phone, “I can’t lose him.”

I glanced at the clock. 2 AM. My eyes, which had been threatening to close and allow my brain to drift off into a peaceful slumber only moments before, were now wide open and staring straight ahead into my dark room. I sighed tiredly.

“Ally?” John questioned, an unfamiliar nervous edge in his voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? When this all started,” I demanded.

“I don’t know!” He sounded so pitiful and I mentally reprimanded myself for being too harsh.

“Well I guess that doesn’t matter right now,” I said more softly. “This is wrong. You do realize that, right?” Darn, I just couldn’t keep the anger out of that last part.

“But I love him,” John replied after a pause.

“Oh and I’m sure he loves you too,” Too sarcastic. This wasn’t going well. I needed some sleep and time to process the whole mixed up situation.

“He does. I know he does,” Even softer now. He needed sleep too.

Let’s talk in the morning, okay?” I said as gently as possible.

“Okay. Everything will be alright, won’t it?” My poor best friend, who was I to tell him anything other than “yes” after all he was going through?

“Of course. Now get some sleep.”

“You too. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight.”

Sleep soon overcame my still racing thoughts. All that night I slept soundly, dreaming of a less complicated era of our friendship.



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