The Joyce James Saga, Pt. 2

Soon after meeting, our "sisters in Christ" relationship evolved into a letter writing contest. This was Joyce's idea. The letters would be declarations of our love for each other. Proof. The anticipation of every exchange made me anxious. Would I have written enough? Would Joyce still love me?

I can remember making an exchange during one of the bonfires, in the dark, by the light of the fire. We were off by the parked cars, meeting after sharing furtive glances at one another during the meeting. We exchanged more than one each because we accumulated letters over the course of the days when we couldn't see each other. I distinctly remember one of her letters simply saying, "I love you," written in very large print. Even at the time I thought, "This is cheating," but I said nothing, not wanting to upset her. From the beginning, I understood that I couldn't upset her without risking a big scene.

I don't remember exactly how Joyce conveyed to me that taking her love away from me was an ever-present possibility if I upset her, but she did, and quite effectively. I spent much of the next 3 years tiptoeing around her volatile moods. Hot, cold, indifferent, needy, accusatory, indignant, grandiose, magnanimous.

Today I would quickly recognize that she had a personality disorder and was an alcoholic. And a pedophile. But then, I knew nothing. I was a kid.

At some point, we started talking on the phone. This was before the days of answering machines and call waiting and, like our letter writing contests, talking became another way of proving my love. We had to "talk" for hours. I put that in quotes because often our time on the phone consisted of me being on the phone while she partied with friends, went to the store, or put others on the line to talk to me while she flirted with someone. She was always threatening to be with someone who loved her more than I did.

Wow, I've never written that down before. Doing so makes me feel sick to my stomach. I'm going to have to stop now.