Campus Corner (Open)

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"Good," she says. "I can't sleep because he was going to, you know....do that to me. He told me he was before Don came in and I got out." She wipes a time tear. "It scared me so much."
 
I find her hand and squeeze it gently. "It is scary," I tell her. "It's beyond scary, it's terrifying. I know sweetie." I give her a sad look. "It's actually happened to me, sweetheart."
 
"It's okay; it was a long time ago," I explain. "That's how I know about the melatonin. My therapist recommended it to me. It helps with sleep a lot." I squeeze her hand. "The best way to get over it is by being with people who love you, and care for you. And talk about it, alright?"
 
"Okay," she smiles. "Thank you. And thank you for being nice to me. I haven't been nice to you, and I'm sorry."
 
"Sometimes," I say with a wry smile, "Sometimes, a kind word strikes more deeply than that of a harmful one. I completely understand why you did what you did. And I'm sorry for your loss, I can't imagine what that was like."
 
"Yeah, that was hard," she tries to smile. "I was hoping it was a boy that I would name Reece." She looks across the bar at me. "He is a GOOD man, Lynn."
 
She grins at you and leans in to whisper, knowing you would appreciate it. "And why we let him go after us so hard, huh?"
 
She sighs. "Yeah, I enjoyed those times," she says with a sigh. "I hope you enjoy them now," she smiles at you.
 
"Yes, it always was that," she says. "I'm jealous," she smiles at you. "But I'm happy for you two. You're good for him."
 
I smile back. "Thanks, that's what Don said." I look over in your direction. "And at least he can make sure that Scott doesn't do anything. Did you know that he thought I was 16 when I walked in the door for the first time?" I giggle.
 
"Girl, you look like every high school teacher's worst fear, and every college boy's dream," she says. "A lot of us did."
 
"Trust me, some of the things I used to wear for him....you were right up his alley," she gives you a look suggesting there's more to Reece than you know.
 
"He loves little girls," she says. "I mean," she catches herself, "not like that. I mean, schoolgirl outfits and something the little high school and college freshmen girls might wear. Drives him nuts. He will be inside you for days." She tells you.
 
I laugh. "He did say something about seeing me in my high school track outfit," I tell her. "I really don't mind. I think it makes him feel young, and makes him feel happy." I blush. "There I go, psychoanalyzing him. Curse of a psych major."
 
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