It wasn't long before I heard a car pull up in the back yard(which was fenceless), the voices of Merrill and John breaking into the party. A reasonable person would have done pretty much anything except what I did. I ran out into the backyard and attempted to claw my way through the crowd to Merrill, then screamed drunken obscenities at anyone who held me back.

Merrill was clearly in love with Stacy, staring at her in a pleading way as he told her to leave Jay. His eyes spoke of the same hurt that I felt, his smile empty as empty as my heart. From that moment, I never could have hit him. I felt his pain, sensed his longing, and knew that the only whore in this house was unrequited love.

Stacy insisted that she was in love with my knight in shining heartbreak, persisting on until the end. I watched helplessly as they got off the bench, Merrill staring helplessly on the other side. What a sick game we were playing, me and Merrill. We had been together, they had been together, and the two of us were the only ones paying the price.

I left for a quick burger break, stuffing my face in a way only a lush can truly enjoy. I came back to the hippie den in better spirits then when I left, as I had gone in a topless car. Nothing could revive my spirit as well as the fresh night air on my face.

" Stacy's gone." My friend said as I walked in. Her face was knowing, and she quickly added, " Jay is in the other room."

I barely had time to walk in before he was upon me, " I love you." He said, " and I mean it. You don't have to say it back, but will you give me another chance?"

My head began rambling, immediately insisting upon saying no. How could you accept that lousy bastard? He's a liar, a cheat, a whore. Then I remembered Merrill. I remembered the way his eyes pleaded with hers, the way I wondered if mine had done the same to Jay's. Even if he broke my heart again, I knew I'd rather try than lose him forever.

Now we're obviously still together. He turned out to be the most faithful man I've ever dated, honest, and a good father. He told me later on that he had felt the same way about me. That he had watched me everyday with the same aching heart, thinking I had never loved him to begin with. What a sick irony, isn't it? Four people, four broken hearts.

Anyways, that is the story I wanted to tell two months ago. Perhaps I got a little carried away.