A few tense days passed as Happy was given medicine, pumped with water, and we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

At first, he seemed to get better with the medicine.

Then he got worse.

And then it passed.

He had the impaction type of colic, thank God, not the twist. But still, it made me realize that I lived in an ideal world and I needed to sometimes go out and visit the real world. I was still going to work for my ideal world, but things in real life were messy.

I couldn't save all of the animals. I was going to work for trying to. But I couldn't.

Still, if we had to euthanize Happy, I knew that I would have been torn apart, but I would have supported Will. I would have cried for days, but there were some grown up decisions that had to be made and that was one of them. I hated it, but it was true.

Thankfully, it didn't get that far, but it was eye-opening for me to know that I would have made that decision. I never would have thought that I would.

But I never would have thought that I would be dating a Republican, either. Sometimes things weren't always what you thought they would be.

The kids from the ASD program were adorable. They loved riding the horses. You could tell that they were affected by the sensations of the sway of the horse, the movement of riding. While there weren't any huge breakthroughs, there were no major problems, either, and I considered that a victory.

Travis and Trixie were inseparable. Travis's mom was going to get him an Australian Shepherd when they got back home. Will gave her the number of where he got Trixie.

When the kids were packed up in the van, Will turned to me and said, "One week down."

So.

That.

Since the night that I had slept in the bunk, I never went back. I slept in Will's bed every night. Every night, he gently kissed me goodnight, and hugged me, but that was it. Every morning I woke up with Will's cock poking me in the back. And we didn't do anything about it.

I was sick of it. It was worse because I knew that it was my idea. And my thoughts were getting more and more sexual, since a package had arrived for me that day. I couldn't wait to use it. Still, we weren't done with the moratorium. There were some things that I had put off talking about because I was scared of the answers. No time like the present, I guess.

I turned to him and said, "When you have a second, can we talk?"

"Sure. Now?"

I nodded. We went to his house, to the back mancave with the television, and sat on the couch. He sat next to me, pulling my legs into his lap.

"Can we have a mature discussion about politics?"

He looked at me and held my calves firmly, comfortably. "Yeah."

I reached over and touched his cheek. "So tell me why you're a Republican."

"Don't want to pay taxes."

I looked at him. He let out a breath and continued. "I guess it's just a personal responsibility thing. I'm not opposed to helping people. I do it." I nodded. "They say Republicans give more to charity than Democrats. But it's just that I don't like being told what to do by the government and I don't like paying for it. The social stuff — gay marriage and all that, I don't care about. Not my issue."

"What do you mean 'not my issue'?"

"People can do what they want in their bedrooms. I don't want to tell them what to do and I don't want them telling me what to do. Guess I'm more libertarian, although they're crazy. But I don't want someone regulating my land and I don't want someone taking my money through taxes and spending it on stupid shit. Roads? Sure. Schools? Sure. But some program to do I don't know what? No. People can figure that shit out on their own without the government. I don't want to be forced to do it."

I looked at him and listened.

"Anything else Mr. Thrash?"

"Probably so, darlin'. I dunno. If you want to know, ask and I'll tell you. Why are you a liberal?"

"I want to help people. I don't think that people do it on their own and I think that they need help to do it. And I want a clean environment and sustainable future for all the generations to come."

He nodded. "Me too."

"We're not all that much different are we?" I whispered.

"No baby, it's mostly just the label. And some other shit, too," he grinned, "but we can figure that out."

Then he did this maneuver where he moved my legs off of him, laid me down on my back on the couch, and pressed himself on top of me, whole torso to whole torso, his legs between my legs. And he kissed me like he was devouring me, but he kept his hands to my hair.

It made me hot all over and my pussy throbbed.

And this made me mad, at myself. I had needed the time to cool it with Will, and to think about it, but now my body was taking over and it was not good. Days of sexual thoughts were not helping, and now having his beautiful body pressed to mine, was just too much to take.

"Get off, Will, we can't do this for another week."

" 'Kay," he said, starting to move off of me, and I grabbed him back.

"Don't go."

He laughed. "Which is it, darlin'—"

I interrupted him. "I need your fucking cock in me and I need it right now, Will Thrash. It's been days. You better do it."

"I need it there too but we have a deal, so no."

"No? You asshole." I tossed back at him.

He looked down at me, then pressed his forehead to mine. "This was your idea. I want my end of the bargain. No. I want the 'do anything' in a week."

I shivered with the anticipation of pleasure. "You can have it now."

"No."

I shoved him by the shoulders. Of course it didn't phase him. "Stubborn fucking man."

"I'm stubborn? Look in the mirror baby."

"Asshole," I hissed.

"It's been what, a week since you called me that? We just had a mature, responsible, adult conversation about politics and I thought we made some progress. So now what is it? You're so focused on the labels, on the shit. What is it?" His eyes were flaring, looking at me.

I looked away from him. This was it. This was the problem. After all the labels, all of the excuses, all of the shit. I couldn't open my heart to him because I had to leave.

"If I decide to be with you, what will happen to me? To us? After this summer, I mean," I blurted.

"I'll take care of you of course, we can—"

"But how is that gonna work? With me in school, I mean."

"Darlin' I love you but half the time you don't let me get a word in edgewise—"

I froze.

"What did you say?"

"You don't let me talk," he said patiently.

"The other part."

He looked me straight in the eyes, the warm, chocolaty part of his eyes intent. "I love you, Marie. Have since the day you slammed into me gettin' outta the shower."

"You love me?" I started to shake, trembling underneath him.

"Don't you feel it too?"

I just looked at him, eyes wide, unable to answer him. "I don't know," I said in a small voice. "I need to take a break for a minute."

And he got pissed. Fast. "Shit," he spat. He got off of me and stood up. "Marie, figure out what you feel, and when you do, come find me." And he stalked out of the room and upstairs.

Now what should I do?

I was shaking, trembling, almost in tears. I wanted to run upstairs and talk to him. I wanted to call Amelia. I wanted to figure this out. I didn't know what to do.

Not knowing what to do, I got up off of the couch and bolted out of the house, running as fast as I could to the beach.