Carly's Story - Sex Stories

Carly's Story

... was a number she didn't have saved in her phone, so she let it go to voicemail. A few minutes later, the same number called back. Once again she didn't answer.

"If it's that important, whoever it is will leave a voicemail," she said, tossing her phone on the couch cushion beside her.

The third time the phone rang, it dinged a minute later, and there was a voicemail left. Carly got up and went to the bedroom, not wanting to disturb me, reasoning that it was probably someone from work that needed something.

I heard her talking behind the door. Though it was muffled, whatever she was saying sounded like she was arguing with someone. A few minutes later, she came back into the living room and plopped back down next to me. I could tell she was upset, but not crying, and not quite angry. Just frustrated.

"Everything ok?" I asked. I put my arm around her shoulder. She was breathing a little heavy.

"Not really... that was my mom."

Of all the people I would have ever guessed would have been on the other end of that phone call, her parents would have been at the bottom. From what she ended up telling me about them, when she was in college, her mom finally just stopped calling, after failing in her attempts to get Carly into conversion therapy.

The answer to my first question was going to gauge how upset I got as well.

"So who did she call?" I asked.

"What? Jason, she called me," Carly said, not understanding my question.

"No," I said, "Who? Did she call ...

... Carly? Or..."

"Oh. She called Carly." she said.

"Ok, that's not nothing... what did she want, and why now, after what, 6 years?" I asked.

"Yeah, almost 6 years."

A long pause. I could see her mind was racing.

"My dad's dead."

Her voice was deadpan in the delivery of that news. I looked at her, but the expression she wore was unreadable.

"Wow Carly... I'm sorry." I offered.

"What's to be sorry for?" She said angrily. "He hated me, and I hated him. To me, he's been dead since he kicked me out! How am I supposed to feel about my mom calling me to tell me that he's gone, he left me years ago, just like her?"

I couldn't answer that question for her. I'd never really thought about the relationship I had with my own family before Carly and I met, but in the time since, I grew to really appreciate them after hearing the details about how her parents treated her.

"No... I really am sorry. I'm sorry that your father wasn't a dad to you, that your mother wasn't a mom to you. It's ok for you to be upset about that."

She shrugged her shoulders, still processing.

"My mom wants to see me," she said, "she said that dad got really bitter in the past few years, and never wanted to talk about me. She said she wanted to move on, and try to be a part of my life, but my dad wouldn't let that happen."

"Do you believe her?"

"I don't know. My mom was always at least a little nicer than my dad, but it doesn't explain all the conversion therapy bullshit. It also ...