We gathered up Ryan’s things and carried them upstairs. Ryan set his large suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. All his clothes were just shoved into one big heap. I noticed the name on the luggage tag wasn’t Ryan’s – his tag read ‘Shell-B Enterprises’ with a Los Angeles address.

Ryan carried most of his stuff into the laundry room and then joined the two boys who were already making themselves at home on my furniture.

A few seconds later, Ryan came back into the bedroom. “I want to give them some money,” he told me. He kissed me quickly after returning his wallet to the nightstand.

“Hey!” I called out, stopping him before he got too far. “I have that new video game system, if you guys want to play. It’s all in the large drawer below the TV. There is a sports disc and a Ninja fighting game.”

Ryan’s face lit up with happiness.

I pulled the zipper open on his duffle bag and dumped it out on the bedroom floor. A moment of shock struck me when I saw the strip of condoms and an empty condom wrapper mingled in his stuff. I picked up the empty wrapper - the inside was dry. Seven were still intact.

I ran over the facts that I had on him so far. One, he slept with Francesca, but that was over a year ago. Two, he was supposedly in a relationship with a wanna-be actress he knew from Pittsburgh, but that was before the Francesca incident. Three, his last known girlfriend dumped him over the summer; and Four, Kelly had said that Ryan was the opposite of what Suzanne had accused him of being. Ryan had said to me once that it had been months. Months of what though? Not having sex? Not dating anyone?

I tried to remember the exact question I asked him while we were fishing - was he seeing someone. He said no, and to answer the question I wasn’t asking - months. The question that remained in my mind was who was the lucky recipient of the used condom?

The front of his suitcase was lumpy, so I unzipped it and pulled out the contents. There were a few boarding pass stubs and luggage receipts mixed in with some used napkins and empty gum wrappers. Mixed in that were a few pairs of dirty socks. I slid my hand back inside the large pocket to make sure I had gotten everything when I felt my fingers bump into something stiff.

In my hand was an ordinary greeting card with the words “I Miss You” printed on the front above a picture of a setting sun. I opened the card;

inside was a picture of Ryan cuddling with an actress I recognized immediately, Lauren Delaney. Long, silky brown hair with a stunning face and figure – it made me cringe to think he was with her once. Inside the card was a hand-written sentiment:

I stuck my hand back into the large pocket to see if there was an envelope, but the pocket was empty. I flipped the picture over; there was the answer I was looking for – February 9th of this year. I laughed to myself from the irony; that was right around the same time I found Thomas in bed with that girl.

I quickly shoved the card and picture back down in the pocket and stuffed the pieces of ticket stubs and paper remnants on top of it. Even though I could hear him with Jason out in the living room, the last thing I wanted to do was get caught rummaging through his things.

I picked up the strip of condoms and shoved them back in his empty duffle bag.

That action led to another thought - every time Ryan made love to me, not once did he use protection. He never even attempted to put a condom on - ever. He knew I was taking birth control pills, but yet he was still taking chances. He obviously used condoms before with other women – but why not with me? Why was I different?

Our lovemaking had always been spontaneous and unrestricted, and we certainly didn’t hold a lot of conversations during our moments to talk about birth control. Why did neither one of us seem concerned with whether or not I got pregnant?

“Tar, where are you going?” Ryan asked as I opened my apartment door.

I looked at him with the thoughts of unprotected lovemaking still in my mind.

“I’m going to see if the mail came,” I quickly answered. He sprang to my side in a few quick steps.

“You’re not going outside, are you?” he muttered under his breath.

“No. Mail slot is in the front door. The mail gets delivered at three thirty.”

“Phew,” he sighed. “Please don’t go out unless you absolutely must. There are too many fans out there right now.”

Inside my door, I saw a larger pile of mail than normal. Lying on top of my mail were cards simply addressed to Ryan Christensen. I shook my head in disbelief.

He smiled quickly at me when I returned, then resumed his actions with the controller. He and Jason were playing the ninja game, both of them were swinging and punching their controllers in the air. It was slightly amusing watching them play.

“This is like a freaking workout!” Ryan groaned.

I sorted through the mail; Electric bill, two credit card solicitations, new clothing magazine, and a few other random pieces of junk mail were mixed in with his fan mail.

I held up the envelopes that were addressed to Ryan and waved them in the air.

“What’s that?” he asked, swinging his arm to kill the pretend bad guy on the television screen.

“Ryan Christensen fan mail,” I announced.

“You’re kidding!” he scoffed. “Just throw them in the trash.”

I was dying of curiosity to see what his fans were writing to him about. “Can I open one?”

He grimaced at me. “Why the hell would you want to do that? Honey, you really don’t want to see that. Just throw them away.” He laughed. “Good hit, Jay!”

I figured he really didn’t care, so I ripped open the top envelope. Inside was a card with hearts drawn on it and the girl who sent it even conveniently enclosed her picture with a phone number. He was right; these women were beyond delusional.

“What do you think, Honey? Is that psychotic fan the one for me?” He laughed, eyeing me as I looked at the girl’s picture.

“Maybe! She looks sort of desperate!” I teased.

“Can I see?” Jason reached for the picture. “Dude, look at this chick!” He handed the picture to Shawn.

“Damn!” Shawn choked. “She’s a two bagger!”

Ryan started laughing. “Okay, let me see.” He put the game on pause and pulled the picture out of Shawn’s hand.

“What’s a two bagger?” I asked.

Jason was laughing too hard to respond.

“A two bagger is where the chick is so ugly that you both have to wear bags over your heads. That way if her bag falls off while you’re doing her, you don’t get blinded by the ugly,” Shawn explained.