"What!"
"Should I not have done that?"
"Ah…Michael…just…never mind. Did she sound mad?"
"No. She wanted to see if you were all right."
"So, you drove my car, unlocked my door and…took off my clothes, put on the T-shirt and put me to bed?"
"And put you in the shower."
"What? Oh, God."
"You puked all over the sidewalk, Jill. You missed your dress but covered my shirt. I put it in the wash if you don't mind."
Taking a deep breath and mentally recalling the image of what he just said, I pull up my knees and drop my head. "What happened after I showered?"
"After we showered…"
"We?"
"Jill, you puked all over me. And you were too drunk to stand up. I didn't want you to fall through the glass door." The image of Meg Ryan in “When a Man Loves a Woman” comes to mind. "You leaned against me. I washed you, while holding you with one arm to wash myself. Found that T-shirt and put you to bed."
"Where did you sleep?"
He hesitates and reaches for my face, gently laying a finger under my chin. "Next to you." I look into his eyes. That look is back again. "We slept, Jill. That's all."
"I can't believe this. I've ruined Monica's wedding."
"No, you didn't. Everything was perfect. Just like she wanted it to be. I made sure you didn't do anything to embarrass her or you. I promise, Jill."
I drop my head again and start to cry. Michael pulls me to him, but I push away. "Michael, just go away. Thanks for bringing me home…and…and taking care of me. But, I need you to leave."
"I don't think you need to be alone right now." And that's all it takes.
"What the hell do you know about being alone? It never seemed to bother you before. You couldn't wait to run out that door."
"I know. I'm so sorry, Jill."
"Sorry?" I jump up and pace back and forth. No. No. Don't let him get to you, Jill. "Michael, I was wrong about letting you come here for my daughter's wedding. I should have listened to Scott and Dad. But I didn't. I thought I could handle this. But obviously, I can't. I have fought years of the shit you put me through, and now it's back."
"Jill, please," he says, standing and trying to comfort me in his arms.
"Stop it," I yell and break from his embrace. "You know, the night you left, I stood at this window until the sun came up waiting for your headlights to pull into the drive. Just hoping that, by some miracle, you'd come back. That maybe you'd changed your mind about wanting Monica and me in your life. But as the sun rose and shined on my face, I knew you never would. You told me that the day you married me. So, what did I expect? And in some ways, it was a relief, and I should have been glad it was finally over. Like a life that cancer was slowly rotting away, and death is a blessing." I wipe my face and turn to look at him. His eyes are full of sorrow and tears and pain. Somehow, it's lifting. Something I've always needed to say to him. A bit a closure. "Thank you for bringing me home and taking care of me, but I want you to go now." I turn to walk back to my bedroom and stop at the doorway. "And thank you for finally leaving us," I say, and close the door.
I sit on the bed and pull a tissue from its box on the nightstand. I cry in silence and hope he doesn't walk through that door. The sound of the hall closet opens, where the washer and dryer are kept, and I hear the dryer door slam shut. He must be getting his shirt. I then hear him talking in the living room. Must be on his phone. A few minutes go by and a light tap on the door.
"Jill, I've called an Uber to take me to get my car. Please tell me you're okay."
Shit! Of course, I'm not okay. He just conjured up the last twenty years of my hell. "I'm fine. Goodbye."
I hear the front door shut and wait a few minutes before exiting the bedroom. Cracking open the door, I see he is indeed gone. My feet step on something, and I bend down, picking up a piece of paper on the floor. It's a note.
Dear Jill,
I know I didn't deserve to walk our daughter down the aisle. And you are right about me never being a part of her life. I know the pain that I have caused you all these years, and sorry will never fix it. Me coming here was not to hurt you again; it was a chance to see you, see our daughter, see what I have missed. In some ways, it was punishment for myself, and in the process, I hurt you again. There's a lot I would like to tell you, Jill. Please see me again so we can talk. I have no plans of returning to Seattle and I’m currently renting a house here in town. Here is my number. Please call me. I need to talk to you.
847-555-1415
You are still very beautiful. Thank you so much for allowing me to have a part in our daughter's day.
Love, Michael
Then
Scott still wasn't home, and I needed Michael's number. Maybe he was at Jen's. But would he even give me his number? I picked the phone back up and called Jen's apartment. Hopefully, April wouldn't answer. But then, I could ask her. Yeah, probably not.
Jen answered. "Hello?"
"Hi, Jen. Is Scott there?"
"Yes, hold on." I heard her cover the phone and yell Scott's name. "He's on his way. He's out front fixing the brakes on my car.
"Thanks." I heard the phone set down and soon Scott was picking it up.
"What's up?"
"Well, I need Michael's number." I cringed.
"Why?" I knew it.
"I…I just do. That's all."
"Tell me why."
Why was he making it such a hassle? But I did need to think of a reason. "He was just here on a motorcycle, and I think he dropped something."
"Like what? Just tell me, and I'll call him."
"Okay. I want to call and see if he wants to go to the dance with me." There I said it. But of course, he began laughing.
"Stop laughing. He already asked, and I said no. Now I'm changing my mind."
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm not. Now, are you going to give me his number?"
"Fine," he said and read out his number. I copied it down and hung up. Now, I needed courage if I was really going to call him. I looked at the time and saw it was three hours before the dance. Hopefully, he went straight home after dropping me off.
I dialed his number and panicked when his answering machine went off. "Hey, you've reached Michael Danforth. I'm not here. Leave a message."
I waited for the beep and cleared my throat. "Hey, Michael. Jill here. Um…if your offer still stands for the dance, I would like to take you." By saying I'd take him, it made me feel like maybe I felt bad for turning him down. "So…"
"Hey, Jill. I just walked in. What's up?"
"Oh, Michael. I kind of felt bad after you asked to go to the dance. And since you gave me a ride on your new bike, I would like to take you to the dance. As a thank you." It was a lie, but I didn't want to sound desperate.
"Sure. What time should I pick up?"
In my mind, I was jumping up and down, doing my happy dance. "Um…six?"
"Perfect. I'll jump in the shower and be there at six."
"Awesome. Thanks," I said.
"No problem. See you later," he said and hung up. I couldn't believe it. I was going to the dance with Michael. I was the happiest girl alive. Little did I know; my whole would change, and my life as a young teen would never be the same. I should have never let Scott give me his number. From here on, Michael would affect everything in my life, and I was too young to understand. And by the time I was old enough, it was too late.
I wasn't sure I wanted to dress grunge and looked searched my closet for something sexier. But, nothing really screamed sexy. So, I wore the dress I bought and borrowed Mom's black stockings and black high heel shoes. I was actually surprised she had high heels and let me wear them.
At six o'clock, the doorbell rang and my stomach jumped. Mom called from downstairs, and I stalled in the mirror. My hair was down, and I tried my best to blow it out straight. Stepping out of my room, I walked as graceful as I could in the heels down the steps. Michael was
waiting by the front door dressed in a suit. God, he was gorgeous, and I pictured him dressed for work, remembering the suit bags at the mall. He smiled up at me, and I thought I saw a spark in his hazel eyes. Did he see me differently?
"Hey, kid. You sure clean up," he said. He wasn't the most grandiose compliment, but to me, it was everything. Michael was looking at me, and I felt unique and pretty in his eyes.
"Hi. You look great too. One of the suits you bought?"
"Yeah, it is. On its maiden voyage—just for you."
Just for me.
He was holding a box. "I wasn't sure what color you were wearing. So, I went with a red rose. Can't go wrong with roses," he said as he opened the box. Inside was a single rose corsage with baby's breath. He took my hand and placed it around my wrist. I loved the feel of his hands on my skin. They were well-manicured and strong looking, with an expensive looking watch on his wrist.
He had even taken the extra time to buy me a corsage, and I had nothing for him. "I'm sorry," I said. "I wasn't expecting this and didn't get you a boutonniere."
"Not a problem. I got me a pretty girl on my arm," he said with a wink and lifted his elbow. I wrapped my arm around him, just when Dad walked in. I looked at Mom to soften the situation. After twenty some years, she had the technique down.
"Arthur, this is Scott's friend Michael. He's making sure Jill gets to the dance safely. It's better than two young girls going alone." She stressed the alone part.
Michael held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hudson."
Dad stared at Michael's hand and then shook. "And you'll make sure she gets home safely." It wasn't a question.
"Of course, Mr. Hudson."
Dad gave Mom another look and then retired to the front room, where his clickers were lined next to his chair. "Ten o'clock," he yelled from the room.
Michael smiled down at me. "Yes, sir," he said, and we walk out the door—me on his arm.
His Corvette was parked out front and my already Michael-cloud-number-nine was elevated into hyper-drive. I was arm in arm with Michael, going to the dance in his Corvette. What else could a girl want? I could die happy now, all because of this moment. But later it would only be a fracture on my heart of memories I wished I never possessed.
He opened the door and helped me inside. The car was just as grand inside as out. Black leather seats that shined and smelled of luxury. Once he was in the driver's seat, he grabbed my hand and gave it a small kiss. My eyes widened and wondered if, by the end of the night, he would kiss me on the lips.
"Which way, my Princess?" he said and started the car.
"Take a left at the end to the street and then another left. The school is ten blocks from there."
I couldn't believe I was here, here with Michael and the smile on my face never left the entire ride there. Soon, we were pulling into the school, and I couldn't wait for everyone to see us together.
He opened the car door, and as we walked together to the school, I tried to remain cool, like this was an everyday happenstance. But the smile on my face said it all. I was in Heaven.
Once inside, Tammy spotted us and waved us over. She too was not wearing the combat boots. I took Michael over to where Tammy and Ryan were standing and felt everyone's eyes on us. It was my red-carpet moment. Only, I didn't know, that someday, I wished these same eyes would stop looking at me.
Tammy did her best to compose her look. But underneath, I knew she's screaming. Holy Shit! You are here with Michael. "Michael, you remember Tammy, and this is her date, Ryan."
"Nice to meet you, Ryan," Michael said and shook Ryan's hand. I loved to watch Michael interact with my friends and show his adult business side. While most guys in my class were wearing nice jeans and a polo, Michael was stellar in his suit—tie, cufflinks, and a shiny watch to set it all off. He was a cover for GQ magazine—and I was falling hard.
"So, you guys want to get some soft drinks and find a table before the DJ starts?" Tammy asked, and I felt a little embarrassed that all we could have was soft drinks. Michael was a man, a man who drank beer and wine and I wanted to fit into his world.
"Would that be okay, Michael?" I asked.
"Sure, whatever you girls want to do."
The eyes followed us all the way to the soda bar, and I was now feeling a bit intimidated from all the attention I was getting with Michael. Especially when he wrapped his arm around me. But, I pushed that feeling away and wrapped my arm around him. He looked down at me with a smile, and I felt he liked it just as much as I loved his around me.
We ended up with white sparkling grape juice in champagne glasses, and I felt more to Michael's level—though it contained no alcohol. Even though I was in a gym, decorated with pink and white balloons, I fantasized I was a princess at a ball, and Michael was my prince.
"To the class of '98," Michael said, raising his glass and we all clinked them together. He was a good sport, and I feared maybe he would feel out of place. But I hardly doubted Michael would feel out of place anywhere. He would always be the center of attention, no matter where he was.
We found a table and Michael pulled out my chair. Ryan had already sat before Tammy, and she gave him a look, warning him that he could learn some matters from Michael. Everything Michael did made me feel special. But these would be the things I would only look back on and realize none of it was real. I would learn the hard way that human nature can just behave for a short time, and a lifetime was impossible.
The DJ began with the announcements, and the lights dimmed as the music started to play. He started out with a few pop songs, Madonna, and I hoped Tammy wouldn't mention how I loved Madonna. I knew Scott hated her, and probably so would Michael. But before I knew it, my shoulders were already moving to the beat.
"I think someone's ready to dance," Michael said and took me by the arm and onto the dance floor. Again, all eyes were on us, because we were the only ones on the floor. I soon lost my reserve and fell into rhythm with Michael and his moves. He was a good dancer, and I had only danced with friends or alone in my room. But, he made it fun and soon, I was just as comfortable as if I was alone dancing in my room. Tammy pulled Ryan to the floor, and the four of us were the main spectacle and also just what the party needed. Because after that, the dance floor filled up. And, it was all because of Michael.
We were about to return to our table when Shania Twain's, “You're Still the One” started to play as the first slow down song. "Hey, they're playing our song, Kid," Michael said and pulled me into his arms. It no longer bothered me when he called me kid, and maybe it was just his way of warming up or breaking the ice. He held me closer this time, and I lay my head on his chest. It was broad and warm and firm and all man. I closed my eyes and listened to the beat of his heart and the voice of Shania. I knew that, from this moment on, here is where I wanted to stay—forever. And a part of me always did. The part I was never able to get back.
The song was over, and as we walked to our table, Tammy wanted to use the restroom and asked me to go with her. I excused myself from Michael, and we left for the bathroom.
Our walk there was all cool and calm, but the minute when we hit the bathroom door, our excitement exploded. "Oh my, God. Oh my, God. I can't believe this night," she said. Her voice was a few octaves higher, and her exuberance reacted in me.
"I know. This is much better than going stag. I mean, is the God shining down on us tonight or what!"
Nonetheless, we were giddy and in all our glory. And it was too bad that it was our last year in high school because tonight would have set the prescient for all our school days. But one thing was for sure…it was set for the rest of our senior year. More so than I would ever know.
When we stepped out of the restroom, Andrea Felky and her mean-girl-minions enclosed around us. She was the girl who was voted for everything—even if she wasn't participating. I think it had a lot to do with being the only Asian in our class. Like we needed to treat her extra special and make her welcome. But ironically, she
was born and raised right in St. Jo.
"So, decided to bring your cousin, Jill? Or is he your uncle? Because he sure looks old enough," Andrea snidely remarked, and the rest of the minions stood around with their arms folded.
I wanted to say something smart back but couldn't think of a thing. That's when I heard Michael from behind. "Neither. Jill walked into my apartment one day with a pizza, and I thought: ‘Who is the beauty?' I couldn't let her leave until I had a dance with her." He looked at me and stretched his arm, parting the mean-girl-minions and reached for my hand. "Do you remember that, Jill?"
I was suddenly gifted by the gods with some chutzpa and replied, "A day I will always remember. And, whenever we're together, they play that song." And even though Michael thought it was to benefit the minions, it was the truth. I will always remember that day and wished it never happened.
Now
I hit the shower, eager to get to work this morning. The last twenty-four hours have been a kaleidoscope of past and present, colliding into one another and trapping me in the crosshair. When Michael said he had no plans of returning to Seattle and was renting a place here, the walls I built around my little world became too thin. I spent all of Sunday inside—fearing I would run into him. I need the distraction of work to keep me focused. Or unfocused I should say.
I'm about to start the water when I hear my cell phone from the bedroom. Hoping that it's Monica, I run out of the bath and snatch my phone from the nightstand. The hospital reads on the screen.
"Hello, this is Jill."
"Hi, Jill." It's my supervisor. "Due to low census, I'm calling you off today. Looks like you get that extra day you wanted three months ago."
Three months ago, I put in to have the Monday off after Monica's wedding, thinking I would need the extra time to unwind. However, due to new circumstances, I want to go to work today. "Well, I can still come in."
Love, Michael: A second chance romance Page 7