Love, Michael: A second chance romance

by Gina A. Jones

  I didn't like how it was an effort for him to have to try. But it was progression, and I was willing to accept any effort he was willing to give. I felt now would be a good time to ask him what I wanted for my birthday.

  "Michael," I sniffed and wiped my eyes. He looked at me with heavy tears. "For my birthday, I would like a portrait taken of us. A girl at school is studying photography and has asked if we would like some pictures taken. She has a whole portfolio of expecting parents, and I would really like some of us."

  "That's what you want?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. Just tell me when."

  My smile couldn't have been any bigger. "Really?"

  He held my hands, and it felt so reassuring. "Really."

  "Thank you." Just then, the baby kicked. "She's moving. You want to feel?" I placed his hand over the area, and she kicked again. She was kicking for us. She felt my joy, and it was her way telling me that I too had finally acknowledged her. I had been so consumed of gaining Michael's love, that I hadn't taken the time to think of her. But it was all changing now—for all three of us.

  I stood so he could feel more of my belly and I kissed his cheek. He kissed back, and when his lips found my lips, everything I had been through with us had been worth it. My love brought us together.

  He wrapped me tightly, and the kissing became…sexual. His hands were under my dress and were becoming lost in his touch. It had been so long, and I was falling in love all over again. He picked me up and carried me to the bed. Our bodies pressed into each other, and I felt him growing hard. Our breathing was heavy, our kisses were hungry, and everything in life was had been to get to this moment.

  He pulled off my dress and sucked hard on my nipples. They had become tender, but the ache was a pure pleasure as his tongued massaged soreness. "God, you've grown," he said noticing how my breast have become engorged with the pregnancy.

  "Michael," I cried out his name and then feared he thought I would want him to stop.

  "Are you okay?" His voice was low and breathy. I was in need—in need of me as I was him.

  "Yes."

  "I think you should be on top. Would that be easier with the baby?"

  My heart was connected to my needing center, and it only intensified when he mentioned the baby. We were all one now, and we were going to make love.

  He stood and removed his clothes and then helped with the dress. I was naked for the first time in six months in front of him, and I looked different. My belly invaded the space between us, and he bent down and kissed it. Tears ran down my face, and I thanked him over and over. I told him how much we needed him. How much I loved him. I waited to hear his love back, but I considered that this was how he said it. Through his emotions, thereof and lack of. He wasn't the type who could say it. But with his uncontrollable kissing and touching and crying, this was how he said it.

  He sat me down on his erection and held my hips as he pushed up into me. He was inside me, and it had been so long. He breathed and moaned how it felt so good. How he missed this, and I yelled out his name.

  "Michael."

  He held my belly as we moved into each other, and for once I felt connected, loved—us. It was the most intense lovemaking we had ever had and, for once, life made sense. Why we cry. Why we hurt. Why we love and become so vulnerable. And that's when I realized, I made him weak, and that gave me power.

  As our rhythm increased, so did our emotions and words and breath filled the room. "Oh, God, Jill. I swear…it's never felt so good." As he came inside me, repeating my name, chemistry molded us together as one and all the doubts of the past melted away. We kissed like we were scared and only our skin on skin would ease the fear. We broke each other apart, and now we molded into one. It all made sense now.

  He came hard, and I had already reached my third orgasm. We held each other close, fearing what would happen if we would let go. He rolled me to the bed, and we remained morphed into one another. As our breathing slowed to shallow breaths, I heard Shania in the background, the lyrics of how we made it. And I knew at that moment, I would never stop fighting for us.

  I never slept any better than I did that night, with Michael beside me tracing circles on my belly. We had succumbed to our situation, turning us in a new direction. But little did I know, chemistry came with an expiration date. And, the glue that once bounded you together, would only become something sticky keeping you from moving on.

  Michael had kept his promise to have our pregnancy portraits taken, and we were meeting Beth, the school photographer at The Round Barn. The place was popularly known for senior portraits and weddings. It was a warm spring day, and things have been moving in the right direction for us. I had picked out a few casual outfits—a form-fitting T-shirt tunic and a loose button up shirt. Beth showed me many pictures exposing just a hint of the naked belly. Michael wore also wore a white button-up shirt.

  As I looked around the blooming spring day, I thought about how I would like to get married here someday. Then, I remembered…I was married. Maybe after the baby comes, I could convince Michael to let us renew our vows—have a real wedding.

  The pictures we were taking today would also double as my senior pictures. I was too preoccupied with work, school, and Michael that I never had any taken. But to have Michael in my photographs, along with our unborn child, goosebumps pricked at the thought. I was hoping it wasn't just the chilling spring wind.

  Beth posed us next to a creek that flowed deep and fast, due to the springs heavy rains. The cherry blossoms were the perfect backdrop, bursting with white and pink flowers. "Michael, I want you to place both your hands on Jill's belly and pose your lips on her forehead. Jill, look into Michael's chest…but close your eyes," Beth instructed us. "Perfect. Just a let a slight smile form on our lips. Like you're both thinking about the baby."

  I heard Michael give a slight huff and I hoped the look on my face wouldn't show my disappointment. He hadn't said much since we arrived, and for him to start showing his annoyance, pained on my heart. Yet, he was here. Trying.

  "That was great. Now, if you want to change inside, we can do some of the open belly shots." Michael furrowed his brows, and I explained what we're going to do.

  "Not you, Michael. Me. It's something new some of the new mothers are doing." He rolled his eyes, and I pleaded with mine. I felt everything was coming undone as I went inside and changed. I returned, and Beth posed me with my back snuggled into Michael, his arms around my belly and opened just a few buttons. It was just enough to expose my bump.

  "Jill, lay your head in the crook of Michaels' neck. And Michael, look like you're whispering something in Jill's ear. Jill, smile like he said something romantic."

  Just as Beth snapped the shot, Michael whispered in my ear. "This is silly and a waste of time. I would have picked something else as your birthday present."

  I was sure that the twitch of my jaw as I started to cry would be existent in the picture. They say that a picture can say a thousand words. But for me, it only said one. Sorrow.

  Now

  As I take the drive to Ryan and Tammy's, I contemplate what the hell I've been doing with Michael. Every day for the last month and a half, it's flowers, Love Michael notes, some special dinner and sometimes it's just burgers on the grill. But whatever Michael does, it's laced with…love and romance…and sex.

  I've yet to let him stay the night—though his pleading doesn't stop. After the great sex, I place on my mask and pretend it was all recreational. It's called survival. And survival is a tricky thing. You must remember where all things lead—what to expect. At seventeen, I knew nothing about survival. When the one-way-loveless-marriage escalated to levels unbearable, I had no emotional strength at twenty-two—the day life slapped me in the face. Denial is lost when survival skills don't exist. Now, at the ripe old age of forty-two, I repeat my mantra daily. The best way to predict future behavior…is past behavior.

  Pulling into Ryan and Tammy's drive, I cut the engine, repeat my man
tra, and clear out Michael's text: Have a good day, Jill. I love you. I won't allow myself ever to say the words back and go inside only to find Tammy not ready for her chemo treatment today. She looks gaunt. Her hair has entirely fallen out, and she wears a terry cloth hat now. But today, she's not wearing it, and the life chemo has taken is fulling showing itself today.

  "Hey, honey. Is everything okay? I'm here to take you…" I don't finish the words, because even though I'm happy to be taking her, it's killing her…and me. Chemo is nothing but poison, taking you to the edge of death.

  "I'm sorry, Jill. I thought Ryan called you."

  "No. He didn't. But it doesn't matter. I'm here now. You can tell me."

  "I don't think I can make it today, Jill. I'm too weak."

  "Well, I can see that, honey. Okay, you want me to make you a comfy place on the couch, or maybe outside? Have you canceled your appointment?"

  "Ah…I think Ryan did."

  "Let's get you to the couch. Tammy, haven't they given you something to deal with the effects of chemo?"

  "Yes, it's this patch," she says, lifting her arm where a patch is stuck. "But it doesn't seem to be helping."

  "I'm going to call the hospital and see if they have something stronger. This is ridiculous."

  "No. Don't, Jill. I don't want any more chemicals in my body. It's draining the life out of me."

  "I know. But I hate seeing you suffer. You know that."

  "It's part of it." She walks to the couch, where I follow her and help her lie down.

  "What can I make you to eat?"

  "Nothing. Just smelling food makes me vomit. No offense, Jill." she says, thinking she can lighten the situation.

  "You need something. You've lost too much weight."

  "Good."

  "Stop it. You just don't stop."

  She looks at me. "I'm stopping now, Jill."

  "Well good. About time you… What do you mean you're stopping now?" I don't like what she is insinuating.

  "Chemo. It's only making me worse."

  "Tammy, we both know that's how it does the job. I know it must be so awful for you. But we'll get through this, and it will all be behind us. You are stronger than this. I'll take care of you. I'll do everything, so you don't have to lift a finger."

  "Jill, you already are and so are the girls and Ryan. I just don't want to continue the treatment."

  "Stop it, Tammy," I yell, and it shocks us both. My chest tightens, and I feel the burn behind my eyes. "You are going to finish this, and you are going to be strong. Beat this thing."

  "Jill," her voice is hoarse, and I feel bad that I must upset her into continuing treatment.

  "Let's get you some sunshine. Lots of vitamin D. I'll take you to our private spot. Just you and me. You'll feel better."

  "Jill, I know what you are trying to do, and I appreciate everything you have done. But this is not about you. It's about me."

  "No, it's not. It's about all of us. You would be doing the same thing if it were me. Remember how you lectured me, giving my ass a big kick and told me to get my shit together? Well, get your shit together, Tammy. We're both going to kick this cancer's ass."

  "Jill! Stop. The cancer has progressed. The treatment has had no effect on it. It's now about quality of life. The life I have left."

  My body is shaking and all the survival tactics I had learned fly out the window. Denial invades that spot once again. "What? What are you saying?"

  "Jill, we both have medical backgrounds. You know what I'm saying."

  "No, I'm not listening to you. You are wrong. You are tired and weak, and I understand and…"

  "Dammit, Jill. Stop it and listen to me. I don't know how much time I have left. And I don't want to waste it fighting with you."

  "Oh, my God. Tammy…"

  "Jill…"

  I don't have any words to offer—to her or myself. So, I hold her—and we cry…and cry and cry. I can't believe this. I don't want to be forced to believe this. How? What will I do without her? I don't know if I should be angry at her, or myself. Nothing makes sense at this moment. Nothing is fair at this moment.

  "It should have been me," I say.

  Her chest heaves with cries and laughter. "Now why would you say that? Think you're better than me?"

  "Oh, Tammy. It's just…you have young girls; a wonderful marriage to Ryan. Me? No marriage. Monica has Jordan, so who would miss me?"

  "Everyone, Jill. Monica would be devastated if something happened to you. She's going to have babies, and you'll become a grandmother. And what about me? I would miss you so much."

  "Oh my, God. Let's stop talking about this," I yell. Just the thought of her not seeing her girls graduate, marry, or have children only adds to this atrocious unfairness life loves to heckle upon us.

  I kiss her cheeks and taste our mixed tears. I want to hold onto her for dear life, and maybe she will never be gone. Since the age of four, there has not been a day we have not spoken or been in each other's thoughts. Our lives began when my mom babysat Tammy, and we grew up together. Had chickenpox together. Held hands as we started our first day of kindergarten together. Started our periods on the same day. My life coincides with hers, and I don't know how I'll go on.

  "Jill. You know what I want to do…today?"

  "Anything you want," I say, crying in her eyes.

  "Have you got the next book in that Fifty Shades?" She smiles. Minutes after telling me she doesn't have long left to live, she smiles. The least I can do is give her a smile.

  "Yes, downloaded it this morning."

  "I have to know what happens. I'm all in now."

  "Then that's what we'll do. Let's get all comfy on the couch, or wherever you want to go. The beach?"

  "No." She looks out the back window. "Up there in the girls’ treehouse. It will be like old times when we use to steal your mom's “True Romance” magazines and read them in your treehouse."

  "Remember when we found Scott's “Playboy” magazines?" I say.

  "Oh, God. We had him blackmailed for life. Your mom thought you and Scott had the best brother-sister relationship the way he took us wherever we wanted to go. She had no idea the hell we were putting him through."

  "You go out to the tree house, and I'll meet you there. My purse and phone are still in the car." She thanks me with a kiss to the cheek and walks out the patio doors. I watch her weak and frail body climb the ladder, but she does make it, and I run to my car. When I do, I see a text from Ryan.

  Ryan: Jill, I didn't call because I thought she might change her mind, or maybe you talked her out of it.

  Me: I tried. But even now, she's stronger than me.

  I wait for his response, which doesn't come and head to the treehouse. She's all glassy-eyed and smiles. "You ready?" I ask.

  "Yep. I need to know if Anastasia comes back."

  We curl up under the open spot in the treehouse, where the sun shines in, letting the phone lay behind our heads as we lay on the blanket and start chapter one.

  ‘Fifty Shades Darker.'

  Dear Jill, how was your day? I miss you. Tonight please let me take you to the lake as we watch the sun go down together. Love, Michael, the note on my car reads, along with a single red rose. It was hard coming to work today after learning Tammy has such little time left. I asked to be put on leave—to be there for Tammy and her family. The hospital said they would work with my schedule and give me the time needed.

  I give Michael a quick text.

  Me: I'll be your guest.

  Michael: Thank you. I love you.

  I read it, and I know he's waiting. But, I won't let my defenses down. So, I drop the phone on the passenger seat and head for home.

  I change into a sundress and sandals when Michael rings the bell. I open the door to another bouquet of flowers and a kiss. "You are beautiful as always," he says.

  I access his attire—cargo shorts and a white T-shirt. He is handsome, but I'll only address his look. "You look…beachy."

  "I
f that's a compliment. I'll take it."

  "Have you eaten, or shall I make something?" I ask, taking the bouquet of flowers to the kitchen. Each day a new bouquet—each day a patient gets flowers. If I kept them all, my house would be busting at the seams.

  "We’ll get something in town," he says.

  "Oh? Well, just let me put these in some water."

  He waits and then holds my hand as we walk to his car. Maybe I shouldn't be with him tonight. But Tammy made me promise I would give him a chance. She doesn't know I'm only using him for comforting sex. And that makes me ashamed of myself.

  In the car, he smiles differently at me. I can't place it and just give my usual smile back. I told him about Tammy's decision, and so maybe that's what the lake is all about. I tell myself I'm doing this for her—not myself or Michael.

  He parks and we walk hand in hand down again to the beach. To all the watchers, we are a couple in love. Little do they know. I'm not going in blind this time, and sooner or later, I will need to end this before the new wears off and the old Michael shines through. I know it will be coming. I just want to be the one in the driver's seat for a while.

  The sun is still high, and it's early before the sun sets. He suggests we take a walk down the coast and find a spot where we could be alone to watch the sunset.

  As we walk, I can't help but think of Tammy and how few sunsets she has left to watch. Michael senses my despair and pulls me in. "I'm truly sorry for Tammy. I know how much she means to you. Let me know if there's anything I can do. I might know a doctor she could call—seek more advanced treatments."

  "You do? Yes, thank you, Michael. I'm still not ready to give up on her." He kisses my forehead.

  "I know. Life is such a gift," he says and looks deep in my eyes.

  We continue our walk along the coastline where it ends with a sharp bend. "We better go back and grab something for dinner before we miss the sunset."