The car ride took only twenty minutes, and we stepped out again in the warm Florida air and walked up to the condo belonging to his friend. "This is so awesome of your friend to let us have this place for a week," I said.
"Sure is. However, he owes me for completing his project."
Michael tapped in the code for the door and we walked into a beachy, inviting floor plan. Whitewashed floors and cabinets with paintings of palms and seascapes. The master bedroom was huge with an adjoining bath, complete with a large shower and garden tub. Monica's room was set up with bunk beds, complete with toys and her own bathroom. As I unpacked her clothes, she climbed up and down the beds, deciding which one she wanted to sleep in.
"I want the top one," she said. But it didn't have a rail, and she wasn't too happy when I told her she must sleep on the bottom bunk.
"What's all this crying about?" Michael asked, popping his head through the door.
"Mommy says I have to sleep on the bottom. But I want the top."
"You'll fall out and hurt yourself. Do want to get hurt, and not be able to swim in the big water puddle?" Michael teased her. He then picked her up and gave her a bounce on the top. "Look how far down it is." She looked down, and her eyes did show a little fear.
"Get me down, Daddy." Michael laughed and told her she had to jump into his arms.
"No," I said.
"I'll catch her." It didn't take much persuading. She jumped into his arms like a flying monkey. I eyed him a look, and he kissed me on the cheek. "Let's get to the beach."
"Yeah," Monica squealed, and we quickly changed into our suits, packed a beach bag and headed out the front door. Walking to the beach, I wore a wrapped skirt low on my hips and bikini top. Monica was covered in sunscreen, and I dressed her in a little red, polka-dotted sundress. She had on little whited sunglasses, and Michael picked her up and carried her on his shoulders. He looked like a man who was proud to be with his family. And I was proud to be with him. He looked so gorgeous, wearing a white, long-sleeve shirt that was unbuttoned and his slim-fitting swim trunks. I watched the two of them as he walked ahead and they both held out their arms. "I'm flying, Daddy. I'm flying."
A flock of seagulls came screeching by, and Monica flapped her arms, pretending she was one of the birds. I've never seen Michael so happy. Happy with us. And even as I watched this tableau of father and daughter, I held my breath. It was like some part of me knew this was the calm before the storm.
We reached the beach. Foamy waves rushing to shore, and Monica yelled with excitement. Michael continued to carry her on his shoulders, as he walked to the water and held out his arms. Monica did the same, and I quickly snapped a picture with my camera. A moment in time that I could have forever—for when someday, I would not have the real thing.
He lifted her from his shoulders and set her feet in the water. She giggled and splashed around. He picked her up by her hands and dipped her up and down. She would kick the water and laughed that innocent childish giggle.
"Is it cold," he asked her.
"No. Not like the snow is cold."
They continued to play, and I laid out our blanket on the sand. I unwrapped my skirt and stretched out on the blanket and rubbed on tanning oil. I was probably going to burn, but I didn't care. I was here, in the sunshine, with Michael and our baby. I was happy. I was in love.
Michael stripped his shirt and walked over and sat down beside me. I kissed his cheek and thanked him for bringing us here. He rolled me over and lay on top of me. Giving a small growl in his throat, he smiled and kissed me back. I was sure it all had something to do with his boss, Mr. Hayden, and how he tried to seduce me. Michael now took notice of what he had.
"You're welcome. But you will be paying me back," he said with a tease in his voice.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. I will be fucking you senseless while we're here."
I smiled and pulled his face to me and kissed him again. Though his use of the words was harsh, and I wished he could say ‘make love' or even ‘have my way,' that was how Michael expressed himself to me. And I had to take it for what it was worth. He did love me. He just couldn't say it.
We sat up, and I rubbed oil on his back as we both watched Monica shovel sand into her little bucket. "She's having such a good time," I said.
"She sure is."
Moving to my knees, I wrapped his shoulders and kissed his neck. I was working up the courage to ask for another baby. The moment was perfect. And in perfect, I meant perfect for us to be here in this moment, not praying for another baby. I didn't want to ruin this little moment in time. So, I took a deep breath and started to form the words when Michael began talking first.
"I think I have made a decision," he said, looking out over the water.
"Oh yeah? What?"
"I'm leaving Whirlpool."
"Leaving? You mean…quitting?" My stomach knotted, and I was afraid he was leaving us too. And this little vacation was goodbye.
"Yes, when we get back, I'm putting in my two weeks' notice."
"What will you do for a job?" Was he planning on my startup salary? I wasn't making much yet. And Michael was not the stay-at-home-dad type.
"I haven't said anything, but Boeing has contacted me for an interview. I think I'll take a week's vacation and check it out. See what they have to offer."
Boeing. Seattle. The place he really wanted to be. Before me. "And, what if they offer you something? Do you have a price in mind?"
"After what fuckin Hayden did at the Christmas party, it doesn't matter the price." I now wondered if he knew he was being fired…because of me.
"Are you in trouble, Michael…because of the Christmas party?"
He looked at me bizarrely. "Hell no. I'm not in any trouble. At least, not that I know of. But, I'm ready for a change," he said, and I hoped his change was only as employment. And not me.
"So…if you take the job, we'll be moving to Seattle?"
"Kind of a long drive from Michigan. Yes, we'll be moving to Seattle."
My heart rejoiced. His plans did include me. I knew now was the time to discuss growing our family. He was ready to make changes, and we were still involved. "Well, I've been doing some thinking also."
"Like what? You've just started at the hospital. Kind of early to be making career changes. You'll be able to find another nursing job in Seattle."
"No, not that. I've been thinking about us…having another…baby." I said it, and it was out. I couldn't take the words back. His eyes bulged as he looked at me like I said something so incredulous. He took a deep breath and remained quiet. And I took that as a good sign. He didn't yell NO.
"Let's just see what Seattle brings." I pressed my lips and nodded. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. But deep down, I knew what Seattle would bring.
We decided to take a walk down the coastline, and the three of us held hands. Monica joining us in the middle. Every moment I could, I looked and Michael and fell deeper in love. I watched our shadow in front of us, and infinite being joined all together. When the waves came in, we picked our little girl up, and she would scream and giggle. We were so happy. And at the moment, I knew it would be the happiest I've ever been with Michael. I would be right.
The sun was dropping on the horizon, and I suggested to go back, and I'd make us lunch and put Monica down for a nap. With all her playing that day, I knew she wouldn't even make the walk home. As Michael carried her, I was right. Our beautiful daughter fell fast asleep, hanging over Michael's shoulder. She was out.
As Michael changed her out of her wet bathing suit and put on dry panties, she never woke. I made us a quick salad with the food Michael's friend had left for us when we arrived, and we ate it together on the patio that overlooked the gulf. Everything was coming along. But I was still afraid to breathe.
I was rinsing the dishes when Michael picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. "It's now time to pay me back for this vacation. You ready to fuck hard?" I was eager to make love to M
ichael and once again tried not to show the disappointment on my face with his choice of words.
"Yes, my handsome husband. I'm dying to make love to you," I said and waited for his response.
"Ooh, make love. Why so fancy? Young people like us don't make love. We fuck. Hard," he said and threw me onto the bed. His clothes were off in a second, and he stroked himself as he came to me. "Upon your knees and make love to me with your mouth," he said. It wasn't quite what I was looking for, but I took it.
As I pleasured him orally, he praised me on my skills, and I did pride myself because I could so easily pleasure him that way. But after all, he taught me how to suck him off and how he liked it.
He was close and pulled himself away and told me to lay back and spread my legs. I did, and he crawled up and covered my smooth pussy with his mouth. This was how he liked me to keep it, and it did make for great oral sex.
I was so close and couldn't hold off as his tongue so skillfully lapped around my sensitive bud. And I came, thrusting myself uncontrollably. He smiled approvingly at me and moved between my knees and pushed himself deep inside me. I came again, and it was the first time in a long time had I come twice in our lovemaking. It had to be all the magic this place had brought us, and I would cherish this forever.
Michael moaned out his release and as he did, kissing me softly. It was so not like him to do this. He usually came hard and then fell over me. And I didn't mind those times too, because I would feel our hearts beat up against each other.
He lifted his head and looked at me with concern. "Please don't tell me you already went off the pill."
"No, I haven't."
He turned his head and gave me a sideways look. "Promise?"
"I promise, Michael. I just wanted to talk about it."
"Like I said, let's see what Seattle brings."
Seattle was already a sour word in my mouth. Although I understood his reasoning, I felt Seattle took precedence over growing our family. But I had to trust him.
He stilled eyed me suspiciously. "I promise, Michael. I'm still on the pill."
"Okay," he said and moved from the bed. I could already feel the distance he was putting between us.
It had snowed six inches when we returned to Michigan, and I tried to get the magic Florida had brought. I was determined to keep Michael's focus on us. And now back in the cold and snow, I knew his mood would begin to falter.
We found our car, covered in snow at the airport, and Michael repeated every curse word in the book. "Michael, please," I said and threw my eyes at Monica, who was repeating, ‘fucking snow.'
After throwing the suitcases in the back and I do mean, throwing, I helped him clean the snow off the car before we got inside. "Instead of being mad at the snow, let's make a snowman when we get home," I said, doing my best to encourage the situation.
"Jill, I'm not building a fucking snowman."
"Michael," I seethed.
"Let's make a fucking snowman," Monica expressed proudly, sitting in her car seat.
"Now see what you've done? She's cussing like a sailor."
He rolled his eyes at me. "Jill, vacation is over. Reality is here, and you need to get these melodramatic notions out of your head. No adult wants to build a snowman."
"Oh, so I suppose we bundle up our three-year-old daughter and have her build one herself," I sarcastically said.
"She played on the beach by herself."
"We were there with her, Michael. Those are the things parents do. Can't you understand that?" We were already fighting and once again it had to do with me wanting more from him. The more that involved him being involved.
We pull into the drive, and the SUV became stuck in the driveway.
"Fucking son of a bitch," Michael said, and it was too late to begin chastising him now. The Michael I spent the last week with in Florida was gone. And back was the Michael who didn't want to be here. Be part of this.
Now
It has been six months, and I'm still holding my breath. Every day with Michael, now my husband, has been complete paradise. I wake with kisses to my face, breakfast, and coffee waiting for me when I leave the shower. And sweet notes inside my lunch bag packed by Michael. Some days, I feel I'm in the twilight zone, and sooner or later, it's all going to fall apart. I don't want to think this way, and fear that my thoughts will keep me locked to the past. We can't rewrite the past, Michael says, but we can write our future. Each day the present is now our future. And I must remember this.
Currently, we live in my house…well, our house…again. Michael says this summer we'll live at the beach house he bought. The place he purposed to me. And to tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to living on the beach. It's February now, and today is quite a snowy day. Even though there's enough room for both vehicles in the garage, Michael keeps his outside, giving me full access. Strange from the old days—the old Michael. The old Michael kept his in the garage and parked beside his car was his covered Corvette. My car always remained outside.
He waits for me at the garage entry door, holding my lunch. And though there is no need, Michael has the garage door open with my car warming up inside. He also drives me to the hospital each day. It's kind of cute. While he drives, I catch up with Monica on the commute or talk to Ryan and the girls—checking in on things. It's been tough with Tammy gone, but Ryan says they are coping.
Michael pulls from the drive, and I put Monica on speakerphone. "Good morning, Sweetheart. How are you and Jordan?" I ask, and Michael also gives his greetings.
"Hi, Mom and Dad. We're great. In fact, we were going to invite you and Dad over for dinner tonight. If you haven't any plans."
"I don't think so," Michael says.
"It will have to be late. I'm working a twelve-hour shift."
"That's fine. Jordan won't be home until seven anyway. I'm taking the day off."
"Anything you want us to bring?" Michael asks, now that he's the stay-at-home husband.
"No, I have it covered."
"Great, we'll see you tonight. Love you, Sweetheart."
"Love you too," Michael says.
"Love you both. Bye."
"Bye," we both say, and I end the call.
"Hmm. I wonder what's up," I say, and Michael shrugs his shoulders.
"Maybe she misses us." He smiles over at me and then pulls up the hospital door.
"Maybe." He leans over and kisses me before I get out of the car.
"I love you, Jill." This has become his mantra each day…and little text throughout the day. So not like the old Michael.
"I love you, too." Exiting the car, he pulls me in for one last kiss.
"See you for lunch?" I look down at my bag.
"But you already packed me lunch. But, yes…great. I'll meet you. Just text me, and I'll let you know where I'll be."
"Thanks."
Now out of the car, I wave before walking through the doors. It was hard coming back to work, knowing I would never see Tammy here again. It's hard knowing I'll never see her anywhere again. And she was right, I needed Michael for when she was gone. It's like she just knew. Maybe there is wisdom in death. One thing is for sure, it's non-negotiable. I shiver just thinking about it and how she was so brave.
Stepping into ICU, my new position, I grab the chart and run through the patients on my schedule today. Dorothy, Dotty she likes to be called, is first to have her meds administered through her IV. I reference the correct dosage through the hospital depository and set forth to her room. I feel my phone vibrate in my scrub pocket and give it a quick check. Michael. Miss you already. I'm so happy, Jill. And so very lucky. I love you. With my hands full, I will have to remember to text him back.
When I walk in, Dotty is sleeping, and I notice her skin looks pallor, but her vitals are stable. A little on the weak side, but she did go through surgery, and this can be rough for a seventy-eight-year-old lady.
Logging into the BCMA, I scan Dotty's wristband, and the system accepts her as a patient. I then scan
her meds. All is good, and I administer it through her IV.
"Don't forget to text Michael back," I hear that whispery voice of Marilyn Monroe. There she is, sitting in the bay of the window. The morning sun glowing around her like an angel. Of course, she's an angel. She's my Tammy.
"It's good to see you," I say, logging out of the BCMA. "You've been quiet lately."
"I've been busy spooking around the Kennedys. The ones I can find, that is."
I laugh and finish recording Dotty's information for this morning. "I will text him back. Don't worry. Of all the places you could be, you came to work?" I tease her. But I'm glad she is here.
She hops down and straightens her white dress and walks over to Dotty's bedside. "She was always my favorite," she says. "I took care of her through both hip replacements." Tammy—Marilyn, rubs her fingers down Dotty's cheek. Dotty stirs a little and then opens her eyes. She looks at Tammy like she can see her and smiles.
"It's you," she faintly croaks out. Tammy looks at me.
"I thought you were just my imagination. She sees you?"
"Yep. She can. I'm here to care for her." And when she says this, her eyes turn sad.
"You…what? What are you? Some Marilyn Monroe angel of death?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, Jill. But Dotty's not going to pull through this one. She knows it, and she's ready."
My eyes swell with tears. "Oh, my God," I whisper. Poor Dotty, I think and look down at her. Her eyes are closed, and there's a smile on her lips. I hold her hand, and she gives a weak squeeze. She knows I'm here and she is telling me she is ready. I lean down and kiss her cheek. "You're in good hands, Dotty. In some ways, I'm jealous. I hope she comes when it's my turn," I whisper close to her face. Again, she smiles, never opening her eyes. I look up, and Tammy's gone.
I look back one last time before leaving her room, hoping to see Tammy again. But she's not there. But I do hear her whisper. Text him back.
Love, Michael: A second chance romance Page 27