Metal Urge

by Wilbourn, E. D.

  In the depths of her heart and soul, she knew she was home at last.

  Keeping that thought close to her heart, she got dressed, made her way to the kitchen, and leaned against the doorway watching Nigel prepare their breakfast. She felt such a rush of affection for him as he spooned steaming eggs onto a colorful plate that she dashed up behind him and snaked her arms around his waist squeezing him so tightly she could feel his ribcage strong and solid against her hands.

  “Good morning, love,” he said softly, twisting his head to receive a kiss on his cheek. “Are you feeling better since you got a bit of sleep?”

  Nodding, she pressed her face against his warm back.

  “Have you tried to call Thom this morning?”

  Shaking her head no she resisted the urge to burst into panicked tears.

  “He hasn’t done anything stupid, Deanna. I promise you that.”

  Feeling the words rumble and vibrate through the skin and bone and muscle of his back, Deanna pressed her lips gently to the spot where her ear had been and asked if she could set the table, determined to believe Nigel. Who would know Thom better than his boyhood friend? Nigel thanked her but suggested TV trays in the living room instead. He directed her to the closet where Nick stored his coveted trays, and went back to draining the grease off of the last stack of bacon. He carried their meal into the living room while Deanna poured two glasses of orange juice.

  “It’s a proper feast, don’t you think?”

  Eyes wide, Deanna stared at the heaping plate of scrambled eggs, topped with mounds of succulent bacon. “If I eat like this every day I won’t be able to maintain my girlish figure,” she quipped hoping to lighten the mood.

  Nigel sat down on the overstuffed couch pulling Deanna onto his lap. “I like my women meaty and robust,” he teased.

  Laughing, she pinched his bristled chin between two fingers and jiggled his head like a mother would do to get the attention of an errant child. “You are so full of shi…”

  He kissed her sweet and slow, nipping her sarcasm in the bud. When he broke the kiss, he smiled at the dreamy look in her huge green eyes.

  “Am I really full of shi…?” He started to say, but she cut him off with a deep, loving kiss. She pulled back and grinned at him.

  He ran his fingers through her long curls, and sighed, “You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you, baby; missed talking and laughing with you.” He cradled her against his chest, knowing they would have to talk in detail about Thom and the horrible details of her miscarriage. Just thinking about it made him want to fall to his knees and once again beg forgiveness of Deanna, of God, and of that innocent little baby---his baby---who never got the chance to take its first breath or feel the joy and love it would have brought to its parents. Tears stung his eyes as he buried his face in her soft hair, afraid to look at her, terrified she would leave him when she remembered what he had done to her the day she came to his flat, torn and bleeding, filled with anguish over his betrayal. Thom had stepped in and rescued her like a true hero, unlike the cowardly prat hiding behind his terror of commitment. If he lost her to Thom again…

  “Nigel?” She was smiling at him, her eyes so full of love. “The food’s getting cold,” she said, picking up a piece of bacon and popping it in her mouth. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed another piece which promptly disappeared between her smiling lips. “I didn’t know I was so hungry,” she mumbled through a mouthful of the crunchy treat.

  Spooning a hefty portion of eggs onto a plate, she handed it to Nigel, offering him a thick slice of the delicious bacon. He held it between his teeth while Deanna slid off his lap and snuggled against him on the couch. Laying his plate on the TV tray, he crunched down on the bacon and grinned.

  “Good, isn’t it?” Deanna said, stuffing another slice into her mouth.

  “Mmmph,” he agreed.

  They polished off every last bit of food, and sat back groaning with satisfaction.

  Deanna offered to make tea while Nigel turned on the telly, switching channels until he found an American movie he reckoned she would like. The plot was eerie and riveting: a psychopathic woman obsessed with a radio DJ was relentlessly stalking him. As the thriller progressed, the woman became more and more demanding and bizarre until Deanna and Nigel were on the edge of their seats, wondering what the madwoman was going to do next. A tender love scene with the DJ and his girlfriend on the beach was accompanied by a song that to Deanna described her feelings for Nigel more succinctly than she ever could. Just as the lyrics said, the first time she saw Nigel’s face was all it took to fall deeply and thoroughly in love with him. She reached for him, searching his face for a sign that he heard and understood those simple words and what they meant to the two of them and their fate. When he smiled his understanding, she relaxed against him and exhaled softly.

  “We were meant to love each other, Deanna,” Nigel said gently. “No matter how hard I fought against it or how many times you denied it, we’ve finally ended up here together like we’re supposed to be.”

  Nodding in agreement, she pulled him close for a kiss just as the front door banged open and Nick and Maggi stumbled through the doorway giggling like children. Maggi stopped abruptly staring at Deanna like she was a thief caught red-handed with the crown jewels.

  “What is she doing here?”

  Nick shushed her and grinned at Nigel, “Well, well mate. Look who we have here.” He strode over to Deanna and stuck out his hand. “I’m Nick Ramsey, Nigel’s flatmate.

  “Hi,” Deanna said. She looked at Nigel helplessly, and took Nick’s hand. “I’m Deanna Darmody,” she said, glancing at Maggi’s pouting scowl.

  “I know who you are, darlin’. I never thought I'd meet you, um, here, is all,” he grinned, spreading his arms wide to indicate his living space.

  “C’mon Nick, leave it, yeah?” Nigel said. He stood up and helped Deanna to her feet. “I’m so sorry. I thought Nick would be gone for a few days,” he whispered in her ear.

  Maggi flounced up to Nick nestling against him and smirked at Deanna. “So, where is hubby, hmmm?”

  Nigel stepped towards her threateningly.

  “What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Nick placed his hand on Nigel’s chest and pushed him back as a warning.

  “Mind what you say, Maggi,” Nigel pointed his finger at her to make his point clear before taking Deanna’s arm.

  “Wait, Nigel,” Deanna said, pushing his hand away gently. “I have something I want to say.” She took a deep breath and faced Maggi. “Yes, I married Thom, but it’s over and had been over long before I met up with Nigel again.” She stopped when she noticed Maggi cross her arms and sneer like the hypocritical bitch she had come to expect. “So you’ve never made a mistake, Maggi?” Before she could respond, Deanna walked up to her and smiled sweetly. “I can’t believe that you’ve already forgotten what happened last summer at Glaston Hall. I’d be more than happy to joggle your memory for you…now if you’d like.”

  Maggi shook her head and looked at Nick, fear marring her pretty face.

  “No? Well, maybe some other time.” Deanna turned to Nick, “It was nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” She gathered up the dirty dishes and Nigel followed her into the kitchen leaving Nick to stare at Maggi in bewilderment.

  “I’m sorry, Deanna. I really am.”

  Shrugging, she washed the plates and silverware. As she scraped the greasy frying pan, she asked Nigel to clean up the TV trays and put them away. He took the soapy cloth she handed to him without a word. Noticing the guilt-ridden look on his face, she squeezed his hand. “You don’t need to be sorry. I found out about Nick and Maggi. So what? I wish them all the best.” She turned back to the sink and began washing the last bits of crusty grease out of the frying pan.

  “But seeing her---us---in the same room?” Nigel stammered. “I never wanted that to happen.”

  Wiping soap suds off of her hands with a dish towel, Deanna turned aro
und and hugged him. “That's all in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’ve both made mistakes and all is forgiven, okay?”

  “I don’t know what to say. I don’t deserve you or your forgiveness, Deanna.”

  She caressed his face and tried to smile, “Just say that you'll always love me no matter what before I try and call Thom again.”

  Chapter 40

  Snow flurries danced and whirled outside the front window. Thom shivered and took another sip of scalding hot tea. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, heralded by brightly lit displays in store windows, and colorful street lamp decorations swinging in the frigid December breeze. Christmas was lights and glittering decorations. Christmas was love, family, hearth and home. Christmas was the most dreaded holiday season since the love and light of his life had rejected him for his malicious wife-stealing band mate, Nigel Guilford. Pushing his tea cup aside, Thom got up and walked to the icy window. He could hear faint cries as Mims stalked the rooms upstairs searching for Deanna. The bloody animal had gotten on his last nerve with her endless mewling and crying. Perhaps he envied her feline behavior: the ceaseless hunt for her mistress, driven by her instincts, and her love for Deanna. It wouldn’t do for him to pace endlessly, crying and begging his beloved wife to come home to him even though he desperately wanted too.

  In a fit of utter desolation, he had gone through her closet, pressing her clothing to his face, breathing in the fragrance of her skin. It nearly drove him mad with grief. Endless lonely days and nights stretched before him in the bleak, white wasteland that once was the great city of London. There was no one to witness his despair. Jayson and Penny had gone to Spain with both sets of parents where they would happily map out the details of a spring wedding. Alistair was in Bilston with his family, and Brad in Wales with his grandparents and siblings. His dad had called the day before asking that he and Deanna come to Bilston by the twenty-second or twenty-third to make preparations for their Christmas holiday. Thom didn’t have the heart or the emotional strength to tell him that he would be coming alone. A painful lump swelled in his throat when he thought of the look on his father’s face at the news that his daughter-in-law was shacking up with Chloe’s ex just a scant two months after marrying his son.

  It was shameful, hurtful, humiliating, and completely unbelievable.

  How could his wife turn her back on everything they had gone through together that tragic summer? How could she so easily forget the vows they took in front of friends and family---in front of God himself? The phone rang and Thom considered letting it go on ringing. Deanna had already called to arrange a time to drop by and collect her belongings in the morning. It was a cold and calculated call designed to make it clear that she cared more about her work clothes and school books than she did for her husband’s broken heart even though she had tried to sound concerned and contrite. In a voice heavy with fake guilt, shame and remorse, she had failed to convince him that she really believed she was at fault for any of this god awful, hurtful mess. There would be no discussion of reconciliation---Deanna was right where she wanted to be---with Nigel Guilford.

  He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the sound of ringing, still persistently annoying. He strode to the phone and snatched up the receiver saying nothing. Trevor called out ‘hello’ several times before Thom recognized the voice. He apologized and Trevor sensing something was very wrong, quickly extended an invitation for lunch at his home the following afternoon. He didn’t invite Deanna. Somehow he understood that she wasn’t with Thom any longer, and probably never would be again. It was strange, but after kicking his heroin habit, his power of perception had become almost uncanny. It frightened him a bit. Just as he sensed the little blonde bitch had left Thom for Nigel, he felt Maggi was involved in the sordid mess as well; perhaps with a friend of the home-wrecking bastard. He hadn’t worked out the details, but Thom would no doubt be willing and able to fill in those ominous blanks.

  Chuffed that Thom had accepted his invitation, Trevor rang off. Lighting his eighth cigarette and pouring his fourth cup of coffee since awakening to face another boring, lonely morning, he leaned back on the cushy velvet sofa feeling sorry for the poor sod who sounded so beaten and listless on the phone. They had much more in common than he ever imagined they would. Thom needed a friend, and he needed an ally. This might prove to be a most productive partnership after all.

  ****

  As the cab pulled up in front of Thom's flat, Deanna couldn’t help but notice how quaint and charming the building looked covered in snow. It could have been a winter scene on a picture postcard sent to loved ones back in the States. She paid the driver and stood in front of the walkway staring at the door and then down at the keys hanging limply in her gloved hand…the keys Thom had asked her to leave under an empty ceramic pot next to the front door when she was through packing her things. Nigel had insisted on coming with her, but she refused to let him. She needed to do this alone. It wasn’t going to be easy, and her heart was heavy with regret, guilt, and sadness. In truth she welcomed the negative feelings, relishing the way they tore at the very fabric of her treacherous soul, blotting out the joy of her reunion with Nigel. She had no right to that joy---she had come by it in the most underhanded and cowardly way imaginable---by betraying her husband. Thom had hurt her physically and emotionally in his drunken rage, but she couldn't really blame him. Day after day she had ignored his pleas for the two of them to try and mend their failing marriage. Each time he reached out for her, she flinched away as though the very thought of his touch repulsed her. Nothing could have been further from the truth---it had been her damned, foolish pride. Not that it mattered anymore. At this moment she was forced to admit it was her emotionally charged reunion with Nigel that had completely destroyed what little was left of her battle-scarred relationship with Thom, and there was no turning back.

  Taking a deep breath of the freezing air, she walked up to the door and placed a hand on the cold, damp wood before summoning the courage to unlock it and enter the flat. All was silent except for a soft scraping sound she couldn't identify. A blast of frosty air hit her when she entered the dining room area and noticed that the French doors to the garden were slightly open. “Thom?” she called. “Are you here?” A wild fluttering started in her belly working its way up until her heart was pounding with dread.

  “Don’t come out here, Deanna.” Thom’s voice was muffled by the falling snow, but she could hear the warning in his words.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, looking out of the doorway at Thom, who was squatting on the ground by something she couldn’t quite see.

  “I told you not to come out here!” He snapped, trying to turn his body to shield what was lying on the ground next to him but it was too late. He stood up and wiped his wet hands on his jeans, trying not to look at Deanna as her hands covered her shocked and horrified face. She gazed at the rigid little body of Mims lying frozen on the ground in disbelief.

  “Oh God, no! Mims!” she cried, her tears freezing instantly like tiny icicles on her face. “How did this happen? She wasn’t allowed outside without one of us to watch her,” Deanna said shaking her head and crying.

  “A pipe burst yesterday so I called a plumber to fix it.” Thom crossed his arms, hugging himself against the cold as he looked down at Mims body. “He must’ve left the door open a crack and she slipped out.”

  “Didn’t you think to look for her?”

  Thom looked hard at Deanna and frowned. “I was out most of the night. After I got home I called for her. When she didn’t come running for food I reckoned she was fast asleep in your old bedroom. She’d been acting daft since you left…” He turned away and swiped at his eyes. He felt Deanna’s arms slip around his waist and heard her sob against his shoulder. Pulling away from her, he told her to go inside while he finished digging a hole for Mims.

  It was hard work chipping away at the frozen ground, but he was finally able to dig a shallow grave. Looking down at the small hole, he shiver
ed and called for Deanna to come outside and join him. They stood solemnly over the cat's body for a few minutes as the silent snow swirled and floated around them. Deanna handed Thom one of her brightly colored wool scarves to wrap Mims in before he laid her body in the grave. She placed Mims favorite kitty toy beside her and ran her fingers over the stiff, little form in one last caress.

  “My sweet little girl,” Deanna wept. Reluctantly she moved away, wiping her eyes and nose with a soggy tissue.

  Thom placed some rocks over the grave and promised that he would make a cross to mark Mims' resting place as soon as the weather got a bit warmer.

  “I’m sorry I sounded like I was blaming you for her death,” Deanna sniffed.

  “It's alright.” He knew it was a devastating blow to her---she loved that cat more than she ever loved him. Pushing past her, he entered the small kitchen and offered to put on the kettle for tea before he left.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “That was the deal, yeah?” Thom said, placing the kettle on the burner. He excused himself to go and change into dry clothes, leaving Deanna to stare after him numbly. When he called out a final goodbye from the entryway while he pulled on his leather jacket, Deanna rushed out of the kitchen and grabbed his hands. He shook her off and smiled sadly. “I’d rather you didn’t act sentimental.”