Oh, no you don’t, Michael. Don’t bring him over here, I will him. Too late. They’re practically upon me. I panic but try to maintain a cool exterior.
“Lorraina,” he avoids meeting my eyes. Like he knows I’m staring daggers at him, “this is Father Patty. Father Patty, this is Lorraina Dabney.”
“Hello, Lorraina,” he says with an Irish lilt. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance. Michael has told me much about you.”
“Hello…Father.” I’m pretty sure that’s what I am supposed to call him. I watch Michael move off to the side of the Jeep, and I lose sight of him. Now who’s the coward?
“So, Michael tells me you were reluctant to come inside for Mass,” he doesn’t mince words.
I’m going to kill him. This is so embarrassing. “Yes, sir. I…I’m not Catholic. I just didn’t feel comfortable.”
“Let me assure you that you are most welcome. I’ve known Michael for quite a while now, ya know? He’s quite adamant about you being comfortable here, so I’ve offered my help in that area. Whatever is holding you back I can try to help you with, my dear.”
I hesitate for a moment, “I haven’t been in a church in many years. I’m…I’m a terrible sinner in so many ways.”
“Aren’t we all, dear?” He says on a wink. “I’ll tell you what, though. How about we go into my office for a few moments so that we can speak privately?”
“Um…OK.” I get out of the Jeep to follow Father Patty and see Michael sitting on the back bumper. I give him a tentative smile, and he returns it with a grand one. My entire attitude changes. If this is all it takes to make him happy, I’m all for it.
Once I’m in Father Patty’s office, he makes me feel quite at home. He makes small talk, asking about my family, my religion, my schooling. He explains different artifacts and paintings that adorn his office.
As he wraps up a description of his miniature desktop edition of La Pieta, I realize it’s now or never. “Father Patty, I have greatly sinned,” I assert. I know how this part goes. I’ve seen The Godfather many times.
“No sin is too great for God to bear, and God’s forgiveness knows no bounds, my child. The real question is have you forgiven yourself?”
He’s hit the nail on the head. Wow. He’s good. “No, no,” I shake my head and clear my throat, “I…could never do that. What I’ve done is unforgiveable. I’m irresponsible, selfish, traitorous. In a word—evil.”
“Dear, the very fact that you believe you are evil proves that you’re not. You need to be reconciled to God. I can help you. It doesn’t matter that you’re not Catholic.”
“Really?” he nods his head in assurance. “Thank you, Father Patty. I’ll consider it.”
………………………………………………………
The next part of his routine has me reeling even more than the first. I find myself jogging along a three point five mile bridge that runs over the gulf. I’m proud of myself; I haven’t collapsed, and I don’t quite sound like a bronchitis patient just yet either. “Promise you’re not too mad at me,” Michael implores me.
“I promise I’m not mad,” I assure him for the third time in between shallow breaths.
“I knew you were ready for a shove.”
“Oh, really?” My caustic comment has teeth. I try to temper myself. “You know this is what you’ve been doing our whole lives? Pushing me. Shoving me. Making me better.”
“So, it sounds like a thank you is in order,” he replies sweetly.
“I’m not thanking you yet, especially not for showing me this little part of your routine,” I kid.
“Ah…it’s good for you.”
“Let me show you what I think is good for you,” I turn and tackle him against the side of the bridge walkway. He grunts as I back him against the concrete. I bring his face down to mine and pull him in for a long, searing kiss. I pull back slightly and giggle. “Oh, what are you doing to me? I abhor public displays of affection. Sorry about that. I just couldn’t seem to help myself.”
He runs his hands over my head and pulls my ponytail back to tilt my head back. He takes the lead this time, leaving me even more breathless than when I was jogging. “The feeling is mutual,” he breathes.
We finish our jog in silence. He’s right. It does feel amazing even though my shins are burning, and I’m pretty sure I’m going into cardiac arrest.
“So what now?” I ask as I drop my hands on my knees and peer up at him.
“I think we’ll head to the store so that I can get some groceries for our dinner tonight.” He stretches his muscles in a practical and precise manner. I imitate him.
“Oh, you’re cooking?” I can’t hide my surprise.
“It’s one of my many skills,” he brags.
“Oh, really? Is there anything that you’re not good at, Mr. Humble?”
“Um…nothing comes to mind. I’ll let you know if I think of anything, though.”
“Please do.” I laugh.
At the grocery store, he very methodically goes through selecting his vegetables and his pasta and his bread. It looks like it will be a veritable feast. As we make our way to the checkout, I hear someone call out for Michael. I turn and it’s a guy I recognize from high school with a cart full of beer and chips.
“Hey bro! What’s going on?” he asks, giving me the once over. Michael releases my hand as they pull each other into a typical guy embrace.
“Hey brother! Nothing much.” He introduces us, and they spend a couple of minutes catching up while I ogle Michael. I’m jerked from fantasizing when I hear Michael declining an invitation to a party later on that night.
“Don’t let me hold you back,” I offer.
“No, no. That’s not it,” he says to me. To his friend, “We’ll try to make it over,” he replies noncommittally.
I thrill at his use of that little pronoun.
………………………………………………………
“I can’t believe you don’t have a Harley yet,” I call out as I glimpse yet some more Harley paraphernalia scattered throughout his studio.
“I know. Me either. I’ve been saving, of course. But essentials always seem to come up. I’m getting pretty close, though.”
“You’re gonna look so good on a bike,” I utter as the image of Michael riding his future Harley consume me. I’m so entranced by it that I don’t hear him come up behind me until I feel his hot breath and warm lips on my neck.
“You’re gonna look so good on the back of my bike, babe,” he murmurs against my skin.
I actually groan out loud. I feel him chuckle against me, and then he is gone back behind the divider to the kitchen. The smells wafting from his kitchen are making my stomach rumble.
I’ve been exploring his studio while he has been cooking. My Michael is a genuine renaissance man. His art is inspiring, detailed, intense. The colors are subdued, lending them an otherworldly essence. His brushstrokes are heavy and rounded, reminding somewhat of Van Gogh. He has several Choctaw rituals painted to perfection. After I analyze his art, I begin leafing through his sketch books. His sketchbooks contain many different art forms: landscapes, still life, music, poetry. Wow! I think. He’s so amazing.
I saunter up behind him and wrap my arms around him, squeezing him to me. This feels so right. I release a shaky breath and take a deep, reassuring one. “I love you, Michael.”
He stills and I hear his throat catch. I loosen my arms as he turns slowly to pierce me with his look. Is my confession too much? I worry and drop my eyes to his chest. “Ah…Lorraina, you have no idea what those words do to me. I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear them.” He takes my chin between his thumb and finger and forces me to meet his gaze. “I loved you yesterday. I love you today. I’ll love you tomorrow…forever,” he seals his declaration with a kiss. “I’ve been dying to tell you that I love you since the moment I saw you sitting at Mona’s. I had to put the ball in your court, though. I was afraid to push you too much.”
His brow furrows. “Why would think you don’t deserve my love? That’s ridiculous. You’re the most deserving person I know.”
Hadn’t I just thought this same sentiment about him? Instead of answering him, I lean in and give him another kiss. Baby steps, I think.
Over his delicious dinner, we talk about his friend from the store and the party that’s planned for the night. He tells me that it’s a going away party for his cousin, and I insist that we should go.
“I don’t know that that would be a wise thing for me to do. I try to avoid hanging out with my old crowd, ya know? Wagon. Temptation. All that.”
“I’ll be there to protect you,” I promise.
He takes a deep breath and releases it. “Aah…I can’t resist you. OK. We’ll go.”
“Speaking of old relationships,” I start but pause to take a sip of my water, “I’m thinking it’s time I paid my dad a visit.” I know my next admission is bound to bring on a round of uncomfortable questions, but he has to know. “I haven’t seen him since I graduated high school.”
“Really? I take it your last visit didn’t end well.”
That’s the understatement of the year. “No, it sure didn’t. We have some hard feelings that I think I should try to assuage.”
He sees right through me. “That sounds terribly impassionate, which is not the Lorraina I know.”
I drop my fork on my plate, making it clatter. “Well, Michael, he’s hurt me so many times, over and over; so I guess it is a form of self-preservation. Honestly, I wish I could I forget about him all together, but every time I try…I just feel myself being pulled back towards him. Guilt, I guess.”
He seems to consider this for a moment. “You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.” He seems to consider his next words carefully. “Ya know, I went to see him right after he burned your house down.”
“You what?!”
“Yep, I had it in my head that I was going to beat him down until he begged for mercy. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone so badly. Well…he’s one of two someones I wanted to beat down that badly, but that’s another story. Anyway, when I got to ya’ll’s property and saw your home was in ashes and that tree that you always took pictures by was scorched, and your grandparents were so torn up, all I wanted to do was be with you. Nothing else mattered. Not even my vengeance. He was long gone by then anyway.”
I smile as I remember my favorite tree that I made my mom take all my pictures by. It was a mimosa tree with silky soft pink flowers. How is possible to miss a tree? “I never knew you went to see him. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I don’t know. I guess I figured it wouldn’t make any difference. I wasn’t able to exact my revenge in your honor,” he grins the young boy smile I remember from long ago.
“As contradictory as it may seem, I think it’s sweet that you wanted to inflict bodily harm on my father. I dreamt of it for years myself.”
“You dreamt of revenge?” he gives me a doubtful look.
“I did. I always thought, had I been there, I would have grabbed his shotgun, loaded it, and made it explode within him as soon as he spread those first drops of kerosene. I wanted to save my mother and brothers from all the pain they had to endure at his malicious hands.”
I didn’t realize tears were streaming down my cheeks until Michael was kneeling beside me and kissing them away. “You know? He hurt you too. Maybe it’s not a good idea that you go and see him. It still seems too…fresh for you. Raw.”
“How do you get over something like that? I don’t think about it on a daily basis, so it doesn’t control who I am every single day; but when I do stop to consider it, it overwhelms me. We didn’t just lose our home that day. We lost everything: our family, our way of life, our horses, our community.”
I don’t know how long we held each other. It was long enough that the loss I was feeling was replaced with the fullness of Michael. I don’t know if he has any idea how good for me he is; my mind whirls, trying to find a way to express how truly significant he is to me.
I try with my words, “Michael, I’m sorry that I wasted all those years. I will spend the rest of my life showing you and telling you and proving to you how very much I love you.”
I hesitate and meld Gibran’s words with my own, “The gates of my heart were flung open, and my joy flew far across the years, the miles, the room when I saw you that first night.” I seal my promise to us with a searing kiss.
Chapter Twenty
Wanted
The party is much like I remember high school parties—a lot of people drinking and bumping into each other constantly. Michael and I both abstain from drinking. As soon as the crowd starts to die down, more people filter in and revive it. It’s on one of these legs of newcomers that some girls I remember from high school show. Michael and I visit with them for a little while, catching up on the area’s latest happenings. After a few minutes, a guy who Michael introduced me to earlier appears at his side and tells him that his cousin is asking for him in the back. Michael gives me a questioning look, so I assure him that I’ll be fine.
I visit with the girls for a while, learning all about who is dating who, who is pregnant, who’s gone to jail recently, who’s hooked on which drug. It doesn’t take long for me to remember, in all its vivid detail, why I’ve gotten out here and, up until a few days ago, sworn that I’d never be back.
“So, you and Michael?” one of them hedges.
“We’re just hanging out,” I struggle for detached when I really want to shout, Yes, Yes, can you believe it? We finally made our way back to one another!!!! Her next question snaps me out of my internal diatribe.
“Would your parents approve? Weren’t they really weird about who you dated?”
“Um…well…I…I am almost twenty-two.”
“True, I was just curious.”
“My mom always loved Michael.” I recall our conversation from a few days ago. I mentally amend she just wouldn’t appreciate him right now.
“Well, I for one am thrilled for you guys. He’s loved you as long as I can remember,” another of the girls chimes in.
I look at her for a trace of sarcasm or disbelief. I smile and reply, “Thank you,” when I find no evidence of either. Someone sincere. Who would’ve thought?
I decide that Michael’s had long enough with his cousin, so I say my goodbyes and make my way to the back of the house. As I round the corner, I run smack dab into him. “Oh,” my breath escapes me. I didn’t expect this. What is he even doing here? My eyes dart around him to search for Michael. I need to get away from him now.
“Lorraina,” he breathes my name heavily. It doesn’t take long for the smell of alcohol to reach my nose. Not much has changed with him I see.
“Um…hi. Excuse me?” My calm words are in direct contrast to the tugging I feel in my gut. I try to move around him. Catching me by surprise, he puts his arms up on either side of me and backs me into the wall, effectively caging me in with his upper body.
“Where ya going? Don’t you have a minute to catch up with me?” He leans in and I have to turn my head to hide my gagging.
“No, not really. Someone is waiting on me.”
“Oh, yeah. Mike Bang. I saw you two talking earlier. Are you with him?”
I tilt my head up and meet his gaze dead on. “Yes.”
“Really? Even after he beat the shit out of me?”
“What?!”
“Oh, yeah, I guess he had it in his head he was defending your honor. That’s really not possible since you have no honor, right? He didn’t really give me the chance to explain that to him, unfortunately. Maybe I should find him and explain that now.” He turns to go, and I grab his arm to spin him to
wards me. Before I can beg him not to seek Michael out, he seethes, “Did you have a miscarriage or an abortion, Lorraina?”
I gasp, “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t mess around with me! I know you were pregnant. That day when you gave me all those hypotheticals. You were pregnant, weren’t you?”
I clench my teeth and spew my disgust at him with my one word reply, “NO.”
“You know I’ve thought about you over the years and wondered what ever happened to you. It’s like you dropped off the planet.” He leans in further and runs his fingers up my jaw. It’s all I can do not to slap him. “You know, you were a good piece of ass. A little rigid but definite slut potential. Don’t you ever think about me?”
“You know you were the only person I was ever with, and I didn’t drop off the planet. I just moved on, which I suggest you do. And to answer your question, yes, I’ve thought about you over the years and each time and every time I do I have to fight the urge to throw up,” I hiss each word at him so that he’s backed off of me a little, and I’m able to drop under and escape his outstretched arm.
I need some fresh air before I can see Michael. I make it out onto the front porch. Thank God no one I know is out here. I find myself a little corner and slide down onto my haunches, breathing deeply to try to catch my breath. I think I handled that encounter as well as I could’ve. I don’t think he would dare tell anyone of all that transpired between us for fear of making himself look bad, but I still can’t take that chance. I have to talk to Michael about it before he hears it from someone else.
I don’t know how long I sit on the porch. I know it’s a while, though, because I look around and realize that I’m alone out here. I stand and stretch. My legs are screaming at me. I can’t believe Michael has not come looking for me. The only reason I could stand to be away from him this long is because I just got mindfucked by the pervert. I wish I could’ve stood up to him before he spewed his venom at me. What’s wrong with me?
I go back inside the house and try to make my way towards the back again. I give the room a cursory glance for Michael, but he’s not in here. Unfortunately, I see him talking to another girl in much the same way he was talking to me in the hallway. Is that the only way he can get a girl now? Cornering her and intimidating her. What’s a thirty year old doing at a twenty something’s party anyway? Oh yeah, mentally he’s about fourteen, so I guess he fits right in.
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