“Mmm…Well, I better bring my electric guitar then. It wouldn’t sound quite the same without it.” I tremble in anticipation.
………………………………………………………
Mona’s is pretty packed tonight, so I sit at the bar and make small talk with Jason. He’s as gregarious as ever. I tell him that I’m leaving tomorrow, and he pats my hand and tells me that Michael will be OK. I guess he interprets my frown as fear. I’m not scared for the reason he thinks I am, though. We’ve overcome distance before, and Jason probably thinks that I think Michael might cheat on me or something like that. No, he would never do that. I’m scared of what my life will be like without him there. When I imagine going back to school, the images are black and white and faded. Like I was before Michael. I’m scared to feel that way again. I never want that again. I look at Michael and see him in glorious Technicolor and that infuses the rest of my life.
I’m jerked from my musings as I hear the opening cords to the song I’ve requested. I grin as I let the song’s lyrics take on a whole new meaning in my life. Before, the song portended sadness and misery for me. Now, I feel hope within the lines. And I pray it communicates meaning to him where my words have failed. It seems music has always been that magical portal for us. I hope he knows that I’ve gone head to head with my old friend fear where he is concerned, and I’ve conquered him.
………………………………………………………
We’re halfway through the Big Bang Theory’s gig. Typically, I would wait for Michael beside the stage, and we would get a drink and dance a little and make out a little before he goes on for his second set. Tonight, however, I’ve decided to do something completely out of character for me.
I’m standing off to the side of the stage a little where Michael can’t see me. As I hear the final bars of “Simple Man” fading out, I watch Michael jump off the stage and look for me. I feel a sudden attack of nerves, but Josh makes eye contact and nods his head at me. I smile slightly and make my way center stage, and then I quickly try to channel my inner Lita. The hardest part of singing this song is that I have to start without a lead in. It serves my purposes so well, though, that I barely contain a laugh. Michael will have no warning for what’s to come. I’d briefly considered doing my own rendition of the Stones’ “Can’t Get No Satisfaction,” seeing as how all this abstaining was getting to me, but decided this one would be way sexier.
I take a deep breath and belt out the first line. Oh my…It has an immediate effect. Michael spins before I can finish it. It’s one of the sexiest opening lines of a song ever. As soon as the band kicks in high gear, I’m off. My nerves and fear completely disintegrate. I sing to the crowd for a moment. When I hit the chorus, though, I focus everything I’ve got on Michael. His eyes are burning, and they penetrate mine. I smile around my mic and wonder if I’ll get to have my way with him tonight. I parade around the stage, hoping against hope that I’m exuding sexuality.
T.J.’s guitar riff that will close out the song has barely begun when I feel the mic tugged from my hand, and I marvel as I watch it fly towards Josh, who deftly catches it and laughs with his whole body.
Michael is tugging me behind him towards backstage. As soon as we round the corner, I’m against the wall writhing under him as he kisses whatever breath I had left clear out of me. I feel his hand snake its way up the outside of my thigh, and I comply to his unspoken demand to wrap my leg around his. His other hand barely brushes my breast but then comes back and caresses it full on.
My hands make my way into his silky hair, and I force him even closer to me as he kisses me roughly. My eyes flutter open to catch him watching me. I groan into his mouth at the look in his eyes, and they go even more molten if at all possible. He pulls back a little, placing little nipping kisses on my lips. Both of his hands disappear from my body to lean on either side of my head on the wall.
I whisper against his lips, “Happy birthday, baby.”
“Damn, baby, you are the hottest thing I’ve seen. I don’t know how you pulled that off, looking hot and as cute as hell simultaneously, but damn!” He drops his head to lay it upon my rapidly beating heart. I drop my face into his neck and breath deeply. He smells so good—a lethal combination of Michael and sweat and arousal. My whole body tenses.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Hell, I loved it. I’ll be relying on that memory for a long time to come.”
I blush as I realize what that means, and the sheen of sweat that had crept over me during my performance causes me to shiver as I allow his words to wash over me. It really couldn’t have gone better. Unfortunately, his kiss my just be the death of me as Lita’s lyrics play out in my head because I know that’s all I’ll be getting from him tonight.
………………………………………………………..
I slowly open my eyes and look lovingly around Michael’s studio, memorizing all the little details so that when I’m back in my drab little dorm room I can properly imagine him here among his things. I shift slightly and bring my head up to rest on my folded elbow so that I can stare at him. He’s still sleeping. The covers are resting just above his hips, and I can make out half of his crucifix.
I look back up at this head and begin to mentally sketch every detail. From his disheveled midnight hair to his thick eyebrows and even thicker eyelashes. I know that under those deep-set, slightly slanted lids are the brownest of eyes. Sometimes, they are so dark that I could barely discern his pupil. His high, wide cheekbones match the rest of his beautifully sculpted face from his straight nose to his angular jaw to his stubborn chin. I close my eyes and burn the image to the inside of eyelids. Every time I close my eyes that’s what I want to see—Michael’s beautiful face. I open my eyes to find him staring at me, a little smile plays at his lips.
“Whatcha doing?” he asks playfully as if he doesn’t know the effect he has on me.
“Oh…Nothing. Just trying to memorize you,” I admit without really thinking too much about it.
“I wouldn’t think you would have to with all those pictures you took last night,” he grumbles. Ah, yes. I must have taken around fifty pictures of him and us. I smile as I remember how fun it was to make him my model. Look this way and that—pouty face, The Thinker, kissy face. He protested a little until I persuaded him as only a woman in love could. I had definitely misappropriated the use of the camera my mom bought me.
“That was fun,” I tell him.
“For you maybe,” he grimaces. “It’s a good thing I don’t believe that a picture steals your soul. As many as you took, I’d be completely bereft.”
“Such a beautiful soul too,” I whisper.
He brings himself up to my level and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “I tell you what. How about I make breakfast while you get ready? I want to make sure and satiate your hunger before you have to hit the road.”
My eyes widen with pure lust as he uses these very sensuous words to describe the act of breakfast. “It’s not fair for you to talk to me like that, ya know?” I feel things moving inside of me that, before him, I’d never before felt.
“Who said life’s fair?” He throws my words back at me, so I smack him playfully with my pillow as I get up to take my own cold shower.
………………………………………………………
I get out of my car and walk back towards his Jeep. He’s followed me to the edge of town and the road that will lead me away from him for the next several months. Oh, God, months. I cringe. He meets me in the middle and threads his fingers through mine. He brings my hands up to his mouth and places lingering, little kisses all along my palms and wrists. I am afraid to speak. If I open my mouth, I may start crying; and I don’t want that to be our last memory together. So we just stare at each other and take each other in. I promise with my eyes that nothing will come between us, and he returns that promise with gusto.
Finally, he breaks the silence, “I love you,
Lorraina. Forever. I’m so grateful that you walked back into my life. And as much as I hate your leaving, I’m grateful we had these last few weeks together.”
“The bitter with the sweet, huh?”
“Yeah, the bitter really bites.”
“It does indeed. I’ll miss you so much,” I tell him again. I lay my head on his chest and focus on the erratic beat of his heart for a moment. “I love you, Michael. Please take care of yourself for me, OK?”
“You got it,” he replies gruffly.
He releases my hands to frame my face and pull it up to his. I see tears shimmering in his beautiful eyes; and, of course, I feel mine well up immediately. He closes his eyes and a single tear escapes to trace its way down his cheek. I kiss it away before he ever so gently slants his mouth over mine. His gentleness seems to seep into me and caresses me so lovingly, all the way to my toes. I feel myself relax and pour everything I feel and more into our goodbye kiss.
Neither of us says anything as we get back into our vehicles. I glance up at my rearview mirror and watch him dash away a few tears. I start my car up and a melancholy tune fills the air. I quickly locate a mind-numbing CD that somehow found its way into my collection. I’ve never felt so grateful for the existence of AC/DC.
I pull out onto the road and keep my eyes on my mirror as I watch Michael watch me. I see him wave, flash his lights, and turn off before I reach the highway. I quickly depress the accelerator as I merge with the traffic heading north.
I feel myself hiccup a little and quickly turn the music to blaring. I try to loose myself in “Back in Black”. It reminds me that Michael wears mostly black and that he is indeed back. I skip to “Hell’s Bells”. There we go. That won’t remind of him at all. I start to sing along with the song, thinking I’ve got a tenuous grip on this; but it is, nonetheless, a grip. Yeah, I’m not going to lose it. I murmur, “you got me ringing.” I whisper, “hell’s bells.” Then, I’m choking. Finally, I’m sobbing. I turn the music off and let my cries fill the car.
Chapter Twenty-seven
My Most Miserable Existence
Getting back into the swing of things at school was one of the hardest things I’ve ever tried to do. When I wasn’t talking to Michael, writing to Michael, or writing about Michael, I was daydreaming about Michael. I played and replayed all the memories we made. I imagined and reimagined what our life together would be like.
Fortunately for me, I’d saved some of my easiest classes for last semester, so they didn’t require my full attention. I looked around at my life and wondered how I’d ever thought that academia and work would have completely fulfilled me. I still had my job, but barely. Elise was constantly getting on to me for being absentminded. She told me to be grateful that I’d been such a diligent employee for the last few years because if I hadn’t have been she would certainly get rid of me. I think she was only half-serious. Surely, I hadn’t gotten that bad.
I did, however, find time to talk to my local priest about joining the Catholic Church; and he referred me to a very nice and helpful lady who offered to privately walk me through the conversion classes. This, by far, has been one of the most interesting experiences of my life, but I’ve yet to share that with Michael.
I missed Michael so much that it physically hurt. Sleeping and eating were no longer necessities. If I slept, I didn’t get to write to Michael. If I ate, I didn’t get to talk to Michael. Therefore, I did them only when I absolutely had to because passing out from exhaustion or lack of nutrition would also interfere with my Michael time.
Our conversations were amazing and reminiscent of our teenage years. We talked about everything and nothing and all that lies between. Sometimes, our conversations bordered on the explicit, which was quite shocking at first. Then, it was exhilarating. I guess I’m to blame for that. One night, when I was missing him particularly bad, I told him of my first dream that I’d had about him after seeing his work at Mona’s. That led to him telling me some of his thoughts on the subject, and so on. Thank goodness I had a roommate who was practically never in our room.
I am daydreaming about one of these particular conversations when I hear the store phone ring. I move over to answer the phone, but it quits ringing rather abruptly. Hmm…
“Lorraina, phone!” Elise shouts. Elise never shouts. I turn to gape at her and her hand is over the mouthpiece. She has a scowl on her face, and she continues in a quieter voice, “I was in the middle of some trying figures, Lorraina, but had to stop and answer the phone on the sixth ring. And, lo and behold, it’s for you.”
I cringe under her unfamiliar use of sarcasm, and blush down to my roots. I’d done it again. “I’m so sorry, Elise. I didn’t even hear it ring.” I pick up the phone and wait for her to disconnect. “Hello? This is Lorraina.”
“Hi there,” replies the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.
I smile, completely forgetting that I am in trouble yet again. “Hi,” I respond. “What are doing calling me at work? Is everything OK?” Michael never called me at work unless I gave him a certain time that assured Elise wouldn’t be here.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I’m intrigued.
“That I managed to get a few days off in a row during your spring break.”
I mentally clap my hands together and happy tears spring to my eyes. “Michael, that’s great! Are you sure?”
“Yep, I’ve arranged for someone to cover for me where I would be missed and get out of some other things where I wouldn’t; and because of the way my classes fell, I’ll only miss one class. It’s all settled.”
“This is the best news I’ve ever heard,” I gush.
“I’ve got a little money saved up so I was thinking I would get a hotel room, and you can come and spend as much time as possible with me. Maybe you could find some interesting things for us to do.”
I could, in fact, think of some interesting things for us to do but nothing that he would deem appropriate. “Yeah, absolutely. I have to work some, though,” I say on a frown. This job has just been getting in the way of everything lately!
“That’s OK. I’ll take whatever time I can get.”
Michael and I continue to make plans for a couple more minutes. I can’t believe it! Only eight more days and he would be here! I hang up and basically float up to Elise’s office.
I knock lightly on her open door before poking my head in. I feel like I should’ve come with a white flag. “Ms. Elise, you got a minute?” I broach.
“Not right now, Lorraina,” she mutters.
“Uh…OK. I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.” I turn to go.
I hear her sigh loudly. “Lorraina, it’s OK. Come on in.”
A huge smile overtakes my face, which I immediately try to reign in less she think I’m not contrite. I can’t get it under control, so I give up. “Ms. Elise, I’m very sorry that I’ve been so distracted and careless. I promise that I will do better, though. I’ve just had some news that will set my mind to ease so that I can refocus on my job and my classes.”
“Your classes are suffering too?” She asks with raised brows.
Ugh…Why did I say that? “Yes ma’am, a little.”
“I’ve known you for a long time, young lady. This is not like you.” Her voice is full of motherly admonishment and concern. How do moms manage that?
I take a deep breath. “I know. It’s just…” I’m distracted by his beautiful face for a moment. Maybe if I tell her, he’ll stop invading every single one of my would-be thoughts. “I met someone.”
Elise’s head snaps back as if I slapped her. “You what?”
“I’m in love,” I whisper.
She shakes her head for a moment, closes her eyes, and takes her glasses off to bridge her nose with her thumb and her index finger, rubbing them up and down for a moment. She looks up at me and there are tears in her eyes, which cause me to frown.
“Aah, Lorraina. I’m so happy for you. You have no idea ho
w worried I’d been about you. You seemed so cut-off, so distant. I prayed that you would meet someone who would cut through all of that, shake you out of it so to speak. I figured it would happen eventually. I just hoped it wouldn’t be too long. I didn’t want you to miss out because you were too old and cynical. Like a particular bookstore owner who you try to emulate.”
Now, I’m the shocked one. Here I was thinking that I’d hidden all of this quite nicely. I’d hidden it well enough from myself for a while, so I figured others were clueless as well. “Ms. Elise, why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Well, I hinted at it here and there. But these things can’t be rushed. Enough about the past, though.” She waves an impatient hand. “Tell me all about him.”
“Where to start?” I puzzle. “His name is Michael. He was one of my oldest and dearest friends. He professed his love for me a long time ago, but I was too scared to admit my own feelings. He had a rocky start to adulthood, but now he’s in school. He’s working really hard at building a good life for himself. Besides all that, he’s so talented. I think he can play like five different instruments. He can draw and paint just about anything. He writes his own lyrics and poetry. And…he’s amazing,” I finish on a sigh.
She gives me a little grin and shakes her head at me. “He sounds amazing. I take it it’s more than just friendship now?”
“Yes, he’s asked me to marry him,” I squeak out. I still can’t believe this little fact. I pinch my lips together because I think my smile may look more like a homicidal maniac’s than a woman in love.
“Oh, honey. That was fast. But when you know, you know I always say.”
“I know. I still can’t believe it. I went home sheathed in complete dread and stumbled upon the only guy I’ve ever loved. It’s been crazy. I love him like crazy. Miss him like crazy.” I shake myself from my little reverie. “Anyway, he’s coming to see me during spring break. Can we rearrange the schedule a little so that I can have as much time as possible with him?” I cringe a little because I know I really don’t deserve to ask for any special favors right now.
Every Rose Page 18