Truly, Madly, Deeply

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Truly, Madly, Deeply Page 10

by L. S. Scott


  “Is today your birthday?”

  His playful expression faded. “Yes, it is. Let me guess, Janna.”

  “Yes, she called to wish you happy birthday,” I delivered the message then kept scolding. “Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t have a thing for you.”

  He grinned a little and tilted his head, “You, have everything I want,” he said sweetly.

  “Jaron, I’m serious. I don’t have anything and I can’t afford to get you anything. I feel like the worst girlfriend ever. See, this is exactly why I need a job.”

  “You have money, Natalie.”

  “I have your money Jaron. I can’t buy you a gift with your own money.”

  He moved slowly into the dining room. I remained in the kitchen; hand still on my hip, sullen.

  “Sing to me,” he said, stopping and propping up against the edge of the dining table.

  “What?”

  “For my birthday, sing to me,” he repeated the request.

  I frowned and took a deep breath, “Happy birthday to you, Happy..”

  “No. Not happy birthday. I’m not six,” he said sarcastically. “Sing me a song.”

  “I can’t sing Jaron. I want to do something nice for you, not torture you.”

  “Yes you can. You sing all the time. In the truck, in the shower, washing dishing..”

  “That’s different,” I said.

  “How?”

  “Cause, I’m just goofing around, and no one’s paying attention.”

  “I’m always paying attention,” he said softly. “And I’m the only one here now, so please, sing to me for my birthday.”

  “What do you want me to sing?”

  “I don’t care.”

  I took a deep breathe, and looked down at the floor for a split second and immediately the song that always makes me think of Jaron came to mind. I cleared my throat, raised my eyes to meet his, and began to sing.

  “Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses? You been out riding fences, for so long now. You’re a hard one, but I know that you got your reasons. These things that are pleasing you, can hurt you somehow.”

  He sat on the edge of the table, ankles crossed, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes locked with mine as I sang.

  “Don’t you drive the queen of diamonds boy, she’ll beat you if she’s able. You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet. Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, but you always want the ones, that you can’t get.

  Desperado, you ain’t getting no younger. Your pain and your hunger, they’re driving you home. And freedom, oh freedom, that’s just some people talking. Your prison is walking through this world all alone.

  Don’t your feet get cold in the winter time? The sky won’t snow and the sun won’t shine. It’s hard to tell the night time, from the day. You’re losing all your highs and lows, Ain’t it funny how the feeling goes away?

  Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses? Come down from your fences, open the gate. It may be rainin’ but there’s a rainbow above you. You better let somebody love you, You better let somebody love you, before it’s too late.”

  Unsure of what to make of the blank look on his face, I stood static, waiting for him to respond. After a few painful seconds, he rose from the table and crossed the room in two strides before I could even blink. He cradled my face and kissed me longingly. When he finally pulled away and looked down at me, his eyes were misty. I had never seen him cry.

  “I love so much,” he whispered, his forehead crinkled as if it troubled him how much he meant it.

  “I love you too baby.”

  Without hesitation he swept me into his arms and moved quickly down the hall. He laid me gently on the bed then stood and removed his shirt, tossing it in the corner. I readied myself for his usual, intense, sensual onslaught, but he stood looking down at me instead. He removed the rest of his clothing slowly keeping his eyes trained on me. My heart raced, pounding against my chest as if this was my first time witnessing his glorious nakedness.

  Jaron moved especially slowly, as he came to me and gently took off my clothes. We had amazing, passionate sex all the time. We made slow sweet love occasionally. But something different shined in his eyes as he looked at me, undressed me. It was a sweet, vulnerable sadness I had never seen. Finally, he lay down beside me, propped on his elbow and caressed my face. His hand trailed across my throat, my breast, my stomach.

  “Jaron, are you ok,” I whispered.

  His breathing was ragged and his voice hoarse, “No,” was his answer.

  I turned on my side to face him, “I’m sorry my song upset you.”

  “It didn’t upset me. It was the most amazing birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.”

  “Then, what’s the matter?”

  “I can’t live without you Natalie. I know it now,” his eyes grew misty again.

  I didn’t speak another word. I lowered my lips and my body to his. He kissed me as if his life depended on it. Rolling on top of me he entered slowly, gently. Our bodies pressed so tightly together, I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began. Our fingers entwined above my head as he rocked us slowly, deeply. It was the most intense physical and emotional experience I had ever had, when I felt his tears drop onto my cheek. Our bodies heaved together in heavy breathing and cries of pleasure until we exploded into each other. He rolled to his back pulling me with him, staying inside me. He held me close and tight until we fell asleep.

  When I woke, I was still in Jaron’s arms, a rarity. He hadn’t gotten up to go about his normal routine and it felt nice to be snuggled up to him.

  “Good morning,” I whispered.

  His arms tightened around me, “Good morning.”

  “I love it when you’re here when I wake up.” His only response was to tighten his embrace.

  “Can we make this a thing,” I asked vaguely.

  “Make what a thing,” he asked confused.

  “Sunday morning snuggle time,” I clarified.

  He chuckled, and I loved it.

  “Sunday morning snuggle time,” he repeated, mulling it over. “Yeah, we can make it a thing,” he agreed.

  We held each other for another hour, drifting in and out of sleep under the warm blankets. Our lazy morning turned into a lazy day and ended with a lazy afternoon. We moved from the bed, to the couch to the front porch as the sun rose and set, grabbing snacks in between. We lay around talking and giggling and touching.

  I traced the outline of his tattoo. Two doves with wispy wings soaring from his shoulder down his arm to circle his bicep. Not exactly the tattoo I imagined when I saw the black tips of the wings peeking out from under the edge of his shirt sleeve the night we met.

  “Why doves,” I asked.

  “It’s a memorial, for my grandparents.”

  “Oh, it’s very pretty.”

  “Thanks,” he answered, head back, eyes closed, fingers running up and down my legs that were draped across his lap as we sat on the front porch.

  We had watched the sunset and just listened to the sound of the crickets and a distant hoot owl. It was so serene. I imagined that Jaron spent many nights sitting on the porch in silence, just listening. His peaceful surroundings helped to keep him calm and keep the demons inside at bay.

  Jaron’s head snapped up and his eyes opened at the sound of a truck slowing on the county road. His relaxed demeanor changed as the truck turned into our drive and slowly rolled up to the house, stopping right in front of the porch, closer than it really had to be. Jaron slid my legs down and stood slowly. A nervous feeling started to grow in the pit of my stomach. The tension in his face and body told me that these were not welcome visitors.

  The doors of the black SUV opened and two men emerged. The driver was tall and slim with shoulder length salt and pepper hair pulled back tightly in a low pony tail. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt and jeans. One arm was tattooed from his wrist all the way up and the other had one large tattoo on his forear
m. The other man was large, even taller and broader than Jaron. His long hair was tucked behind his ears and both arms were completely covered in tats. Big Smith overalls covered his burly chest.

  Jaron stood on the top step like a sentry. The driver shut his door and moved around the front of the truck, smiling creepily, the other man propped his elbows on the hood of the truck, working a toothpick between his teeth.

  “Jaron Blake, long time no see,” the smiling driver said, disdain shining through his fake smile.

  “You don’t come to my house, everyone knows that,” Jaron’s voice was cold and flat.

  “You took something that belonged to me, I’m here to repay the favor,” the man said.

  “You owed me,” Jaron said.

  “You took way more than I owed. You took it all.”

  “Interest,” Jaron said, drawing the word out slightly.

  The man smirked and moved closer. Leaning on the porch railing, he turned his attention to me. I stood and moved closer to Jaron instinctively seeking his protection. The man’s eyes roamed my body, dressed only in a white wife beater and tiny gray booty shorts. It sent chills up my spine.

  “Mmm, mmm, mmm. Damn! They didn’t make em like that when I was in high school,” he said, glancing for a second at Jaron to gauge his reaction.

  “Go inside,” Jaron said in a low voice.

  “No! Stay,” the man ordered. “You are what I came for after all.”

  “You touch her and I will kill you.” Jaron’s voice was barely more than a growl.

  The man’s creepy smile widened. “Oh, I’m gonna touch her, over and over, until I get my money’s worth, with interest.”

  “Get inside now! Don’t come out,” Jaron hissed, squeezing my arm to get my attention. With that I turned and hurried inside, closing and locking the door behind me.

  Terrified and shaking, still in shock from the realization that two crazy scary men were here to take me as some sort of payment, I crawled between the couch and the wall to hide. It was my favorite place when I was a little kid. I would crawl behind the sofa and play with my dolls.

  The murmuring on the porch became heated, followed by stomping and the sounds of scuffling. Tears began to roll out of my eyes. Jaron was tough, but out-numbered. What would I do if anyone but Jaron came through the door looking for me?

  Grunts and groans and thuds were followed by silence, the sound of truck doors then the low rumble of the SUV driving away. Slowly I crawled out of my hiding place and peeked carefully out the window. There was nothing and nobody. I covered my mouth with my hand. What had they done with Jaron? Would they come back? What was I supposed to do? This was Jaron’s ‘business’ there was no one I could call, without getting him in trouble. I had to trust that he could handle it and he would keep me safe and I had to do what I was told.

  I made sure all the doors and windows were locked and retreated to the bedroom. Curled up in the blanket, where we had our first Sunday snuggle time just hours before, I cried myself to sleep.

  It was a little after midnight when the sound of running water and the thud of the soap dropping in the shower, woke me. I rubbed my swollen eyes and moved quickly down the hall, relieved beyond belief. I pushed the door opened to find a pile of blood soaked clothes on the floor. I panicked.

  “Oh my god, Jaron?” I called tearfully and pulled back the shower curtain.

  Blood tinged water ran down his quivering body and into the drain, as he stood with his hands planted on the shower wall and his head hanging.

  “Go back to bed baby,” he insisted in a shaky voice.

  “Is this your blood?”

  “No, I’m ok,” he tried to reassure me, but his shaking body and weak voice said other-wise.

  I tossed my clothes on the floor and crawled in the shower. I lathered the bar of soap and began scrubbing the blood from his body. I ducked under his arm and stood in front of him.

  “Look at me,” I demanded, wanting to examine him for injury.

  He raised his head slowly, blinking away the beads of water on his long lashes. I didn’t speak as I washed the blood from his face and neck. He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breathes in an effort to stop the shaking. I pulled his hands from the wall, one at a time, and scrubbed them, making sure to get every last trace of blood off of him. I wiped his bloody hand prints from the wall and turned off the water.

  I retrieved a towel from the rack and dried us both quickly, before ushering him down the hall to our bed, our haven. Naked and shaking he climbed in and I right behind him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face between my bare breasts, never speaking.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you…” holding him close and running my fingers through his wet hair, I repeated the words like an anthem, so he knew that no matter what happened, it was still so.

  I felt his body heave with a silent sob and curl tighter around me. Holding him, sobbing in the dark, unsure of what else to do, I began to sing.

  Desperado……….

  Despite the late traumatic night, when I woke at 6:45, Jaron was already up as usual. I tried to keep calm and act normal, wondering into the kitchen for a good morning kiss, the same as every other morning. As if on cue, Jaron entered through the back door.

  “Good morning,” I said, standing and stretching in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Morning babe,” he replied flatly, kissing my cheek as he passed me.

  “Hey,” I grabbed his arm. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Shut me out, not now.”

  With a forced smile he titled his head and took a deep breath. The unmistakable aroma of whiskey hit me in the face.

  “Jaron,” I scolded. “I’ll stay with you today.”

  “I’m fine Natalie.”

  “You’re drinking at six a.m. I’ll call Tiffany and have her get my homework,” I declared turning to retrieve my cell phone.

  “No!” His voice was agitated and louder than necessary.

  I froze in my tracks and stared at the floor. He quickly moved to me, cupping my face in his hands. They were steady and strong and absent of shaking.

  “Look at me baby,” he ordered softly. I raised my eyes to meet his. He searched them, gauging me. “Nothing happened here Natalie. OK?”

  “Okay.” I answered unsure.

  “There’s no reason for you to miss school.”

  “Okay.” I tried to turn away. He pulled me back.

  “You can’t talk to anyone about what goes on in our life.”

  “I know Jaron, I’m not stupid.”

  “I know you’re not stupid. I just want you to understand, you can’t trust anyone baby. Janna and Greg, that’s it. No matter what anyone says or asks or offers, you don’t know anything about anything, ever.”

  “Okay, Jaron. I understand.” My forehead crinkled in distress. He rubbed away the wrinkles between my eyes with his thumb.

  “Don’t worry baby. I’m okay and you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

  I had been strong the night before, holding it together while he fell apart. But I was glad to have him back in control. I melted against his chest and he rocked me back and forth in his arms for a minute.

  “Do you want breakfast?”

  “No, I’ll have a Poptart.” He chuckled softly and it made me smile to hear it.

  “You better get ready.”

  “Okay, but no more whiskey, okay?”

  “I promise.” He smiled and winked.

  Chapter Eight

  The first nine weeks of school flew by. Every day that passed, put that terrible night further behind us. Things at school were going really smoothly. No one had really mentioned Jaron much, other than some jealous whispers, no one seemed to care. It was nine week grade and parent teacher conference time so I got out of school two hours early and was anxious to show Jaron my grades, all A’s and maybe revisit the subject of college and what his crappy attitude was all about.

  W
ith my favorite after school tunes blaring, I turned in the driveway at 2:00 on the dot, much earlier than usual, to find an unfamiliar car in the drive. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I could see them on the porch. Face to face. Her blonde hair was shoulder length and she had a cute little body, much more petite than mine. I swallowed hard as a thousand different explanations raced through my head. I had never had reason to doubt Jaron’s faithfulness, but there she stood, entirely too close. I knew that he knew I had pulled up, but his attention remained on her. And then it happened. Her lips touched his and I almost choked on the lump in my throat.

  His eyes remained open and looking at me as he politely pushed her away and held her at arms-length. My blood boiled. All the insane jealousy I had endured flooded my mind. How could he be such a hypocrite, standing on our porch lip to lip with some blonde bimbo. My jaw clenched and tears welled in my eyes. My heart pounded so hard it caused my chest to hurt and my breath to become labored.

  “You need to leave Alyssa,” Jaron told her as I trudged angrily toward the porch.

  “What the hell Jaron,” I spat, livid. He cut his eyes to me stone faced, a warning hanging in his glare.

  Boiling with anger I contemplated my next move. I wanted to claw her eyes out. She turned slowly and sashayed down the steps, smirking arrogantly.

  As she passed me she turned and said cutely, “Call me sometime,” and winked.

  Unable to control myself, I lunged at her. My hands landed square on her back just as she turned to walk away, propelling her forward off the last step, landing her face first on the gravel walk way.

  Before I could pounce on top of her, Jaron grabbed my shirt and jerked me backward. Ripping my favorite tee and landing me on my ass on the porch. I scrambled to my feet, as did blondie.

  “Get the fuck out of here Alyssa,” Jaron ordered, wrapping his arms around my waist to subdue me.

  Without another word, Alyssa, the blonde bitch, got in her car and drove away. I squirmed and strained to break free from his grip, angry tears rolling down my face.

  “Let! Me! Go!” I shrieked, as he opened the screen door and drug me inside, kicking and screaming.

  “Dammit Natalie! Calm down!”

 

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