by Luna Blue
“There were times when I asked myself the same question.” He paused, taking a sip of iced water from the bedside table. “You had a sadness in your eyes, I couldn’t bear it. I don’t know, maybe I recognised the sadness, maybe I knew it was the same as mine.” There was nothing I could say.
No words were needed, so I kissed him.
After the incident on our second night, armed guards were placed everywhere. The rest of the convention was cancelled and our hotel fee was refunded in full. Jan was going to be delighted. Nothing made her happier than money in the station’s account.
The huge guns attached to the guards made me uncomfortable. Mike was totally at ease with them, but he still watched each guard as we passed them. I held his hand as we strolled through the resort grounds the following day. I was totally aware that I was being more of a victim than I needed to be, but I was so entrenched in the man that was Mike, I couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t being a princess, it’s not like I left my glass slipper in his bedroom. I was just making the most of the situation.
It wasn’t just me who had been enraptured with Mike’s new heroic status. Being the Rambo of Myanmar, people wanted to buy him drinks. Men patted him on the back and women drank him in, batting their eyelids at the sexy, irresistible man holding my hand. He never left my side despite my encouraging him to go have some drinks with other patrons. I was more than capable at looking after myself for an entire twenty minutes. Deciding to return home in two days, we spent the rest of our conference-cum-vacation-cum-romantic experience lounging beside the pool and risking shark attacks by swimming in the sea.
“I feel a little guilty about not making an effort to get to Bagan,” I said to Mike on our final day.
“Say what now?” He was enjoying a full carb beer. Getting out of his deck chair may have been more effort than it was worth.
“It’s the place that has the famous archaeological site. I showed you pictures. Am I going to regret not making an effort to see any of this country?” I knew my guilt was warranted and I should have been annoyed with myself, but Mike was captivating to the point everything else kind of fell away and suddenly we were leaving tomorrow.
“We’ve got the rest of our lives to see these sites, assuming we don’t kill each other,” Mike said. “Let’s just focus on “us” this trip.” He was right. Until he had gone all Rambo, I didn’t know this man much at all. How could I have? Being rescued from religious radicals wasn’t something I needed help with before. Nothing like a man flexing muscles and throwing throat jabs to make a woman fall head over heels.
Our last night in Myanmar was spent wrapped in each other’s arms. Sex was always better in another country. Mike’s strong arms were entwined around my waist. I pressed my arse into his front, feeling his welcome bulge push onto me. Turning around, I placed my hands upon Mike’s perfect face and kissed him, how could I not be totally in love with this man? Quickly we both caught fire. Mike turned me around and led me closer to the bed, our lips still locked onto each other. I hoped he never stopped kissing me, but it seemed a little impractical. How would I drink coffee if Mike’s lips were always on mine?
Reaching down, I stroked the hardness between his legs. He groaned in pleasure as his cock swelled even more and he kissed me deeper. Mike slid his hand under my dress and then bra, reaching for my nipple, gently tugging on it until it became a hard crest. My chest was rising and falling between us. I was breathing hard, it was weird. Since when did my lungs need so much oxygen to operate? I was beginning to sound like a smoker who had just run a marathon.
With a natural ease, he slid his hand under my swimmer top, an easy tug and his swimmers crumpled to the floor. Trying to normalise my breathing and kneeling in front of him, I took his cock into my mouth. His groans increased and I hoped the teak walls were thicker than they looked. Taking all of him in my mouth, I moved up and down, cupping his balls in my free hand. Even they felt muscly. With his entire shaft in my mouth, I looked up and held his gaze.
“Rosie,” he moaned, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. “I want you. Now.” His voice had become serious as he raked his hands over my body. He was giving himself to me, I could feel the particles building, getting ready to explode. He stood me up and placed me against the wall. I was so wet, I could feel my juices running down my inner thighs. Leaning me forward, Mike lifted my kaftan up. He pulled my underpants down my legs, letting them fall at my ankles. They were soaking wet. My hands placed on the door, he rubbed his cock against my bare butt as he fondled my curves.
“Mike, I think I’ve loved you for a long time.” It was getting harder to breathe again. Was there steam in the room or was I imagining it? He stopped dead. I twisted to look at him. “You do love me, I know.” Not in the slightest bit shocked. Suddenly he entered me with such force I was thrown back towards the wall, my arms hanging onto his waist.
He lifted me up and held me there, gaining deeper access into me. I held my arms around his neck and nestled into him as he moved me up and down on top of him. His hands were on my arse and I could feel his fingers twisting into my skin with his need. I kissed him, hard, and he reciprocated with all the passion of a lust that had been denied for years.
“I love you too,” he said. And with that he spurted his seed deep inside. I could feel him quivering underneath me, hear his groans of ecstasy, and feel his love. Knowing that Mike loved me too pushed me over the edge and I joined him in the throes of pleasure. I kissed him as I came to muffle the scream of pleasure building inside me. I rested there afterwards, content, complete, never ever needing to move. I was in the arms of the man I love and he loved me. I wanted to stay held up by him for the rest of my life.
“Rosie?’
“Mmm?’
“My arms are starting to hurt, I need to put you down.”
“Okay.” I moved over begrudgingly. If only that moment could have lasted forever. He kissed me as he placed me on the bed. Another great thing about Mike, he never made me feel like a size 14.
If only that moment could have lasted forever. Hunting around the mess of crumpled clothes on the floor, I found my swimmer bottoms. They were too wet to put back on, but not wet from swimming.
My legs were sore, so I could only imagine how his arms felt. They were such strong arms, I figured they would be fine in a moment or two. God, I loved his arms. Probably my favourite thing about him. He was grinning. Never in all the time I had known Mike had I ever seen him grin like that. I grinned right back at him.
Later that night, listening to Mike’s soft snoring next to me, I searched my brain for Frank. I needed his help to go to sleep, so used to falling asleep to the velvety crooning of my oldest friend. But my brain was void of my long-time friend. Squeezing my eyes shut tighter, I found his stage was empty. Frank was gone. I guess he figured I wouldn’t need him in my new life, that the leaf I had turned was fresh and green, with space for reality rather than a crooner singing continuously in my mind. I didn’t like Frank making this choice without discussing it with me first, but I trusted him.
Chapter 11
Arriving back home in Pindari, it was almost strange to walk anywhere without feeling the comfort of Mike’s hand in mine, even though we have only been joined at the hip for a couple of days. How quickly I had gone from the independent woman I thought I was to the gushing school girl I was hoping I wasn’t. I had been vaguely worried the intense feelings of love and lust would dissipate once we returned to normality and got on with our everyday lives, but it wasn’t an issue. Love made in Myanmar translates back to Australian soil, in case you were wondering.
Now, the knot in my stomach, in my soul, was gone. I was thankful for Mike, proud of myself that I took a chance on him, on life. And I won. I’m even grateful for True Blue FM. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. If I had gotten a job as a print journalist, chances were I would be working behind a desk, getting even fatter on cupcakes and wishing I had a man in my life exactly like Mike. I would have lived each d
ay the same as the last, too busy tracing the letters of my name on the front page of the paper, never noticing the fractured life I was leading.
People say I had changed, that my walk had a bounce in it, that my hair was glossier, my skin was glowing, my attitude was…wait for it…positive. I know. Well, some of the time, anyway. Kellie even made an informal complaint to the station. She missed my sarcasm, according to the email. She missed the pessimistic humour. I didn’t care, I liked the new me. People were free to live their lives as they saw fit, but the key was, you needed to make sacrifices and strides towards personal growth in order to live a really happy life.
My clothes were still a little tight, but it was something I was still working on. I’d just achieved an active and conscious major internal shake-up, the external wasn’t as important, said I, who still had a mini heart attack every time I thought about life without cupcakes. But I had switched to eating carrot cupcakes, I think they have more fibre in them. I didn’t think I could ever give up sugar completely, but I had been limiting myself and I’m starting to feel fantastic.
The size 14 parts of my wardrobe had become loose, even my gardening gloves no longer strained at the seams. And if my gardening gloves were loose, I must have been losing weight like crazy. Mike, just like Snip, couldn’t care less about my tummy or the fact that my thighs in no way, shape or form, resembled those of Cameron Diaz, but I think hers had something to do with height more than anything else.
Not many people can see the ugly side of themselves and own up to it, and even fewer people can make changes to eradicate their flaws. I did, with the help of a special man, and even more help from Frank, but the changes had been made. In helping Mike through his pain, I found the real me. Mike may have been the Rambo of Myanmar, but I was like a good version of Hannibal Lecter; a psychological genius.
I was proud of myself and I got the man of my dreams as a reward. There’s a reason love has always been the greatest motivator; it has made people climb mountains and speak directly to God. I sang “My Way” to myself and although it’s not the same, I felt great.
At work, for our first day after the Myanmar confrontation, I listened to Mike’s show as he talked about finding love through the haze of being held at gunpoint. I was a little bit peeved he got to break the story first on the station, but the new me didn’t let things like that bother her.
“Rosie! Holy shit, what happened? Everyone is talking about you two. Couldn’t you just go to the conference like you were supposed to and learn?’
“Hi Jan, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” I relished in telling Jan the gruesome details of our face-to-face encounter with armed men in Myanmar. I glossed over the fact there had only been two and I exaggerated the punch to my head, but it was worth it. Jan was going to dine off this story for years, and I was going to come off looking way more brave and heroic than I really was. “And the best part is, they have reimbursed the station for everything.” Jan’s inappropriate smile got even bigger.
“Do you want to come around for dinner tonight and pick up Snip whilst you’re there?” Jan asked. I knew she wanted to make sure she was the first in town to get the full story so she could create her own version and relay it to the rest of the population. It didn’t bother me. Whatever Jan came up with, whatever rumours I was to hear about us down the track would all be wiped away be the promise of tonight’s delicious meal. Jan’s cooking was the absolute best in town. She used full fat cream and real butter and all the delicious carbs that had long gone out of fashion.
“Sure. Can I bring Mike?” Jan didn’t seem surprised by the question.
“I’ve already made a lasagne big enough for all of us. Extra cheese sauce.” She looked at my tummy and winked. We made arrangements and I waited to catch Mike after his show to make sure he wanted to go.
“Jan, I have to ask you something?” I asked as she gathered her keys and wallet.
“Okay.”
“Did you send Mike and me to Myanmar together for…um…any reason other than True Blue FM? I mean, we have a few presenters here, there wasn’t really much of a reason I should have gone. Mike has the breakfast show, so that makes sense, but why me, other than the fact I have been here the longest?” We both knew time spent in a job doesn’t necessarily make people better.
“What are you talking about, Rosie?” Jan was pretending she was irritated, but I could hear a smile in her voice.
“Well, for starters, I thought it was weird that you booked us a room with only a double bed. I was just wondering.”
Jan turned to face me squarely, feeling tough within the confines of the station she managed. “Did you use this bed?” she demanded.
My crimson face answered for me. “You can thank me later,” Jan whispered. Leaning back, she continued. “You were a cranky bitch. It was becoming unbearable. I figured at the very least, getting “some” might bonk it out of you. And looking at you, I would say I was right. I watch nothing but chick flicks, Rosie, and according to every one of these movies ever made, a cranky woman always improves with the love of a good man. And Mike is a good man.”
“Just like I keep telling you, Rosie, I am a good man,” Mike said as he entered studio two. “Now what are we talking about?’
“Nothing,” Jan and I said in unison, sharing a smile.
I never ever, in my wildest dreams thought I could be happy pretty much all of the time. It may even have been an anomaly of the universe to be as happy as I was. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all because of Mike. The new me, the better version of me opened the floodgates for happiness to get in. Before, the floodgates were sealed shut with misery and isolation, I thought this was the way. And I would like to make it clear that I didn’t change for a man, I changed because of a man. It’s this whole other thing.
I would say I was happy all of the time, but there was the whole exercise nightmare that went on at five a.m. These moments, I was not happy, neither were my lungs or chafed thighs. And I never ever thought a man could make me happy. I was raised by a feminist mother who drilled it into my sister and I that we do not need a man to complete us, despite what Renee Zellweger said in Jerry Maguire. I had experienced short bursts of happiness when eating cupcakes, but these bursts were usually followed by regret and a sugar comedown.
Mike had always come across as a simple, uncomplicated man, and he was. The new me was also simple and uncomplicated. Our lives, especially since Mike moved into my weatherboard cottage with the overgrown rosebush, were simple and uncomplicated. We made each other better people. I had made him a better person by forcing him to watch and fall in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Walking Dead. Here was another example of being just like Mother Teresa.
***
This coming winter we are off to Tuscany together and it will mark our two-year anniversary together. Two years. It took one year to re-wire myself into a woman of empathy and kindness and I have maintained this new identity for two years. And I love it.
Louie Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” courses through my soul now, and I agreed with the crooner.
It is a wonderful world once you find the courage to live in it whole heartedly.
I had been with my husband when he laid next to me. When he laid next to my body, still and lifeless. I whispered in his ear that it was going to be okay, but he didn’t hear me. Couldn’t hear me. I tried to tell him it didn’t hurt anymore; the pain was gone. I wanted to tell him that it is true, everything happens for a reason. Even my death.
He needed to know I wasn’t sad he missed the first plane. I was already fading away. No man-made wings could have carried him fast enough. No doctor could have undid the damage of the bullet. I knew he was going to hate himself for missing it for a very long time. I wanted to help him. I wanted to, needed to tell him it was okay. But it doesn’t work like that. When your time is up you have to leave. You have to leave your loved ones behind but you know they are going to be okay. Soon.
He loved me, I alwa
ys knew that. But my time on earth was always going to be short. I was destined to die at twenty-six before I was born.
He will always love me. But this life of his, it was never meant for us. Perhaps in the next one we will get our chance again. It was always meant for Rosie. And Rosie’s life was meant for him.
Some things are set in stone and it takes the whiz of a bullet to bring the pieces together.
A temperate lightning ridge,
A staircase of velvet.
The latent smell of Earth whose beauty can enchant me.
We lie nestled amongst the green grass that feeds us our strength.
The wind brushes off any nefarious dust that tries to settle keeping our shimmering halos brilliant.
Nearby, delicate, benevolent creatures shape their magic circles.
And guided by the light of the golden tops they dance their fiery dances.
Tiny steps beat the Earth—rhythmically, hypnotically, waking any sluggish creatures of the night.
They beckon those around to join.
The dancing reaches its spellbinding peak, the Earth has spread her incandescent light,
Some souls wither and scream and die but there are those of us who reincarnate.
The light and dancing forces us to ascend and as we spiral upwards we look down upon the glimmering Earth and smile a knowing smile.
BEFORE YOU GO…
DON’T MISS OUT!
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