Forever Layla: A Time Travel Romance

by Melissa Turner Lee

  I moved from her lips down her jaw line making my way to the spot just below her ear and licked. She moaned and I was lost. I grabbed her up into my arms and headed down the hall to our bedroom. She was my wife. She had my name, and tonight we would start our lives together as man and wife. No more childish ways. It was time to become a man.

  Layla

  HIS KISSES CONSUMED ME. THE intensity was more than I’d ever allowed. We were beyond the place where I always stopped us, but tonight I wouldn’t stop. His lips followed down a path to the neck of my dress, and his clumsy fingers worked on the zipper. Hot breath on skin. Funny how it caused goose bumps. Amazing how the way he looked at me at this moment and made me feel like the most beautiful of women. This was special and sacred, and I would savor it and cherish this and every first to come until our last. I swallowed back the sorrow of the thought.

  *

  I SLIPPED FROM THE BED, put on David’s button-up shirt, and tiptoed to the kitchen. I made my way to the coffee maker and started it, like I normally did, but with a smile on my face and flashes of the night before running through my mind. I glanced down at my ring. Grandma would be proud. I waited for my prince and it was so worth the wait. A twinge hit my heart as I realized there wouldn’t be enough time with him like this. I shook the melancholy. This was my honeymoon; I needed to live in the present or I’d never live at all. I made my way to the fridge, pulled it open, and grabbed the bacon and eggs. When I backed away to shut the door, I was surrounded by warm arms wrapping around my waist.

  “Good morning, wife.”

  I spun around and kissed him. “Good morning, husband.”

  I stepped around him to place the items on the counter. “How do you like your eggs?” It sounded so domestic. The thrill in my chest radiated out to all the parts of my being, and I knew I was home…for now at least.

  Chapter 14

  Layla

  I PULLED UP TO THE house in the used car David and I had purchased from one of the car lots we now sent regular goodies to for sending business our way. Drake had signed me up for insurance classes in the next town to get me ready to take my state test, plus David still had to haul band equipment to gigs during the summer and would be taking the truck when he moved to Clemson in the fall. We decided to go ahead get a car for me the week after we were married.

  I was exhausted from the mind numbing facts from the class, and my back hurt from the uncomfortable chairs. After a forty-minute drive home, I was ready to kick my shoes off, take a long hot bath, and put on my comfy pajama pants. When I pulled up to the house, there were rows of cars along the street leading up to it, and even more in our driveway and yard. I didn’t know what was going on, but knew it would come between me and my quiet evening of rest.

  I had to park down the street and walk to my yard. Music blared from the house and every light was on. I could see a crowd of flannel-wearing kids through the windows as I approached. When I got to the steps, a girl with long, brown hair parted down the middle stood at the door. She wore cut-off shorts, a floral babydoll shirt, and a pair of Keds. She stuck out her hand to stop my entry. “Ten dollars to enter.”

  I stepped back and placed my hand on my hip. “Excuse me?”

  “Ten dollar cover charge to the concert. And it’s BYOB–nothing being served but soda.”

  “I’m not paying to enter my own house. I live here.” I pushed the girl out of my way and walked in. All the furniture was gone from the living room as crowds of kids pressed in to listen to Michael sing one of his stupid, whiny guitar songs. Boy, I missed pop music. This stuff was just depressing. It was as bad as the fashion. I spotted David at the soundboard and barreled through the horde to get to him.

  He saw me, jumped up, and kissed me on the cheek. “Hey, I didn’t have a way to reach you at the class, but the house party we had planned fell through, so I offered our place. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  I know I looked at him like he had lost his mind. How could he think I’d be okay with this? “Well, you thought wrong.”

  David’s forehead scrunched as he just stared at me with no response.

  “Why on earth would you think I wouldn’t mind? These people are wrecking our house and it’s not even really ours. What if they do damage we can’t afford to fix?”

  He shook his head and grinned. “I’ve been keeping up with where people go, and I put all the furnishings in the shed out back or in the back rooms and locked them. The most they can do is knock a hole in a wall, and I know how to spackle and the room could use a repaint.”

  I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. “What if they break a window?”

  “That only happens in movies. I’ve only seen a hole in a wall at one of these once.”

  “David, I’m trying to get licensed in this state to sell insurance. Some of these kids are drinking in our house. I’m the adult here. I could get in trouble.”

  “We aren’t selling it, and they’re not supposed to bring it. I made sure we weren’t doing anything illegal.”

  “What about the girl at the door telling folks it’s BYOB?” I raised one eyebrow and waited for a response.

  “That’s not what I told her to say.” He started to go around me toward the door.

  I stopped him. “Well, that’s what she’s saying. Do you think the cops will care where they got it, if we get busted? Why would you do this? If they look too closely at me, dig too much, they might find out I’m not Lisa Kelly Parker. Did you ever think of that? Hmmm….” I spun away from him and grabbed at my forehead before I came back and pointed in his face. “This was so childish and unthinking of you. I knew you were young, but I thought you were more mature than this.”

  David’s back went stiff, and he stood taller. “I’m not a child. I don’t have to ask your permission about everything I do.”

  “When it involves my home and my going to jail, you do.”

  David’s lips drew in tight forming a straight line as his jaws clenched. He closed his eyes and took a breath before he spoke. “I really don’t think there’s any chance of the cops being called. This isn’t some out-of-control party. We are on a back street with a wooded lot on one side of us and an empty house on the other. And I’ll have you know that I was thinking like an adult when I moved the gig here. The band has been my source of income for about a year now. It’s how I bought your ring and how I put money down on this place and paid the first month’s rent. We just bought a car. I know with school starting soon, the most I can get is a summer job that pays minimum wage. Word is getting out, and our gigs make pretty good money now. Having it here gives us a bigger cut. I’m selling sodas from the kitchen and pizza by the slice. I did this for us, so don’t treat me like a stupid kid.”

  “I’m going to bed. Get these people out of my house right now.” I crossed my arms and glared at him.

  “These people paid money to be here, and this is my house too. The people will leave when the concert is over.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “Whatever.” I stormed down the hall to my room and turned the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. I remembered he said he’d locked them. The bed was probably covered with stuff from the living room. I spun and marched back down the hall to the front door, nearly knocking babydoll-shirt girl over as I made my way to my car. I got in it and drove off, not even sure of where I was headed.

  I ended up at the Bantam Chef, parked the car, and went inside. This required food therapy. I walked to the counter. “A peanut-butter milkshake and an order of mixed onion rings and fries.”

  I paid and went and sat on the red bench near the pickup window, with my order number in hand. An elderly woman with gray hair sat on the other end of the bench. Her back was hunched and her body thin with age, but she was still well put together. Makeup and dressed nice. I smiled at her and she smiled back. Then I turned away to stare at the wall.

  “I like your shoes.” The woman’s voice was cracked and frail.

  “Excuse me?” I turned back to fac
e her.

  “I like your shoes. I used to have a pair just like them back in the day.”

  “Thanks.” I looked down at my shoes. They were the ones I came to 1994 in, so I doubted she had owned these shoes since the designer wasn’t known yet.

  “I like your hair too. All these kids running around looking like they forgot to brush their hair.” She shook her head and pursed her lips. “And what’s the deal with all the flannel? Looks like a lumberjack convention.”

  I smiled at her. “Exactly. It’s summer and in the south, no less. This isn’t Washington State.”

  “Don’t worry. Dressing up will come back in style.”

  “I know. Fashion runs in cycles.”

  The man at the counter called my number.

  “My food’s ready. Nice talking to you.”

  The woman nodded as I stood, got my food, and carried it to a table by the jukebox. A few minutes later someone stood by my table, and I looked up. It was the old woman.

  “Mind if I sit down? I hate sitting alone.”

  My eyes grew wide at her request. I would have preferred to dine alone, but what could I say? “Sure.” I scooted my tray to the side to make room for hers. “Have a seat.”

  She sat, and I noticed she had ordered the same thing I had.

  “Fried food is the best. Not always great for the thighs,” I said.

  She laughed with a scratchy voice common to older folks. “True, but I think I’m beyond worrying about my thighs. Maybe a hip replacement. I don’t eat this way often anymore. I haven’t been here in years. Just got the notion to come to this old haunt and reminisce. Remember the good old days as they call them.”

  I nodded politely as I dunked a fry in ketchup and took a bite.

  “My husband and I used to come here all the time when we were dating.” She got a far-off look when she said it.

  She pointed at my rings. “I see you’re married. Where’s your husband tonight?”

  I thought about how to answer. “He’s…working.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head as I said it.

  “Yes, sometimes they do that. Sometimes they do that too much.”

  “He doesn’t work too much. It’s not a real job actually. Just something he and his friends play at.”

  “Does he get paid in Monopoly money?”

  I smiled. “The money is real. It’s just… his friends have this gosh-awful garage band playing whiny guitar music. They get gigs…that’s a chance to play somewhere for money.”

  The old woman’s lips pursed, creating deep wrinkles around her lips and nodded. “I know what a ‘gig’ is.”

  “Okay, sorry. So they play at parties and all…and people, lots of people pay to listen. I have no clue why. They aren’t even the cool kind of boy band that dances around the stage. It isn’t music with a dance beat that makes you want to move. It’s all depressing stuff. One song is about a bunch of sad misfits and has a chorus that just says, ‘Mmmmmmm.’ What the heck?”

  “So you don’t take it seriously, what he does for a living?”

  “I… I mean it’s not what he’s really going to do for a living. I take his future seriously. I feel like I’m just waiting on the man he’s going to become and putting up with the child he is in the meantime.”

  The old woman sat silently eating her fries and sipped her shake before she finally spoke. “I wonder how that makes him feel?”

  “How what makes him feel?”

  “How would you feel if what he wanted most from you was for you to become someone else? Why does it matter if you don’t like the music—it sounds like others do? Does he use the money to contribute or blow it all on childish things?”

  “No, he doesn’t waste it. He hasn’t really bought anything for himself since we got married.” I thought about it for a second. “He paid the deposit on our house and the first month’s rent with money from the band.” He’d just reminded me of that before I left the house.

  “You say you take what he’s going to do seriously. Don’t you think it would do you better to be happy with the man he is, instead of the man you wish he was? If you only think like that, you’ll miss what’s right in front of you, and one day, when you are a widow like me, you’ll wish you had him back, irritations and all.”

  I sat up thinking of her words and swallowed my own pain at the knowledge that I’d never be like her. There was a bitterness I hadn’t acknowledged before at knowing so much about my future. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. We had something special and then it was over.”

  “Yeah, the end always comes too quickly, doesn’t it?” I tried not to think about what I knew of our end.

  “Indeed it does, even when you get two lifetimes worth of joy.”

  I sat there chewing on another fry and took a sip of my shake, pondering what had happened.

  “I guess I thought with us, we’d be different from everyone else. He and I…I thought we were special, you know…meant-to-be.”

  “Maybe you are.”

  “But shouldn’t that make this easier? Keep us from being disappointed with each other?”

  “What made you disappointed?”

  “I’d been at work all day…well, class actually all this week. All I wanted to do when I got home was take a long bubble bath and maybe cuddle with my husband and not think about anything else for a while. But instead, he has this concert going on, and some girl tried to charge me a cover to enter my own house.”

  “Did your husband know what your plans were?”

  “No, but…”

  “But what? He should just know what you want without you telling him?”

  “Yes, if we are this magically-meant-to-be couple. Yeah.”

  “Do you know what he wants without him asking?”

  “Yeah. He’s pretty simple to please.”

  “Really? Did you know supporting his contributions pleases him?”

  “I guess. I wasn’t really thinking about…”

  “Him?”

  Was she right? Was this more about me being selfish than him being childish?

  “Did the two of you ever discuss the issue of his band performing at the house?”

  “No, I guess I never considered him doing that, and he never considered that I’d have a problem with it.”

  “Then maybe you two need to talk about this together. Also I found, as a wife, if I made it my goal to be easy to please, I wasn’t so easily disappointed. Maybe you should make it your goal to be easy to please. It would keep the disappointment down and make your expectations a little more realistic. Just because you two are made for each other doesn’t mean you don’t have to work at it. You said you were in class for work, so it seems even though you have a job you are good at, you still have to study. Do you like your job?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Is every day perfect?”

  “No.”

  “And classes prove you still have to be willing to learn and work hard to keep your job. “The poor boy you married is a man in the making, not God. Don’t expect him to just know what you want and get mad that he didn’t provide it. And respect what effort he puts into the marriage. Treat his gigs just like he treats your job.”

  I sat back taking in her words. She was right. David hadn’t really done anything wrong. I still didn’t like having a party at our house and strangers all over the place, but it was his house too, and he’d done it to help pay for my car. It wasn’t childish, and I’d probably hurt his feelings when I said it was. The realization that I’d insulted him stirred something in me. I needed to talk to him and make it right.

  I reached over and took the old woman by the hand. “Thank you. I’m glad you sat down with me. I needed this talk.”

  “No problem. It’s the job of the older women to teach the younger ones how to love their husbands. It doesn’t just happen, you know.”

  “I need to get home and apologize.” I stood and looked at the woman. “What is your name? Can I find you in the p
honebook? I might need some advice like this again. My grandma used to give the best advice, but she’s gone.”

  “Just call me Kate. But no, you can’t find me in the phone book, because I don’t live here anymore. I’m just visiting.”

  “Kate, that was my… friend’s name. A long time ago.”

  The old woman smiled

  “Well, I hope that I run into you again, maybe on your next visit.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  I took my tray and emptied it. A dark-haired man in his fifties walked in the door. He glanced around the place before his eyes landed on Kate. His lips pursed as he rushed to her. “Mom, I’ve been looking all over for you. You know you aren’t supposed to go off alone like this. What if something had happened to you?”

  “I knew I’d be all right. I’m not your child—I’m your mother. Stop babying me.” She stood and picked up her tray. He tried to take it, but she wouldn’t give it up. “I can put away a tray for myself.”

  I grinned at the sight as I headed for my car. I got in, started the engine, and pulled out into the street. I would make it all up to my sweet husband, even if it meant I listened to the whiny guitar music and acted like I liked it.

  I drove home, pulled up behind the line of cars, and parked. I looked at the cars differently now. They represented fans of the band. They belonged to people who enjoyed the talent and hard work of David, Michael, and the guys—and were willing to pay money to hear them perform.

  I walked back into my house and found David selling pizza from our kitchen. I found my scrunchie and pulled my hair back in a quick ponytail before washing my hands and helping out with the sales.

  By the time the night was over, the pizza and drinks were gone, and the kitchen drawer David was using as a cash drawer was full. It had been too noisy to talk, so I hadn’t made my apologies yet. I picked up a garbage bag and started gathering cans and paper plates from around the room as the band cleared out. Once the guys were gone, I put the bag down and made my way to David and took hold of his arm.