Characters belong to Janet Evanovich, if you recognize them. This is an alternate reality / and Plum universe short series, (maybe), based loosely on the soundtrack for the movie the Big Chill. (but it has nothing at all to do with the movie!)
Maybe you'll think that love will tie you down
And you ain't got the time to hang around
Maybe you think that love will make us fools
And so it makes you wise to break the rules
Oh little girl
Holy shit is right, I thought as I rounded the corner towards the reception desk. Standing, looking out the window toward the bank of elevators like he hadn't a care in the world was my dance partner from the other night. Connie took one look at my face, which was blanched white in shock, and started to ask if I was ok, when he spun around and smiled at me.
"Stephanie Plum," he stated. It was good thing Connie was sitting down. I unfortunately didn't have the benefit of a seat, and found myself leaning unflatteringly into the wall for support. Holy shit indeed. He walked over to me, and took my hand.
"May I speak with you outside for a moment?" he inquired, all the while he was leading me away from the safety of the office and towards the elevator. I went without comment because I didn't trust my voice quite yet. The elevator was empty when we got in and that made me a little nervous. He stood incredibly close to me, and the scent he gave off was that of pure animalistic maleness. I really needed to lean against something for support. He sensed it, and he obliged. "Babe," he whispered into my ear as he pressed himself against my back, holding me up.
This was crazy. I had no idea who he was and I was almost in his arms in an elevator! I pulled myself away as the door opened, but he just reached for my hand and pulled me out onto the sidewalk in front of the building. I went along. I know it, I'm stupid. I could hear my mother's voice in my head. 'Don't talk to strangers; watch out for strange men.' I was going to end up on the eleven o'clock news because here I was, meekly doing whatever this guy asked. They'd have no idea where to find the body. Connie doesn't even know who I left with. Hell, even I didn't know who I was leaving with! I finally found my voice.
"Uhm, uh…" Smooth Steph, smooth. I scowled sadly at my inability to speak. He was still walking, so I continued following him. We walked around the side of the building toward the parking lot, and there he stopped. I almost walked right into him. "Babe." He said again, like he wanted to say something more, but didn't. He smiled at my flustered expression.
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Who is he? How did he find me? Why is he here? What's the meaning and purpose of life? I probably should start the Spanish Inquisition now, so I could field all the questions Marylou was bound to ask, assuming I survived.
"How did you find me?"
"It's what I do."
Cryptic. Great. "Why? Why are you here? What did you need?"
"I wanted to see you." He stepped closer to me, the hint of a smile angling on his lips.
I looked at him blankly.
"To thank you for dancing with me the other night."
"Oh, ok." Alright this is weird. "Who are you?"
"The other half of you."
Ok now he's freaking me out. But I don't want to send him away. Yeah, call me crazy. But damn it, the man is hot. "Uhm, I think I need to get back to work."
"Stay Stephanie."
The great communicator that I am, all I could come up with in reply was, "What's your name?"
Hey, he knows mine; I decided I might as well know, so when I dreamed of him again, like I had the last two nights, I could stop thinking of him as 'that guy'. It seemed reasonable at the time, ok?
"Carlos. Have lunch with me Babe."
I didn't want to leave. I was willing to admit that was the problem. I wanted to spend some time with this Carlos. This was way freaky. Marylou was going to have a field day with my weekend!
"Why did you come looking for me?" I asked again.
"I couldn't sleep." I could see that he was trying to tell me something more. He then asked me, "Have you slept?"
"Yes." His eyes lost some of their shine when I told him that. It seemed that he was saddened by my admission, so I quickly qualified it, "But I've dreamt."
"About me?" his voice was soft. His eyes gave away his emotion, although the rest of his face was a carefully crafted blank.
I looked straight into his eyes, shimmering black pools of heat is what they were, before looking away and admitting quietly, "About you."
He stepped closer to me, backing me up against the wall of the building. Hewasthisclose, but not touching me. I could feel the heat of his body against me, his breath caressing my cheek. He brought his hand up to my face, and his finger traced the edge of my jaw, from my ear down to my chin, and then it trailed along my neck, sending absolute shivers to the very core of my being. His finger caressed my collar bone, and then his hand skimmed my upper arm. As it reached my elbow, he leaned in the rest of the way and kissed my lips. He pulled me closer to him and his lips, gently at first and then with more insistence, massaged mine. I was done. Gone. This man owned me.
I felt his tongue trailing along my lower lip and I quivered. He let go of my elbow and his hand reached down till our fingers were entwined. I felt the brick wall against me, and the strong hardness of his body teasing me. His other hand snaked around my waist, pulling me closer to him, if that was even possible. My mouth was singing; his lips were like fire, I gave in to the gentle pressure and his tongue invaded my mouth. I was going to melt into a puddle in a minute, I was sure. Never in my life, ever, had anyone caused me to feel what he was making me feel. I was glad his arms were holding me upright because I don't think I had the power or the presence of mind to remain vertical.
After his kiss ---
(Could you call what had just happened a kiss? That seemed lacking in description. What we just shared was something more significant than a kiss; it was more like he had shown me that an essential part of my being existed that I had never known about….)
---I pulled away, equal parts shocked, turned on, and irritated. I needed to lash out, because my head was spinning, my heart was beating double time, and my stomach was churning.
"Your girlfriend?" I sputtered. What kind of jerk is this?
"I'm sorry?" He didn't back away.
"Does your girlfriend know you make a habit of stalking and assaulting women?"
"Do you think I am stalking you babe?"
The hint of a smile that I was beginning to guess was all you'd ever see graced his face. I noticed he didn't make an excuse about his girlfriend, or about his actions.
"Have lunch with me," he asked again.
I couldn't help it. I said yes. "Let's go someplace else, though. Not around here."
"Afraid of being seen with me?" He cocked one eyebrow up.
"Well, everyone knows me around here." And they know Dickie, I silently added. And I didn't think I felt like explaining to Dickie about letting this man, this Carlos, grope me and kiss me like there was no tomorrow.
"Your choice babe." And he led me to his Jaguar. Shit. I am getting into the car with him. Nope, they'll never find the body, I briefly thought, before settling back into the soft leather seats…Maybe you'd like to give me kisses sweet
Only for one night with no repeat
Maybe you'd go away and never call
And a taste of honey is worse than none at all
Smoky Robinson
xxxxx
I walked around to my side of the car, and my mind was racing. Jesus. That kiss was something unworldly. This woman could make blind men see. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and got in. I looked over at Stephanie, and something deep inside just felt right. I pulled out into traffic, looking straight ahead. "How long do you get for lunch? What do you like?"
"An hour. I'll eat most anything," she smiled back at me.
I found it too distracting to think of her sitting there; I couldn't talk to her without wanting to look at her. I wanted to touch her again. At the next traffic light, I did just that. I reached out and took her hand from her lap, and I held it in mine; our tangled hands rested on my thigh. She looked at me and shyly smiled. The horn blaring behind me reminded me that this was the only shade of green I'd be getting, so I pulled my eyes from hers and continued to the restaurant.
I pulled into a little Italian place called Giuseppe's. I had been there a few times and the food was good. "Yum, pizza," she said as I came around to take her hand and go inside. Great, at least she wasn't lying about food. Well, pizza is a safe choice.
We took the booth in the back and ordered. I took her hand as soon as the waitress took our menus. I played with her fingers, lightly stroking them, looking at her intensely all the while. Her eyes didn't leave mine; it felt incredibly erotic, touching her like this, losing myself in her eyes. I ran my finger across her engagement ring, and the mood was broken.
"Nice rock," I commented. "You're fiancé's successful?" I didn't give a shit, but I wanted to hear her voice again, and she hadn't spoken another word since we sat down.
"Uhm, yeah, I guess. He's a lawyer. Hopes to make partner this year." She gave me a sad smile.
"When's the wedding?"
"Christmas."
"Nice."
Small talk sucks. I hate it. She's uncomfortable. Probably wondering why in the world she agreed to come with me. "Babe."
"Hmm?" She looked up at me over her straw. Oh, the eyes.
"Thank you for coming to lunch with me. I bet you think this is a bit odd."
"Well, now that you mention it…" She giggled nervously. "What were you talking about before? When you said you were my other half --what on earth did you mean?"
"This is going to sound weird; really, really weird. You're going to probably really regret ever getting in my car half way through. Please, just listen, ok?" God, I hope she will. I can't even believe I am going to tell her this. She stared at me, took my hand and squeezed it. "Ok. I won't run yet."
"You said you dreamt about me?" She nodded. "Were we dancing, babe? Dancing in the air, nothing holding us up but each other?"
Her eyes widened; she sputtered, her soda spraying everywhere. By the time we cleaned up the mess, the pizza arrived.
"Eat," I told her.
"I'm going to tell you a story, babe. My parents came to America in 1960, just before diplomatic relations between Cuba and the U.S. ended. My father took my mother and my two sisters--- Marina, the woman I was dancing with--- and Celia, they were toddlers; and he fled to this country." I smiled as I saw her mind sail to the other night, watching me and my 'girlfriend' dance. Marina will get a laugh out of that!
"He was a professor of economics; highly valued by Castro, but he wanted for his daughters to have the freedoms that Castro was taking away. I was a surprise to them; I didn't come along till my mother was almost 48, my father 62."
"But that's not the story I wanted to tell you. My mother, she was the most beautiful woman I have ever known. But she was waiting for true love. I remember her telling the story of her courtship to my sisters; they were typical American teenaged girls and loved romantic tales. In Cuba in my mother's day, girls were raised to get married and have children. All her sisters and her friends did just that. But not Estella. She told her mother and her father she was going to wait until she found the man who loved her above all else.
My great-grandmother had apparently created fairy tales to entertain her grandchildren when she watched them. And my mother was a romantic soul, and believed them. She knew with all her heart that one day, she would look up, and her eyes would connect with the eyes of the man who owned the other half of her heart, just like her grandmother had told her. She had many suitors; it made her father shake with anger when she would turn them away. She claims she had dreamed of the man she would meet. She would wait for him. Of his nine children, only Estella was home still, and he couldn't understand her obstinate streak.
Then her mother died, and Estella couldn't leave home, because all her sisters and brothers were busy trying to feed their own families; no one could care for their father too. Estella was 29 years old, and spending her nights at the hospital where her father had been taken when he became ill. She slept in the waiting room every night; visited her father every morning, and then went to work.
One night when she arrived, there sat a man in his early 40's who was waiting for his wife to come out of surgery. Estella smiled at him, and he smiled back. She had a feeling of complete and utter calm when she gazed into his eyes, and was certain that she had met the man who owned the other half of her heart. And she was troubled by this, because if this were he, then who was she to be waiting for?
But she stopped worrying about her own heartache when the doctors appeared, because they hadn't saved the man's wife. He was inconsolable. And she stood and walked over to this stranger after the doctors walked away, and she put her arms around this man, and let him find release in his tears on her shoulder.
I'm sure you guessed that man was my father. He and his first wife never had children. He felt the same connection that my mother felt, or at least he always agreed with her that he did when he heard her repeat the story."
I looked at Stephanie and smiled when I told her that. I believed it to be the case. My father was never a demonstrative man. I continued when she smiled back at me. "My grandfather died a few weeks later, and my mother and father got married one month after that, on February 14th.
"Wow," she said softly when I finished telling my story. "Valentines Day. That's a sweet story." She looked at me again. "You said your mother was beautiful. Did she die?" She took my hand as she asked me this, and I was grateful for her small kindness.
"My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was ten. My sister Marina, who you saw me with, is almost 18 years older than me. She raised me, along with her two boys, my cousins."
"That's who you were with the other night? She is beautiful. She looked like she loved you very much."
"Yeah, she is beautiful. And I guess she loves me, most of the time, now that I am out of her house and not a bad influence on her kids any longer."
I laughed silently to myself. It had been a rocky road there with Marina and her husband, thankfully now her ex, and the boys. They were three and five when I moved in. I was somewhat of a rebel, I recalled, and shook my head slightly thinking of the shit I had pulled. And she never, ever gave up on me.
"What are you thinking?" She tugged on my hand and smiled at me. God her smile just went deep inside me. "Oh, I don't think you want to know," I stated firmly, pulling my hand away; and I wasn't sure whether I was afraid to tell her what a fuck-up I had been as a kid, or to tell her all I could think about was having her back in my arms again, her lips sucking on my tongue, my fingers running through those incredible curls. My mind went with the latter for a minute, and I didn't even hear her speaking to me, I was so fixated on the way her lips looked, on how they had tasted.
"Carlos?" She said it with some force, and brought me back. "How did you know about my dream?"
xxxxx
I had to ask him twice how it was he had known my dream. He was staring at me; the intensity of his gaze was somewhat nerve-wracking. I wanted desperately to reach up and wipe my nose or something---did I have pizza sauce on it? Why was he staring? He made me incredibly self-conscious. I reached out for his hand instead of my face, and got his attention.
"I had the same dream—every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing us dancing in the air, so I stopped trying to sleep, and decided to find you," he finally explained.
I didn't even have an idea about how to answer that. I had spent two restless nights dreaming about him and it had never even occurred to me to try and solve the problem. I was prepared to go and bitch about it to Marylou, to spend another night or week or lifetime dreaming about him, but attempt to solve the problem? I hadn't realized that was an option. Funny.
I looked up at him, and squirmed. He was looking deep inside me. I felt naked. And that could be a good or a bad thing, I realized with a gasp. "I need to get back to work, I'm already gonna be late, I think."
Carlos nodded, and tossed a few bills on the table. He led me back to his car; but before he opened the door, he stepped very close to me, and he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't the crazy-hot kiss from the alley, but a gentler, expressive exploration. His hand cupped the back of my head and he pulled me closer to him, and I melted into his arms. This was just too easy. He made me feel adored. I didn't even know him. We didn't talk as he drove the short distance to the office. When he pulled up, he grabbed my hand before I could make an exit.
"Babe. Lunch tomorrow?"
"Uh, ok. Yeah. That would be fine."
Dumbass, I thought. I am such a fool. What am I doing?!?!? I bypassed Connie and her questions, because I had NO answers. None. I had just gone off with a total stranger, lip-locked in the alley like in a movie, and been told basically he considered me his destiny. I seriously needed a Marylou night. And it seemed that the gods were on my side all around, because there was a message waiting from Dickie saying he'd be very late tonight.
I rang Marylou's doorbell, balancing some Pino's pizza in one hand, a peace offering to Lenny for letting me borrow his wife. Thankfully it was bowling night so he wasn't going to feel too neglected. Marylou pulled open the door, and gave me a screech hello. She eyed the box, and then swiped the pizza from my hands. Singing out 'I love you girl,' she turned and waddled back into the kitchen. I looked at her, 8 months pregnant, and I felt slightly nauseous.
Oh, dear god, Dickie wants to do that to me? Let me tell you a secret. Pregnancy scares the shit out of me. Marylou's stomach was enormous. Much bigger than it had been last time I saw her. There was no way she could get that baby out. Uh uh. Nope. Not for me. I know how big it is down there and there's no way I want to try to push something the size of Marylou's belly out it. And if I were successful? Then I have a screeching, pooping thing I have to take care of forever. Babies are cute, don't get me wrong. In magazines. On television. I shuddered again at the thought.
Marylou already had the box open on the table, and had a piece up to her lips. "I've been craving this Hawaiian pie since you called and told me you were bringing dinner." She bit down and a look of bliss covered her face. I grabbed me and Lenny some beer and settled down for dinner. We talked Burg gossip while eating; Marylou was positively the best source for the latest dramas. I guessed I had been working too much; I hadn't heard about half of what she knew!!! Marylou knew I needed to talk; she almost shoved Lenny out the door for his bowling league.
She steered me into the living room, grabbed some pillows and put them on the coffee table and sat down heavily onto the couch. She arranged her legs so that they were elevated because she was swelling. Swelling? One more reason why having a child seemed to be a not so sensible thing….you can't fit your feet into nice shoes. Now that may be the angle I could use with Dickie. He has a thing for my feet in 4 inch heels. Hmmm.
"Ok. Spill. What is going on? Your message sounded frantic. What did you mean, you met someone? I know you aren't gonna tell me you met Bruce Springsteen or Bon Jovi, because girl, if you did that without me, I'd have to hit you." We both laughed. Marylou was 5 feet tall, and 100 pounds, soaking wet. Well currently, with that stomach she probably was a ton, but still.
I took a sip of my Corona and began my tale. I told her about the ball, about how it was like a fairy tale the way we gazed at each other. I enlightened her completely on my dreams of Carlos. How he hadn't slept. How the spot where his hand had touched me while dancing still throbbed. When I described what he looked like, I thought she'd faint. "Yeah, really," I said, "he's that gorgeous."
"Stephanie." She looked intensely at me. "You are not the romantic one of us girls; you don't swoon."
"I know." I grimaced. I had listened to myself and couldn't believe it was me talking. I come from a long line of plugged up, non-emotionally expressive people. It was somewhat embarrassing to know I was all dreamy eyed and mushy. I didn't do that stuff.
"So, then he dropped me off at the office, and I agreed to go to lunch with him again tomorrow." I sat back, emotionally spent.
"You didn't!"
"Yeah, I did. I don't know why. But he asked, and I said yeah, sure, ok. I'm a dumbass. What the hell am I thinking???"
"Ok. Let's review this. God-like man spots you from across the room, dances with you, hunts you down, kisses your face off. What do you know about him?? My god, Steph. If Dickie ever found out about this…You don't want to mess up your relationship with Dickie. You're planning your wedding!"
"I know," I whined. "It's like I had no control over what I was doing. Mare, the way he kissed me. I've never felt that before."
She put her hands up to stop me. "Ok, ok. Let's not go there. What do you know about him?"
I just looked at her. She wasn't actually doing this to me was she? Her eyebrow raised, she crossed her arms, and stared back. "Come on, Stephanie Michelle Plum. What do you know about him?"
"His name is Carlos. He's Cuban. He has two older sisters. His parents are dead."
"That's it? Stephanie!"
I sat and thought for a moment. Remembering his arms around me, his lips caressing mine, I added, "He kisses like he invented the idea. He smells like heaven."
She rolled her eyes. "Steph, focus. His last name? his age, occupation? Where he lives?"
"Uhm, no."
"You know nothing else about him."
"He drives a really nice Jag. It's an older model and it's black."
"That's it?"
"Yup, that's it. No wait. He can dance."
"Damn it girl, all you've really told me is that he is as gorgeous as a god. That's well and good, but what does he want from you? Does he know you are engaged? How do you know he's not married, or running from the mob, or something? How did he find you? Who does that? He sounds to me like a rich spoiled playboy, who knows he's hot shit. Why would you risk everything; your happiness with Dickie, your future?"
"Mare, it was just lunch!" Ok, now I was getting a bit steamed. I mean, yeah, I was a bit impulsive, going off with a stranger. But he isn't one any more, right? And nothing happened. Well, nothing bad happened. And besides who said I was happy? I took a deep breath. Marylou was my oldest, dearest friend; I know she was just looking out for me. It's what friends do, and I did appreciate it.
"Marylou, I promise I will be careful." I stood up and went over to give her a hug. "And I will find out all about him tomorrow, to ease your mind, ok? It's just lunch, Mare." I grabbed by bag and said my goodbyes, because I wanted to be in bed and asleep before Dickie got home. "Marylou? Thanks for caring about me. I love you."
Xxxxx
I arrived at Steph's office just at noon on Tuesday. The receptionist looked up when I pulled open the door, squeaked something unintelligible and picked up the phone. Odd woman. "She'll be right out," she said, waving a sheaf of paper in front of her face.
I was tired. I had another sleepless night. Last night however, was probably because I couldn't shake the feeling of her in my arms, and I wanted more than anything to have continued our little interlude somewhere more private. That just led me to the whole issue of what the hell was I doing? I hadn't ever fallen for someone like this. I prided myself somewhat on my aloof, love'em and leave'em attitude. I liked a simple life. Messed up once already with Rachel, but my ideal relationship had as little complication as possible. And having all those memories of my two sisters dating was enough to make me very aware that girls were complicated. I figured that out as a toddler!
But this chick had gotten under my skin. Why the hell was I putting myself through this? She was engaged, and didn't seem like the type to fool around. Mores the pity. I really needed to get laid. No. I really needed to lay her. Shit. That's crass. But I wasn't joking, I thought, feeling all the blood rushing to my dick. I needed her. Thank God she finally came around the corner before I totally had my mind in her pants. My brain was in my pants. Shit. Look at her.
She smiled at me, and I offered her my hand, groaning inside. The elevator door wasn't fully closed before I had backed her against the wall. I leaned into her with my body, and my hands captured her face between my palms. I bent down and pressed my lips to hers. She moaned slightly and shifted to get closer. Our lips touched again and I felt the fire in her. If the elevator had gotten stuck right there, you wouldn't have heard me complain. Unfortunately it opened, and three suits were standing waiting to get on, so I grabbed her hand and we exited.
"What do you want for lunch?" I asked, as I held the door open. I knew what I wanted and it wasn't on any local menu.
"Oh, whatever you want is fine," she smiled at me. "I'm easy."
Damn it, I know she didn't mean it like that but shit! I looked at her and my desire must have been apparent because suddenly she was blushing. She put her hand to her mouth, and started giggling. I pulled her close to me, "It's not nice to tease like that, babe," I whispered into her ear. I felt her shiver. Good, both of us can be frustrated.
"This is a nice car," she told me as I began to back out of the parking spot. "It looks like it would cost a lot." Uh huh. Now she's going to try and figure out what I'm worth. All flipping women are the same. Expensive car, young guy….Damn. I was hoping she was different. I glared at her and turned to the road. "You like Mexican?" I chose to ignore her questions. I really wanted to have her be different.
"Ignore them, babe," I said as we walked into the restaurant, and the guys behind the counter started making kissy-face noises. 'Muy bonita, Carlos.' 'Si, you are a lucky bastard.' 'Always with another pretty girl on your arms.' 'Why don't you bring us a pretty girl sometimes?'
"Come here often?" she rolled her eyes toward the guys up front.
"The food's good." I growled at her. I was not getting in a better mood with their bullshit.
After we ordered, I took her hand in mine, like yesterday, and I just played with her fingers. I was a little aggravated. She had seemed different than other girls. I knew she was someone special, but it didn't take her long at all to decide to calculate my value. What the fuck is wrong with women?
"Hey," she finally got my attention. "Carlos? I keep talking to you and you aren't listening at all. Did I say something wrong? Why are you so angry looking?"
"Sorry." Shit. I didn't hear her talking to me. I have no idea what she asked. "I'm sorry. My mind was wandering. How did you sleep last night?"
"Ok. I didn't wake up with any weird dreams….but I had a hard time turning off my brain to even fall asleep. Did you sleep well?"
"No. As a matter of fact, I didn't babe." I held her hand between mine. "I kept feeling your lips on me, and I didn't sleep well at all."
Her eyes grew large, and her mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. God, I could look at her forever. I took my hand and pushed her mouth closed with a smile on my face. Damn, she is intoxicating. We were still sitting like that five minutes later when Rosa brought our meal to us.
"Babe." I looked at her again, as we finished our lunch and decided to just ask her what had been going through my mind for the past ten minutes. "Take tomorrow off. Go with me to the beach."
"I can't do that!"
"I want to spend more than an hour with you."
What I wanted was to have her to myself for the day. Marina had a house at Point Pleasant and it would be good. We could get to know each other better that way. I could hold her……God what the hell am I thinking? What am I planning after that?
"Carlos." She fidgeted. She looked panicky. Maybe I went too far.
"I don't know anything about you. I can't just leave! What about Dickie?" she added quietly. She's thinking about doing it. Please say yes. Please.
"What do you want to know?" I picked up her hand again. I just needed to be touching her.
"Why, I don't know. Everything. I don't even know your name."
"Carlos." I smiled at her.
She gave me an exasperated grimace. "Your full name? I don't even know that. I don't know how old you are, where you live, what you do. I know nothing about you." It all came out in a rush. She was really nervous.
I gave her a small grin. "Babe."
"My full name is Ricardo Carlos Manoso. I'll be 24. My legal address is in Miami, but I'm staying here with my sister. I'm on leave. I am a soldier, in the Army. I'll be starting Ranger school in a few weeks. Will you go with me to the beach tomorrow?"
"You have a one track mind, don't you?" She laughed.
"I want to spend time with you. What's so odd about that, babe?" I pulled her hand to my lips, and began to kiss her hand. I couldn't help myself. She sat mesmerized, watching me as I kissed each finger, my eyes never leaving hers. I was so lost in her eyes that I never saw Rosa come by with the check.
"I have to go back to work," She finally broke my gaze and looked down to the bill. "Right. The beach, tomorrow?" I asked again.
"Umhn, yeah. I guess. I mean I would like to. I don't know, Carlos. This is all so odd. I don't know how I am supposed to act."
"Act like you want to see me tomorrow babe." I put my arm around her as we left the restaurant. When we got to my car, I reached for her and held her to me. She settled into my embrace as though we were molded from the same clay.
"I do. All I think about is you Carlos. Ever since dancing with you Saturday, every time I close my eyes, I see you. I'm confused. I don't know what to want. I don't know what is supposed to happen." She looked up at me. "I'm getting married," she whispered.
"So you said."
"And you said you are in the army? For how long? Where will you be? We can't 'BE' can we?"
"We can explore this, for a bit, can't we? I've most of the summer. You're not married yet. You don't seem happy babe, if you ask me; you don't seem like you want to get married at all."
She pushed away from me harshly when I commented, but I didn't regret it. The one overwhelming feeling I continued to get about her was how unhappy she seemed. Melancholy even. What kind of a bride was that?
"What do you know about it? You don't know me, or Dickie. Or anything about my life! I'm happy! I have a wonderful man who loves me, and he is going to give me what every girl dreams of!" Her tone was sharp, angry; and it sounded so much to my ears like she was trying to convince herself as much as convince me.
I walked over to the corner of the parking lot, where she had retreated to in anger and frustration. "Is it what you dream of, babe?" I gently asked as I ran my hand across the top of her head. She was curled up on the retaining wall, her head on her knees. I sat next to her, and took a good look at her face. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears, and her face was splotchy with anger, or embarrassment.
"Of course it is. It's what anyone would want Carlos. Someone to love them." Her voice was shaky; as she spoke a tear escaped. I caught it with my finger.
"You have that babe. You have that." I gathered her to me and held her quietly.
In that case I don't want no part
Well that that would only break my heart
Well if you feel like loving me
If you got the notion
I second that emotion
Well if you feel like loving me
If you got the notion
I second that emotion
I Second that Emotion, Smoky Robinson.
xxxxxx
"So, you're gonna go?" her voice was full of resignation, concern. Something I couldn't exactly identify, but it made me feel loved to hear it there anyway.
"Yeah, I am. Marylou, it's the craziest thing. I know that. But he's like a drug." How could I make her understand? I didn't understand it myself.
"Steph. So you found out his name. And what he does. A soldier? Come on, he's probably just looking for a naive piece of ass to fool around with till he's off leave….I'm sorry Steph, I am calling it like I see it…." I heard the unspoken hesitation, and nervous tone in her voice, and couldn't even be angry with her for saying that. It was something that had occurred to me too. I know I'm not sophisticated, or worldly. It probably was tattooed across my forehead. What was I doing?
"Mare, Dickie is going to be in NYC till Friday with this case. I just got off the phone with him before I called you. It just feels like it's supposed to happen." Like I shouldn't toy with fate. Maybe it's cold feet. Early on still, but maybe that's all it is. God I hope that's all it is. Cold feet, I mean, not fate. I do mean that, don't I? Damn I am so confused.
After I hung up with Marylou, I crashed onto my bed in my thinking position, spread eagled on top of the covers. I could still feel his hands caressing my cheek as I sat there, crying in front of a total stranger for chrisssake! I'm such a freakin' loser. I'm not used to being pursued, that's for sure. I was never the girl all the guys in school were panting after.
Of course that brought my mind to the night Joe Morelli came sniffing around. And because I was so naive, because I wasn't used to being chased, I fell for his little speech, hook, line and sinker. And I gave it up on the floor of a bakery. God damn him! I was to this day astonished at how stupid I could be! When I smashed my car into his ass a few years ago, I felt a great cleansing breeze blow over me. I finally was free of his foul treatment of me. But I would never forget it.
Would I remember it though, when I needed to? What had I learned then that I needed to take with me tomorrow? Why the hell am I going to call Carlos and say yes? Because he really does feel like your other half, Stephanie. You know it. You can't deny that you haven't ever, not for a minute, ever felt this way. I rolled over, mentally kicking myself, as I reached for the phone. I needed to hear his voice.
I realized I had spent far too much time trying to decide what to wear this morning, as I glanced at the clock. Shit, I still have to shower! I ran to the bathroom and turned on the spray. As I scrubbed, I thought about our phone call last night. Oh, what a way to fall asleep, with his voice murmuring in my ear.
I had paged him and he really did return my call. I let out a deep breath as the phone rang. I was sure he wouldn't call back. Damn it Steph, this isn't 9th grade! Take a chill pill. I gathered my courage and answered. His voice was even sexier on the phone; I guessed it might be because I couldn't get distracted by looking at him. He didn't seem all that comfortable just chatting, but what guy had ever found talking on the phone a wonderful diversion? After I told him I would meet him in the morning, we spoke about nothing at all. I was tired; emotionally overloaded, lying in bed. His voice lulled me to sleep, and my dreams last night were of him. I had awakened at 2:30 am, to find the phone cord dangling on the floor.
I drove to the Tasty Pastry and parked my car in the municipal lot across the street. I spotted his Jag before I saw him, standing by the door of the shop, a box of donuts and some coffees already in hand. I dropped my pocketbook as I opened the door, and had to go scrambling under the car, ass in the air, to retrieve my brush, my suntan lotion, and my can of hairspray. (Hey, I'm a Jersey girl, and he's taking me to the beach!) I dusted myself off as I walked over to him, trying not to embarrass myself further. Good thing I wore cute panties was all I could think as my denim mini skirt had pretty much given him a free show.
"Babe." He gave me a grin I had already identified as predatory, that of the big bad wolf. It made me shiver, but it wasn't fear I was feeling. He handed me a coffee, and I grabbed the box of donuts too, to investigate what he had chosen. I had been a sales girl at the Tasty Pastry through high school; I found you could learn a lot about people by the donuts they ate.
I peeked into the box, and found four Boston Crème's. He better not think those were his, I thought, as I grimaced at his other choice. Plain crullers-- un-powdered, un-dipped, un-decorated in any fashion. And only two. Hmmm. He is either truly my other half; the good half, which knows this stuff is bad for you and has great control; or we may be fighting before we reach the beach, if he thinks I am going to share those Boston Crème's. I looked at him through my lashes and smiled. This could get interesting.
"Ready to go, Babe?"
I nodded, holding tight to the box of donuts. He raised his eyebrow at me and almost shook his head. Ooh, dear, I think he plans on fighting me for the Boston crèmes! I wonder if it will end up being a physical contact kind of thing…will we end up rolling around somewhere, trying to claim the last donut? I was lost in my little fantasy. The idea of having to rid him of all that sugary sweetness that got stuck on him with my tongue….Crap, Steph, cool off!!! What the heck! My mind was working overtime here, fantasizing about this guy. This, this soldier, this stranger.
I looked over at him. He hadn't said another word since we took off. Now, me, I'm a talker. Especially when I am nervous, I think filling the air with rambling kind of covers a variety of feelings. I am sitting here, after having all these thoughts of licking him and hoping he'd want to lick me back and he doesn't even comment on the weather? So, of course I had to open my mouth.
"Erhm…."
Okay, so Toastmasters International isn't looking for me to be their spokesperson, ha ha. I knew this was a bad idea. He turned his head fractionally, but seemed to have both eyes still on the road. He made no further comment either, just turned his head. That might have been a smile, if maybe he was afflicted with lock-jaw or something. I stopped looking at him and began to twist my fingers together in my lap. What the hell am I doing? I was starting to get a queasy feeling. Maybe Marylou was right. I was two seconds away from screaming 'let me out of the car' when he took his hand off the steering wheel and reached out for my twisting hands, and stilled them.
"Babe."
His voice calmed me. He let go for a moment and turned on the CD, and soft jazz came from the speakers. Ok that's a surprise. He didn't strike me as jazzy…more, I don't know, hip-hop, or rap? Or even rock. Me, I'm classic rock. A bit heavy metal. But at least the quiet stopped. And he picked up my hand again. But he didn't speak. I chuckled to myself. I knew a few women who would say he was perfect, based solely on the fact he didn't talk. He looked over; again, I was paying attention and saw the slight movement.
"Care to share, babe?" His eyebrow shot up as he asked me.
"Huhn? Oh, no, I was just thinkin'…" I mumbled. He is going to think I am the stupidest person he ever met!
"Babe." And eyes back on the road. Fine. I would settle for his hand.
"This really is a nice car." Okay, so I was able to be silent for exactly 24 minutes. Sue me. I just felt odd. I needed to know he wanted to be here with me; right now it almost felt like he was obligated to drive me somewhere, not like he suggested it. I just wanted to have him talk to me.
"It is."
Nothing else. Not another word. Ok, now I am done, alright? "Uh, so Carlos is there anything particular you want to tell me? I mean, you know, you are being…" (a prick, I wanted to say, really!!! He's being a prick)… "somewhat, I don't know, quiet." There. I said it. He'll either tell me what's on his mind--- there has to be something bothering him, or he'll turn the car around.
Maybe you'll think that love will tie you down
And you ain't got the time to hang around
Maybe you think that love will make us fools
And so it makes you wise to break the rulesxxxx
Damn stupid idea. What on earth possessed me to ask her to the beach? There's gotta be an easier way to get laid. I'm not even gonna get any; I can feel it now. Shit. If she asks me one more fucking question about my car. I let go of her hand and just drove. Oh, quit being a jerk, my sane side said. She has no clue as to why you are brushing her off. She doesn't know you, or your car or your stupid assed past or anything. I glanced down and saw the needle on the speedometer hit a place I'd really get reamed for…and my knuckles where white. I took a deep breath, trying to find my center; breathe, Manoso. Breathe. Getting pulled over for reckless driving three days before having to report to Ft. Benning wouldn't be wise.
Shit. I knew that ultimately was what was bothering me. When I had gotten home last night there had been a message on the fridge. I'd been told to report on Sunday. Fuck the summer. I thought I had all this time to decompress; I could deal with all the issues of the divorce, and the rest of the legalities, before going back. Maybe spend some time with Steph, and get to know her; that seemed an ideal use of my free time.
Whatever, it was blown now, because instead of the beginning of August, I had to leave tomorrow. Damn. And I wanted this. Becoming a Ranger was something I had decided on a few years ago. But I only got the balls back in the spring to apply. And now? It was just an irritation. An interruption.
This wasn't good. I had learned to compartmentalize while in the Army. I had learned to calm myself, control my temper, and avoid temptation. All things that would be needed if I were to become a successful Ranger. All things I had needed to learn in order to stay alive, which is how I ended up in the army to begin with, I thought to myself.
I finally looked over at Stephanie. Wow. She really had me tied in knots, I realized.
"Babe, I like to drive when I drive, ok?" she nodded her head, but seemed dejected. I turned back to the road, and I left the conversation unfinished. That actually was the truth. Driving time, I became one with the sound of the engine, feeling it rumbling and purring under me, feeling the power… it was a distraction to talk.
And truth be told I didn't want to disrupt my fantasy that she was the one for me by realizing she was still trying to analyze my worth. Just like Rachel; just like every woman I've ever met. She'll be sadly disappointed in any event. Of course, I could tell her. Why the hell am I putting myself through this? She is engaged to marry that lawyer. She shouldn't care one way or another.
The weather really was perfect for the beach. We arrived at Marina's cottage before lunch, and I pulled into the driveway. I opened Steph's door and grabbed her hand as she got out. "Babe." I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her to me. Oh, yeah, this was nice. She didn't hesitate, but settled into my embrace like we had been doing this for a lifetime. She smelled fresh, like the sunshine, and I breathed in her scent deeply, relaxing and finding comfort in her arms. She rested her head on my shoulder and seemed content to let me just feel her close. Finally, I realized we needed to move on. But I didn't like it. It meant having to face the truth about things. And I wasn't particularly interested in going there.
"So you like the Jag?" I asked as I unlocked the front door.
"The Jag? I'm sorry?"
"My car--- you keep asking about it," I nodded towards the driveway as I closed the door on the heat, and felt the dim coolness of the cottage wash over me. It was a memory feeling that overcame me whenever I came here. My childhood.
"Oh, right. I'm not really a car person…. But yeah, it's nice. Fast. And it's kinda sexy…. like you are." She beamed at me, and then lowered her lashes as if embarrassed by her admission. Her face spoke volumes, I realized, and what I read there told me she was perplexed as to why I was asking. Hmmm…she wasn't trying to figure dollars and cents. Different. Shit. How do I deal with this?
Head-on, Manoso, you know it. Lay it on the line. She's engaged for god sake. I gave her the nickel tour, leaving her at the hallway bathroom to change into her bathing suit. I changed into board shorts in the master bedroom, pulled on a black tank top, stuck my feet into some sandals, and headed for the kitchen area.
Sticking my head into the fridge, I was rewarded by finding a few six packs of Corona, and not much else. I grabbed a few beers by their necks and began to rummage around in the cabinets looking for something to eat. Two bags of open potato chips--- sour cream and BBQ, a box of pretzel sticks and some tuna. Right. Lunch out somewhere.
I was sitting on the deck, the glass doors open to the great room, when my heart began to beat wildly. I had begun to recognize that for a signal that she was nearby, so I called out to her.
"Babe." I looked her up and down with an appreciative eye. Her legs went to her neck! She had on little neon green flip-flops, and incredible calves. My eyes wandered up some more, past her knees, and I got a glimpse of sexy thighs before being stopped by a sundress. It was bright green as well, with white flowers all over it, and it was hardly what one would call a cover-up. From where I sat, all it did was entice me more. I managed to look at her face, eventually. Damn it man, you're in trouble. And she didn't seem to know it. She smiled, and the smile was too innocent. She had no idea how alluring she was. If she realized what I was thinking, she hid it well.
"It's nice here," she said, grabbing a chair and pulling it beside me. I nodded towards the beer on the table, and she grinned and took one. And she took a healthy swig, too, I noticed. Liquid courage, oh yeah.
"My father left this place to my sister." I spoke quietly, almost to myself. Memories of my childhood tended to make me melancholy. I looked around and could see Mami and Papi, and it always hurt. I looked at the old rose bushes, now abandoned and growing wild, because they just didn't mean the same thing to Rina as they did to Mami. I forgot Steph was there, actually, till I heard her cough. Just tell her, and be done with it, fool.
I looked over at her, and my heart beat faster. She's gotten to me. I don't normally share. It's just not my nature to talk about myself, never has been. But I started telling her anyway. "I told you he was an economics professor, right? He invested in two things, real estate and insurance policies. He wanted my mother to be well-provided for, since he was so much her senior. After he got to America, he scrimped and saved many years; we never had a lot of extras. He always drove a used car. He was frugal. When he was 71, he finally made his one dream come true."
"I went with him to the car showroom; he paid cash for that Jag outside. It was his pride and joy. And he got a certain satisfaction, I could tell, because the salespeople saw him as just some old Spic, wandering around touching things he shouldn't touch. His accent was heavy; he was a large, bulky man. He didn't fit the expectation of someone to buy a Jag. All his life he waited to buy that car….there had always been a photo of a Jaguar on his office wall. I told you he died at 72…the next year, with my mother. My sisters agreed to save the car for me. They each have beach houses ….he invested smartly."
"It left an impression on me. This car is a huge reminder, no matter how far I go, that I will be looked down on because of my color, my speech. I know I have an accent…we spoke only Spanish at home. People want to make me feel inferior… but I don't know many people who have the strength of character to hold out for so many years to accomplish a dream. Someday, I will have a garage full of expensive cars of my own…."
I looked over at Stephanie when I was finished telling her my story, and my heart clenched, because she was so open. I could see on her face that she felt the same emotion I always felt. I wasn't used to opening up. Sharing like that, well, it wasn't me. I was more about action, and not about introspection. It was somewhat embarrassing to me.
"Oh, Carlos, it's great that you have such a wonderful memory of your dad." She stood as she spoke and sat down next to me on the chaise. "He was your hero, wasn't he?" She spoke quietly, her hand on my shoulder. Damn it, I am not going to get emotional. She was so close to making me lose my rough exterior. You don't last long on the street if you are a wuss. I just don't do that. I shrugged, and hoped it came off how I wanted it to look…unimpressed, detached. A pointless exercise. She was my other half.
She looked deeply into my eyes, and smiled. Then she jumped off the chaise, and ran into the house. I shook my head, silently laughing at her. She made me happy. I wasn't used to the feeling. As I pondered what it all meant, and how I was to deal with these new emotions, she came back and handed me a bottle of suntan lotion.
"I burn pretty easily Carlos; I don't have your luscious dark skin." And with that she turned away from me, whipping off her dress and presented her back to me to slather lotion on. I don't know if she had an ulterior motive, but my mind was definitely distracted from the car, and my father. Her back was smooth and pale, and as I began to spread the coconut scented lotion along her shoulders I lost all other thought. I pulled her down to sit on the chaise, and I scooted behind her, so that we were close together, her back to my front.
I could feel the heat radiating off her body; she was intoxicating to me. I bent my head towards her, and placed a kiss on the back of her neck, where the swimsuit tied. I ran my hands up her forearms, and pulled her back into my embrace, never stopping the little nips along her shoulder, and under her ears. Ohh, man. I was going to burst. I wanted to feel her under me. My hands ran along the edge of her bikini top, slipping under it to spread more lotion, and they slid along the strap, around to the front, and my fingers grazed the bottoms of her breasts beneath the cloth. I tugged her closer to me, sucking on her neck as my hands cupped her.
I heard her breath catch as my thumbs rubbed her nipples roughly, and I shifted again so I could kiss her on her lips. She leaned back into my shoulder and turned her head---our lips met, my fingers explored her warmth and we both were lost.
She is the one who finally put an end to it. God knows I couldn't have. I wanted nothing more in my life than to bury myself inside her; I would die a happy man if I could feel her legs around me, and her voice screaming my name. I could imagine it now, and the pressure of her back against me was torture. She twisted her head and breathlessly leaned out of my embrace, my fingers sliding up to her waist, gently capturing her against me.
"Carlos, I—I can't," she finally whimpered as she pulled away and slid to the end of the chaise and tried to steady her breathing. I was pissed. Seriously pissed. At myself, at her, at her stupid conscience and at her fiancé, Dickie. He wasn't what she needed, I told myself. She should know better. I was what she needed, look at how we fit together, our minds and hearts beat in concert. And what the fuck was I offering her? Nothing. I couldn't look at her. I knew I had come really close to not paying her any attention when she said no, because I didn't want to believe she meant it.
Shit. God damn fucking shit! I bolted off the seat, and the chaise tumbled out from under me, crashing sideways into the table, knocking that over too. I grabbed up an empty beer bottle from the deck and hurled it for all I was worth across the street where it landed with a soft, unsatisfying thud in the dunes. I stared at it as it gently rolled to a stop. Fuck. I ran my hands over my head, lacing my fingers behind me and squeezing my head with my arms as hard as I could, trying to stop the screaming that echoed in my head. Fuck. I couldn't face her. I didn't turn to look at her, I just remained staring across at the beach across the road.
I heard Stephanie step up behind me, and she put her hand on my shoulder. I spun about, dropping my arms, and I could see the sadness in her eyes. I knew I had blown it. "Babe…," I started to apologize; it killed me to see the hurt in her eyes. She shook her head, telling me to stop, and she took my hands in hers. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
No. No. I was the jerk. I couldn't speak, all I could do was stare into her eyes, and I saw the love and the forgiveness, and the acceptance.
I dropped her hands and stalked inside. I needed to clear my head, and I couldn't do it with her standing there, looking at me, making me feel about 3 feet tall, and stupid and coarse and…god damn it. I wanted to make love to her for the rest of my life and I acted like she was just an easy lay. I had stripped by now, and started the shower…I needed a long cold one, and I needed to find a way to get her to accept my apology, I needed to find a way to tell her I was leaving. This day had turned to shit.
xxxxx
I picked up the broken beer bottle from the deck, and righted the table and the chaise. I glanced across the street and saw the other bottle lying against the beach grass. I shuddered. He was so upset; I didn't know what to do or to say. I shouldn't have allowed him to kiss me like that; he must think I am the worst kind of slut. I wandered into the house to get rid of the bottle, to look for him; to see if we couldn't salvage the rest of the day, and I heard the water running.
I grinned despite myself. Cold shower, I thought, because I could still feel him pressed against me, the hard muscles of his chest melting into my back, and damn, it was good. He was good. And what the heck are we trying to do here? Trying to prove? I looked out the window, and I could see the waves of the ocean crash onto the sand, and I followed my base instincts (—you know the whole fight or flee wiring? Mine's wired for flee---) and left the house. I grabbed the beer bottle he had thrown and walked over to a garbage can, and then I found the wooden stairs and headed for the water.
The ocean has always had a calming effect on me. I don't know exactly what it was that did it, but I loved the water. I loved the exhilaration of the beach in the deep winter, when the only other life out there with you was the birds; and I simply adored the beach in summer. I slipped back to my childhood as I hit the sand, holding my flip-flops and wiggling my toes in the hot, rough texture, feeling it ooze between my toes.
I ran as best as I could to the waters edge, and stood, with the water lapping around my ankles. I watched my feet with the same awe that I had as a child as they disappeared, wave after wave, until I couldn't balance any longer. Oh, for childhood again, when the only problem in the world was who was going to be my best friend that week.
The roar of the ocean was stupendous. I had reached that magic part of the beach, where the sounds of civilization disappeared and all you knew was the earth, the sounds of the waves blocking out all other things. My mind emptied then, as it always did. The waves were hypnotic, and my heart began to keep pace with their ebb and flow. The sun was hot, and the water was cool. The breeze was a perfect blend of warm sunshine and moist, briny coolness.
I stood, and absorbed the power that was emanating from the pounding surf. I looked towards London, or would it be Spain? Italy? I'm not good with geography, but I looked far, at the curving horizon, broken by one looming dark orange freighter. Otherwise it was a pristine swath of blue on blue-green, with wispy clouds. All is right in the world, or it should be, when standing here, facing the hugeness of earth, the un-ending pulse. The water that caressed my foot had traveled the earth probably. And someday, in a hundred years, that very drop might reach the other side of the world, without my assistance or knowledge. Or approval. I began to walk, the sun to my back, the water dancing along trying to catch me. My flip-flops hung in my hand, my toes curled in the moist sand, and the breeze blew in my face, keeping me cool and creating that odd feeling of walking in place that occurs only on the edge of the ocean.
The feeling of being one with the world, the somewhat thoughtful, introspective Stephanie appeared when I was at the beach. I wasn't normally a big picture person, and I wasn't sappy or philosophical on a good day. But at the beach…. I lost track of the time, and of why I was here, alone, as I bent randomly to collect a shell, or to watch a child race against time to build a moat to hold back impending doom. I nodded to the old couples sitting under their beach umbrellas, and I skirted the teens with their surf boards, trying desperately to impress on waves that weren't up to the task.
Eventually, I would have to think of Dickie, and how I had just almost cheated on him; of Carlos who probably thought I was a tease; of just what would happen next. But that would be later. My head was blissfully vacant. Right now, the ocean was my only concern. Other than acknowledging that I was running from it all, I was good. Denial was a friend I had made a long time back, and we were close. Heck, I still thought someday I would be able to fly.
When someone is running in the sand, and they don't want you to know they are there, you can't hear them. Did you know that? I found that out when suddenly Carlos was standing in front of me, a sheen of sweat covering his finely sculpted chest. His breath wasn't even ragged; he looked like he could have gone another 10 miles before having to stop to recover. Impressive. I stood still, eyes wide in surprise, as he took my hand, and he smiled as he found it full of seashells. He transferred them to his shorts pocket, took my flip-flops and tossed them beyond the surfs reach. He pulled off the towel that was around his neck and tossed it with the shoes, and grabbed me into his embrace, burying his face in my neck. He whispered, over and over again, Babe, babe, I am so sorry. I am so sorry.
We were the only two people on the beach as far as I was concerned. I could feel his heart beating against me, and although he didn't look winded, it was beating wildly. My heart tried to keep pace with his, and I could hear his heartbeat with my head against him. His arms felt safe. I shook my head, "No, Carlos, I should never have--"
"Shhh, babe. Let's not, ok?" And I agreed. We both understood. Maybe later we would talk about it, but right now, no, we didn't need to. We just needed to hold each other. This was all so eye-opening to me. Is this what everyone is talking about? Do they think Dickie and I share this? I really am missing something, but it would explain why people think I would be happy. Something to ponder.
While I had been walking, and my mind was attempting to be blank, my subconscious had been going at it big time. I didn't know if I was strong enough to make the decision that I felt would come in time. If I spent much more time around Carlos, I don't think I could resist him. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to. But I don't know that I could leave Dickie. My mother would die of embarrassment. And to what end? What am I expecting to happen here? He's here for a few weeks. I don't know him, he's not from around here, I have no, oh, I don't know. I don't know, I don't know.
I was getting tense, and Carlos could tell apparently, because he pushed me away from him a bit to look into my eyes. His eyes held a hint of laughter as he said, "Babe, I smell something burning."
So of course, I smacked him. (Hey, you would have done the same thing!) He laughed, a full rich laugh, head thrown back, and he pulled me closer to him again. "You are one of a kind, babe, you know that?" His arm draped comfortably around my shoulder and we began to walk up the beach, stopping to collect our things.
"There's not much to eat at the cottage, we can have lunch up on the boardwalk, ok?"
We strolled along the boardwalk, hand in hand, looking to the world like two lovers in love, I guessed, based on the silly smiles of the older people. And there was a certain shall we say, cat-like grin plastered on my face as the younger girls all walked into things and dropped their ice cream because they were craning their heads to look at Carlos. I felt giddy. It was stupid, because he wasn't mine; I was borrowing him; play-acting or something.
We sat at the edge of the boardwalk at a fish fry place. Carlos sat next to me on the bench seat, and it felt nice having his warm body touching mine. We were definitely in the beach casual category as to attire---I had run off without bothering to put on my sundress! We spoke of inconsequential things; it was a way for us to find that neutral place where we would be comfortable, then we were sure to open up again. It felt right.
The waitress almost dropped our drinks; she was very attentive to our needs during our meal, and it started to cause steam to come out of my ears. Carlos looked at me, and his grin lit up my world. "Babe. It's not a compliment to me, but to my parents, you know? I had nothing to do with my looks."
"Umh, yeah, Carlos? Look in the mirror much? I'd guess you work out a lot, right?"
He just gifted me again with his smile. "I'd prefer to look at you, babe."
Mid afternoon on a Wednesday is a good time to occupy a table for a long stretch, even at the beach. No one was waiting to take our place, and so we sat, and people watched, and held hands. Carlos seemed distracted after some time though. I wasn't used to the quiet spaces he seemed to like. It was probably my insecurity, but I was sure he was bored.
"Carlos?" I shifted in the seat, twisting to look at him. "What's wrong? You seem awfully quiet. Is it about earlier? Because I am sorry I may have led you on. I wish we had met some other time. I really like you. I enjoy being around you." You make me feel something I never felt before, I added silently, but in his eyes I saw that he knew I was saying that too.
"Babe." He sighed. "These last few days, it's like a whole new life. I never knew that I would ever feel these things. I didn't really believe my mother when she told her stories; that it was true, you know? I heard it as a fairy tale, but I'm not romantic, I never expected to find that it could happen."
He picked up my hand and he idly caressed it as he spoke. "I know I told you I would be around for a while, right? Through the summer?
Last night, I was told to report to Fort Benning on Sunday. My Ranger class is forming." I looked at him, eyes widening, comprehension dawning. To the outside world we looked perfect; in love, together, sharing--- yes, it was a façade. But on my side of the roped-in seating area, I was finding out what it felt like to have your heart broken.
I felt tears forming at the edges of my eyes, and I grasped my hand from his to brush them away. This is ridiculous, I thought, wiping first one and then the other eye. I couldn't look at him. I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from bursting into outright tears, and then he took his hand and he wiped the next tear for me, and I lost it. He pulled me gently into his arms and he rubbed circles into my back as I bawled.
Get it together, Steph. I willed my tears to stop, and finally got the gaspy, spurty breathing under control.
I couldn't explain it to you. I'm not that emotional a person. Really. Or maybe no one ever caused you to care this much, the other Steph, the one who got me into trouble all the time, whispered in my ear.
"Babe." Carlos breathed into my hair, "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine I don't know what came over me. I just…I …. I have no idea." I finally said on a sigh.
He pulled me back into his embrace, scooting over so we were molded together as one, and we just sat like that for the longest time. Occasional hiccups from me, stoic silence from him.
"So," I finally asked, "You have to leave on Sunday?" That's only four days, I thought. Damn, a week ago, I didn't even know he existed and now I was going to have to give him up in a few days.
"No. I need to for Miami tomorrow. Take care of things before I leave. Florida is my legal residence."
"Tomorrow?" I whispered. "So this it? Today?"
"Yeah. Babe, I'm sorry. I wish it were different."
I stood up and removed myself from the orbit of his persona. I couldn't get far enough away, fast enough. His pull was strong, and while I was walking away from him, he was walking toward me, and he reached for my hand. I stopped, and turned to look at him.
"Babe. Look at me. We don't have to discuss it; it won't change anything. We can just have today, alright?"
I nodded, my arms pulling him to me and I felt the crush of his embrace as tears began again. "I'm sorry. I can't stop crying. This is stupid," I muttered. His body shook with silent laughter, and he whispered in my ear, "Babe, its ok. Look at me." His fingers chugged under my chin to make me comply, and when I did, he placed a kiss gently on my forehead. His arms squeezed me tightly and we leaned together, on the railing of the boardwalk, absorbed in each other.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. True to his word, we didn't discuss the past, or tomorrow, or next week. Or the rest of our lives. It was about today. And we had a blast. I have never had such an easy relationship with a man before. He was content to be by my side, to hold my hand, to make me smile.
But in the back of my head was a niggling fear. What if he asked me to wait for him? It didn't seem like he would—he too seemed to accept that the timing sucked and we were fated to be apart. But what if he did? I certainly can't ask him if he wanted me to wait. That would be too embarrassing when he blows me off and tells me he never had any thoughts about a future. Shit, I am reading all sorts of romance novel endings into my decidedly non-romance novel, boring Trenton life.
I would have to admit it to myself though; even if I never had to tell him--- I am a coward. I couldn't make the decision to walk away from what I have with Dickie for the unknown. I wasn't raised that way. And although to my mother I was already a failure because I couldn't cook or clean house, I could at least prove to her that I know stability and how to choose the right thing. I loved Dickie, he loved me. Right?
The ride home was silent. And it was ok. I needed the silence; silence and his fingers twined in mine. I felt like we were heading to an execution. It all felt so final. It was just after sunset when we arrived back at my car. Carlos took my keys and opened the door to my little car, grimacing at its sad exterior.
His arms pulled me close to him, and we leaned against the roof, and just stood like that. Still; no words. Words would just destroy things. His lips trailed along the edge of my face, gently tasting the salt air from earlier. He pulled away for a moment, and dug his hands into his shorts. "Babe," he said smiling, as a handful of shells tumbled into my hands. I looked up at him and grinned.
I held them, looking at all the shapes and colors, and they were like gold to me. They were the physical memory of today--- I would know it wasn't a dream. My fingers ran through them, and came upon one I thought was unique when I picked it up. It was perfectly shaped; no chips, or growths. It was a clam shell, and it was black…a rough texture outside, but the inside of it was polished and smooth. I leaned into the car and deposited my treasures into the ash-tray.
I kept the black shell in my hand and put my head back onto his shoulder. We needed to end it, soon. I could feel it. It needed to stop. So that I could begin to recover.
"Carlos." I took his hand and squeezed the shell into it. "Can you take this with you?" My eyes were moist, and I felt that they were begging.
"Babe. I won't ever forget today." He sat me down into my car, and squatted on the ground in front of me. He reached up and kissed my nose, and grabbed my head with both hands. "Babe." He sighed. His kiss was bittersweet, the kind that you know is final.
"If you change your mind about Dickie, let my sister know, ok?" He kissed me again, and my soul split. " Marina knows how to reach you," he said softly.
I was confused. He whispered, "If I don't make it back, babe. I would like to hope maybe you'd visit my grave someday."
"No. Carlos. No. Don't go." I started to feel a little frantic.
"Babe, I'm going to be a ranger. Do you know what that means?"
I shook my head, and he answered, "It means we go in first…"
"Oh." My eyes widened. "Oh. Why would you want to do that?"
"I'm good at it babe. Up till last week I would have said because I don't mind dying, I have nothing keeping me here…."
He stood up, and closed my door. I rolled the window down, and he leaned into it.
"Babe. Thank you." His lips possessed mine and I felt as if I would die if he let go. But let go he did, and eventually I started to breathe again. By that time, he was in his car, about to back out of the lot. I opened my door and ran across the pavement. He rolled down the window. "Babe." I could see the pain in his eyes.
"Be safe, Carlos."
"Be happy Babe."
Tears rolled down my face as I watched him pull into traffic.
Thanks for reading—reviews welcome!!!
Joy to the World is the next song… what should that be about, do you think??