MontanaAntonia: Thank you so much! I feel really honoured and flattered that you like"my"Sands so much. (And thanks to everyone else, too :) I appreciate all my reviewers tremendiously.)
I'll list all the songs/artists at the end along with all the Depp movie references (including a couple that I didn't intend but just sorta happened ;-) But I've included a partial list at the end of this chapter to "get you started"
And again, thank you to everyone, for reviewing and/or putting this one on your alert list. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story…
I really feel like Sands emotions are all over the board in this one – but it's a little challenging to write 'guilt' in someone who would never really acknowledge the word himself ;) (Of course he wouldn't be our dear Sands if he could EVER be so uncomplicated as to just say "And I feel guilty as shit")
Chapter Forty:
There's no place like home…
Walking into the condo, I get a serious shiver of deja vous. And it's not the good kind, either.
"I'm awake," Beth tells me from the sofa.
It's still early so I'm not surprised by that – but – yeah, her tone is pretty tepid there. She saw. I know she saw.
"How was your trip?" she puts down whatever she was doing and comes to greet me – but she doesn't get real close.
I just shrug in answer to her question. "It's good to be back." There isn't much else I can say. I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her long and hard. I want to taste her lips and feel the soft warmth of her body pressed up against mine – but if she were to push me away, it would just hurt too damned much. I can't risk that kind of hurt – I know what it would do to me.
Without a word, Beth takes my hat and coat and hangs them on the hooks by the door while get Spencer's harness undone. If it weren't for this fucking coldness between us, it really would feel normal, just two people going about the business of the day. But there is this cold. And it hurts (but not as much as it would hurt of she pushed me away.) There really is a part of me wants to come clean just and tell her everything that happened, hope she understands that it really wasn't real – not really real. It wasn't a kiss for the sake of a kiss, even if I did enjoy it. However, another part of my brain reminds me who the fuck I've been working for the last sixteen years. I know that Beth and the girls been out of the house while I was away, and it would be nothing for the CIA to break in and bug the place when no one was home. I mean, Paula was sure acting like we were being watched (and I have no reason to doubt her, I fucking trained her – yeah, once upon a time, Paula was my little protégé just like I was Marcus's. And um just for the record, no Marcus and I never got quite that fucking close, thank you. I did look up to him, though; I still do. I never wanted to burn that bridge… but no regrets, right? No regrets and no apologizes. No going back…)
So – not only is it realistic to assume that the Company's got this place bugged, but it's not particularly unrealistic to assume that one of the guys watching me for Mitchel is reporting back to Suarez as well – even if Milo tells me she's still going about with business as usual, she's gotta be getting nervous by now. And that means two things. One is obvious: sooner or later Collins is going to find me (fucking duh, I expected that), but more immediately, it means I can't just come clean with Beth right here, right now. I can't screw Paula over after she's gone out of her way to help me because I know Mitchel will skin her alive if he finds out what she did for me tonight.
He won't be the worst of her problems, however, if her name ever gets connected to that information she handed over. I have no reason to doubt that what she gave me isn't exactly what she says is it is – it isn't just information that I can use clear my 'good name' (although I suspect that's why she handed it over, Paula never has been one to sit by while a guy gets railroaded, even if that guy is me… ) No, she gave me exactly what Eddas has been looking for, solid evidence of corruption in the highest branches of government. And if the little birdies up on those little branches ever find out who went and shook the tree… yeah, it's not just a career ending move for Paula. I don't know why she would stick her neck out this far for my sorry ass, but I owe her and I know it.
So I can't say anything until I can tell Beth the whole story… and I can't do anything to rouse anyone's suspicions about anything, in case I am being watched as closely as I think I might be… So just fuck me and then do it again up the ass for good measure, because right I'm backed into a fucking corner and I don't like it. I have to somehow make things right with Beth, but I can't just tell her what really happened (which is still a fucking roll of the dice – I mean really how good does this sound, 'Well, yes, dear, I kissed that other woman and it was really fucking great – but it was just us playing spy, it wasn't real, not like the other night when she came onto me like a train wreck and asked me back to her place...' Yeah. That would go over like a lead balloon.)
I don't get much more of a chance to wallow in my muddled thoughts, however, because there are some little feet bounding down the stairs… "Sheldon!" Cicily hurtles into the room sounding so absolutely happy to see me. I find her arms around my waist before I even know what's hit me. "I missed you!"
And why does hearing that hurt – ? I hug her back, holding her close, not knowing what else to do, but not wanting her to know that I'm hurt… "I missed you too, Sweetheart," mon petite ange… my little angel. I missed you so much… (and I know it's fear, not hurt – fear of the unknown, because I just don't know what's going to happen next… So far it sounds like Beth is just hanging back, just watching me…)
Emma's just behind Cicily (Emma, mon pain cherri… gotta admit, that's kinda funny, even if I'm not in a real jovial mood just right now… ) Her greeting is much more sedate, but no less warm. "I'm glad you made it back in one piece, Shelly."
I hold Em close, "I told you I wasn't going to be getting into too much trouble," I tell her. I wonder what Mitchel will really have to say when he sees this, assuming I'm not just being completely paranoid about being watched. And taped. The Company always tapes shit like this for posterity. Just as well, it's the only way anyone will be able to prove to Mitchel that this is really happening. I mean, come on – me, Sheldon Jeffrey Fucking Sands getting all warm and fuzzy… ? Who would believe it? I'm not even real sure Mitchel will believe it after he sees it for himself…
I listen to the girls say their hellos to Spencer while I light up a cigarette and for a few minutes things seem almost normal, almost ok (almost wonderful), but I wonder what it might have been like if Paula hadn't been waiting for me outside my door. I imagine coming in and pulling Beth to me, kissing her, telling her all the things I just don't have the words to say anyway. Things like how much I missed her and how much she really means to me. Things like how happy she's made my miserable little life. Things like – like fucking could've, would've, should've don't count for shit. I know it, you know it. I don't have the words for any of that, not even in my own head. I would have kissed her all right, and I would have held her tight, but I never would have told her any of that stuff about missing her or – or anything else.
Christ, I really don't know why she's still here anyway. You'd think a woman like Beth would want a guy who – who's just better at telling her all those things chicks dig hearing. You know the ones, those things I've never said to anyone… Christ on a crutch – I need a cigarette… oh yeah, right. I've got one, don't I? Guess it isn't helping.
I finish my smoke and Beth feeds me dinner (she and the girls have already eaten) and we talk about tomorrow's outing (Cicily is very excited about it).
Then I listen to Emma tell me about her new school – Eddas took her to the interview and showed her around personally. They don't have Russian as an elective, but the art teacher isn't a moron and they've agreed to let her to test for AP classes next semester – she'll have to take the tests over winter break, but Em doesn't seem to mind. (Although she's not real keen on the uniforms: white blouse, shit brown and mustard yellow plaid skirt – her words, not mine – with a matching tie and a shit brown blazer. She has to wear white socks or hose with black flats, shoes not boots, that have rubber soles no higher than two inches, single buckle or lace up, but not tennis shoes. Apparently there was a nasty incident last year involving 'inappropriate footwear' – so she'll have to go out on Sunday and buy a pair of shoes because she's pretty sure nothing she owns would fall under the category of 'approved.') But new shoes, 'wicked gross' uniform and all, Emma agrees to give the place an honest try – and I remind her again what I'll do if I catch her cutting classes. She really does not want me going to school with her every day.
Somehow, I don't think the school does either, they sound pretty fucking conservative. Although Em tells me that her piercings are ok (colour me surprised), so long as she avoids wearing the kinds of earrings I already lectured her about not wearing. Why? Well, you take a girl (or a boy) with long dangly earrings – then you put her in a fight – and those aren't just earrings any more, they're fucking targets. I should know, I've ripped out a few… And oh yeah, one last thing about that school of Emma's, even though it's technically a co-ed facility, the campus is strictly segregated, girls on one half, boys on the other, and ne're the twain shall meet. The only classes she'll have with the little boyos are drama, orchestra, and possibly a couple of AP classes – just the ones that are too small to segregate. Emma isn't quite as elated about that part as I am… but she'll live. And so will all the boys she won't get to meet and suck face with. I don't want my little muffin ending up a twenty-six year old virgin or anything, but that doesn't mean there's any reason to rush things, either.
After dinner Emma takes my hand and 'shows' me that she's already given herself that little haircut she told me she was thinking about. Her head kinda feels like Demi Moore's looked like in G. I. Jane. But it's hair, it'll grow… I really wonder what happened to those long blond pig tails, she was so pretty… and I missed the last three years because I was too fucking lazy to get my God damned mail forwarded… yeah, I'm in a fuck of a mood and I know it.
(And through out all of this, Beth is politely reserved. Not quite icy – but – yeah. I know she knows. I just can't do anything to fix it without compromising Paula…)
Cicily doesn't mention school, so I don't ask, but I'm guessing Beth still hasn't told her they're staying… and there's a part of me that wonders if maybe even before seeing me walk off with Paula Basil that she hadn't changed her mind on me. (Could I blame her? There's a reason guys like me don't get into relationships – lots of reasons, really, but one of the big ones is never being around. What woman wants to wait for days, or weeks or months, for her – whatever I am – to come home? What woman wants a man who can't even tell her where he's going?)
In the hall, the clock chimes eight, signaling Cicily's bedtime (which of course she protests.) I volunteer to get her into bed – Beth doesn't say a word to that, other than to tell Cicily good night and remind her to brush her teeth and hair...
After she gets herself ready, Cicily crawls into bed and I sit down next to her, but I'm finding it almost impossible to sit still and pay attention while she reads to me. I carefully count three turns of the page, then tell Cicily that it's time for her to get to some sleep because we have a big day tomorrow… and it hits me this could be the last time I get to tuck her into bed. Maybe I should have been paying more attention while she was reading, just in case… I give her forehead a little kiss and accept the hug she has for me. Please just don't let it be the last time…
"I'm glad we're here," Cicily tells me softly, not quite letting go.
"I'm glad to have you here."
"Do you think – you might – want us to stay? Mama said not to ask – but – but she always tells me that if I want to know something I should ask – "
Oh Christ – how do I answer that – how do I answer it so Beth won't look like the bad guy (you know, by saying something like 'Well that's up to your Mom…' See, I'm not a total fuckmook… and why didn't Beth want her to ask… maybe her gut told her I'd go and kiss some other woman tonight…?) "I think I'd like for you guys to stay – but I think we'll have to wait and see before we can really talk about it. You only just got here, remember?" I try to keep my tone light…
It's probably wasn't the answer she was hoping for, either. "I really like being here, Sheldon. I like being with you – I like reading to you. I like the snow." Cicily tells me, "Mama's happy here too – she likes you."
Oh Christ… "You think so?"
"I know so. She was never happy like this when – when we lived in Alabama."
Alabama equals Neal and thinking about Neal really makes me want to kill somebody – somebody named Neal.
I pull Cicily close; I want to tell her I that won't let that creep ever hurt either of them again – but even I know better than to make promises like that to a child. "Well you guys are both real special to me," I tell her. What else can I say? "We're just gonna have to see about the rest of it, ok?"
"Why? Why can't we just stay together?"
"Because grown ups always make things harder than they have to be – now get to sleep," I give her another small kiss wondering what I'll really do if Beth tells me they're leaving. What could I do? I promised her she'd always have a way out – and even if I went back on my word, it's not like I could keep her here if she doesn't want to stay. But – no if she wants out, I'll buy her a plane ticket to wherever she wants to go – or just give her the cash if she doesn't want me to know where she's headed. There really isn't anything I wouldn't do for her… if she'll let me.
I listen to Cicily settle herself into the covers and I really, really hope this isn't the last time I get to tuck her in like this. I never thought I'd want this life, but having gotten just a small taste of all those things I never thought I'd be able to have anyway, I don't want to go back to that other life. I think I finally get what 'having it all' is really all about…
Passing Emma's door, I hear music – a raven's not so soft 'caw' – and the sounds of computer keys clacking madly. I honestly try not to think about who she's chatting with or emailing – it's better for what's left of my sanity that way. (I know, it's stupid of me to be jealous of this Jim guy – or freak out about 'Jay' – but – I guess I can't help it.) I only stay there for a minute, listening…
…Downstairs, I find Beth on the sofa – and I guess I should just get it over with. "You saw?"
"Yeah. I – heard the cab pull up and – and – so that was her?"
And I know what Beth said about not treating her like she's so fragile a slight breeze could break her – but right now she sounds real damned breakable to me. "Yeah. That was Paula."
"She really is gorgeous."
I take a careful seat on the sofa, leaving about half a cushion between Beth and I. "Not compared to you." (I mean it, I really do; I only wish I could tell if Beth believes me, but she isn't giving me any kind of clue about what might be going on in her head.)
"What did she want?"
"Just to talk."
She's quiet for a few seconds – and I really do wonder if somehow she knows about that kiss… I don't believe in that hocus pocus shit, I really don't, but I can't deny how uncanny she can be… and if this is a test, I'm failing it miserably.
"Can I ask about what?"
"Just – she's investigating me, you know that shit that went down. She needed to – talk to me about it." I hate this – I really, really fucking hate this. Beth has gotta see through me. I mean, I really am the best bullshitter you'll ever meet, but I'm just not doing a very good job it right now. (Honestly, I think part of me really wants her to confront me. I want her to get all pissed and scream at me – it's what I deserve, right? I don't want her to walk out – but I want her to scream at me and tell me just what kind of fucking asshole I really am. I want her to tell me she hates me – I just don't want her to mean it.)
"You know if you tell me nothing happened I'll believe you – but – what I said before hasn't changed, either. I'll take whatever you're willing – or able – to give. I just – need you to tell me, that's all. I just need to know where I stand – one way or the other, it doesn't matter as long as I know."
"Beth, vous êtes mon ange, rappelez? Personne ne peuvent concurrencer – concurrencer ce que je pense de toi." (And I swear, I will come clean with her as soon as I'm sure I can tell her the whole story without compromising Paula's position. In the meantime, all I can do is try not to flat out lie to her. I know, I know, a lie of omission is still a lie – but it's the best I can do right now. Huh – oh, what did I say? Just that she's my angel and no one can compare to that. Like I said, it's a lie of omission – but it is the truth.)
She doesn't say anything, but I feel her leaning towards me and I fold my arms around her, and oh God, but it feels good to have her this close again. I lean back pulling her with me and just try to memorize every little detail of the way her body feels against mine, every curve and contour, the soft crinkly cotton of her blouse and the silk skirt – feels like it's layered and there are some dangly bits sewn in here and there… My angel really is a little gypsy at heart, isn't she?
I run my fingers over her face and through her hair – "What's this?" I ask of the jewelry dangling from her ear lobes. Doesn't feel too big – just something dangling from a wire – I'm not sure what the something is. There seems to be something carved into the back of the something…
"You like them?" Beth asks – she seems a little hesitant, almost like she's afraid I'll really say no.
"I don't know – what do they look like?"
"It's just a carved amber cab – cabochon – nothing much."
"You're talking to a guy who knows squat about jewelry, Darlin'." I smile down at her. (I really have to wonder what got her to the point where she doesn't wear jewelry… I suspect it goes back to Neal and I really wish she'd just let me handle him my way… )
"Take a sphere – cut it in half – and you get two cabochons."
"So what's carved into it?" I ask, as I try to discern the design for myself. It is pretty small… and she really does seem a awful shaky.
"A rose. Emma kind of talked me into them – "
"Sounds beautiful," I brush a bit of hair out of her face. "I like jewelry on a woman – although I Em may take it a wee bit far."
I feel more than hear her laugh – but I still dig it when she's happy… except that I know she's only happy because I'm lying to her… I want to come clean, I really do. I want to just fucking tell her everything and take whatever's coming to me because I did enjoy that kiss with Paula (I'm human, ok, give me a break. It was good – but Paula never made me feel the way I do right now. I never thought about her when we weren't together, not like I found myself thinking about Beth the last couple of days. I never missed Paula. I never loved her… and it never bothered me when I slept with other women during that year and I half I was sleeping with her… So why does that stupid kiss have my insides all tied up in knots anyway? If I never told Beth about it, she wouldn't know… only that would be an even bigger betrayal of her trust and I just can't do that… and fuck if I know why.)
"Sheldon – what's the matter?"
I lean over and kiss the top of her head, "Nothing, Sweetheart. Just let me – let me hold you a while – ?" Please…
Beth pulls in closer to me, wrapping her arms around me nice and tight. "I'm here," she tells me quietly. "Whatever it is – I'm here."
"I just need to feel you against me, that's all."
"I think I can manage that," she's smiling, I can hear it in her voice… I really wish she'd just scream at me and get it over with…
Then, suddenly, I'm sitting on the sofa all by my lonesome… of course, fuckmook, you fell asleep…
It really is hard to discern waking from sleeping when you don't have fucking eyes to open and shut any more. If I was just blind, it would still all be dark; waking and sleeping would still look just the same – but if I at least had eyes to open, I might know when I was waking up. If I had eyes to close, I might know when I was falling asleep. But I don't have eyes, do I? I don't even have eyelids. All I have are these two fucking huge holes in the middle of my head. I'm not just blind… and there really are moments when I wish I'd curled up and died that day. Guess I'm just too fucking stubborn, for my own good.
And I guess I don't blame even an angel for getting up and leaving my ass asleep here in the dark. Alone. I've never felt quite so alone as I do right at this moment – but I'm sure she's just upstairs asleep… right? I mean, really, Beth is a sensible woman, she wouldn't just bundle Cicily up and take off in the middle of the night… would she? I know that's what she did to Neal – but that's different – right? (Even if she did just up and leave – do I deserve any better? Should I be surprised if I they've gone?)
Just then I hear soft footfalls on the stairs – "Beth?"
"You fell asleep," she tells me softly.
And I think I can breathe again because she's still here. She's really still here…
"I went up to get you a pillow and blanket – I brought down a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt for you, too. And um – I hope you don't mind, but I tossed that bathrobe of yours into the wash while you were gone. It reeked to high Heaven."
I feel the familiar terry of my robe being dropped into my lap – only – it no longer smells of nicotine. It smells – it smells kind of like she does. "I don't mind. What time is it?"
"Almost midnight."
So – that means she sat with me for almost three hours? "Thanks."
"For?"
"Everything."
I can hear her smile in her voice, "De nada, Cowboy."
"No – es todo." Usted es todo – you're everything… everything good, everything worthwhile – everything I want. Everything I need. And I'm so absorbed in my own head that I barely feel her leaning over – but those lips touching mine bring me right back to here and now – right back to where I want to be… and more than anything else in the world, I want her to stay with me, not because I'm afraid of her running off in the middle of the night (ok, so maybe I am a little afraid of it), but because I really need to feel her touch as I drift off to sleep, as I drift from one kind darkness into another. I need desperately not to be alone in the dark tonight and I would more than happily sleep sitting up if she'd stretch out on the sofa and just stay with me… but I can't ask. No matter how much I need to feel her near me tonight – I just can't ask. But I can kiss her – I can cup her face in my hands and kiss her the way I wanted to when I came in. I can savour the sweetness of her mouth on mine; I can savour her warmth and her scent and every little thing about her… I can memorize every little detail in case she ends up hating me tomorrow.
"I never would have pushed you away," Beth tells me quietly when our lips finally part, a good long while later (but still too soon for me.)
I give a gentle tug to bring her into my lap – into my arms.
"No matter how upset I was – I never could have pushed you away," she repeats when I don't say anything.
"I'm sorry," I only wish I could tell her everything I'm sorry for. I'm sorry for that kiss I gave Paula, even if it was 'in the line of duty' – and I'm sorry for lying to her about it. I'm sorry I'm such a schmuck, I just can't ever seem to help it. I'll always be the bad guy…
"You should get some sleep," Beth tells me softly.
"I know. I just really like being here with you like this."
"We can talk Cicily tomorrow morning. I'll tell her we're staying," Beth's voice is real quiet.
And I really don't know quite what to say (you've gotta admit, that was a little left field, even for her…)
"I know it's bothering you that I haven't told her yet."
"It's ok."
"No it's not. It was my idea – and then I chickened out on you."
"That's ok, too."
"Sheldon – "
"Shhhh – " I pull her close, "I just really need to feel you here. I know it's selfish – but – maybe five minutes?"
"You can have all night if you want it."
"You really would do that, wouldn't you?" (Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. Every time she does something so incredibly generous, she blows my socks right off, because I really don't expect it, not even from my angel.)
"Wouldn't be the first time – don't you remember?"
(And I swear, she sounds hurt, like I might have somehow forgotten…)
"Of course I remember. But that was different." I had a fever – I was having nightmares. I was still recovering – but now, everything that can heal has. My eyes will never grow back. I'll never see again. I'm not sure I'll ever feel the same way about anything – I'm not sure I know how.
I feel Beth's fingers gently caressing my cheek, "I'll always be here for you Sheldon, no matter what you need or what you want. I'll take whatever you have to give – just as long as you really want me around."
"I don't deserve you, Ange," I stroke her cheek lightly, "But I do want you."
"Just keep telling me that here is where you really want to be."
"Here is exactly where I want to be."
She leans up and kisses me some more – "Why don't you get ready for 'bed' – I'll wait."
"You don't have to –" (Even if I want her to – I can't ask her to stay.)
"I don't mind."
And I really don't want to tell her how much I need her right now. I don't want to ask her to stay with me – but I don't know how to tell her to just go up to bed either, because I really doneedher near me tonight. "I – I won't be long," I kiss Beth again (marveling at the way she kisses me back. She's so – fearless. So trusting… so fucking amazing…) then I slide out from underneath her and scoop up my shit, heading towards the downstairs bathroom to change, brush my teeth – you know all the usual crap. The only thing I don't do is switch out the glasses for that mask – both of them gifts from my angel. The angel who's really waiting for me on the sofa when I return, just like she said she would be. I really do not deserve her…
"I'm sorry about earlier – about over reacting like that," she says quietly as I settle back down next to her.
"You have every reason to be suspicious." Which probably could have come out better – 'Freudian' slip, perhaps? (It isn't really Freudian – but anyway…)
She just chuckles, "I know what you meant – you don't think of yourself as the kind of guy who inspires a whole lot of confidence."
Yeah. I don't think I'm so far off the mark, either. I'm not a guy who's real fucking reliable… "Everything I said before I left – I meant it all, Ange. You are all that I want." I only hope she'll still believe that after tomorrow – after I tell her about that kiss… and I suppose I really could just not tell her, but – I don't know, I don't think I can keep on lying to her even if it is only a lie of omission. As it is, I'm expecting her to nail my ass to a wall right now, tell me that if she's all I want, why did I go and kiss another woman… why did I fucking enjoy it… but she doesn't say any of those things.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Sheldon. It was a really, really stupid thing to say you and I am so sorry – "
"Hey, hey, hey, Sweetheart – I didn't bring it up to hold it over your head," I cup her face in my hands. "I want you to know that – that I just don't want anybody else. We didn't get a chance to really talk about it with me having to head out of town so early the other morning – but I want you to know that – that I would be really hurt if you wanted to see other people. Believe me, I know that's asking a lot – you're right about barely knowing each other. But – it's how I feel – and I want you to – to know that." And that little limb I've crawled right to the end of is either going to hold or crack under my weight… personally, I'm expecting to find the ground under my ass real damn soon… of course it would help if she'd say something.
"I'm just – thinking – that's all," Beth's voice is real quiet.
"Can I ask what exactly you're thinking about?" Yeah, I'm a little afraid to hear the answer to that question.
"Just – just that – it's hard to explain. At least – in a way that I'm sure won't completely freak you out or scare you off. But – I haven't wanted to see anybody at all in a long time. I don't want to see anybody else now – there's still stuff we need to talk about, but it's nothing that won't keep 'til morning."
Which means that whatever it is, it can't be bad… I hope. "You can tell me anything – I really don't frighten that easily, Ange," I try to coax her a little.
She chuckles softly – I really, really dig the sound of her laugh. "Why don't you stretch out and try to get some sleep. I can tell you didn't sleep very well the past few days," she tells me – I'm not sure if she's deliberately changing the subject or if she's just making an (accurate) observation.
"Yeah – I think I scared the bejeezus out of my poor little Tonto," I tell her. I don't really want to stretch out. I don't want to fall asleep again, no matter how tired I am. I just want to sit with her all night – but I am tired. I don't quite ache, but my body is reminding me that I didn't sleep at all well the last few nights (and I'm not a kid any more, either). I end up laying head on her lap (get your minds out of the gutter, kiddies… ok, ok, so I would like to… but anyway… I behave myself.)
Beth runs gentle fingers through my hair while I tell her about that first night in the motel with Tonto. She doesn't say anything, but I can tell she's listening; listening like she really gives a shit about what I have to say, like she really gives a shit about me. Her touch is soothing… even when I feel her reaching for the glasses… "Ange – " I begin to protest.
"The girls are both upstairs, out cold," she tells, almost as if she really can read my mind.
I don't want Emma to see – and I'm afraid to ask if Cicily ever did, because this face isn't something any kid should ever have to look at. "I know you know all about what's there – not there – but – how – um – how bright is the room?" I wish I had met her before Guevara butchered my face. I wish she'd seen me the way I used to look… and I wish to God I could see her, just once. I would give just about anything to really look at her face – to see her green eyes and her smile.
"There's just one light on, a table lamp across the room," Beth's voice is soft, full of understanding. It's not sympathy – it's compassion. That's my angel all right.
I just nod. I wish that there wasn't any light at all; I wish the room was as dark for real as it looks from where I'm sitting. I wish she'd never seen my face. (But then who would have taken care of me, I wonder… no one else would have cared and I know it.) I hold my breath as I feel the glasses sliding off – and I listen and feel as she leans over to set them on the coffee table. And – my Christ, she's stroking my cheeks – my brow – my nose – gentle fingers massage the tension out of all the little muscles around my… yeah. You know. (I swear, I really do want to hurl every time she looks at me like this.) "How – how do you do it?" my voice is as shaky as hers was earlier, when we were talking about those new earrings she's got on.
"Shhhh."
"No – please – tell me. How do you do it?" How can you look at me – how can you touch me?
"I'm a nurse, Sheldon. I was almost a doctor. I really have seen scarier things."
I know there's something she's not telling me… but how can I say that when I'm holding back what I'm holding back?
"You'll only laugh at me," she says then, quietly, still running her fingers over my ruined face.
"I'd never laugh at you."
"Just try to get some sleep – "
"You should get some too."
"I know," she says, but she sits with me anyway, while one darkness begins to fade into another.
"Let's wait until – dinner, to tell Cicily," I murmur softly – I can feel myself drifting off, but – but I know there's something she needs to know before I can ask her to tell her daughter they're staying.
"If that's what you want," Beth doesn't argue – but she does tell me to stop thinking about everything and just try to get some sleep. The last thing I'm consciously aware of is the clock striking two…
………………………………………………………………………………
I'm not a perfect person
There's so many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you
I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
That's why I need you to hear
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you
I'm not a perfect person
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you
I've found a reason to show
A side of me you didn't know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you
-HOOBASTANK-
As promised, the songs so far, in no particular order (I think I got them all...)
By Hoobastank:
The Reason
By Enya:
Exile
Storms in Africa
By Loreena McKennit:
The Old Ways
Prospero's Speech,
By Tatu:
30 Minutes
By Rufus Wainwright:
Hallelujah
By Samuel Barber: (referenced, it's instrumental)
Adagio for Strings
By Yaz:
Nobody's Diary
By Avril Lavigne
I'm With You
By Sarah Mclachlan
Fear
Possession
Sweet Surrender
By Tom Lehrer
A Christmas Carol
By Electric Light Orchestra
I'm Alive (from the Xanadu soundtrack)
By Nitzer Ebb:
Trigger Happy
By Golden Earring:
Twilight Zone
By Erasure:
You Surround Me
By Evanescence:
Away From Me
Give Unto Me
Bring Me to Life
By Siouxsie and the Banshees:
Lullaby
Gun
The Rapture
By Queen
Invisible Man
………………………
Secret Agent Man was written by P.F. Sloan and S. Barri – I'm pretty sure it's the Johnny Rivers version that I got stuck in my head that day, but I thought it was interesting that Devo also recorded the song. I can't make up my mind which version Sands might like better…somehow I really see him getting into Devo's "Whip It" - but I imagine Sands as being just a little bit of a perv... in the best possible ways of course ;) (And if anyone wants to know the truth, I've never quite figured out what "Whip It" is really all about, even if you take the video's not so veiled references into consideration.)
…………………..
lots of folks have done versions of The Bastard King of England – my recording is by Axel the Sot aka Scott Hendricks.
I haven't referenced any particular songs, but Emma just lovesturning Diamanda Galas up full blast at all the worst possible moments. ( I really do like Diamanda Galas - but I have some real ecclectic taste in music!)