His Whole Universe
A Mentalist Story
By Brown Eyes Parker
Chapter Summary:
She's becoming past-tense, and it's not something she's used to. From Angela Jane's point of view. Inspired by "Old Friends/Book Ends" by Simon & Garfunkle, and "the Way We Were" by Barbara Streisand.
Disclaimer:
I don't own anything. Not the songs I used, or the characters in the Mentalist. I do own a copy of Simon & Garfunkle's greatest hits, a copy of the Essential Barbara Streisand, and a couple of half-baked ideas.
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Time it was, and what a time it was. . . it was
a time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, there all that's left
Book Ends, Simon & Garfunkle_
Memories like the corners of my mind
Misty water color memories of the way we were
Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another for the way we were
The Way We Were, Barbara Streisand_
Angela Jane - Past Tense:
I used to be part the center of his whole universe. From the day we first met – all the way up to the night that I died – it was just the two of us. We grew up in the carnival together. He was my first kiss. . . he was my first everything. And then, one day we decided to leave carnival life together. So, we threw all of our worldly possessions into one bag, stole a Chevy truck, and left in the dead of night with America by Simon & Garfunkle playing on a tape. We got married by a Justice of Peace, and began a new life together in Sacramento, California.
With the exception of Charlotte Ann, he didn't care about anybody else in the world. Just me.
Then I died, and he met Teresa Lisbon. And although what was obvious to me wasn't obvious to either of them. . . I could tell that she was quickly becoming the center of his whole universe.
A couple of weeks ago, one of their co-workers – Grace Van Pelt – had broken off her engagement with her fiancé Craig O 'Laughlin. On the night of what would have been her wedding, she threw a party for her close friends, and family. That's when I really knew Agent Lisbon was becoming the center of my husband's whole universe.
He was attentive to her every need. Refilling her glass when it was half-empty, standing by her side. . . his arm loosely looped through her's. The way he looked at her in her watery grey dress, sleeveless, and made of silk. . . with red lipstick and stilettos to complete the look. And then there was the way he danced with her that night. . . he held onto her like he couldn't bear to let her go. And she held onto him in the same way.
It was just like the night they danced to More than Words. That night, you could have cut the electricity between them with a knife. I had almost expected him to put his hand under her jacket, I had almost expected her to lift her head from his cheek, and press her lips to his. . . in a kiss that I'm sure would have rocked the hotel ballroom. The way they danced that night wasn't the way you danced with a co-worker, or a friend (not even a close friend), it wasn't the way you danced with your sister. I had a brother, we never danced that way. The way they danced at Agent Van Pelt's party – to You Made Me So Very Happy – wasn't the way you danced with somebody you considered a friend, or a sibling, or a co-worker.
Seeing them dance those two times made me think of the first time we danced. We were sixteen-years-old, and he was just getting out of the stage where he thought all girls were gross. I was starting to blossom into a young woman. . . it was a Friday night, and we had set up a place so the carnival-goers could dance. My brother and some other of the boys had put together a cover band. Patrick was taking tickets when I showed up with my mother. I was wearing a purple sundress that accentuated my curves, and my hair was out of its usual braids. He dropped the tickets in the ground and was by my side in an instant. He asked me to dance then, his eyes never leaving mine.
As he led me to the dance floor, the band started to play Wouldn't It Be Nice? by the Beach Boys. It's exactly how I felt that night, and I couldn't imagine myself spending the rest of my life with anybody but him. And why shouldn't I have felt that way? He had been my best friend since we were babies.
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I know it would be selfish to want Patrick to cling to a memory for the rest of his life. But I loved him. . . I loved him so much. And it's hard to see him moving on. . . living his life when I don't get do live my life anymore.
If Patrick gets together with Agent Lisbon, she will become the center of his heart. And I will become a resident of a very small corner of it. I will become somebody they mention only on occasion, and then she'll take him in her arms and hug it out. Comfort him in ways that I'll never be able to comfort him with again.
She's already doing it, she's already replacing me. She has the magic touch. . . she knows the right words to say. She can make him smile or laugh with just a look. She knows exactly how to pull him out of deep, dark depression. . . or at least make him forget about it for a few minutes.
I guess I'm just past-tense, and I have to get used to it.