Writers Note: This is old and not completed. But I did some work on it tonight, and found a nice breaking spot to at least share it. I think that it would make a great beginning to a series, instead of jumping right to the bizarre fate that will put John and our mystery woman face-to-face, but I'm mulling it over.
She was curled up beside him on the couch, his left arm draped over her shoulders and his right hand resting on her slightly rounded stomach. He was watching the television, but he was constantly distracted and looking down over her shoulder. She was too engrossed in her book to notice, however. His eyes registered only the slightest annoyance at this. After all, the way she poured herself into things was one of the things he adored about her, but he still felt a tiny bit neglected. He found this amusing. Never would he have imagined feeling neglected because a woman was too occupied reading about a 16 year old wizard to pay much attention to him. Finally, purely in retribution, he started nuzzling her, kissing and lightly nibbling on the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulders. He knew this drove her mad, and it wasn’t long before he could see the book lowering and he had greater access to the spot, her head involuntarily tilting away from him.
“Meanie, “she said on a sigh, not all that much heart in the statement. His left hand slipped down behind her back and wrapped around her to meet his right hand on her stomach. He was loathed to remind her of her burden, she was already feeling the unfortunate effects, but ever since he’d learned that his child was growing inside her, his hands just went to that place on their own. Just the way his mouth gravitated to hers when she faced him, and to this spot (that he was now sucking on and grazing his teeth over) when she was facing away.
“You want me to stop?” he lifted his lips for a moment but let his breathe linger over the spot that was now damp, sending her into shivers that nearly shook his hands off of her. He grinned. He loved that. She did nothing half way. When she sneezed she could uproot trees. When she laughed her whole body seemed to convulse in a way that, he fully acknowledged, only someone who cared about her would truly appreciate. And when she shivered, her entire being seemed to shiver, and it also seemed to enjoy it. Goosebumps broke out all over her arms. Her shoulders clenched, ever so slightly. And he could feel the movement as it slipped through her toes, up over her calves, all the way up her body. Once she told him that her scalp came alive when she shivered. And she wasn’t picky about the reason behind the shiver either. Even one in fear and her body reacted like it was being caressed by a very familiar and friendly hand.
“I take it back,” she moaned, arching her back despite her protests, “You were only being mildly rude before. NOW you’re being mean.” She shivered again as he chuckled against her skin. “Be careful, “she said mischievously, “two can play that game…” He tried to move his knee but he was too late. She had firmly grasped him beneath the knee and was kneading her knuckle into the spot she knew too well. A loud groan escaped his throat and this time he devoured her neck; kissing and sucking. Slowly his hand slid up to her breast.
She tossed the book down by her feet and leaned into him, twisting her head the other way to give him access to his favorite spots twin. She slipped her arms behind his neck. It only took a moment for the cold to hit him. She jumped up as soon as he gasped, getting at arms length as he jumped to his feet and arched his back, shaking his shirt to release the ice cube. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat, appropriate his mind noted, and standing where she had time to dash if he grabbed for her. “Talk about mean!” he hollered, obviously trying not to laugh himself. “Come here you, “he did make a grab and she danced away, doing a cute little pirouette.
“Oh come on, “she teased, “You started it.”
“I... ?” he sneered, “I was trying to show a little affection for my beautiful future wife.” He sat down, with a rather pathetic pout on his face. “And for that I get the ‘cold shoulder’.” Now he was really laying on thick.
She walked over to him, straddling his legs and sat on his lap facing him. “Sweetheart, if you didn’t deserve it before, you deserved it for that pun. That was a lot sadder than that cute little pout, “ she told him, running her finger over his bottom lip before she leaned in and gave him a kiss that would wipe away any real anger he might be harboring, much less his fake pique. “Besides, “she gave a little pout of her own, “I was trying to read.”
“You read too much.” He quickly amended his comment at the look she gave him, “Ok maybe you don’t read that much, but you’ve read that book a dozen times, and each one in the set. I just wanted a little attention.” He looked almost genuinely upset. Not that she felt he was trying to guilt trip her. But she could tell there was just a touch of truth to his words, and she could also tell that he was a little irritated with himself for feeling it, much less admitting it.
The kiss she gave him this time was softer, more subtle, but it conveyed so much more. He gave her back as much as she offered, kissing her deeply but tenderly, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding her tightly. The kiss deepened, but it didn’t really heat. The sexual tension wasn’t what either of them wanted right now; it was only the pleasure of holding and touching each other.
She pulled back reluctantly, looking down into his face and smiling. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
“Shut up,“ he whispered, brushing her hair over her ear, “99.9% of the time I wanna shout from the rooftops. It’s residual guy vibes, nothing more.”
“Well you know what Lily and I say about that crap…”
And they said together, both smiling at each other, “The world’s full of guys. Don’t be a guy. Be a man.” She leaned down and kissed him again, then settled her head on his shoulder while he tightened his arms around her.
“Man do I love, that you don’t hate when I do that.” She giggled. Man, he thought to himself, it kills me when you do that. She didn’t giggle with a simpering trill, not like some girls. No, when she giggled it was in her throat, almost more like a purr. Again it always came back to cats. She was so feline; it was a very sad thing that she was allergic to cats. What he wouldn’t give to be able to surprise her with a kitten and watch her face light up instead of puff up like a balloon; to see her eyes sheen with a little bit of happy tears instead of them sealing up and watering like a fountain.
He looked down at her face just in time to see it scrunch up in annoyance. It took him a moment to register the reason and then he heard it. His heart dropped, too soon, it was too soon.
“What is that?” she said, sitting up. “It’s really annoying.”
“Ignore it, “he said quickly, trying to pull her head back down, to subtly cover her ears. He knew it was pointless; the sound wasn’t really coming in through either of their ears. The sound wasn’t in the house, it was much farther away. He cried to himself again, it’s too soon, please not yet, just a little longer.
She sat up again, pulling against him, “What is that?! It’s like a droning, do you hear it?” She stood up now, trying to find the source of the sound. She looked more and more bewildered as she walked around the room. It never seemed to get louder or quieter in any direction. It was like it was all around her.
He reached for her hand, “Not yet, please, “he whispered so she could barely hear him. “We’ve barely had a couple of hours, and you spent so much time reading.”
She looked at him, confused. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? I don’t underst….”
Chapter 2
She sat bolt upright in bed. Instinctively she reached over and slapped the button on top of the alarm clock, then had to scramble to find the remote and shut off the TV too. She squinted at the clock on her VCR but she couldn’t make it out. She rubbed her eyes and reached for her glasses. She looked at the alarm clock, trying to gauge the real time from the offset she used on the alarm clock. It was pretty stupid to do it really; it almost never fooled her anymore. But every once in a while she’d wake up and bolt out of bed, thinking she was very late. But again, it was rare. Finally she got tired of the math and looked at the VCR clock.
“Shit, “she mumbled and clambered out of bed. She grabbed some clothes off the pile on the end of her bed. Put the clothes away tomorrow night, put the clothes away tomorrow night, she said to herself. She threw open the door; “Peter?” she yelled down the hall, “Are you up?”
“Yeah, “she heard from downstairs. She threw on a long cut off t-shirt; she could rarely stand sleeping in a shirt or nightgown, and went back around the bed to grab her cigarettes from the nightstand. She also picked up an empty can of Mt Dew and headed downstairs.
“Are you dressed?” she said when she saw Peter, he was curled up on the chair watching cartoons. “Pills? Breakfast?”
“Yes mom,” he said with a little moan, rolling his eyes.
“Ok, can you make yourself a sandwich?” she said, rushing by him, “I’ve got to get in the shower.”
“Mom!” he whined.
“Come on, we’re running behind. Just throw together a sandwich ok. I’ll hurry and help.” He was grumbling as she went into the bathroom and quickly got in the shower. She felt a little guilty. Well not exactly guilty, after all when she was his age she pretty much was getting herself ready for school. But she did hate that they were always running late. Of course it’s not like there’s a lot I can do about it, she thought. Some day, when I have decent insurance I’ll spend a few nights at a sleep lab, and maybe they can finally fix me so I can sleep through the night, not fall asleep at the drop of a hat, and actually wake up to one alarm. Then I won’t need a dual alarm clock and the TV set to turn on too.
And then maybe, she continued to herself, I’d be able to remember more dreams more vividly. She racked her brain to remember the one she had woken up from. She knew she had hated to leave it, that she’d been happy and comfortable. It must’ve been John. I’ve been thinking about him a lot and I’m usually very relaxed and mellow with John. Of course it could’ve been Jason, his new single is out this week, and he is so adorable in the video. Nah, she dismissed, dreams with Jason are never relaxed and mellow. She smiled. Who was I thinking about…Robert! He was on the Late Show last night. She dismissed this as unlikely too. She rarely thought about Robert that way anymore. The way he moved, the way he talked, he reminded her too much of the schmuck. Not that she believed Robert was like him, but the resemblances were too significant. It marred the fantasy.
Mostly the married thing though, that cinched it. Once they were married it wasn’t as much fun. It felt like she was stealing them from someone. Huh, what do you know? I don’t even like the idea of thinking of being with a married guy. I never would’ve taken myself for a ‘thou shall not covet’ type. Man when I found out Julian was married, that screwed that up. I was in mid-story and suddenly I couldn’t stand it.
She started thinking again about how weird she was. Well maybe not exactly weird. I mean hadn’t she already found out there were a few others who fantasized like she did; her sister for instance. But then she and Amy’s brains had always worked in surprisingly similar ways, even for siblings. Especially considering how different they were. But still, how many different men had she led these secret lives with. How many men had she married, had children with, and shared her heart with. And not just that, how many other people in these fantasies had she built friendships with, become the best of buddies, poured her heart out too. Knock it off, she told herself. You’re a single mom, you’ve got barely a dime, no social life to speak of, and you haven’t been so much as kissed in a decade. You’re entitled to some fantasies.
She hurried and got out of the shower. She dried off, threw on a pair of Capri’s and a tank top, and then she realized her top shirt was downstairs in the dryer. Damn. She quickly sprayed some leave-in conditioner in her hair, brushed it out, parted it and tousled it a bit. She glanced in the mirror, not bad.
When she came into the kitchen Peter was throwing a sandwich into his lunch bag and heading for the mini Oreos. She quickly grabbed a bag of carrots and a juice pouch from the fridge. She stuck the carrots under the juice pouch in Peter’s lunch bag. If he didn’t get to complain in the morning he usually ate the carrots. “Bug, can you go downstairs and get my white and beige striped shirt out of the dryer?”
He gave her a look of complete exasperation. Oh man was he too much like her, even at 9 ½ years old. “Sweetie please? Can you just park the look and get the shirt. I’ll finish this up.” She threw the rest of his lunch in the bag and then grabbed the bowl of leftover spaghetti in her bag and got a spoon. She knew he hated that she did that, but she just hated doing stairs so much. She avoided them whenever possible. Arthritic knees by the age of 15 would tend to do that to a person. It wasn’t like it killed her to use the stairs, but she could hear every creak of her joints, and she would just as soon not. He’s got the schmuck’s body, he won’t have to deal with my knees, let him go down there. She knew she was justifying, but hell, how many kids mowed lawns so their middle-aged parents didn’t have to wear themselves out.
I did NOT just call myself middle-aged! Damn it, 30 is not middle-aged. I’m still young. Peter came up the stairs, tossed her her shirt and took his lunch bag to put it in his backpack. She gave him a hug on the way by and he tried to reach up and give her a noogie. Man it wasn’t much of a reach anymore. He was so tall, less than a foot under her now. 11, she thought, I always said 12 but he’ll pass me by 11 at this rate. She chased him out of the room, grabbed her book, and her lunch. And then she went through her litany; book, lunch, smokes, cell, keys, mp3 player. She checked them all off in her head and ushered Peter out the door, quickly locking it behind her.
As she stepped outside she made the sound all the neighbors would recognize from her lately, if she were on that close of terms with any neighbors, “Ech! Pffff.”
When was this heat gonna break. It hadn’t been this bad in ten years, not since the summer she was pregnant. How on earth was it this bad though? They had had barely a drop of rain in weeks. The temps were breaking records at least once a week. She had heard that if they didn’t get some heavy rain soon, not only were the pour farmers in trouble, but everyone would have to replant their grass the next year. It would completely die. Especially since the water shortage meant people weren’t supposed to waste water on lawns or washing cars. This in the place where we are used to mass flooding every three years, she thought as she got into the car. She checked to make sure Peter was putting on his seatbelt (not that she needed to check anymore, he hadn’t had to be told in years) and pulled out of her driveway.
She debated on turning on the air conditioning. But gas prices being what they were, and the fact that there was a cool enough breeze when they were moving, she opted just to leave the windows all down. She could see Peter in the rearview mirror tilting his face up to get the full brunt of the wind. She wished she could do that every morning.
Why can’t you, a voice in her head said. Because I’m always driving, she replied, not yet sure whose voice it was. Sorry, not following that train of logic. I think it’s derailed. She finally recognized John’s voice. Funny, she hadn’t thought of John in a long time, well not this John anyway. She’d had a whirlwind romance with him, toured all of London, Paris, even the Salisbury Plain. Finally he’d taken her to where his family originated and they bought this beautiful house. But then she’d found out he was married, it all fell apart. Of course he still popped in once in a while. Usually it was when some pithy line occurred to her that was greatly enhanced by that desperately sexy Scottish brogue. Of course Gerry was moving in on that territory, seeing as he was younger, single, and technically available. Not to her obviously, but in a very general way.
That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? I’m trying to ask you something important and you’re off thinking about the hunky singing vampire. I’m deeply hurt. Her eyes never lost focus on the road as she replied. Her instincts in a car were good; she never got too into these conversations to be unable to drive safely.
Forgive me, she said quietly to him. You know I adore you, but you’re taken. Besides, she countered, glancing in the rear view mirror to watch Peter shake his hair, why precisely is my sticking my head out the window of a moving car something important?
It’s not. What’s important is the ‘why’? You know that you hate having to drive. John’s voice was soft, like a friend trying to tell you something you don’t want to hear.
I don’t hate driving. I love driving. She argued with him, but she could see where he was going. Of course she could, it wasn’t like it was really him she was arguing with. He was her, she wasn’t deluded enough not to know that. She didn’t pretend for a second that any of their voices were real. They were parts of her, or people as she imagined they were. She wasn’t disassociated; she just had a lively and intricate imagination.
But you hate that you have to drive. That you can’t lie back in the seat currently filled with fast food bags and empty 20 ouncers, enjoy the cool breeze, and look over at someone who is more than willing to drive whenever you want; someone who’d rather drive because he wants to take care of you.
John left her alone as she pulled up to the small A-Frame at the park. Peter climbed out quickly, but took a long time to put his backpack on. “Good morning Mrs. Westerfield, “said one of the barely over teenage counselors at Camp Kool, where Peter was going over the summer.
“Ms.,” she grumbled under her breath, but then in a more personable tone, “Morning.” She filled in a space on the sign-in sheet, turned and found Peter already walking towards the swing set. “Hey, no goodbye?”
Peter rolled his eyes as he spun his body and stalked back to her. But, despite his nonverbal protest, the hug was genuine. They always were. He might have started getting to the age where he doesn’t like anyone knowing he gives his mom hugs and kisses, but he still likes giving them. She counted herself very lucky. How many mothers of boys his age were that lucky?
She got back in the car, flipped on the A/C, since open windows on the bridge was going to turn her hair into a hornet’s nest, and headed to work. She made a quick stop at the gas station to grab some Mt Dew. She considered stopping at McDonalds for a McGriddle, but decided that, per usual, she didn’t have time. She didn’t really greet anyone on her way into work. There were some acknowledgmental nods, but that was it. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a friendly person. It was just that she didn’t know these people well, and she hadn’t found much common ground in the few months she’d been working there. She went about her day; helping customers, working on the computer during the mind numbing spots. Who would’ve ever expected Tech Support to get dull, even for a minute, much less a couple of hours, she thought to herself at exactly 4:28 PM. She noted it felt more like 5:28PM….two weeks from today.
She clocked out at exactly 5PM and beat feet for the door. One great thing about the end of the day, there were only a handful of people who got off at 5, and fewer who left after that, so not a lot of goodbyes as she went.
She didn’t even get the air turned on in the car when John was whispering in her ear. There’s always the internet again. If he’d been real she would’ve given him a look. As it was she told him acerbically, do figments of my imagination smoke crack? She could almost hear his chuckle.
Smartass, he counter, the rolling R she wished she could voice as well as she could create in her mind. You and I, or should I say you and you, both know that you’ll never run into the other John sitting on the living room couch.
First you object to me thinking about the time traveling hunk, and now you’re encouraging me to date? She was feeling less and less amused by this conversation. She had also begun to wonder, did the idea that your subconscious should shut up and mind its own damn business indicate the beginnings of psychosis?
Stop getting metaphysical and think about what I’m saying. The voice was almost sharp and angry, which surprised her. You were meant for something more than this Kat. Think about what you can do, the way your mind works, the amount of creativity pouring out of you. You deserve happiness, but you’re not going to find it playing Jewelquest!
Don’t expect me to get real when you’re suggesting something as phenomenally stupid as internet dating! Ok now she was arguing with herself. This was becoming a bad sitch. I don’t even want to contemplate that again. And besides, maybe I don’t want to meet someone. You know, I like my independence. I like spending my time the ways I do. Maybe it’s not the best I could’ve ever hoped for, for myself. But if I got a new guy in my life, all he might end up doing is getting in the way of my life. It’s not like I’m one of those women who needs a man to make herself happy….and why am I still arguing with you?!
She was getting frustrated. She supposed this was what people going through a midlife crisis or a major life dilemma felt like. But she was worried that others didn’t quite argue with a Scottish accented voice.
Softly she got a single answer, with a lot of irony behind it. Who, precisely, are you trying to convince?
John kept quiet the rest of the night. Gerry piped in briefly, when she was alone in the kitchen fixing a sandwich. But he only said, Stop pouting, love. She also thought she heard Jason at one point, asking her what rhymed with procrastination. And in another part of her mind, the part she didn’t let out much, she started to wonder if it was time to call the white coats.
“Hey, come here.” John grabbed her from behind, slipped his hands around her waist, and smiled. She was really starting to show now, and when he spread his palm over her belly he was sure he could feel movement. She leaned her head back against his shoulder. He wondered who liked this position more, her or him. She was just short enough for it too. Her head lay on his shoulder in the exact right angle. He could stand like that for hours, and he suspected she could to.
He was surprised when she pulled away quickly and walked across to the refrigerator. “Babe?” he said tentatively.
“Yeah?” she said too casually, as if he had just eaten the last piece of pizza without offering any to her and now he was asking for a napkin. She was standing with the fridge open. He couldn’t tell for sure if she was actually seeing anything inside though. Something about her stance told him she was angry. He figured she’d had a bad day at work.
He walked over to her and kissed the top of her head, “Want me to make you something? I think there’s still chicken strips in here somewhere…” This time there was no subtlety. She pulled away, walked a few feet and then popped herself up on the counter, swinging her legs and letting the backs of her heels tap on the cabinet door. He was scared, very scared. He knew this mood, he knew what it meant. She was going to leave again. And when she did; he tried not to shudder noticeably; it wasn’t just that he might be without her for weeks or months. It was that, when he did get her back, they’d have to start all over. Then there was the nagging worry that one of these times, she wouldn’t come back at all.
Part of him was angry, furious at her, for letting what they had slip away. But he wasn’t going to let her see that, even if he could. He should’ve known it was coming too. He’d had too much control over his own words and actions. He was more and more a participant than just observing this strange little part of his life. That always happened as she became overrun with the current situation and was phasing it out. He wondered where she went when that happened.
He decided to try a new tactic. If the storyline didn’t become too dramatic, but took an interesting turn, often she would show renewed commitment to it. He was able to do things, to say things, from his own mind. Why not shape events? Why not make it interesting, so she would stay. But what would work? He couldn’t break up with her, or do something awful, that would just defeat the point. He needed something that would bring them together, something they would bond over, something…
A thought flashed in his head.
“Baby?” he put on his best ‘I wuv u’ voice. She was looking out the windows, but she turned her head at his voice, looking a little surprised. “I forgot to tell you something. Well ok, I didn’t forget. I’ve been putting it off. I just wasn’t sure how you were gonna react.”
She looked worried. He walked towards her and draped his forearms on her shoulders. He had to suppress a shudder of delight when she hooked her ankles behind his thighs, “What’s going on?” She was touching his face, in a gesture of concern. But when she did it, it was never an empty gesture. It was how she connected. The touch grounded her, he guessed, in the real world. It also grounded her in this one.
“Well, the things is…” he suddenly wondered if he was doing the right thing. For one thing, he wasn’t sure he could make a change like this. The world was her making; he had learned that along time ago. And did he have a right to hold her where she didn’t want to be? Yes, he decided, because in truth she did want to be there. She had just let things bog down to where she didn’t know where to go. It was part of the way her mind worked, even in this fantasy he had figured that out. She would overload on good ideas and then burn out. Well why couldn’t he help her then?
“Is what?” She looked up expectantly.
“Huh?”
“Is what?” she said again, a glint of mischief in her eye.
“What is what? What are you talking about?” He knew he’d been distracted a moment with his thoughts, but he didn’t think he’d fallen this far behind the conversation.
Instead of answering right away, she leaned up and kissed him. It was slow, dizzying, and not exactly designed to end his confusion. He didn’t resist, he couldn’t resist. “You said, “she purred with her lips hovering a breath from his, “The thing is. “ She punctuated her words with soft but deliberate kisses. “I am asking you, “ kiss, “what the thing is, “ kiss, “in other words, “ kiss, “what have you been putting off telling me?” This kiss nearly took him to the floor. He didn’t know how his brain was still functioning on any level above, as she would say, fire bad-tree pretty. He barely had motor functions. Of course, since she wasn’t actually kissing him physically, but in a mental projection….Knock it off, he told himself.
For a moment he completely lost himself in her. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing. He only knew that he had never really experienced contentment mixed with elation, except with her, and it was a heady combo. When she pulled back he almost cried in disappointment. But then he came to his senses, a moment without to preserve hours more with her, focus buddy.
He smiled into her hair as she laid her head down on his shoulder, Man, he thought, this has better work or I’m gonna go nuts and slip into some kind of dream junky coma. She looked up and he could see her eyeing his lips. He decided prudence might be a good idea just now, and set his fingers across her lips to stop her. That turned out to be the wrong move, and she succeeded in using his finger to muddle his mind some more. Pretty soon he was so lost that he forgot all about subtlety or crafting the story.
“Lisa quit!” he blurted out and he tried to take a step back. Unfortunately he forgot that her feet were hooked behind his knees. Well, he thought as he fell, I always said she knocks me on my ass. She would have burst out laughing the instant he hit the ground, but she put her hand up and covered her mouth quickly. He looked up at her, annoyed at first, but after a second he was snickering too. She slid off the counter and sat down opposite him on the floor. By the time she was cross-legged in front of him, they were both laughing hysterically. He had tears in his eyes, and he could barely catch his breath. Then he saw her eyes sparkling and he lost what breath he had left.
He stopped so suddenly that she cocked her head to the side and frowned. “Are you ok? You didn’t actually hurt anything did you?” She laid her hand on his knee.
“God, you are so beautiful!” he said on a massive inhale. He took the hand on his knee and yanked her toward him. The let himself fall back and he caught her with his whole body. He was kissing her when he heard the first sound. He almost didn’t hear it; he was so lost in her. But when he did he became frantic. He didn’t think that she knew why, but he could tell she sensed his need. But instead of soothing him she fed it. She used it and molded it, and within moments he was so intoxicated with her, he barely knew his own name.
The sound was getting louder, and he knew he only had seconds before he’d lose his window. He yanked his mouth away quickly, trying not to cry with the difficulty in it, and gasped out, “Penny quit!”
She looked at him quizzically, and then her eyes narrowed. She looked suspicious, and prepared to be angry. “And why, precisely, were you worried about how I was going to react to Penny quitting? Is there something I should know about why she quit?”
Oops, ok that wasn’t the right way to restart the conversation. And if he didn’t talk fast, he was seriously in danger of losing her, potentially forever. “I’m not worried about how you’ll react to why she quit, she’s and Tom are getting married, and she’s decided to get off the road for a while. I’m worried about how you’ll react to the fact that I haven’t exactly replaced her yet.”
She was definitely calm now, but there was something in her eyes. He thought she might be starting to hear the sound, and it was definitely more noticeable to him now. But not as long as it should be, and that made his blood sing with joy. She was blocking out the sound, hiding from it. He didn’t know where she went, when she woke up, but she was fighting it. He didn’t know if she had somewhere important to be, and he didn’t care. The waking world got enough of her time. He just needed a few more minutes right now.
“Ok, I know I’m technically you’re biggest fan, and you’re future partner, but I really don’t think I’m entitled to any argument with you, over your staffing. If you don’t want a female backup singer on the road right this summer, then don’t hire another one. It’s not as if you have any duets planned on the line-up this tour.” She knew she was missing something, but she didn’t know what she was missing. He started to wonder just how big of an influence she’d had on him. In the beginning, when these crazy dreams had started, he’d be amazed at her ability to weave out a story line, to feed it carefully to him. Sure, sometimes he had been a little creeped out, at the way his lines just sort of came out of his mouth. But the longer things lasted, and the more he was able to talk for himself, the less he cared about that. For the time he had with her, she could’ve played him like a puppet, and he wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t even care that this wasn’t the real world, or that he’d probably never find her in that world... ok, that might be overstating a bit. He cherished their time, and he was going to find a way to extend it.
“Actually, I did add 3 duets to the stock line-up.” He smiled.
She eyed him suspiciously, “Ok, what are you up to? Are you going to do a duet with your Peter? Because while he’s a great singer and bass player, I really don’t think you two will have much of that kind of chemistry on stage. And if you haven’t replaced your female singer on the tour, why isn’t Sam or the production company throwing a fit already?”
He hesitated only a second, bolstered by the realization the droning of her alarm clock had actually gotten quieter now, and dove right in. “Well, I told everyone you were going to do it.”
Her eyes got huge and she was obviously in utter shock. He wondered if part of her mind registered that he was adding an element on his own, to their little story. He also wondered how her mind would handle it. “Do what, exactly?!”
He grinned, “Sing.”
She scrambled up off of him, her face getting a shade redder than it’s normal creamy tone, and stood over him, “Well you can just untell them!”
He leapt up, as quickly as he could. This was going in a bad direction. Though, on a positive note, he couldn’t even hear her alarm anymore. “Why?”
She stared at him, incredulously, before she gestured to her expanding waist, “Oh how about this!”
He tried to look non-plussed, “Sweetie, you were going on the tour anyway, what does you being pregnant have to do with it?”
She looked a little vulnerable, but mostly pissy, “You know, I love you and all, but you can be remarkably unobservant. Right now I’m just a little ungainly. By the time the tour is over, if I wear one of the new t-shirts, people will mistake me for the tour bus!”
He laughed. She glowered. He grabbed her face and kissed her hard. She softened in his arms. After a couple of minutes, he pulled back and smiled at her. He tried not to sound too patronizing, but knew it would be tough, “Babe, you’re going to be the most beautiful massively pregnant woman who ever lived.” She tried to interrupt, but he didn’t let her. It was working, and he could feel it. She was so more here, than she had been a few minutes before. “And I don’t give a damn what you look like. I want you up there with me. I want to sing with you. I want the whole world to hear that beautiful voice of yours. And I want to watch the faces of those 14 year old girls, as daydream about having a man look at me, the way I look at you. I want them to see this strong, beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman, and the man who’s smart enough to love her. I want them to want to be like you, when they grow up. And I want them to never take less from a man, than his complete love and devotion, like you have from me.”
There were tears, and a smile in her eyes, when she replied sarcastically, “Yeah but I don’t want to see the faces of the 19 year old girls, thinking that they should have you instead of the Sherman tank on stage.”
He laughed triumphantly, despite the fact that the alarm clock was starting again, and getting louder quickly. Her mind was compromising. She wasn’t going to argue with him. She was going to walk away, and continue this conversation later, when she drifted off to sleep again. He had won this night, and that was enough.
© CleverTitania.com 2009
