Love's Illusions: A Novel

by Cazzola, Jolene

  “Yeah I was. Don’t give me any booze tonight – I don’t care how many times I ask, don’t give it to me,” I replied motioning him to join me at the deserted end of the bar. Lowering my voice I continued, “But I could use some of that wonderful, mellow grass you had the other day – got any left? When did you talk to Michael?”

  “I saw him at the garage this afternoon – he’s helping me install some new chrome on my bike. He was pretty pissed when he went out to look for ya, like worried, ya know, but I guess you guys…” He hesitated as the smirk on his face grew into a full-fledged grin. “I guess you guys made up… huh? I’ll never understand what he has that I don’t – he can’t even tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue. I’m telling ya Jackie, ya don’t know what you’re missin’.”

  This was an ongoing conversation I had with Rick now almost every night, by this time it was almost scripted. I smiled as I recited my lines, “You know it’s against Charlie’s rules – you don’t want me to get fired do ya? Who would you torment if I wasn’t here? Charlie said he wasn’t going to hire any more women, and…”

  Right on cue, Rick cut off my response, his eyes dancing with delight “What Charlie doesn’t know won’t hurt him – I won’t tell – I promise, I won’t tell him or Mike.”

  “Right, you’re so full of shit – Charlie knows everything that happens in this place and Michael’s your friend, you introduced us. Besides, you know I need something in reserve to fanaticize about,” I countered, in my best put-on flirtatious tone, grinning back, tilting my head and blowing him a kiss across the bar. Rick dramatically caught the kiss with both hands, pressed it to his heart and sighed. Ritual conversation over, we both laughed.

  “But seriously, why did you leave the bar last night?” Rick asked with just the slightest hint of concern in his voice, “I’ve never seen you go off like that before.” One of the regulars had walked up to the bar with his empty beer glass, and was now staring at Rick. Rick just waved his hand in a dismissive, be right there, kind of gesture and the guy looked away.

  “I don’t know – I honestly don’t remember going outside. I just remember sort of waking up by the telephone pole – alone. Guess I had things on my mind,” I replied acknowledging his unspoken tone. “I mean it – no booze tonight – none!”

  “Yeah, Mike said you could have some vodka, but to keep you away from the Southern Comfort, at least until he got here later,” Rick said.

  My body stiffened; I turned on my heels, started to open my mouth to object to Michael dictating what I should and shouldn’t do, but then changed my mind and replied, “Don’t worry – I don’t want any, I felt like shit when I woke up, but I would like a joint… if it’s the same stuff you guys had last week.”

  Rick just grinned, winked and pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his T-shirt pocket. Tucked between the package and the cellophane wrapper was about a quarter of a joint. Handing it to me he said, “This will have to do for now – that asshole at the end of the bar is getting impatient.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  Rick was a biker – left over from the ‘biker bar’ days. He was about the same height as Charlie, but a good deal heavier – not fat, but well-muscled with a tattoo of a naked woman on his right bicep placed so that when he flexed his arm muscles, her boobs appeared to grow. On his left arm, higher up, closer to his shoulder was a tattoo of an eagle over the large orange letters HD with the words Harley Davidson Cycle in a semi-circle underneath, and eagle wings supporting the whole design. (He had other tattoos that he volunteered to show me ‘in private’ but I declined.) His wavy, coffee brown hair was just below his ears, a full beard and mustache set off his lips and his bright blue eyes didn’t miss a thing – always darting from one person to the next, sizing them up. He could usually spot trouble brewing in the bar and have it stopped before anything ever happened. And Rick was a lady’s man – he showed any female entering the premises how he could tie a knot in the stem of a cherry using only his tongue, letting them know that he, and his tongue, were available to perform other ‘services’ if they cared to come back around closing time. Most nights there was someone waiting to take him up on his offer. The whole act was very entertaining to watch, almost as choreographed as our daily conversation. Although he tried not to let it show, he was your all around good person under that tough guy façade.

  Levi was a different story entirely. Most of the time he dressed like a higher-class version of Charlie, hippie all the way, but giving off the impression that he was somehow slumming by working at The Canteen. There’s no way to express what Levi looked like other than to say he was, hands down, one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen, with eyes even brighter blue than Rick’s - they looked like blue sapphires, and honey blond hair that always smelled like he had just washed it with a ginger spice-scented shampoo. It was easy to see how the other females Charlie had hired fell prey to his smooth, self-assured, educated voice that belied his true manner. His soft facial features, those high set cheek bones, inviting smile, and lips the color of Merlot wine were straight off the fashion pages of Vogue. His act was so smooth, so polished – glittering like a multi-faceted, high quality, De Beer’s princess cut diamond – he could be irresistible. He reminded me of Stephen. No, he didn’t look like him at all, but something in the way he moved… so confident, so sure of himself. Or maybe it was just the way other people were drawn to him, as if he was the North Pole and they were mere magnets unable to turn away. But for me, there was something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on, couldn’t quite discern, other than Charlie’s rule, that kept me away. Keeping my distance from Levi was no problem at all.

  ~~~~~~~~

  It was Saturday night so the bar was busy, but not hectic like it could sometimes get. The room filled up with the usual assortment of people: groups of two, three, four guys out together looking to pick up someone to spend the night with; groups of two, three, four women looking for the same thing; couples wandering in meeting up with other couples; single guys leering in the corners as they got drunk hoping they would score, but in reality, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. There were always one or two dealers wandering around the bar peddling their dime bags, and any number of other mind-altering substances – whatever you wanted, it could be found here.

  The leftover joint Rick gave me had done its job, and I floated through the night serving drinks without a care in the world until Kevin, one of the Saturday night regulars, came up behind me, and without warning snapped a popper in my nose. “You motherfucker! Why the hell did you do that?” I bellowed whirling around and stumbling – the beers I was carrying went crashing to the floor as I was overcome by an instantaneous head rush. “You motherfuckin’ son of a bitch – Goddamn it!”

  Kevin was looking pretty pleased with himself until he saw Rick motion to the bouncer, Dave, who, at the sound of breaking glass, had already started making his way to where I was standing. Rick was yelling, “He’s wasted, get him out of here.” Then turning to face Kevin he said, “See ya tomorrow man.”

  Kevin was trying to apologize, “Jackie… Jackie I’m sorry, I thought you’d like it” he said backing up and spreading his hands so Dave could see he wasn’t going to put up a struggle.

  With Dave pulling Kevin up the stairs, and my head still swooning I yelled, “You ever do that to me again, and I’ll kick you in the balls – I hate those fuckin’ things!”

  “Here Jackie, sit down for a minute then take these beers to those guys” Rick said coming around the bar with a broom in his hand. “You’ll be fine in a minute, Kevin didn’t mean to piss you off, he’s just a fucked up asshole.”

  “Hmph – yeah, well he ruined my perfect buzz,” I said picking up the new tray of beers and starting through the crowd, “I hate that shit!”

  Chapter Six

  Sundays

  Sundays had become my favorite day of the week since Michael and I started hanging out. We had a sort of routine established: he would come to the bar an hour or t
wo before closing on Saturday night, we’d get breakfast at the Sunrise Diner on Broadway with Rick, Levi, Charlie and whoever else was around, and then make our way back to my apartment. The diner made great French toast which I always smothered in maple syrup and powdered sugar; along with my side order of link sausages and coffee it was the perfect ending to the night. Somehow French toast just tasted better at 4 am on Sunday morning before going to bed than it ever had when my mother made it for me while I was growing up. Michael’s usual breakfast consisted of two eggs, over easy, crispy bacon and white buttered toast with strawberry jam and black coffee. I doctored my coffee with as much cream and sugar as I could squeeze into the cup.

  As usual, both Levi and Rick had women with them that they’d picked up earlier in the evening at the bar. Everyone was winding down; the conversation was light and meandering, revolving almost entirely around the events of the evening. “Are you going to make Kevin pay for the broken glasses Charlie,” I asked sipping my coffee.

  “Nah,” he replied, “he’s an idiot – he never thinks, but he’s harmless. I’ll make sure he knows not to stick any more poppers up your nose though.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty amusing, Jackie,” Levi piped in, “… for a minute I thought you were going to fall over head first into the bar.”

  “It wasn’t funny, I almost did fall over,” I shot back. “God I hate those things!”

  “That’s because you’re doing them at the wrong time… Mike – here catch,” Rick called tossing a foil packet across the table to him, grinning from ear to ear. “Give this to her when you guys are fuckin’, and she’ll change her mind.”

  Michael caught it with one hand and smiled at me with a questioning look on his face. My face and voice left no doubt about my opinion on the subject as I snarled, “Don’t you dare!”

  One corner of Michael’s mouth curled up; he chuckled under his breath, and slid the packet back across the table to Rick. “We don’t need it,” he said leaning over to kiss my cheek. The table exploded with laughter followed by a string of wise-ass comments causing me to turn a full spectrum of red. Michael, on the other hand, never seemed embarrassed by that kind of teasing – he never turned ten shades of red the way I did. He said the way I blushed was ‘cute’, and I could tell he was enjoying it now as much as everyone else.

  When things calmed down some, the woman hanging on Levi’s arm whispered something in his ear and he roared again, eyebrows raising… “Give that to me – I’ve got a taker – we’re gonna parrrttty!”

  Rick handed it over winking at his partner for the night, “Don’t worry sweetie – I’ve got some for you too.”

  With that, shaking his head, Charlie announced he had to leave, saying in his own mischievous tone, eyes glinting, “I think I’ll go wake up my wife.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  By the time we all made our way out of the diner the sun was starting to rise, and Michael suggested we go over to Lincoln Park and watch the lake for a while before heading back to the apartment. The air was brisk and cool, but not yet too cold to be by the water, so I agreed without hesitation. Lincoln Park had always been one of my favorite destinations in the city. A wonderful zoo and conservatory were only part of the lure as it stretched out along the north side of the city providing a much needed place to escape the busy streets; a place where you could sit under a tree and listen to Lake Michigan. We found a secluded bench along one of the walkways; Michael put his arm around me as I pulled my legs up close to my body, and leaned back against him snuggling in to stay warm.

  The morning was beautiful with multiple shades of pinks and yellows beginning to peek up over the horizon, gleaming as it pushed the darkness away. He kissed the top of my head while I rested on his shoulder, neither of us speaking, just enjoying the sound of the waves hitting the cement wall at the end of the sidewalk, and the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees in the park behind us. It was a rare morning for Chicago in the fall – cool, but not too cold; light, but not too light – that elusive time when it’s not night and not day, when the air carried a faint mist and smelled of winter weather to come, but somehow was still suspended in the relative warmth of fall.

  Michael broke the silence asking, “How did things go with Bernie?”

  I felt my body tense a little – he felt it too - before I answered, “Okay, we talked for a while – it was good to see him again – then I went home and went back to bed. I was still hung over and needed more sleep.”

  “Yeah, I tried calling, but the phone just rang – so I figured…” His voice faded off.

  “Sorry, I unplugged it – I guess I forgot to plug it back in when I got up,” I murmured as he shifted his shoulder under my head and pulled me closer.

  After another, shorter silence he continued, “Want to tell me what he said?”

  “Not right now, let’s just watch the sun come up, okay?”

  “Okay,” he whispered to the top of my head and once again the only sounds were those of the water lapping against the sea wall and the wind rustling the trees, blocking out the city noise as well as all the thoughts in my head.

  As we walking back to the car, I looked at Michael, and said with as little emotion as I could manage, “Bernie says Stephen’s back in town.”

  Drawing his brows together almost reflexively, Michael nodded and unlocked the door of the Mustang for me. As he got in and started the engine, he gave me an understanding smile, “I think we both need some more sleep,” he said.

  ~~~~~~~~

  It was well past noon when we both started to stir. I had finally fallen asleep in my favorite position – my head cradled in the small of his shoulder with his arms holding me, and our legs knotted together around each other, me playing with the hair on his chest. Normally on Sunday mornings after having a filling breakfast at the diner, we’d spend the time before falling asleep continuing to wind down, toying with each other, but that had not happened this time. Michael seemed a little distant – like he was deep in thought when we arrived at the apartment, and even though I did my best to distract him, stroking the inside of his thighs and fingering his cock, he was only interested in whatever thoughts were occupying his head.

  As I dozed off I wished I hadn’t said anything about Stephen being back in Chicago. Michael knew more about my marriage than anyone else I had met in the last six months, and he had not seemed bothered by it. Maybe it was that Stephen was gone, that I had no way of contacting him other than to call his mother’s house (and he knew how I felt about talking to that woman); maybe somehow none of it had been real to him – God only knows I was trying my hardest to make it all unreal for myself; maybe we were just too busy being stoned and fucking for him to pay attention, but whatever it was, this was the first time he had refused my attentions. Neither of us had ever talked about our relationship being any more than an extended one-night-stand. I mean sure, I had sensed it changing from just screwing to something else, more like making love, but he knew I was married… So what the hell was the problem? Goddamn it… why did I tell him?

  ~~~~~~~~

  Sleep seemed to have done the trick for Michael. Whatever had been bothering him the night before had evaporated, at least for the time being. “Want to come to the garage with me today?” he asked as he cozied up behind me in perfect spoon-like fashion.

  “Maybe; are you working on the Mustang or bike or are you meeting someone there?” I replied yawning.

  “I was going to change the sparkplugs on my bike.”

  “Hmph… that sounds terribly exciting.”

  He snickered in my ear saying, “Liar… I just thought it would give us a chance to talk… You could hand me the wrenches.”

  “Right, you know I don’t know one wrench from another.”

  “I’ll teach you,” he replied, and I could feel his smile against the back of my head.

  Hesitating a moment as I opened my eyes and started to stretch I said, “I have to do the laundry – I’m out of clean underwear.” />
  “Now that’s what I call an exciting Sunday afternoon,” he chuckled.

  I rolled over facing him now, ran my hand over his strong shoulder and down the length of his arm feeling the gentle curve of his muscles, continuing my exploration over his hard, lean thighs. Michael lay still, hardly breathing. He kissed me deeply, for a very long time, holding me as close as possible to him, our hips pushing together. I lowered my head, kissing his shoulders, chest and perfectly flat stomach as my fingers found the soft inside of his thighs, making their way through his thick, dark pubic hair to cup his balls. I moved, pushing his back flat on the bed and rolled on top of him. His hands embraced my face, smoothing my long hair back so he was looking me in the eyes.

  “You’re beautiful babe,” he murmured. I gave him a half-curled smirk in return. “No, really, I mean it – you’re beautiful.” His hand held my hair at the back of my neck as he pulled me down on top of him.

  I was right. We weren’t just fucking anymore – we were making love. God help him.

  Chapter Seven

  Lying to the World

  The weeks seemed to fly by. I stayed stoned as much as possible, one of the best things I could do to keep from thinking about Stephen being back. Before I knew it, Thanksgiving was looming, and my parents were asking if I was going to make the trip back home for the holiday. I hadn’t been home since September 1970, when Stephen and I got married, well over a year ago, far longer than I had ever been away from them before. My grip on reality was tenuous at best, slipping more and more with each passing day, and even though I knew I needed to face them, to talk to them, tell them the truth about what was happening with Stephen and me, I just couldn’t. In case I was wrong, I couldn’t take the chance of turning them against him – they loved him too. I hated lying to them, but I couldn’t talk to them – not yet. Luckily, Mary Beth had decided to stay in Chicago for Thanksgiving, so I was able to successfully sell a story about not wanting to drive all that way by myself for such a short time, and air fare was too expensive, but I would come home for Christmas.