Lyrical Lights
Page 27
Doesn’t everyone deserve a happy ending? Sure—if you’re up for the challenge. It takes hard work and choosing the right decisions after making a couple of wrong ones—but you should be able to get there—eventually, according to a very sexy bird. She was the only person I wanted by my side tonight, and she was nowhere to be around. But she was not easy to lose sight of these days. She’d changed in her looks—a little different from the first time I’d seen her, but more beautiful than she’d ever been. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, and there I met Gloria’s smiling face.
“Wow, this is really great, Simon.”
“Thank you.”
Gloria cast her eyes at me like she was seeing me for the first time. “I don’t think I ever saw you this happy.”
“I’m in the right place.” I felt it. I’m where I’m supposed to be.
“You finally have it all, and there’s no more deserving guy I know.”
“Yeah. Nah … not yet, anyhow.”
“What can you possibly be missing?” Her eyebrows gathered up.
“Maybe a daughter?” I said, and Gloria smiled.
“And what does your wife say?”
“She said if I give her another boy, she’ll leave me.” This made Gloria laugh, patting me on the shoulder.
“Where is your wife, anyway?” Her eyes glanced over the crowd.
“Somewhere around …” My eyes scanned the room with no success in finding her. She’d once told me she was hard to pin down. Don’t I know it.
“Look what I picked up.” Gloria pulled a book out of her green handbag. “And I wanted you to sign it for me.” She held up a copy of Lyrical Lights, the book I had published a month ago. After I had shown it to Mable, she’d thought I should share it with the world. It was her idea. All the proceeds would go to a charity that Mable had created, World Hearing, a nonprofit charity that supplied hearing aids for developing countries.
“With pleasure,” I beamed. “But I don’t have a pen.” I patted down my navy suit jacket.
“Here you go, Simon.” She handed one to me. Gloria always comes prepared. That’s one thing I liked about her—she’d always had my back.
“To the biggest pain in my ass, and faithful friend. Thank you for keeping this book out of the binner.”
She read it back to me, then laughed. “Oh, there’s Matthew Norville. Let me go say hi.”
“Still keeping up appearances, I see?” I frowned.
“You know a little ass-kissing hurt nobody, right? Anyways, next week Tracy and I have vacation time. It would be nice to get together for dinner with you guys.” She pulled me into a kiss goodbye.
“Yeah, let me speak to the missus, but I’m sure it will be okay.”
“All right, we will be in touch,” she said.
I watched her go off in the direction of the CEO of Norville magazines. I couldn’t blame her. Sometimes you had to play the game to stay in it. I should know. As for me, I had so much to be grateful for. After what I had witnessed, my time traveling to the most censored countries, there were some close calls, but thankfully I had made it back in one piece. I needed to come back to the love of my life.
After going through one refugee camp after another and meeting people who were forced from their homes by war, it wasn’t hard to identify my humanity in the misfortune and struggles of others. I couldn’t let a moment go by with knowing I was the fortunate one. But it didn’t mean I should stop—turn my back on the world. It only motivated me to do more. To make the world better for others … each life is valuable. Now, becoming a father, my cause only deepened.
I often think back to the day I landed at JFK after being gone for six months, and the last person I had expected to see there, waiting for me, was Mable. I knew I had made a few mistakes in the past, but now I was ready to make the right choices.
“You’re quiet,” she’d said, in the back of the cab, headed to my apartment, now for good.
“I was thinking,” I said to her.
“About what?”
“The Taj Mahal.” I stared at Mable like I never had before. Her blond hair was cut at shoulder length, the shortest I’d ever seen.
“What about it?” She smiled with curiosity.
“In fact, I was thinking about Sheh Jahan and the love he had for his wife Mumtaz, that when she died, he built this beautiful monument in her memory.”
“Wait, didn’t he have seven wives?” She looked puzzled.
“Right … and plenty of mistresses, but that’s what makes this story so much more unique.”
“What are you trying to say, Simon? You want a harem?” Her brows bunched together.
“No, no, but I have a point—if you let me finish.”
“Okay … this better be good.” Mable’s eyebrows came together.
“Sheh Jahan may have had seven wives in his lifetime … But there’s always that one, you know? Everyone gets that one, and for Sheh, Mumtaz had to be his one, or why would he build the Taj Mahal her honor?”
“What does this have to do with anything? With us?”
“You’re my one, Mable … my Taj Mahal … and after what I’ve seen these past couple of months, I don’t want to waste any more time being away from you. And if you don’t want me, well, I guess I’m prepared to live a lifetime alone. If I can’t have you, no one else will do.” I shrugged.
“A lifetime is a very long time to be alone.”
“Oh, good, you understand my dilemma then …”
“Completely …” she said, and I drew her closer.
“Then marry me?” I looked at her like she was the only thing that existed. “I’m crazy about you,” I said, and she smiled. “The first time I saw you, I was hooked and in love … I’m nothing without you. Be my one?” Her eyes became clear. Now she knew what happened when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.
I put my glass of champagne down and walked around the room, and that’s when I found what I was searching for. My Aphrodite—my wife, standing in front of a mural, a picture I had taken of her in Rwanda with a little girl in her arms.
“This is my favorite picture,” Mable said, looking up at me while I stood next to her.
“Mine too,” I said, slipping my hand into hers.
“So what’s next?” she asked. I loved the softness in her eyes. They had a way of seeing right through me.
“Well, I have something in mind, but first I want to know—are you in?” My eyebrow slightly went up, and she giggled.
“I’m in—with you, all the way,” she said, and I pulled her as close as I could.
“You’re so beautiful, you know? I’m one lucky man.” I searched her face.
“I got pretty lucky, too.” We had promised each other we would stop with the rush and concentrate on our growing family. When I go right, I want her there right beside me, and when Mable goes left, I’ll follow—no matter the limit—for her, I will go anywhere.
“It’s so simple, isn’t it? You can thrive under the lights as long as you got someone by your side that makes the world feel like your oyster … Only one can do that.”
“And now one has become three,” she reminded me, putting her hand on her large stomach—my boys, who I’d meet in a month’s time.
“And maybe eventually four.” I nuzzled her neck.
“Four? Do you think we’ll be able to handle more children, Walter?”
“Sure we can. Together there’s no limit to what we can do. But keep calling me Walter, and maybe there’ll be five.”
She laughed, and I kissed her before she could protest.
I guess it comes down to who you become and what you leave behind … But whatever you do, never leave love behind. Never.
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Maria La Serra lives in Montreal. Before becoming a writer, she worked as a fashion designer. She will try everything at least once, except for skiing, hiking or camping—okay anything relating to activities done in the great outdoors. When she’s not working on her next book, you could find spending time with family. Lyrical Lights is her second book.