Epic Love

by Trudy Stiles

  She flips back a few pages and removes a picture from the book.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “It’s my parents, standing under the Arch together.”

  I walk over to the couch and sit next to her. She hands me the picture and the first thing that strikes me is how purely happy they look. Not a concern or worry in either of their eyes–their entire lives ahead of them. I’ve never seen this look in Noelle’s eyes, and I yearn for it. She never looked this happy to me. Irrational anger bubbles up inside of me toward her father. He should have known the pain that she was experiencing when she was younger. He should have done something to protect her. To remove her from the situation that was poisoning her life.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks, sensing my change.

  “Nothing,” I shrug it off. I can’t let her know how angry I still am at her father. Her dead father.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I want to bring you there so you can experience the same thing they did, but we’re going to have to wait to sneak out much later. I don’t want us to be followed.”

  “Okay,” she agrees.

  “We should order dinner in, if that’s okay?” I feel terrible that we can’t venture out much more, but I think it’s best at this point.

  “Perfect. I want to relax anyway.”

  We place a room service order and she sits quietly, reading the journal.

  “What did he say about St. Louis?” I ask.

  She looks up at me with a questioning look in her eyes. “You want me to read it to you?”

  “I’d love that,” I say, settling into the couch next to her.

  She flips back a few pages and begins.

  “August 22: St. Louis is nothing like I imagined. There’s so much remarkable culture here, hidden throughout the city. After we visited the Arch today, Mel and I found an incredible place, right on Broadway. A small club where local musicians played the blues for hours and hours. At one point, Melanie actually got up on stage and sang a few verses with a band. It was marvelous to watch. Electrifying. She lit up the room, her smile went on for days. And her voice! It was angelic. She sounded like she’d been rehearsing with them for decades, fitting right in. When she finished the song, she practically floated back to our table, her brow a little sweaty. She said she was ’glistening’ from all of the fun she was having. And she couldn’t have been more beautiful if she tried. We stayed there until well after 3AM. We danced for hours and didn’t want to leave. Tonight I fell more in love with Melanie, which I didn’t think was even possible.”

  Tears fill her eyes and she sighs. “Wow,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I reply. It’s odd getting this glimpse into her parents’ lives. Living through his words.

  “It’s the little things about her that he loved and was surprised about. He never told me she was a singer.”

  “No? I would think he would after witnessing her singing her heart out here in St. Louis.”

  “He did tell me she used to sing me to sleep every night when I was an infant. I guess for as long as she was alive.” Her head drops, and I hear her inhale deeply.

  “I’m sorry,” I state, for what seems like the thousandth time.

  “I’m enjoying this. I really am. I just wish I could have learned about these things in a different way.”

  I know what she means. If only they were here.

  “I know,” I say. “But to experience everything this way is so special. There’s so much meaning here.” I tap the journal and then run my hand over the top of her head, smoothing out her hair. Touching her feels so natural. So normal. But I can’t help but feel that we’re still strangers.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs, leaning her head back into my hand and settling against me.

  There’s a knock on the door and a muffled voice, “Room Service!”

  I reluctantly remove my arm from Noelle and get up to answer the door. Our dinner is quickly set at the table in the dining area, and the attendant disappears.

  “It smells good,” Noelle says, sitting down.

  Our plates are uncovered, revealing burgers and French fries.

  “I figured we’d have bar food, since we’re missing the bar scene tonight. I’m always up for a good burger, you?”

  Her eyes widen, and her face falls. “I’m a vegetarian now,” she states.

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry. I should have asked what you wanted and not just assumed.” I feel like an asshole. She’s a vegetarian? Since when?

  She suddenly bursts out laughing, picking up the large, juicy burger on her plate. “Kidding!” she jokes and takes a huge bite.

  “Not funny.” I shake my head. “You’re gone for over a decade and suddenly you’re a vegetarian? Not funny at all.”

  “This is delicious,” she says, trying to make up for her little white lie.

  The phone rings from the table in the living room. “Who could that be?” Noelle asks, curious.

  I jump up, shrugging my shoulders. I answer. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Strickland, it’s Marty Doyle, the hotel manager. How are you tonight?”

  “Good,” I answer, hesitantly.

  “We are truly sorry for the mishap when you arrived today. We promise to make it up to you. Is there anything we can do?”

  I think for a minute and then say, “As a matter of fact, yes. We’d like a private car, preferably leaving undetected, to take us to the Arch tonight. Late.”

  “We can absolutely do that. Come down to the garage tonight, basement level. We’ll have a car waiting and take you wherever you want to go.”

  “Great. We’ll be there at midnight,” I say and hang up.

  I make my way back to the table and sit down.

  “What was that about?” Noelle asks, curious.

  “We’re going to the Arch tonight. And anyplace else you want to go.”

  Her smile is huge. “Really?”

  “It’s all taken care of. We should be able to get out of here without a problem.”

  She drops what’s left of her burger on her plate and claps her hands in front of her. “Yes!”

  Seeing her so excited and happy fuels my motivation. I’m determined to make this trip positive and fun.

  I need to do this for her.

  For us.

  IT’S JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT and Noelle is standing under the Arch, her hands stretched out above her head as if she’s trying to hold it up from the ground. “It’s amazing!” she exclaims, twirling around, her smile huge. I snap a picture of her with my phone when she’s not looking. I’m trying to capture these moments for her, just like her father did of himself and her mother so many years ago.

  “What are you doing?” she asks as she whips around just after I take the picture.

  “Capturing a spectacular moment.”

  Her smile radiates from her, and she twirls once again under the Arch. “Get in the picture with me!” she calls out, gesturing for me to join her. “Let’s take a selfie!”

  I walk over to her and she stands in front of me, her back to my chest. “Here, take my phone. Your arms are longer.” I shove my phone into my pocket and grab hers. My arms outstretched on either side of her shoulders. I’m a bit taller than her, so I need to bend down so our heads are close together and in the frame. I angle the phone so the Arch is clearly seen behind us and take the picture.

  “I wasn’t ready!” she exclaims and stays between my arms. “Do it again.”

  We settle on a shot she’s comfortable with and I take a couple of pictures, so she’ll have at least one that she likes. Before I step away, I quickly kiss her cheek.

  “What was that for?” she asks, turning to face me.

  “Do I need a reason?” I hope I didn’t step out of bounds by kissing her, but it was a friendly gesture, nothing more. Or was it?

  She starts giggling. “Oh my God, do you remember the first time we kissed?” She covers her mouth with her hand and tries to control her laughter. She purse
s her lips and puffs out her cheeks, just like I remember us doing so long ago. It was our “sticky kiss.”

  I nod my head, smiling. “How could I forget?”

  “What did we think we were doing? Our lips were touching, but we didn’t even move–like our lips were stuck together!” Her laughter is contagious, and I join her. This feels so good.

  “I was apparently more experienced than you,” I admit sarcastically.

  “If kissing like a puffer fish is experienced!” She continues laughing and falls onto a nearby bench, kicking her legs out in front of her. Her expression changes, her face relaxing a bit. “I miss those days so much.”

  I’m surprised by this, knowing a trip back in time would be a trip back into the house where she was mercilessly abused by Tonya. “Really?”

  She nods her head. “I sometimes wish I could go back and change things. Show more strength when I was younger, so I didn’t seem like an easy target for her.”

  I sit next to her and place my hand on her knee. “I would hate for you to go back in time and experience all of that all over again.”

  We sit silently for several moments when she leans against me, her arm outstretched again with her phone. “Let’s take one more selfie.”

  We lean against each other, our cheeks touching. Just before she snaps the picture, she turns and places her lips on my face, puffing out her cheeks. I laugh as the moment is captured on her phone.

  She laughs again, trying to move past the moment remembering her abuse. Then she stretches. “We should get back to the hotel,” she yawns.

  “Are you sure? We’re incognito now, we can go anywhere we want.” I look at my watch and it’s after one in the morning.

  “Tulsa is about a seven-hour drive. If we get to bed soon, we can get a much earlier start.”

  “I suppose,” I reply. “Or we can find that blues bar on Broadway and catch some tunes.”

  Her eyes light up with my suggestion, and she jumps to her feet. “Okay, maybe just for a little while.” She reaches her hand out and pulls me off of the bench.

  “Are you sure you’re up for it?” I ask.

  “Yes! Let’s do it!”

  We find our driver who’s been parked on the main road for over an hour. The hotel loaned him to us for the night so we should take advantage of the ride while we can.

  Seeing Noelle so happy and free right now is perfect.

  I don’t want this night to end.

  THE BAR IS DARK and mostly empty. Noelle and I are able to walk right in and grab a small table in front of the makeshift stage. A waitress immediately shows up, placing cocktail napkins on the table in front of us.

  “What can I get you?” she asks.

  I turn and look at the bar to see what taps I recognize while Noelle looks over the drink menu.

  “I’ll have a Cosmo,” she states.

  “Eastside Double IPA for me.”

  The waitress leaves and Noelle’s eyes are wide. “I can’t believe this is the place where my mother sang.”

  That’s the beauty of places like this. They’re so unassuming but filled with character. “Right there on that stage,” I respond.

  Our drinks are placed in front of us and Noelle quickly reaches for hers, carefully lifting it into the air. “Kind of hard to toast with, but thank you for taking this trip with me. You have no idea how much this means. Cheers.” I raise my pint and lightly tap the rim of her martini glass. She takes a sip from the top and places it back down on the table. “Wow, that’s strong!”

  I smile and place my hand over hers. “I would do anything for you, Noelle. This trip is a gift–for both of us.”

  She briefly looks down and then back up to me again. “I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes are glassy, and her lips quiver for just a moment. “When I called you, I didn’t know what to expect. I prepared myself for the worst, readying myself for anger and denial. The fact that you’re here with me is nothing short of a miracle. I promise I’ll make it up to you someday, Heath. As long as you’ll let me.”

  “You don’t have to make anything up to me. You being here, alive, is all I need.” I squeeze her hand tightly, never wanting to let go.

  The band walks past us and onto the stage, their instruments already set up. The singer speaks softly into the microphone and says, “Hey. We’re going to play some blues.” And with that, the most incredible music begins to fill our ears, invade our senses. The bass is deep, so deep you can feel it in your veins. The singer’s voice is raspy but perfectly in tune. Noelle and I sit together, fully absorbing this experience. Several times during their set, they invite random bar patrons on stage to join them.

  “It must be a tradition,” Noelle comments, and I nod my head. She’s watching the band intently, almost as if she’s imagining them in a different time. I wonder if she’s picturing her mother on that very stage, captivating the audience while capturing her father’s heart.

  Two more drinks are placed in front of us and Noelle’s eyes widen. “I don’t think I can drink this one,” she laughs. “Look at me, my cheeks are red, aren’t they?”

  I lean closer to her to get a better look and softly touch one of her cheeks. It’s slightly warm to the touch, almost as if she has a fever. “You’re glowing,” I note. “And warm.”

  “I’m a one martini kind of girl. Anything more and I’ll be face first on this table.” She pushes the drink away from her and leans back in her chair. “I need some water,” she declares, fanning herself.

  I signal for the waitress, who quickly returns with two large glasses of ice water. “Thank you!” she shouts as the music gets louder.

  Time flies by and soon the house lights come up, the band begins packing up their equipment. Noelle is squinting, trying to adjust to the bright lights. “What time is it?”

  I glance down at my watch. “Three-thirty.” It doesn’t feel as late as it is.

  The guitarist from the band approaches our table slowly, and I look up.

  “Dude. I can’t believe you’re here. I hope you enjoyed the set,” he says, almost stammering.

  I reach out my hand to shake his. “You guys were tight.”

  Noelle chimes in, “Oh my God. You were seriously amazing. Do you have an album out or anything?”

  “Nah. We do this for fun, mostly.”

  He’s young, probably in his early twenties, but his abilities are decades beyond his age. “You have some incredibly raw talent. It could take you places,” I state, and his eyes light up.

  “Thanks, Heath–uh–Mr. Strickland–”

  I laugh and shake my head. “You can call me Heath, dude.”

  He pulls a yellow Post-It note from his pocket and puts it in front of me. “Can you sign this?” he asks nervously.

  I look down and see the set list from tonight scrawled in pencil along with the date at the top.

  “Sure,” I say. “But I don’t have anything to write with.”

  “Oh shit. Hold on!” He turns and hops back up on the stage, opening his gig bag. He returns with a pencil and hands it to me nervously.

  I look down and find a small spot to sign my name. After I do, he takes out his phone. “Will you take a picture with me?” he asks, and I stand up.

  “Sure.”

  He hands Noelle his phone, and we take several pictures together.

  “Thank you. That was so cool,” he says, backing away. “I won’t take any more of your time.”

  After he leaves, I drape my arm over Noelle’s shoulder and guide us to the front door. There’s barely anyone left in the place, the bartenders vigorously working to clean up so they can leave.

  Our driver is parked out front and when he sees us, he rushes to open the back door for us. “Have a good night?” he asks.

  “Amazing,” I reply, sliding in after Noelle.

  She relaxes against my side, resting her head on my shoulder. “Do you ever get used to it all?” she asks.

  “Get used to what?”

  “Recogniti
on?”

  “I’ll never get used to it. It’s still so surreal to me that I’m even doing what I’m doing. I don’t know how I wound up here.”

  “How did you?” she asks, curious. “What did you go to school for?”

  I tense when she asks me this question. Leaving for college was one of the worst experiences of my life, knowing I was going to Boston alone, without her. I muddled my way through two years before I called it quits. Something I’m not proud of and rarely admit to anyone. For years, I took odd jobs, but mostly staying close to home with an ever watchful eye on Noelle’s house. Hoping someday she’d return.

  “I declared my major at the end of freshman year. I thought I’d follow in my father’s footsteps and practice law. That didn’t work out so well for me,” I admit, slightly embarrassed.

  “Oh,” she says. “I’m glad you went though.” I can tell she’s aware of the awkwardness that hangs in the air between us.

  “It didn’t feel right going to Boston without you.”

  She looks up at me with a sad look on her face. “I’m really sorry. I dreamed about what it would have been like to go away with you. I would have been free. And we would have been together.”

  Her words stab me in the heart, the old pain resurfacing. We missed out on so many years together, and it’s hard to digest.

  “You were free, in a way,” I respond. “You are free.” I correct myself and tighten my grip on her shoulder, pulling her closer against my side. “Let’s not think about what never was.”

  I feel her nod against me, and her entire body relaxes.

  As we drive back to the hotel, I can’t help but wonder if things were different.

  What if she never disappeared?

  What if we actually were something?

  Noelle

  Present

  I’M RUNNING THROUGH the streets, chasing something–someone. “Wait!” I call out. “Stop! Please!” The figure turns and disappears around the corner. My feet feel like they’re barely moving, yet the buildings seem like they’re moving at one-hundred miles an hour in my peripheral vision. I get to the corner and turn, stopping to try to find who I’ve been chasing. The streets are completely empty, and I begin to cry, my body shaking with sobs, tears forming puddles at my feet.