……………………………………………………………
I make my way to the stage and begin setting up. Jason told me that there’s a pretty little blonde over on one of the couches waiting for me to play. It was everything I could do not to tear over there, jerk her up, and kiss her until she was a writhing mass in my arms. It had to be her. It had to be Lorraina. Any other girl wanting to see me would have wasted no time in making herself known. I know I have to put the ball in her court, though. Whatever she came here for, she would have to make that known. After the way she tortured me for all those years, I’m not gonna make it easy on her.
I get ready to get going and mentally chuck my entire set list. I’m gonna have some fun with this. I know what she likes. I know what will get her going. Even if it’s not her, it’ll be fun pretending, though. I shake that thought. It’s her. It has to be. Now that it’s a possibility, I won’t survive, otherwise.
I kick it off with a popular, catchy song with suggestive lyrics that reminds me so much of her. My good girl with a hidden desire for bad boys like me. She’s gonna have to face up to that real soon. Although in my case, I guess I would be considered a reformed bad boy.
Damn, I’m having a hard time concentrating on my performance. What is she doing here? What does she want from me? All this shit I’ve gone through to make myself better for her and I still don’t feel ready to take her on. Fuck that! I’m ready. I mentally kick myself. I’ll have to quit cursing again, dammit!
I play a couple of her favorite songs, and I sneak in one I wrote for her after our stupid fight. The fight that got me to wizen up a little too late. Thank you, God, for that fight and for that stubborn girl.
All right, I’ve had about enough of this shit, Lorraina. Come on baby. Is that you? How ‘bout this one? I transition into “Jealous Guy.” This one pretty much sums up our entire relationship. Damn! She’s still as stubborn as ever.
It takes me two more songs to get her to turn around. When she does, it’s a sucker punch to my gut. She’s more beautiful than ever. And the way she’s looking at me. I feel a slow burn move over my entire body that turns into rapid-fire movement. I need a minute to collect myself, so I motion Jason over to her. I hope he gets my drift.
I wrap up that song, and she just looks way too comfortable over there. I launch into “Every Rose Has Its Thorn.” It was the first song I’d ever shared with her. It has the desired effect. She looks like she wants to kill me and kiss me at the same time. Woman, you don’t even know the half of it, I think. You don’t stand a chance.
…………………………………………………………….
When I finally come to, I hear my family stirring. I figure I’d better go make myself presentable before dinner. I surreptitiously try to make my way to the bathroom. When I reach the door handle, my mom is suddenly standing beside me. I try to hurry it along and avoid her seeing me like this. I’ve scared my own self with my look after suffering the blissful torment that is Michael’s journal.
“Lorraina, look at me,” she demands, leaving no room for hesitation. My head flies up of its own volition. I hear her sharp intake of breath. She grabs my hand and propels me into her room before slamming and locking the door. “What is going on with you, young lady? And no more lies.”
“I…” I don’t know what to say. My mom has never confronted me like this, so it is hard for me to think on my feet. I release a long pent up breath and try to take another one to calm myself, but before I can I burst into tears. My mom just pulls me over to the bed and allows me to put my head in her lap. I hear her shushing me while her hand moves over my hair. I let it all go. It feels so good. When my head begins to throb, I figure now’s a good time to stop crying.
I sit up, and she just stares at me expectantly. “I have some things to tell you. I don’t know how you’re going to feel about them, but I want you to know that I’m going to be OK.” She nods her head at me encouragingly. Of my three confessions, I’m not sure which one she will find more shocking or which one she will be more disappointed in, but there’s no time like the present. “Mamma, I have some things to tell you. I hope you’ll let me explain everything before you rush to judgment.”
“Lorraina, I just want you better. You have not been yourself all summer. You know, you haven’t been yourself for a long time, but these past few months have just been pure torture.”
“I’m sorry, Mamma,” I tell her. “I’m getting better I think, though.” Here goes nothing. I decide a head first plunge is my best bet. “First, I’m Catholic now.” Furrowed brow. “Second, I’m moving to New York to get my MFA in creative writing.” Squinty, angry eyes. “Third, I fell absolutely and indelibly in love but he…” my voice falters here, but I forge on muttering words I’d only said aloud to myself, “he died.” Utter astonishment.
“Wh…What? What are talking about? I don’t understand.”
I launch into a retelling of my past several months. I leave no details untold. Well, almost none. I don’t go into great detail on Michael’s visit to Oxford. Only the pertinent information is necessary there. I pull the pewter cross from my shirt and show her our engagement ring that is hanging from the necklace. She gasps and oohs and aahs. She cries when I tell her how I found out about Michael’s passing, and she wishes that she could’ve gotten to know him better. She tells me she was so preoccupied when were hanging out in school that she barely remembers him. I go and get her pictures of him to jog her memory. I show her some of the drawings that he did of me and various other things. I can’t help but get worked up over how amazing his work is. I can tell I’m not just biased either. My mom thinks he’s phenomenal as well.
“So Michael is responsible for your writing again and your attending church again?” She asks disbelievingly.
“Yes, Mamma. He…he reawakened me. I was sleep walking through my life before. As a matter of fact, I had no life. I had one friend left over from high school, and that was only from force of habit. We didn’t have a real relationship. I didn’t confide in her and share my life with her. I hung out with her when I came home. I was merely functioning, and Michael snapped me out of all of that.”
“I’m so happy that you’re writing again. You know I think your writing is beautiful. I’d always hoped you would do something with it. Does it have to be New York, though? It’s so far.”
“I know, but it’s my dream. I am going to do something with it. I want to write stories. I want to write stories about people who live their lives on the fringes of society. You know…outcasts and bad decision makers like Michael and me. People who have something to say and something meaningful to pass on Law was something I was interested in, but I’ve found that this is my passion. This is what I was called to do.”
“Well,” she sighs and smiles slightly, “I’ve always wanted to go to New York. I think it’s wonderful, Lorraina. I couldn’t be happier for you. I’ve always wanted you to be happy. You deserve that, honey.”
“Thank you, Mamma.”
I’m back to hugging her tightly again when I hear her murmur, “Catholic, huh?”
I sit back and start gushing about how I found my way to the Catholic Church.
………………………………..…………………………..
Now that I’ve gotten myself together a little, I know what I have to do. I call and make an appointment with Father Patty. When I show up, he gives me a vigorous hug and tells me he’s so sorry for my loss.
“Thank you, Father. I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you sooner, but I just needed some time.” I tell him about Michael’s brother coming to see me and how I found out that he didn’t have a Catholic burial. “Is there something you can do about that?”
“Oh yes, of course,” he reassures me. I’m so relieved. That had become the most important thing to me all of the sudden.
“Thank you so much, Father.”
“Of course, of course. You had to be so shocked Lorraina as I was so s
hocked about it all. He was doing so well. But only God knows our plan and our fate. We have to believe that He knows best even in these unbelievably tragic situations like Michael’s.”
“Yes, Father. I hope one day I can understand that, but I have to admit I’m not there just yet.” He gives me a knowing smile. “Will you pray with me?”
“Of course,” he says as he invokes the Trinity and offers me words of wisdom and comfort.
……………………………………………………………
After Father leaves Michael’s graveside. I just stare at it in a strange state of peace and disbelief. Father’s words were so beautiful, and I feel so blessed to have realized that Michael and I needed that.
I sit down on the grass beside his grave and start running through it all. Reliving my pain, my guilt, my mourning. Part of me feels like I don’t have the right to grieve because I wasn’t there for him in the end. I tell that part to shut up.
I end up lying down beside him and am surprised to see stars shining back at me. It hurts to experience that beauty without him. I need to go soon, but I’m just not ready yet.
My voice startles me after so much quiet for so long. “Michael, Michael. I miss you so much. Can you see me? Do you know how much you are loved and missed? I’m sorry, Michael. I’m so sorry. I wasted so much time that we could’ve had together.” A twisted laugh escapes me as I consider where my thoughts are headed. “Michael, you remember Heathcliff? I get it now. Really get it. I thought I got it before; but, no, I was clueless. I would give my very soul if you would haunt me for all eternity. Anything to have you near even if in only in my twisted and damned psyche.” I shake my head a little and relinquish that insane thought. “That’s not true, Michael. I wouldn’t give up my soul for that because then I wouldn’t get to be in Heaven with you. My time here is limited, and it will be over before I know it. I want eternal life with you. So, as hard it will be, I’m going to live a good life on this earth, trying every single day to be an amazing person, the person you saw in me so that God will see fit for us to spend eternity together.”
I tear up and wipe them away quickly. I feel like I’ve cried enough tears to last me a lifetime. Instead, I start to filter through all of my memories of us, of him, of his beauty, of his flaws, of his goodness.
I wake with a jolt. Disoriented for a moment, I blink rapidly. I slap myself on my forehead and start laughing uncontrollably. “Oh my…” I tsk. “Michael, you’ve turned me into Poe.” I wipe tears of laughter from my face and giggle anew as I imagine Michael and I laughing together one day over the fact that I’d fallen asleep next to his grave just like Poe used to do for his Virginia. Our time in Heaven was going to be amazing.
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Today’s the day. The day I uphold my end of the bargain in more than one way. I open the door to the tattoo parlor and am assaulted by a bevy of emotions, most of them sensual in nature.
“Hey. What’s up?” One of the artists asks me.
“Hi. I’ve got an appointment with Brody,” I tell him.
“Alright, he’ll be right with you.”
I nod and take my paper from my purse and smooth it out. I hope he can do what I want since my paper is so crinkled. Chad did a great job with my roses, but I want Michael’s usual artist to put his name on me.
A very tall, very bald, very tattooed gentleman greets me, “Lorraina? Brody. How’s it going?” Brody thrusts his hand at me.
“It’s going well,” I tell him. I can hear the nerves in my voice. When I was here with Michael, it was like a dream. I barely even remember the pain. Now, I think, all I will remember is the pain.
“So whatcha got in mind?” He asks as I get seated in his chair. I hand him the paper and tell him that Chad did the roses for me already, but I need the name added to it.
“We can do that,” he assures me.
Before I know it, I’m done. It wasn’t even that painful. Brody hands me a mirror to see it from his perspective. I smile broadly. Michael’s neat little signature is forever etched on my body, and I just love it.
“You like?” He says as he cleans me up and bandages me.
“Definitely. How much do I owe you?” I ask as he moves to clean up, and I pull my stretchy skirt back over my hip.
“This one’s on the house, girl.”
“What do you mean? Why would you do that?” I laugh nervously.
“You’re Mike Bang’s Lorraina, right?”
My heart plummets and I close my eyes tight, willing myself not to get too emotional over those most beautiful of words. “Um…yeah,” I finally respond.
“Yeah, well, Mike and me go way back; so it’s the least I could do for his girl.”
“How…how did you know?” He chuckles and suddenly I realize how incredibly attractive he is. He’s not Michael beautiful, but really, who is? That thought is immediately followed by the thought that, for the rest of my life, I will probably compare every single male I meet to Michael.
“It may have had something do with the fact that I had to stare at your face for about three hours when I inked his last tattoo.” At my confused look, he continues. “You know? When he had that sketch of you and inked on his thigh.” I gasp and stare at him open-mouthed. “You didn’t know,” he states.
“No, I didn’t know.” I close my eyes for a minute and let that image sink in. Michael sitting here, getting my face inked on his thigh. “What did it look like?” I finally manage to ask.
“You’re looking right at him with your hands folded under your cheek like you’re lying down about to go to sleep.” I nod my head up and down. I think I know the drawing. It was in the box. “Anyways, I have a picture of it. Besides his Mary, it was one of my favorite profiles that I’ve done. Wanna see it?”
All I can do is nod my head again. Would he ever stop gifting me with beautiful memories? Brody comes back over with a book open to many tattoos. My eyes seek out my profile. They land on it pretty quickly. I look so beautiful on Michael’s copper skin. I’m inked in all black except for my eyes. My emerald eyes stare out at me. It looks like a more beautiful version of me. “Wow! I look beautiful!” I exclaim without thinking as I run my fingers over his thigh and my face.
“Yeah. He’s one talented mother—” He breaks off and blushes a little when my eyes shoot up to his. “Uh…sorry. I tried to get him to go into the business, but he had other plans.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” I reluctantly draw my fingers away from the picture.
“Hey, you want this copy?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I can get another one printed. No problem.”
“Thank you so much,” I gush.
I hold the picture to my chest as I say my goodbyes and make my way out to my car. I lay my head down on my steering wheel and just focus on breathing. Shit! I was suddenly so torn over leaving this town. What if there were more memories of Michael just waiting for me to discover them. Suddenly, my thought about Michael haunting me didn’t seem so crazy.
I stare at myself on his thigh and imagine him lying down to go to sleep at night and caressing my face while we were apart. Staring at me while he talked to me on the phone. I shiver and try to rub away the sudden onslaught of goose bumps covering my flesh. I try to focus on what I need to do now.
I take the picture and place it in my visor next to my absolute favorite rose that he sketched for me…well, one of my favorites…and a couple of candid shots of him and us. Those pictures would make for some interesting conversation for Jerome and me on our way to New York.
……………….………….………………………………
I watch as the last rays of the sun snake out over the Gulf. I have never seen a sunset like the ones I’ve seen here. They are absolutely breathtaking. I’d come here to make my peace with my Point Cadet Michael and reminisce over the spectacular memories we made here. It was where we’d spent our
first quasi-perpetual night.
I’m puzzled over the fact that I’m a little torn up to be leaving this place this time. I’ve never had a problem going after what I’ve wanted even if that led me away from here, but I feel as I’ve made peace with so many things and people that had me dreading this place. I almost don’t want to go, but I know this is what Michael would want for me, and I want it for myself so much.
I close my eyes for a moment and whisper some words to him. I walk closer to the water for a second and crane my neck to see the remnant rays. Satisfied that I had, in fact, viewed my last sunset here for a while, I start towards my car and pause by our little oak tree that I so adored. I don’t know what it is about this little tree that I so connect with. Oak and beach just don’t seem to go together, but it just works here.
My eyes widen with disbelief as I catch a glimpse of a carving. I squint and move in closer, struggling to make out the carving on the tree. Unbelievable! There he goes again. Carved on the little tree are our initials. I run my finger over the design. The raised oak makes up a combination of our initials. In the middle is an M. On one side is a backwards L conjoined with the M and on the other side of the M is a forward facing L. He had made our initials mirror images of one another. I marvel at them until I can barely see them.
The sudden darkness surrounding me prompts me to dash to get my car and dig my camera out of one of my already packed bags. I sprint back and snap several pictures of the carving. It looks like behind the initials is a setting sun with all its rays surrounding it. I decide that it will be my next tattoo. I guess what they say is true. Tattoos really are addictive. My ink from my last isn’t even dry yet.
I head back to my car and shift my box of Michael’s things to the backseat so that my brother and I will both fit up front. For some crazy reason, he wants to drive through the night. I glance up at the impromptu collage that covers my visor and sigh. I’m happy that my brother is going with me. He’s so excited, but I would give anything if it were Michael.
Every Rose Page 23
