by LJ Amodeo
“Merry Christmas, Elizabeth,” his delicate accent chanted in my ear.
My sopping eyes gazed up at his gorgeous face, the face that momentarily seized my heart and made me forget my woes.
“Michael,” I whispered, drying my tears. He smiled.
Mom watched quietly. I wanted to remain there, comforted like this with him at my side. It was then that I knew I had to do whatever it took to keep this disease, the voices, from controlling my life. I was not going to lose my mind or be labeled insane.
“Mrs. Morgan, I know it is late, but would you mind if I drove Elizabeth home?” he asked my mom, who was now grinning with approval.
I lifted my head, surprised at his request. My mother’s smile was gentle as Michael asked for permission to take me home. But Freddie’s face remained strained and dejected. His eyes held a sadness as he looked at me hurt. I stroked his hand in a gesture to tell him that I cared. My mother’s voice broke our silent conversation.
“Of course, but drive slowly, Michael. She is all I have,” she murmured. “Freddie, you come with me. I’ll drive you home,” she demanded, sternly pulling him by his jacket.
“Yes, Mrs. Morgan,” Freddie replied like an obedient child.
“Be good to her,” Freddie muttered to Michael as he brushed passed him, looking back at me as he walked toward the exit door with my mom.
Michael curiously stared back at Freddie before he turned to face me. “Do you mind if I drive you home?” He asked softly. I sat motionless, only able to nod that I did not disapprove, yet worried about Freddie. Again, he helped me put on my coat, closing the gap between us and resting his warm cheek on mine. A delightful sensation scampered throughout my body.
“Are you ready?” he asked sweetly.
“Yes, I am,” I replied with sincerity.
He reached over to hold my hand in his. I felt suddenly high and wonderfully light on my feet. His graceful strides lead me out of the chapel. The Mercedes parked out front hummed softly against the sounds of the bitter winds. Like a gentleman, Michael opened the passenger-side door and helped me in. The cashmere leather seat was as comfortable as the temperature inside the car. It thawed out the chill that entrapped my body moments before. Dangling off the rearview mirror was a small, familiar medallion, one I had seen before but not sure where. I leaned forward to get a better look at the medallion of the Blessed Virgin holding the hands of angels. Michael fastened his seatbelt and put the clutch in drive. The car quietly droned as he pressed down on the accelerator.
The roads were dark, and there were no other vehicles on Rt.19 as we headed toward the northern limits of town.
“Did you enjoy mass?” his voice chimed.
“Yeah. Father Ed always gives a beautiful homily.”
“You played beautifully. I had no idea of the competition I’d be facing here. Now I understand why you were their chosen one––for the scholarship.” He smiled sweetly. I flushed.
“I came by your house last night.” He looked at me through wondering eyes. “Your mom said you were sleeping at a friend’s house. Girls’ sleepover, huh? How did that go?”
“It went well. I’ve never slept out before, but definitely enjoyed it, even though I did feel a little silly having my first sleepover at seventeen.” I flushed again.
“I’m sure you found plenty to talk about,” he grinned.
I bit my lip, wanting desperately to ask him about the gardenias he sent to my mother and the familiar medallion suspended from a thin silver chain.
“I hope your mom was pleased with the flowers.” He spoke eloquently, differently from most eighteen-year-old boys I had known.
“They are beautiful. It’s her favorite flower,” I replied, staring at him curiously.
I turned my body to face him tucking one foot underneath me. His features were amazingly wholesome. Droplets of snow glistened on his dark hair. Without thinking, I reached up and dusted off the shimmering moisture from his disheveled mess. I quickly backed my hand away realizing how inappropriate it was for me to touch him. His hand swiftly followed suit, combing through his hair with his long fingers.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” I muttered, regrettably looking into the streaming headlights on the road.
“Don’t be. It felt good.” He chuckled, focusing his dark eyes on my aloof posture. Playfully, he grabbed my hand, rubbing it on his head messing up the already established chaos that sat on top. A beat danced in my belly at his tender touch. An energy so different from the feeling at Sam’s house earlier or with Freddie. I wanted to keep my hand there, in his. It felt right.
Michael slowly placed my hand onto the edge of his seat, keeping his hand on mine as his finger gently stroked my knuckles. I didn’t pull away. I let him caress me. Everything seemed perfect during our drive home, until the road began to swerve and blur ahead. Without warning, a revolting throb hammered in my skull.No! No! No!I screamed in my head,not now!Not here! With my free hand I squeezed my temples between my fingers, pressing on the area of pain. The trivial contraction of his grip on my hand instantly tapered the violent surge as he pulled in to my driveway. Quietly, he waited for me to refocus.
“Are you all right?” He asked caressing my hair and wiping the sweat from my temple. I nodded no.
“Let me walk you in,” his voice hummed.
I didn’t care to go inside where my world was lonely and silent with only the grave voices in my head. I wanted to stay here with him; where, for the first time in my life, I felt alive and visible to someone.
“Wait! Stop!” I reached for his arm before he stepped out of his car. Flutters jolted inside me once more, forcing me to gasp. The sensation around him was mystifying. I didn’t know what he did to me, but I liked it and wanted more of it. He watched me with intrigue.
“I want to hear your story now, the story you promised to tell me in class the other day,” I urged him.
“Now?” He chortled. “Elizabeth, it’s 1:15 in the morning. You should go to bed. Your head––” he whispered, reaching up and stroking my temple with his thumb. “You should rest and your mom’s going to worry about you. I don’t want her disliking me before getting to know me.”
“I doubt she’ll find anything to dislike about you, Michael. Tell me why you chose to come to Houghton.” I demanded looking into his eyes.
“It’s not a good time. I can see from your eyes that your head is hurting and your mom . . . ,” he said again looking toward the window. I turned his face to look back at me.
“Don’t worry about her, I’ll run inside to tell her I’m home. She’ll know I’m fine out here with you.”
“I promise I’ll tell you. Tonight is not the right time. How about Thursday? Would that work for you? Are you busy then?” He raised his brows.
I scanned my mind for my mental calendar. If I had plans, I’d cancel them.
“Sure!” I almost jumped out of my seat. “I mean, yeah, Thursday’s great.”
He chuckled. “OK then! It’s a date. Elizabeth, just curious––you and Freddie aren’t . . .”
“Nooooooo! Freddie is my childhood friend, nothing more. He’s been my best friend, like forever. So no, don’t worry about him.” I reassured him biting my bottom lip.
“Okay. I’ll pick you up at one. That good for you? Can we call it a date or should we say it’s a friend thing?” His face brightened.
“Date is good, and one o’clock is perfect!” I said ardently. “By the way, where are we going on thisdate?” I asked curiously.
“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll figure it out Thursday.” He winked. He opened the door and came around to help me out of his lavished car. We walked hand in hand to the front door. Michael and I stood staring at each other under the soft porch light. Neither said a word. To fight the urge to throw my arms around his neck, I forcefully tucked both hands in my pockets. His lips twisted in that familiar sexy way. Slowly, he bent toward me as his warm satin lips tenderly brushed against my glowing cheeks. I g
ulped nervously.
“Adieu,” he whispered in my ear.
“Good night.” I responded, as my lips remained slightly parted waiting for his lips to claim mine. Michael squeezed my elbow and walked toward his car.
His presence weakened my knees, making my pulse run wildly through my veins. Dreamily, I opened the door and stepped inside. My head felt light in comparison to the seconds before we arrived at my home. I leaned against the door seizing the moment we spent together, wishing I could make time move forward. Thursday couldn’t come quick enough.
Mom was already asleep when I treaded softly past her bedroom, hoping the wood floor would not squeak beneath my feet. Quietly closing the door to my room, I had no vigor to change into my pajamas. I plunked down onto my bed, hoping to sleep, but my relentless mind raced, reliving what happened between Michael and me outside my door. To restless and now wide awake, sleep tonight was not a necessity for me.
Minutes changed to hours and hours passed slowly. My journal sat on top of my night table. I opened up to a clean page and wrote the wordAlgiz followed by the same peculiar symbol that I had seen once before. One that resembled antlers on an elk. Strangely so, the voices did not harass me. They were silent.
At the first indication of dawn peering through the window, I focused my heavy eyes on the clock radio. The numbers 6:45 ogled at me in red blinking lights when I eventually put my journal down and surrendered to sleep before our annual Christmas celebration with Freddie’s family gathering.Freddie, my mind drifted to him, remembering the hurt look in his eyes at mass.
Thursday, the sky dawned with an intense shade of indigo, hinting daubs of silver across the skies. Sluggishly, I threw on some sweats and sneakers for a quick jog before breakfast. My rib had finally healed. By the time Mom strolled into the kitchen, still wearing her pink fleece robe, I was back and had started breakfast.
“You’re up early. What’s the occasion?” she inquired, sipping on coffee.
“No occasion. Michael is picking me up at one. We’re . . . you know, going to hang out together.” I shrugged my shoulders pretending it wasn’t a big deal. Mom smiled.
“A date?”
“No, Mom! It’s not a date. We are just hanging out, that’s all.” My cheeks reddened.
“Mmm-hmm!” she nodded fully aware of my plans.
After showering, I rummaged through my dresser for something to wear. Most of my clothes were tattered sweatshirts and blemished tees. However, one side of my closet was stocked with nicer sweaters, compared to my everyday ones. The ones I hardly wore except for special occasions, which for me were seldom and few. I slipped on a pelican gray sweater and jeans. Observing my reflection in the mirror, I was pleased with my outfit. It was casual enough, but neat to spend an afternoon with Michael and by the smile on my mother’s face, she agreed.
Shortly after breakfast, I rushed to call Samantha to about my date with Michael, with Prince trailing closely behind me.
“’Allo, Gaven résidence.” A woman with a heavy French accent answered the telephone.
“Hi, is Samantha home?” I asked. Prince growled.
“Un instant, s’il vous plaît.” She replied.
“Merci,” I replied.
After several seconds Sam was on the phone. Her belligerent voice scowled through the receiver.
“What is it!” Sam barked on the other end of the receiver.I guess dogs aren’t the only ones who bark, I smirked to myself. It was a good thing Sam wasn’t able to hear my thoughts or see my expression through the phone.
“Sam? It’s Beth. You’ll never believe this!”
“Try me!”
“Michael’s picking me up. We’re going out. On a date!” My tone elevated. I had hoped Sam would share my enthusiasm, but instead there was silence at the other end of the receiver as my dog continued his irritating snarl.
“Hello?” I said, wondering if the phone had disconnected.
Sam cleared her throat. “That’s great.” I could tell there was no excitement, only irritation in her response.
“Sam? Can I ask you something—and please, be honest with me. You’re my friend, right?”
“A-hum.” She responded almost inaudibly.
“Do you have a problem with me seeing Michael? Every time I mention his name or when you cross paths, I feel this incredible tension between you two.”
“Why would I have a problem with him? I don’t even know him!” she snapped.
I remained silent, not knowing what else to say to her. She was irritated, and she made it very clear.
“I thought . . . I’d hoped you’d be happy for me, that’s all. It’s my first . . .you know,real date,” I muttered shamefully, while Prince continued his tirade.
Truthfully, I was disappointed that Sam couldn’t be happy for me. It hurt. I heard her take a deep breath before speaking again. “Fine! Woo Hoo! I’m excited for you. There, are you happy now? Fill me in on all the boring detail when you get home, and warn that mutt of yours to back the hell off! He’s really starting to piss me off!” The phone clicked. I flinched at her abrupt and rude goodbye. But today was my day. A day I’d enjoy with Michael. My first date and no one was going to spoil my mood today.No one!
The sound of the piano keys harmonized in a glorious symphony as I jotted down music notes for my college audition pieces. The piano became my tranquility, my escape from my own unstable mind. It had become the sound of waves softly swishing through sand, the trickle of rain tapping against a tiled roof, or flittering leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. I could spend hours playing and composing musical sonatas, and while I waited for Michael’s arrival, that was exactly what I did.
I was in the kitchen when I heard a faint knock at my door. I did not want to seem too anxious, so I waited for another knock, but Mom answered the door instead.
“Shit!” I muttered.
“Hi, Michael. Please come in. Elizabeth is in the kitchen.” I heard her pleasant voice say.
“She’s been up since a quarter to seven waiting for you,” She whispered to him.
My stomach turned with humiliation as my mother spared no details to Michael. “Ugh! Mom!” I said to myself, grunting under my breath.
I had no idea how to busy myself as the pair headed toward the kitchen.I’ll pretend to be washing dishes––no, wiping off the counters! I had no time to think, grabbing a dishcloth and some random dishes.
“Beth, Sweetie. Michael is here,” she said gleefully, entering the kitchen with Prince, excitedly wagging his tail behind Michael.
I put the dish and cloth down.
“Hey, I didn’t hear you knock,” I responded nervously.
He looked fresh out of a magazine. He eyed me from head to toe before unbuttoning his pea coat, revealing a vintage tee underneath a plaid button-down. His fitted Abercrombie jeans clearly defined his long, muscular legs. Today it seemed he was accommodating my casual sense of style, compared to his usual polished one.
Michael sat down at the kitchen table and I wasn’t sure why. Checking my watch, I wanted to leave as quickly as possible so I could finally be alone with him. Instead, he and my mother struck a conversation, which concerned me, hoping that their casual gibberish did not involve me, reminiscent of the awkward years in the life of Elizabeth Anne Morgan.
“How about something to drink before you kids go?” Mom asked, still smiling at the handsome boy seated in her kitchen.
“No, Mom, we’re ready to leave. Right?” I looked at Michael, who sat comfortably petting my dog’s head.
“Sure, I’ll have a soda, Mrs. Morgan. Thank you.” He grinned from ear to ear, amused with my impatience, while still petting Prince, who was now lying belly up. Watching and trying to figure out what was up with my dog lately was frustrating. His behavior concerned me. However, watching shepherd meet Shepard was the sweetest sight I had ever laid eyes on.
Mom poured Michael his drink. Outnumbered and annoyed, I sat down opposite this beautiful boy as he and Mom engaged in conve
rsations about school. Even Mom was smitten by his presence. I could tell by the way she stared at his face and hair, almost in awe, while I indecently focused on his mouth sipping the icy drink, wishing I was the glass that touched his lips.
“Ready?” he asked, watching me with dancing eyes and the cutest smile. I blinked.
“Yes!” I muttered jumping up with excitement, knowing that shortly I’d be alone with Michael.
He rose up, towering his lean body over my smaller one. Mom watched quietly with her hands clasped in front of her apron.
“You kids have fun,” she said softly.
“We will, Mom. Thanks,” I reassured her.
“It was nice seeing you, Mrs. Morgan. I hope we’ll be seeing more of each other, if your daughter doesn’t mind, of course.” Prince licked Michael’s hand excitedly.
I waited patiently for him by the front door observing my dog, who was very fond of my new friend. Michael glided over to me, placing his hand on my back, guiding me toward his car that gleamed under the midday sun. The engine softly thudded beneath the silky, leather seats.
Once we made ourselves comfortable in his car, I questioned his remark to my mother.
“What was that about—if I don’t mind?”
“I don’t want to seem too pushy, so it’s my way of asking if you’re okay with me . . .
hanging around.” He smiled.
I blushed, feeling embarrassed, yet elated. “I don’t think you are being pushy. I don’t mind having you around.” I giggled like a little school girl.
“Honestly, I don’t mind.” I smiled at him.
I glanced at the medal of the holy figure again. I touched it.Othala, a voice in my head chanted. Quickly, I let it go, pressing on my temple. The fear of Michael discovering my illness, the voices, and the insanity made me push the sound away and out of my mind.
“Are you getting another headache?” Michael asked.
“No. I’m fine. It’s nothing.” I fretted.
“Are you sure? We can stay here. We don’t have to go anywhere.”
“Really, Michael. I’m all right. Please, let’s just go,” I said anxiously.
