by Rob Jones
“When I got to the prom, Robin was there with her ex-boyfriend, Vince, who was a college dropout and a hophead.”
“Hophead?” Zoe’s face contorted.
“A drug addict,” he explained.
“I am sorry, Ethan. That is so wrong on so many levels,” she lamented.
“She didn’t have the decency to call me and tell me that she had changed her mind about taking me. So I started walking home in a dark, heavy thunderstorm, crying, broken, and embarrassed. Then I heard a horn in the distance that continued to blow. Looking down, I paid no attention to it until I got a little closer and saw skid marks. I looked up and the car looked just like my parents’ car.” He gripped the wineglass with both hands.
“It was facing the wrong way, upside down with the tires spinning in the air. The smell of the smoke burned through my lungs and stung my eyes as it lingered in the air.” Sue whimpered and lay next to his feet. “When I got closer to the car, I saw blood streaks on the shattered window and heard Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah playing.” His eyes began to gather tears as he went on.
“I looked and saw my mom and dad contorted, bleeding and all cut up with their eyes closed. I tried to open the door to get my mom out first but the door handle was too slippery and wet from the pouring rain, and it was dented up from absorbing multiple hits from the road.” His voice trembled as he tried to stifle the tears.
“I ran over to my dad’s side and tried to open his door, but I was unsuccessful.” He breathed heavily. “You know how you always see in the movies or read in books how in an emergency situation a person’s adrenaline takes over and causes them to have incredible strength, and in that moment they can do heroic and courageous things?” Zoe nodded. “That didn’t happen for me. I couldn’t summon up the strength. I struggled, and I tried, and I tried so hard to open those doors, to kick in the windows, but there was no heroic moment for me, I couldn’t save them. All that I could do was scream and cry bitterly because it was all my fault.” Zoe ran to him and embraced him.
“It’s not your fault, Ethan. You can’t credit yourself for the accident. That’s why they call it an accident, so that you won’t harbor false guilt.”
“If not me, then who? If it wasn’t for me running off they would have never been in that thunderstorm looking for me,” he exclaimed, crying between his words.
He set his glass of wine down and buried his face on her shoulder, drenching her skin with his emotions. She consoled him like a mother consoling a child with nurturing caresses to the back of his head. They both wept silently in each other’s arms.
Zoe contemplated all that he had told her and now she completely understood the origin of his drive, of his fervor, the unmitigated desire to be the best musician that he could be. He wanted to honor his father’s memory by living up to what his father knew he could be. And nothing, absolutely nothing would stop him. He felt that he owed it to his father.
This also explained his reputation for being a womanizer and for his lack of trust and respect for women when she first met him. He had been and maybe still was deeply wounded and scarred by Robin. His narcissism was a defensive mechanism, a shell, a buffer to conceal all that hurt and pain. He said that the only women he truly loved and respected were his mother and nana. He once jokingly told her that she had the potential to be on that list because she reminded him of them both. Zoe knew that behind that joke was a ray of truth in there.
“I love you,” he said, trembling.
Zoe stepped back and looked deeply and profoundly into his damp brown eyes as a sudden thrust paraded through her, leaving her almost breathless and weak.
“I-I love you too, Ethan.” They enveloped each other like a vine around a tree. She could feel the vibration of his rapid heartbeat through her flesh and recognized that their heart rhythms were in concert. This was a watershed moment in her life, a moment that would be forever sketched on her heart no matter the outcome of their relationship. She understood the sweet tension and the precarious situation they were now in. All the familiar anticipating signs that she read about in romance novels were there, the delicate breathing, the dilated pupils, the benevolent caresses, and the intense heat that was permeating between them.
She began to roam his face with light kisses, followed by the tracing of her fingers. She brought her hands down to his arm, squeezing his muscular biceps, then brought them back to his face. He swallowed hard and returned the favor with his own kisses that roamed her face and then found their destination on her yearning lips, and she received them eagerly, desperately, gratefully.
To her his kisses felt like a sacred secret of old, an undisclosed ardor that caused a smoldering flame that set her ablaze. His ravaging lips influenced rather than dictated. His mouth aroused a fresh thrill of recklessness to course through her, causing a tug of war within. She became swept away by a tempestuous passion that caused her to lose her emotional balance.
“We need to stop,” she muttered.
He suspended her words with kisses that burned like an aged whiskey. Heat raced through their bodies, trying to find a release, percolating in the form of drops of sweat. Her fortitude was diminishing with every kiss, with every touch. Her flesh quivered as she was tormented with delight. She could no longer pull away from his draw, or withstand his touch, his kiss, his scent.
“I agree,” he replied, breathing shakily. But the more they tried to resist, the more they persisted, and he walked her back to the couch while his simmering lips blanketed hers. The strength in his arms caused her to grow weak. She jettisoned all efforts to resist the urge not to take her maiden voyage of exploration while being explored by him. Her head was swimming and her mind went blank as passion robbed her of speech. She was now exposed emotionally and the physical was to follow. She knew at that moment his heart went from being a sheep to becoming a wolf, and she became his prey. She started blooming in the silence as she surrendered, and capitulated to him completely in the darkness.
Chapter Twenty
Zoe
It’d been three weeks since that night when she felt that she had abandoned her innocence, her vow, her God. For the life of her she couldn’t understand how things got out of hand so quickly. She thought she had a handle on the situation, that she would be strong enough not to concede to her carnal desires. What hubris, what arrogance, to think that she could govern the incendiary passion she and Ethan had cultivated. It must have been the panorama of emotions that was swirling between them. Or was it because she was scared that he might succumb to the temptation of other women, to be seduced by the trappings that come with that rock-n-roll lifestyle? But as she dug a little deeper within herself it all came down to the fact that she wanted to do it, she needed to do it, she couldn’t help but to do it, plain and simple.
Her love for him was real and far too deep, leaving her submerged under strange but beautiful emotions, which left her at the point of no return. Even though she understood that ideally they shouldn’t be together, that their lives didn’t have the same rhythm, not to mention that their relationship was wreaking havoc on her morals, and on her soul, she couldn’t circumvent how he could hold her in so many ways, physically, emotionally, psychologically, even spiritually, and how just one slight touch could elicit a million feelings.
But at the moment confusion was counseling her, her heart was experiencing the hurt of holding on to him, but it would hurt a whole lot more to let him go. Maybe this fluster of emotions was just because she was just feeling the loneliness of missing him and how vacant her days had been since he’d been on tour. She’d never been in love enough to miss someone, so this was uncharted territory for her heart. Come to think of it, since Ethan came into her life her heart had been encountering many unexpected adventures, some good, some very good, and some not so good. He was a constant adventure. She wondered if marriage ever crossed his mind. That would solve so many things for them. She understood that they had only been going out for a few months, but people sometimes got m
arried a lot sooner than that. She knew that he loved her, and that he would do anything for her. So he said. So why wouldn’t he want to marry her? Maybe if she told him about her moral dilemma, he would suggest it himself. But who was she kidding? Ethan was far from the marrying type. He was married to his music and budding career, not to mention his bad boy tendencies that reared their ugly heads from time to time. How could she possibly compete with that? She didn’t think their relationship all the way through, all the complications, all the compromises, all the complex layers that her heart didn’t warn or prepare her for. Why did she listen to this wicked heart of hers? Why did she take its stupid advice? Why did it beat out his name?
“Hey, sweetie, are you okay?” Her father knocked on her bedroom door.
“You can come in, Dad,” she said between sniffles.
“Are you feeling all right? You never stay in bed past eight.” She lay in her bed with her back toward him. His voice was laced with concern.
“I’m fine, physically. I’m just spiritually and emotionally under the weather.” She still couldn’t look at him. He sat on the edge of her bed and placed his coffee cup on her nightstand.
“Ethan, right?”
She let out a deep breath and turned around.
“You guessed it.” She squeezed her pillow that lay underneath her head. “We—I mean I—messed up, Dad.” Tears engulfed her eyes as he swept her hair away from her face, she lowered her eyes, then her head.
“You both took things a little too far, I’m assuming.” His voice held a mixture of disappointment and compassion as he inhaled shallowly.
She could tell that he was trying to swallow the ache that was sparring within him. She lifted her head to reveal an uninterrupted stream of tears that washed down her face and onto her pillow. She recognized the hurt on his face that he so desperately tried to conceal from her.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy. I feel like a hypocrite. You have no idea how ashamed I am. Ethan felt ashamed as well.” Sympathy shadowed his face as the grief of tears came pouring out of Zoe’s eyes. She was broken from the weight of guilt.
He turned to reach for his coffee cup and took a healthy sip. “Sweetie, don’t beat yourself up. I love you and God still loves you. This is not the end of the world. We all make mistakes, but this is why Jesus came, to remedy our guilt and sin. His perfect life, His perfect death and resurrection eradicated our sin of violating God’s law. That’s why it’s called amazing grace, that’s why it’s called the Gospel, which means good news. We received something that we don’t deserve, and that’s mercy and grace.” He continued to brush her hair with his hand. “So ask for forgiveness and strength. God is always willing and waiting to provide that for those who love Him.” He took another sip of coffee. “I love you, sweetie, and I always will.”
“Thank you for the encouraging words, Dad. I love you more.” She swiped the tears from her burning eyes. He kissed her on the forehead, then walked out of the room.
A piercing scream echoed from downstairs as the sound of glass shattered.
“Charles, Charles, get down here now! Now!” Abby panicked as they heard her run in the closet door.
“Oh my God!”
“What is it, Dad?” Zoe launched up from her bed.
“Stay upstairs, sweetie. Do not come down here. I’m going to the room to get my gun out of my lock box.”
The sounds of screams, tables and chairs turning over, glass crashing, and chaotic noises rang from the kitchen to the living room, and back to the kitchen.
“What is going on, Dad?” Zoe went halfway down the stairs, gripping the stair rail while trying to see who or what was causing so much damage.
“What in the world is going on down there?” Roman rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“A freaking deer just busted through our plate-glass patio door and it’s destroying everything down here!” Abby volunteered the information while Tulip barked ferociously at the deer.
“Charles, hurry up and do something now!” Abby screeched. The white-tailed deer bucked and rammed through the kitchen, and battered its antlers on every object that was in its view.
Charles bolted out the room and ran toward the deer. With ragged breaths and hands that trembled, he pointed the gun at the deer. The deer stood still, they locked eyes. The deer cocked its head and took off the way that he came in before Charles had a chance to fire. Tulip ran to the broken sliding door and barked more vehemently.
“Charles, is he gone? Are you all right?” Abby asked, distress in her voice.
“I’m fine, honey. Unfortunately I can’t say that about our house.” The living room and kitchen looked like a tornado thrust through it. The tables, chairs, cabinets, TV, stereo system, photo frames, bookshelves, and appliances were all destroyed.
“Oh, honey, I have never been so scared in all my life. I don’t know what I would have done if you were not here.” Abby ran over to Charles and embraced him tightly.
“The most important thing is that no one got injured, that we’re all fine.” The gun in Charles’s hand was visibly shaking. Roman and Zoe walked nervously from the stairs to observe the damage that the deer had left.
“That was totally insane. What in the world possessed that deer to crash through our glass door?” Roman took pictures with his iPhone. “Oh yuck! You got to be kidding me. I just stepped in that deranged deer’s poop! Gross!” His nose wrinkled.
“That deer won’t get too far. It left a trail of blood all over the house. It must have cut itself when it came through the window,” Zoe said.
“Good, he deserves it for crapping on the floor, destroying our house, and ruining my beauty sleep. Dad, you should have shot him anyway. He’s going to die regardless. He’s lucky that I wasn’t down here, I would have.”
“Roman, you have diarrhea of the mouth so I need you to regulate that,” Charles demanded. He looked around, rubbed the back of his head, and looked at his wife. “Honey, do you think that our insurance will cover a deer attack?”
***
Ethan
“If I am dreaming please do not wake me up. This is what I am talking about.” Ligon checked out the enormous crowd from behind the stage. “Man, I’m going to need a few more shots so I can be up to standard tonight.”
“Don’t you think you need to ease up on that liquid courage? You’ve been hitting it pretty heavy since we’ve arrived in St. Louis. Your liver will thank you if you give it a rest,” Wes said while he stretched.
“Don’t judge me, Judge Judy. You need to level up and take a couple of shots with me instead of stretching out like you’re a Pilates instructor.”
“Yeah, go ahead and get you some, Wes,” Owen encouraged while he took a pull from the Jack Daniel’s bottle.
“I’m good, thank you.”
“What’s up, what’s up, what’s up?” Syd walked in the band room. “You lads are killing it on this tour. The buzz on y’all is fierce. Keep it up and you will be on our level in due time.” He got out a small mirror, a small baggie of nose candy, and a razor blade. He tapped out a modest amount on the mirror, then divided it into a few lines.
“Anyone interested in some of this motivation?” He rolled up a twenty-dollar bill and began to draw in the powdery substance with great velocity. “Woo! They say that Red Bull gives you wings. Well, this will give you a jetpack, sending you into another stratosphere, baby.” He started bouncing up and down with dilated pupils.
“This guy is a total tool,” Ethan muttered to himself. “Listen up, guys. I overheard a rumor that they are going to be filming us for a live music video tonight!”
“What! Are you sure that you heard right? Who said this?” Ligon placed his hands on Ethan’s shoulders.
“He’s right,” Syd chimed in. “They are filming both bands for a DVD, so that on the next leg of the tour we can have some more merchandise to sell.” He took another bump. “You better come fly with me because tonight it’s going to be lit, lads. Oh, by the way, thanks for th
e hook-up, Lig. I owe you.” Ligon gazed down as to ignore what Syd had said. When he lifted his head, Ethan was casting a look of ridicule toward him. Ethan wanted him to know that he was on to him.
“I hope you lads are ready for the big time because it’s here, staring you right in the face, and if you blink just once it will pass you up and go on to the next band, so don’t blow it.” Syd continued his self-medication.
“No need to concern yourself about us, we were meant for this. We’re going to own that stage and murder that crowd like we always do. We will leave the carnage for the Gutter Dollz to clean up.” Ethan offered him a sarcastic grin while he put on his Armani shades.
“I’m going to get my drink on. Rock them unconscious, lads.” Syd gave them the peace sign.
“That dude is beginning to rub me the wrong way,” Owen commented. “Lads. Who does he think he is, using that condescending tone, like he’s our elder or something? If he keeps talking I’m going to beat the coke out of him.”
“Yeah, he is full of himself,” Ethan said.
“It’s like looking in the mirror, isn’t it, Ethan?” Ligon chuckled.
“Not at all. I look so much better than him, lad.” They all laughed.
“Okay, guys before we go out there and change lives I have some inspiring words for us, courtesy of Teddy Roosevelt.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “Ahem. ‘It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.’
