Remembering the Park by Michael Seale (Chapter 6)

 Chapter 6

The screen glowed in the dim light of his room. He read it again. Why was she, of all people, texting him, he thought? She had ended it with him three months ago. Two years together and one night… bam out the door and on his ass. For what? He didn’t know; she gave him no real reason. Well, that’s not true, he thought. She said he would never amount to anything. That for all his big talk of dreams and creating art, he was nothing.

Closing his eyes, he remembered her. Two years, two intense years. Then nothing, not a word. As if she had dropped off the face of the world. She said she needed a clean break. Tom tried giving her space, he did. He waited a week before he contacted her. She never responded. He had wanted her back. And now, now that he was moving on, this?

“You awake?”

“Hey L,” he typed. “Yep.”

Those three dots appeared, floating, denoting that she was typing. What did she want, he wondered. Why now?

The phone vibrated again. “I miss you. Do you miss me?”

Did he miss her? He had, yes he had. Does he now? That was the question. His fingers hovered over his phone. Unsure of what to say. How do you respond to someone that you had once loved after she quit him so fast? His fingers moved across the screen.

“What’s up, L?” he typed.

The dots glowed again, his phone vibrated. The new message read: “I’ve been thinking of you. “

He tossed his phone down onto his bed; he envisioned how this would go. They would text back and forth, hook up, and he would get hurt again. His phone buzzed again. Tom tried his best to ignore it as another SMS appeared. He looked at the phone as it lay on the bed. She had sent a photo of his door. The caption underneath read: “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

His doorbell rang.

“Ahh… Shit,” he said.

Standing at the foot of his bed. Looking around, he realized this was no place for a woman. Clothes were strewn about, crusted old takeout containers lay on the table, beer bottles, lots of beer bottles were laying on nearly every surface. When had it gotten this bad, he asked himself? The other surfaces were blanketed in papers, sketches, charcoals, paints. Anything he could get his hands, so he could do his “art,” as Laura had once called it. He had hated her at that moment. Standing at the door, contemplating what he would say. He thought of Marie and their short meeting and how he had felt something. Something new, some connection. It had only been coffee, but when she had touched his arm. Wow. Sparks, fireworks, butterflies. Could it be that there was something there? He wondered. If he opened the door, it would might ruin that chance. But here was history, here he knew what was behind that door. Should he not try? Perhaps L was the one for him, perhaps.

Decisions, decisions and why shouldn’t he. It wasn’t as if he had committed himself. They had just met. He knew nothing about her. Besides, she might not be interested in him or she might have a boyfriend. Then why had she had coffee with him, another voice asked. His list of reasons seemed shallow, and he knew he was no longer thinking with his head. This was, what was this, a booty call, a hook up? Did it matter? The devil on his shoulder asked. His hand was on the doorknob before he could stop himself.

She barely said hello. They embraced quickly, lips pressed together in a frantic search. L pushed herself into his cramped apartment, shoving Tom back into the wall behind him. His hands grasped her from behind and pulled her into him. His thoughts of Marie and worries about getting hurt, forgotten, for now. Now was only her, his L, his muse, or so he had once thought. Her clothes fell to the floor. Her hands fought to open his pants. She smiled at him, kissing his neck.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. Her voice was husky, deep, sensual. She had always had this way about her an aura. She could be shallow and dismissive and passionate and thoughtful all at the same time. That was her allure. You couldn’t catch her. The moment you thought you had, she vanished. His muse.

Their bodies collided. Hands searching out tender private parts, tasting them with a touch. The passion they had once shared raged now.

***

“What was that?” he asked.

L lay propped up in the crick of his arm, both of them naked and covered in sweat, the thin blanket covered part of her left breast, the rest of it tangled around their legs.

“Like I said, I missed you.”

“And this is how you tell me?” he reached down, teasing her nipples.

“Stop it…” she pulled the blanket up. Her hand reached down between his thighs, “Not until you are ready, again.”

He laughed, rolling her onto her, “I’m ready,” he kissed her again.

***

The mid day sun shone through Tom’s windows, warming his naked body. He blinked his eyes open, remembering the night before. Where had that come from? He wondered. It had never been like that before, had it? So intense. So… so… he was without words.

“Good morning,” she said, sipping a cup of tea and wearing one of his T-shirts. “These are good. The best I have ever seen from you.”

“Good morning,” he stood, suddenly aware of his nakedness and the fact he was erect once again. He covered himself quickly.

She smiled. “Didn’t get enough last night?”

He ignored her comment and went to the toilet. She called out again. “These are very good.” L never was one for privacy. She did everything with the door open, and she never understood why Tom wasn’t the same.

“Which ones do you have?”

“These here on the table.” She was holding his sketches of Charlie drinking coffee at the restaurant, one of Charlie and Marie sitting on the bench in the park.

The park. He had forgotten; they had made plans. He had a date with Marie. Was it a date? They were just going to walk with Mr. Davis around the grounds. But yesterday he had thought it as a date. So what changed? Sex? Had L changed his mind so quickly?

“Shit,” Tom said. “I forgot about something. I… uh, I’ve gotta run.”

“What? We need to talk about us. Where do you have to go? It’s almost eleven in the morning.”

“Shit, I’m late.” He kissed L, smearing toothpaste on her cheek. “I’m sorry, I’ll call you later.”

He grabbed his bag and ran out the door.

***

“We had almost given up on you.” Marie said.

Tom came rushing up to them. He found the pair sitting on a bench under the shade of a large birch tree, its white and black bark peeling away from its trunk.

“I’m sorry… I…” he trailed off. What should he say? He was waking up from a night of sex and the time just got away from him. No, there was no genuine explanation he could give for his tardiness. “I’m sorry.”

She eyed him and smiled; Charlie hummed his song. He seemed quiet, distant, as if deep in thought. Was he still capable of deep thoughts? Tom asked himself. Tom could not get a handle around Charlie; what was his allure? Was it all just about Marie? No, it couldn’t be only that; he felt drawn to the old man. He felt as if he needed something from him. Perhaps Mr. Davis was Tom’s new muse.

“How is he today?” Tom asked.

Marie looked thoughtfully towards Charlie. “He seems fine, I suppose. It is just he is very distant, today.”

“And how are you?” he asked her. She was beautiful, he thought. Her hair pulled back into a tight bun, held in place with bobby pins. Marie wore white nurse pants and a pale blue smock, a stethoscope was around her neck and a bundle of color pens perched in her breast pocket. Very professional, Tom thought, and also very intriguing.

“I suppose, I’m good. I’m thoughtful, I guess.” What should I say, she thought. I dumped my boyfriend; I wonder why you were late. I’m scared Charlie is going faster than I thought he would. No, she couldn’t say any of those things just yet.

“Thoughtful?”

“It’s nothing.”

Charlie hummed his song, Tom knew the tune, but he couldn’t place it right now. Charlie just repeated it over and over.

“How you doin’, Pops?” Tom asked him.

Charlie turned and smiled at Tom, seeing him for the first time. His old greying eyes lit with mischief as he looked at the younger man.

“Johnny?” he asked. His voice thin and raspy. “Johnny, it’s good to see you.” He patted Tom’s leg.

“You too, Pops. How are you?” Tom smiled broadly, which made Marie smile as well. If it hadn’t been for Marie’s uniform, Tom thought others might mistake them for a couple visiting a relative.

“Oh, I’m ok. I get to walk around with your pretty wife here. She looks real good.”

Marie’s cheeks reddened. Tom smiled broadly “She’s a pretty one, I give you that, Pops.”

Charlie was silent again, his hand still rested on Tom’s leg, likely forgotten. He hummed his tune again. It bothered Tom that he couldn’t place it. The sun was warm, but the shade provided a welcome respite. Residents shuffled past along with hurried doctors and nurses. Time seemed to slow down. Charlie watched them through his grey eyes, not giving a hint of what was going on inside his brain.

He spoke slowly, his words slightly slurred. “Sometimes I think, God forgot about me. Why would he take all those I have ever loved and leave me?” Charlie spoke in his thin voice, barely above a whisper. Marie’s eyes were enormous. This might be one of those few moments of clarity.

“I’ve outlived my children, I’ve outlived the one woman I was ever in love with. All my friends have passed.” Charlie coughed, a deep phlegmy cough. “I suppose then, he must have forgotten about me, just as I have forgotten so much and so many people. Am I damned to wait?” His cough racked his thin frame.

Tom and Marie shared a pained look. How do you help someone that has lost everything, including themselves?