I go through periods where my senses are infinitely sharper and I must feel everything and hear everything; I am reminded of the beauty that surrounds me. It sounds very "American Beauty"-ish, but it's like it suddenly dawns on me that in the midst of this maelstrom that surrounds me is a world so beautifully complex, it nearly breaks me down.
When I'm not feeling well, when my energy is a distant memory and every limb on my body feels as though it's weighted down by an invisible anchor. It is during those times that I want more than anything, to just touch everything and savor its texture, taste everything and remember the sensation it causes on my tongue, memorize every shade of every color that crosses my path. As I lie in bed awake, my hands unconsciously move along my expensive cotton sheets. I have learned to not fight myself when I am weak, it'll pass, as everything does…eventually.
Before I know what is going on with me, I open my mouth and silently cry out, only silently because my hell should not be forced upon anyone else. I stare at the ceiling, thinking maybe I should change the color because white, when you can't move, is just too damn depressing. It reminds me of heaven and death and I do not want to die.
The phone next to me rings loudly, causing my head to snap to the left and look at it. I close my eyes and focus all my energy toward my left hand, trying to move it, just a little. A bead of sweat forms on the side of my forehead, only one side, and slowly trails down the side of my face, where it pools onto my sheets. The tears come next; they too dribble sideways down my face. And the phone continues to ring.
It is a slow process, my wrists are the first to move; the rest of my arm follows. I am able to stretch it to the phone, but at the exact time that my fingers make contact with the processed plastic, it stops ringing, but I do not drop my arm, I lift it from the base and turn it on anyway. An empty dial tone greets me, but I know with the advancements of modern technology, I can return that last call, and so I do.
"Manning."
"Hello, Todd," I say weakly, trying to hide both the relief and pain in my voice. "What's up?" I ask lightly.
"What's wrong, Delgado?"
"Nothing," I lie. "I'm fine."
"No you're not; I can hear it in your voice." And what I hear in his voice is borderline panic.
"Todd, it's okay."
All I need is to hear is voice and then I'll know everything is going to be all right because he won't allow anything to happen to me. He has the strongest will of anyone I've ever known and if he says something will not happen, for some reason I believe him. "I'll have the jet fueled and I'll be there in a couple hours."
"No, Todd, I'm all right. I'm okay." The feeling is beginning to return to all my limbs and my entire body. I close my eyes in relief; even though I know it's "just a spell," I am always afraid that I might not be able to snap out of it. "I swear."
He doesn't truly believe me, but he's trying to learn to trust; that is such a gigantic step for him. In his world, everyone is out to play the biggest trick on him, all trying to outdo each other, but he wants to believe so much that I am the exception to the rule in his life. "Okay," he says quietly.
I can almost see him, pacing a path across the carpet, continuously running his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out how to keep the anger he feels from bubbling outward and covering him in it endless rage. He is trying so hard to control his breathing, let the air in and release it ever so slowly. I can almost see him, wanting to be here with me just as much as I need him.
"It's not like you to be so quiet, Delgado."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just thinking."
"I'm not complaining," he jokes, "it's a nice change of pace."
"Oh, shut up," I reply. I turn serious again, wanting to ask him about his "situation." I will refer to it from now on as the "situation" because I cannot bear to say her name aloud; it hurts too much.
"What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Oh, nothing much."
"Nothing going on in Tea Delgado's mind? That'll be the day."
I take a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm just wondering, you know, how things are going out there."
In my mind's eye, I see him sitting near the bottom of the staircase with his face in his hands, trying not to growl. I see his foot tapping against the floor and I see him in more pain than he would ever admit to me now. "They're, you know; we're talking about B-"
"Don't say her name."
"We're talking about the B; is that better?"
I chuckle. "Yes, that's much better."
"Okay, the B is being a bitch about the whole thing. She won't budge on the custody issue."
"Offer her more money."
"If I give her more money now, it'll never stop; she'll always want more, more, more." I can hear him moving around on the other end of the line. "I need to get something on her."
"Todd," I begin.
"Don't Todd me. You don't know her like I do. I gotta get her before she gets me."
This is the Todd that has always driven me completely out of my mind. Granted, she does deserve everything that he probably has planned for her, but I know I will be the one left to pick up the pieces rather he wants me to or not. "Todd, what do you have planned?"
"I won't get caught."
"You always do," I say, knowing that I speak the truth. He is his own worst enemy; nobody could ever hurt him as much as he hurts himself. I keep thinking that one day he'll realize that and actually think before acting. I don't know why I'm wasting my breath, he has probably already put the wheels of his plan in motion; all I can do is wait for the jagged pieces to drop into my lap.
"I'll be back tomorrow; we can do whatever you want."
"My case starts the day after tomorrow."
"I'll have you home early, I promise."
He's smirking at our inside word. After we made love for the first time, he always promised it would be an "early" night, which really meant we would go back to the hotel, or wherever we were staying and make love until the early hours of the morning. It seems like it was so long ago and in a lifetime, two years is really no time at all.
"Delgado?"
"I heard you."
"So, are we on or what? Nevermind, I'll pick you up at your office at five and we'll do something."
*****
Promptly at five, my office door flies open, nearly smacking against the wall behind it. Todd stands in the doorway, looking like a superhero of the movies I loved so much as a teenager. "Hi," I say, so happy because we're together once again. It's so pitiful how just seeing him puts me into a giddy mood.
"Let's go."
I am already gathering my things, ready to get out of that space and spend time with him. My stomach is tied in knots and I'm not really sure why. It's not like we haven't done this before, but it feels different. There is a different sort of energy in the air, maybe it's sexual or maybe it's something else.
"Why do you have that stupid little grin on your face?" he asks.
I didn't even realize it until he pointed it out. My smile, in fact, begins on one side of my face and ends on the other. I can't explain what this feeling is all about; it's something completely unfamiliar to me. "You don't like my smile?" I ask, pretending my feelings are hurt.
He shrugs his shoulders, "it's okay," he answers. "Will you quit yapping and let's go?!"
I quickly gather my things and head for the door, brushing past him. I get a whiff of his cologne; it's something new. "Let's go."
I half expected to see a car waiting for us by the curb, but as we walk down the street, I realize that we will be walking to our destination. I look around the area, that feeling Todd evoked back in the office is overshadowed by something I can't quite put my finger on. I bring my hand to my eyes, blocking the sun, but I see nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that creepy feeling that washed over me as soon as we stepped outside will not go away.
"What's wrong?"
"I just had this strange feeling come over me."
"Oh, that's nothing new."
I playfully swat his arm, which only causes him to chuckle. "Where are we going anyway?"
"Patience, Ms. Delgado."
"Oh, but Mr. Manning, I thought patience was overrated."
He smiles at me, knowing he's caught in his own web of words. I think his smile is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It touches me, deeply; everything about him touches me so deeply. We should be holding hands right now, intertwining our fingers, letting everyone know that we belong to each other. But how unwise would that be? There's that miserable "B," undoubtedly having us followed. If we stay this way, in our separate corners so to speak, there's absolutely nothing she can do about it.
"What's on that mind of yours?" he asks.
"Nothing really."
He shrugs his shoulders and keeps walking slightly ahead of me. We turn down a side street, a street that seems to go unnoticed by the swarm of people that surrounded us. I get that feeling again, that someone is watching us and I quickly scan that alley, but I see nothing. To our right, there is a large, red door, heavy and sturdy. I'm not all that surprised when he knocks against its surface, seemingly in code; three knocks, followed by an additional two. "What is this place?" I ask, intrigued by its mystery.
"You don't have any patience, do you Delgado?"
"None at all," I respond.
The door suddenly slides open, nearly scaring me to death. A large African American man appears in the doorway, dressed in an expensive black suit, looking like he wasn't coming from a funeral, but like he belonged in a gangster movie. A black hat covered his head and a gold chain adorned his neck. He and Todd shake hands, a secret handshake, from what I could gather.
"Come on in, Mr. Manning."
He steps aside and Todd waves his hand in front of me, silently telling me to enter before him. In front of me, is something I can't even begin to describe. While my mouth is still open, the door closes behind us and there we are, locked inside the most beautiful place my eyes have ever seen. I look over at Todd who is standing behind me with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. There is no one else there, no one other than the few workers, so I know that if I reach for his hand, he will not pull away. So, I follow my heart and reach for him. Halfway, his hand meets mine, and we grab into each other for the first time in so long; it's almost too much for my fragile heart to take. The love courses from one being to another, so powerfully, I think my heart is going to fall out of my chest. This, I think, is what it's all about.
