Nick wakes all of us around nine in the AM hours. Howie and I make breakfast. After breakfast, they all head off to pack. I announce that I have to run some errands, and that they better not leave before I return. Howie never really unpacked so he joins me. "Where are we off to?"
"Post office," I say blandly as I put my car into reverse and back out of the driveway.
"For?"
"My mail." I'm not letting him on to anything. Well, I will, eventually.
We make small talk for the rest of the ride. When we arrive, we walk in, I unlock my box, and go through my mail. Junk, junk, credit card application, junk. Letter from Mom. I toss the junk and proceed to the counter and ask, "Could I please have a change of address form?" The man behind the counter hands over a sheet of paper and a pen. I call Howie over. "Sweetie, what's the address of your house in Orlando?"
Without thinking about why I'm asking, he just speaks. "335 Shepard Ave., Orlando, Florida, 55214." He stops. "Why?"
"No reason, thanks," I smile at him. I hand the sheet back over to the man. We leave. in the car, Howie looks rather confused.
"Why did you need the address for my house?"
I look at him right before I turn on the engine. "Where else would I get my mail?"
He thinks. He finally looks up at me. "You mean, you're coming?"
"Took ya long enough," I smile at him.
...
Back at the house, Nick announces that he has to go pick up the Durango from the shop so he and the Boys can take that back to Orlando. When they return, they all begin gathering their bags near the front door. I run upstairs and grab one of mine. Nick just looks at me. "Did I forget something?"
I look at him with mock hurt plastered all over my face. "Me?"
"You mean you're coming?" I've been hearing this question an awful lot lately. I just nod. "You know, you don't have to."
"What will I do here? There's enough security and granted I like this town, but I can't stay here any longer."
"Where will you live, though?"
"Howie offered me a room. I'll probably try to find my own place once I find a job, though."
Nick looks almost jealous. He sighs but then pulls me into a strong hug. "I'm glad you're coming. I've missed you so much; at least we'll be closer now."
...
Howie and I take my car while the rest of the Boys hop into the Durango. Just after they leave, I call my manager at the bowling alley to tell him I have to quit. "Death in the family. I just got word today and I have to move out to Orlando for a while. Don't know when I'll be back." I hang up the phone and Howie and I laugh.
Howie helps me move back into my car and directs me onto the highway. "Could you do me a favor, Howie?"
"Sure, what?"
"You see that letter under the armrest?" He nods and reaches for it. "Open it and read it to me?"
He complies. "Dear Delores," he reads. "I am beginning to wonder what is wrong that you haven't responded to any of my letters. I hope you're at least reading them.
"I can't say enough how sorry I am for everything your father and I have put you through in the past. I wish you would consider visiting us, at least once more, in the time your father has left on this Earth. He wishes to see you before he passes. I hope to see you, also.
"Please respond soon. Your father and I love you very much.
"Love, Mom"
I regret having Howie read the letter as soon as he opens it. He is silent for a moment, watching my reaction. He doesn't know what to say. "What's you father dying of?"
"Cancer. He's only got a few months left."
"So what do you think you'll do?"
"What can I do? I've already had this talk with Nick. I don't have enough money to travel up there and how could I possibly tell them that?"
He sighs deeply. He loves his family very much and apparently wants me to see mine at least one more time. He quickly drops the subject.
...
After knowing him for only a few days, it seems that Howie knows me practically inside and out. We're only about halfway to Orlando, but he knows just to sit back, relax, and let me just be. I'm not really thinking about the move, I'm thinking about what I should do about Mom and Dad. I would go visit them, but I don't have the money. I don't want to ask them for the money, either. Should I finally just sit down and write them? Tell them how I've been doing these past ten years since they saw me last? Or in the past three years since Gramma died? The homelessness? The deaths? Should I tell them about the wonderful man that I have met, that offered his home and heart to me? I need to talk to someone, but who would understand? Nick thinks he can, but I doubt that. He grew up in a loving home. Granted, my grandmother loved me dearly, but we grew up so differently. I was forced to grow up, while Nick at least had the beginning of his teen years to be a kid. I couldn't even have that. I sigh. Howie shifts in his seat and turns the page of the book he is reading. "I don't know what to do, Howard." My left elbow rests on the windowsill of the door and my head is resting in my hand. "I don't know what to do." My voice startles him. He closes his book and reaches for my right hand. I place my left back onto the steering wheel and give my right to him. "What do you think?"
"I can't tell you what to think, what to do. You know that."
"I asked you what you thought."
"Personally, I think you should write them. What harm could it do?"
...
We leave it at that. He says we're not too far from Orlando. I still don't know what to do, though. I glance at my companion as I switch lanes. He's thinking something. He's got that look in his eyes. Not the I'm-up-to-no-good look, but the oh-you're-gunna-be-mad-when-you-find-out-my-plan look. Oh boy.
...
We're practically silent until he notices we're almost on top of Orlando. I have to make a quick exit from the Interstate. Uh oh, that lady's not happy with me. Hang up and drive, bitch. From there, he directs me not to his house, but to his parents' house. Granted, he wants to see his family, but I think he thinks that somehow seeing him with his family will make me want to see mine. Really weird reverse psychology, but I give him props for the attempt.
...
After the visit with Mom and Dad D., it's off to the house. His house. His family's not too bad, really. They were really happy to see him and didn't look at me too weird.
"Mom, Dad, this is Lore. She's Nick's friend and she's going to live with me for a little bit, until she can get back on her feet." Blank stares. The usual.
...
The house/condo/place where Howie lives is pretty nice. We pull into the driveway and I notice the trademark Viper. Very nice car, and I don't even like Dodge much. "How about I give ya the tour first, and the help ya move in?"
"Sounds like a plan to me."
We exit the car and approach the door. He unlocks it, steps inside to hold the door open for me, and shuts the door behind me. He's a complete gentleman. Someday this will probably get on my nerves, no doubt. The house is pretty nice. Large living room, kitchen. He leads me upstairs. "Here's my room," he points to the first door on the right. "Bathroom," he points to the second door on the right. "And this will be your room," he says as he opens the door to the room on the left, right across from his room. It's a good sized room, furnished, too. Big, soft bed. "Questions?"
"Nope, none," I smile at his generosity.
"Great," he smiles in return. "Let's get you moved in." He takes my hand and leads me back out of the house.
...
The last thing I remove from my car is the box of letters from Nick. Howie is inside the house. He says that he's putting together something special for my first night in Orlando, in his house, with him. He wants it to be a surprise and shoos me from the kitchen until he's finished. Fine by me. I'm tired. Dark clouds loom overhead. Oh Christ, it's gunna storm, I mumble to no one in particular. It always seems to storm when I'm spending the night in a new place. Never fail. But why didn't it storm when I stayed at Nick's, you ask. Simple. I have stayed there before. I re-enter the house with my box and perch myself on the couch in the living room. I begin to rifle through the contents. He hears me and leaves the kitchen. "What'cha looking through?"
His voice startles me. I jump slightly. "Dear God, you scared me. Just the box of letters from Nick," I say and turn to look at him. He's standing over the couch with his hands on the top, looking down at me. He looks absolutely... in a word, scrumptious. His hair is pulled back into a low, loose ponytail, like it was all day. He didn't bother with the gel today. A few curls sneak away and frame his face perfectly. I smile at him and reach up to tuck a curl behind his ear. I let my hand linger. We both have this "thing" for one another, I guess, and neither of us are afraid to show it. We're just afraid to say it. He takes my hand, kisses it gently, and holds it in his own.
"Show me?"
"Won't you ruin your 'surprise'?" I tease.
"It's in the oven," he grins. He walks around the couch, picks up the box, places it on the floor, and sits next to me. "What does Nicky have to say?"
"Oh, a lot of these are just basically about what it's like to be on the road, being stuck in a bus with a bunch of guys constantly, what Europe's like... The usual. Most of these are from when y'all were in Europe. When he was in the States, I would see him every now and then, so the letters didn't come as often."
Howie reaches down into the box and pulls out my scrapbook. "What's this?"
I blush slightly. The book he's holding tells the story of my life. I slide it from his hands and into my lap. "This is my life," I sigh. I open it. We slowly flip through pages of family pictures and school pictures as I point out the faces. I stop at the obituaries of my friends. There's an article on the accident on that page, also. My face falls blank and I just stare at the page. Howie notices this. He carefully flips the page. There's a newsletter stuck in between the pages. I shake my feelings of loss and quickly explain. "I'm on page four." It's a newsletter from a small culinary arts school in Tampa. The headline reads "Artist in Kitchen, Artist on Stage." It's an article on me; I performed with a small band while in school. I was the lead singer, obviously. There's a picture of me, full color, on the stage of a local club, belting my heart out. I smile. "I was singing one of the last choruses of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' when they took that." He has this look on his face; it wasn't shock or confusion, but a combination of the both. "You know, '...So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye. So you think you can love me and leave me to die. Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby, Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here...'?"
"I... I thought you said you couldn't afford college?"
"Scholarships," I shrug. I look at the picture again. I smile. I was wearing my favorite outfit; a tight, black, satin shirt and a skirt that has a bottom layer of bright pink leopard print with a layer of black mesh over it.
He smiles. "Do you still have that outfit?"
"Of course, it's my favorite."
"Good. I'd like to see you in it sometime," he winks at me. I blush and shake my head.
"We'll see, we'll see."
I flip the newsletter and behind it is another article on me. 'Culinary School Announces Graduates.' I was at the top of my class. "So, you're not only a singer, musician, and bowling alley worker, but a chef, too?" He looks at me... really, really confused.
I shrug again and look at him. "Told ya there was a lot to me."
Now it's Howie's turn to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. He does this so softly, so gently, so delicately... I tilt my head to rest in his hand and just stare into his eyes. I sigh deeply as I feel him begin to pull me towards him, gently, tentatively. The timer in the kitchen dings and scares us both. I swear I hear him mumble some curse at the timer under his breath. He stands, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet. He wordlessly leads me to the table, pulls my chair out, and seats me. He lights some candies. There's a glow on his face; I'm not sure if it was the candles or if it was just him. "Be right back," he smiles and disappears into the kitchen. The table is set beautifully. How long has he been planning this evening?
He returns after a few moments with our dinner. He cooked chicken of some sorts. He places the plates on the table and returns to the kitchen. He comes back with a bottle of wine. "A drink for the lady?" I nod and smile. He pours some of the white wine, a Bianco (my favorite), into both glasses, and finally sits opposite me. He raises his glass to me and I do the same. "To new beginnings," he toasts.
"To a new life," I add. We toast one another and sip the wine before beginning our dinners. By the way, dinner was delicious.
...
It's nearly 8:30. The storm is pounding its rain on the windows. Howie and I finished dinner nearly two hours ago and cleaned the dishes. We're just sitting together at the table, chatting. He has the stereo on, playing some soft music. He stands and asks if I'd like to dance. Of course I accept. What girl wouldn't?
Howie is one of the sweetest, most gentle men I have ever met. Here we are, in the middle of a thunderstorm, dancing slowly in his living room. His right hand is on the small of my back and his left is holding my right. My left hand is around his shoulders. We don't need to be, but we're pressed up against one another. He holds my hand close to his chest so that it's almost between us, sort of like he's holding it over his heart. We just gaze into one another's eyes and dance so slowly... The storm knocks the power out but we don't even notice. We have candles lit and we don't need music. I feel as if I'm in heaven. Finally, the fates are smiling down at me.
...
I don't know how long we've just been here, holding one another so close, gently swaying to the music in each of our minds. It could have been hours, but it feels like moments. Suddenly, the power returns and the soft music floods the room once again. I smile at the song and sing softly, just loud enough to be heard. It's just the end of the song, but it seems to be perfect.
"...So here we are alone again,
didn't think I'd come to this,
and to know it all began
with just a little kiss...
I've come too close to happiness,
to have it swept away.
Don't think I can take the pain,
no never fall again.
Kinda late in the game
and my heart is in your hands.
Don't you stand there and then tell me
you love me then leave again...
'cause I'm falling in love with you again...
"Hold me, hold me,
Don't ever let me go,
Say it just one time,
Say you love me
God knows I do love you
again."
He releases the hand that he held and brings it to my cheek. He slowly beings me in close, so close, for our first, magical kiss. My heart beats in anticipation and I feel his doing the same; my hand is on his chest, right above his heart. The phone rings, bringing us back into reality. This time we both mumble curses. We break away so he can answer the phone. "Yeah?... Sorry, man, you just interrupted something... Nah, it's alright, what's up?... Yeah, she's here... Doin' alright. Yeah, we made it through the storm... The power went out?... Didn't even notice... Yeah, hang on." He turns to me. "It's Nick, he wants to talk to you."
I make my way over to the phone. "Hey Nicky."
"Hey, what did I interrupt?"
"Don't worry about it."
"You didn't even notice the power go out?"
"It did?"
He laughs. "What were you two up to?"
"Nothin, Nicky, don't worry about it."
"Alright, alright, I just wanted to make sure you made it through the storm."
"Yeah, we made it through just fine."
"I know how you are with storms, and guaranteed, no matter what the weather reports say, it's going to storm tonight."
"You know me all too well, Nicky."
...
We hang up after a few moments of chatting. "Wow, it's nearly midnight. We should probably get to bed," Howie yawns. I agree. "I have to go to the studio tomorrow morning in case I'm not here when you get up." I nod and yawn, also. He leads me upstairs. "And remember, if you need anything, anything at all, I'm right across the hall."
"I will, Howard," I smile. He smiles, also. He seems to like it when I call him 'Howard.'
"So, I guess this is goodnight?"
"Sounds like a plan."
"Alright then." For some reason, we both seem really nervous around one another. I don't really know why. He moves in and gives me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Night, honey doll."
"Night, babe." We both enter our rooms.
"I'll leave my door open in case you need anything."
"So will I, Howard."
He yawns and scratches his tummy, lifting his shirt very slightly. Ohh, nice and built... "Night, hon."
I begin to rummage through my bag for something to sleep in. I sigh. I slept in Nick's clothes when I stayed at his house and have nothing to wear. I turn around, walk across my room and across the hall. I knock softly on Howie's doorframe. "Howard?"
"Yeah, sweets?" He's coming out of the bathroom. There's a door connecting his room and the bathroom that I hadn't noticed before. My jaw drops slightly at the sight of him. He's got on a pair of purple satin pajama pants that just barely hang onto his hips. His hair is no longer pulled back. He's barefoot, too. So am I, actually. I really don't like shoes. But there was something different about seeing him dressed like that. He looks so casual, so relaxed, so... *drool* Greek God-like. How could he possibly be on stage night after night, dancing and singing and making the girls swoon over him? I can tell you how and so can that buff body of his. "Uhm, sweets?" He brings me back into reality.
"Oh, yeah, I, uhm... I kinda don't have anything to sleep in."
He smiles and nods. "Come on in." He crosses his room to the dresser. "Well it looks like just about everything of mine is in the wash, but you can take the top to this outfit if you'd like." He pulls out the top to his outfit, a long sleeved button down purple satin sleepshirt. He hands it to me.
"Thanks," I blush slightly. "That should be all for now." Suddenly, the thunder booms again and scares the snot right out of me. For some reason, I play the needy, vulnerable female role when I'm scared like that and jump into his arms. When I realize what I just did, I blush again and giggle. "Sorry, habit."
"No worries, doll," he smiles and kisses my forehead. Oh, how I long to feel those lips on mine... But he must be like me... Waiting for the absolute perfect moment.
"So, goodnight, again." I leave the room and return to mine. I change into his nightshirt and climb under the covers. The thunder booms again. Lightning flashes. Hopefully the storm won't be too bad tonight, being that it knocked the power out earlier.
...
I hope too much. It's a half hour later and the storm still rages. I can't fall asleep. Plus, I'm in a new bed. I'm used to sleeping in my car, where I can press myself up against the backseat and pretend there's someone there with me, holding me tight, keeping me safe. I can't get that feeling here. I grumble, crawl out of bed, and cross the hall once again. Doesn't look like Howie's asleep, either. He has a small lamp on that is shining a little light into the hallway. I knock on the doorframe again. "Howard?"
"Yeah, doll?" he looks up at me and smiles. He's too adorable. He's under the covers, reading a book, with his glasses constantly sliding down his nose. I have been standing here for less than a minute and they fell down twice already. "Can't sleep?"
"It always storms when I'm staying in a new place... Can I stay here with you?"
I must look awfully pathetic standing here. I'm twenty-four years old and can't sleep during thunderstorms. His shirt falls to mid-thigh and the sleeves are a little too long and my hair is pulled back into this awfully messy ponytail. "Sure, come on." He closes his book, slides over a little, and pulls the covers off the bed a little. I crawl in beside him. He lays his arm across the bed where I lay and holds me close to him. Heaven. Pure heaven.
"What'cha readin?"
"The Green Mile," he smiles. "I've had it for a while and seeing the movie made me want to read it." The lights dim briefly and then go completely out. "Well, I guess I was done reading," he tries to make light of the current situation.
"Like I said, always happens." He closes the book, takes off his glasses, and reaches over me to place them on his night table. "I was going to ask if you'd read to me a little, but I guess that's out the window."
"Yeah, for tonight anyways. Hey, I noticed something... How do you spell your last name?"
"D-e-l-a-c-r-o-i-x, just like in the book," I spell out for him, referring to The Green Mile.
"So, you're French?"
"French Quarter, actually. The accent faded out with my grandmother. I think just my toe is French at this point."
We talk until both our brains slow to a halt. We both get more comfortable and he holds me tight. "Night, honey doll," he whispers and kisses the top of my head.
"Night, sweets."
...
I wake earlier than Sleeping Beauty Howard. As I am making a cup of tea, there’s a knock on the door. I have no clue what time it is due to last night’s second power outage, and I hope it’s no one I haven’t met yet. I peer through the peep hole. Brian. I begin to unlock the door. There’s four locks, and to make me feel safe, Howie locked all four last night. I told him that it wasn’t needed, I lived in my car, after all, but he wouldn’t hear it. I finally undo the last lock and open the door. Brian is no longer standing there, it’s Nick. Uh oh... "Uhm, hi Nicky," I smile at my best friend.
He sees how I am dressed and quickly pushes me back into the house. Brian follows. He just looks at me and grins. "I don’t even want to know, girlie."
Nick is not so jovial. "Hey, Lore? Can I talk to you for a sec?" Here we go...
We walk into the kitchen. Actually, he kinda pulls me along. "What’s up?"
"Do I even want to know why you only have a shirt on?"
"I needed something to sleep in and Howie’s wearing the pants?"
"Don’t get smart with me, I’ll be able to see right through it."
"Nothing happened, Nicky, honest. I slept in your clothes, remember? I didn’t have anything to wear so he gave me one of his shirts. See? I even have my underpants on." I pull up my shirt and flash him my underwear.
"Didn’t need to see that much, but it’s good to know."
Brian calls from the living room. "Is D. up yet?"
"Nope, no alarm clock. No power. It’s my curse," I explain as I walk towards the stairs. "Nick will tell you all about it. I’ll get Sleeping Beauty." I climb the stairs and enter the room I slept in. I close the door behind me. "Howard?" No answer. Oh Christ, he looks so good laying there. So peaceful. So... yummy. He has a sheet covering the lower half of his body. His upper half is fully exposed and seems to just be calling for my touch. Oh, how I long to touch... But back to the task at hand. "Howard?" I ask again. I grin. Tickle time. I climb back onto the bed and straddle him. Hell, I’ve done this to Nicky hundreds of times, even when waking him up. I’m used to the, ahem, "morning wood" (pardon my speech). I lightly graze my nails over his sides. He shifts. This is why I sat on him; so he can’t escape. I continue. His eyes flutter open. "Morning, Sleepyhead. Brian and Nick are waiting for you."
He notices where I am sitting. "Oh, boy," I hear him whisper.
"Trust me, I’m used to it," I wink at him and climb off of him. I walk towards the door, open it, and lean against the doorframe. In my best sultry voice, I speak while running my hand through the hair that has fallen in my face. "I tend to have that effect on people." I grin. "Get dressed, they’re eating all of your food."
...
A half hour later, Howie is finally ready. He grabs his laptop computer ("I have some work to do.") and approaches me. "I don’t know how long I’ll be, but if I’m after six, I’ll call and let you know. You’re free to anything in the house." He pauses to write something down. "If you need anything, give me a call and I’ll see what I can do. Think you’ll be alright?"
"I’ll be fine, Howard," I smile.
"I’ll give you a call later to check up on you." He gives me a kiss on the cheek and heads to the door.
"Be good today," Nick whispers to me and kisses my cheek. "And you know my number." Brian hugs me, nods, and leaves with Nick. Finally, alone. I take a shower and decide to try my hand on his computer. I connect to the Internet (it’s not too foreign to me; I used the computer at work) and do a search on the Boys and get curious. I wanna see what they say about Howard. There’s a ton of sites that absolutely hate them, but a few that praise him. I find one with excerpts from magazine articles. I skim through the list for something that pertains to me. I read one line and my jaw drops.
Ok, granted Howie did just come back from being on tour with the Boys. Granted he didn’t see his family in a while. But he took me to meet them. He didn’t have to do that, but he did. Alright, I know he likes me and I know I like him, but I didn’t think it could be this serious. I’m probably just overreacting.
Alright, but how about what he looks for in a girl? "I enjoy someone quiet, shy, career-minded and easy to talk to." OK. I’ve got the quiet down. I’m sorta shy. I’m planning on looking for a job in a restaurant. Everyone talks to me. Could this mean anything? Maybe I’ll do something nice for him, like cook him a nice dinner, and see how he reacts. That’s what I’ll do.
After a search for the nearest grocery store, I call Howie’s cell phone. "Just wanted to let you know I’m going out to do some grocery shopping in case you call."
"And you’ll be there for a while?" I can hear him smile.
"Don’t know yet. Depends on how I like the store." I smile.
"Be careful, honey doll."
"I will be, Howard."
"Let me know when you get home?"
"Will do, Howard."
...
The store’s not the greatest, but I’m there for close to two hours. Like I said, I like to wander. I return to his house and restock his refrigerator. I decided to make him cashew chicken with julienne vegetables and haven’t decided on dessert yet, but I’ll get there.
I start preparing around two in the afternoon. The chicken’s in the oven and I’m slicing the vegetables. I hear a key turning in the lock on the front door. I glance out the window. That’s not Howie’s car... I have a large knife in my hand and whoever it is better pray that they have a good reason to be here. "Howie?" a whiny female voice calls into the front hall. She walks in further. "Howie, honey are you home?"
I come out of the kitchen with the knife in my hand. "He’s at work, can I help you?"
She doesn’t like me being here, obviously. "Who are you? His new cook?"
"No, I’m just staying here until I can get a place of my own."
"So, what, you’re renting one of our rooms?"
I’m sick of this attitude already. "Is there something you need or no?"
"No, just tell him when he comes back that his girlfriend was here and we obviously need to talk." I shrug. She doesn’t like this. She huffs and exits the way she came.
Oh, Howie’s gunna die... I call his cell again. He sounds happy to hear from me. "When will you be home?"
He can tell I’m not pleased. "Why? Is there something wrong?"
"No, I’m just a bit pissed off."
"What happened?"
"It would be best if I told you when you got home."
"Alright, I can be out of here in a half hour and I’ll be right home. Say, forty-five minutes?"
"Sounds good to me."
...
I finish the vegetables and let them soak in a pot of water on the stove, low heat for fifteen minutes. He better have a damn good explanation. I being chopping parsley to go one our dinners. Fresh parsley always tastes better. He enters and I am chopping with the same, large knife. "Lore?" He scares me. I jump and end up pointing the knife at him. "Wow, rough day?"
I go back to chopping. "Want to tell me about your girlfriend?"
"My girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend."
"Then who was Miss Thang that showed up earlier? She had her own key."
"Oh Lord, I forgot to change the locks..."
I stab the knife deep into the wooden cutting board. I brought it with me so it‘s not the first gash. "So who is she?"
"Shannon, probably. My ex."
I imitate her. "Tell Howie his girlfriend was here and that we obviously need to talk." I roll my eyes.
"Definitely Shannon. Would you feel better if I called her?"
"Whatever you think you should do. She’s not my girlfriend."
He groans. "Fine. Pick up the extension of the phone but don’t let her know you’re there. I’ll prove it to you."
Howie goes off to the other room and dials. He expects me to pick up, but I don’t feel right about it for some reason. I guess I just over-reacted. Let them work this whole mess out. I’m an innocent bystander. I turn the stove and oven off before I end up burning anything. That’s a pretty big problem for a chef; I occasionally burn things beyond recognition. I pull my knife from the cutting board and continue my assault on the parsley. I’m not angry anymore, really, just have some aggression left in me. I finally begin to calm down when I hear something I never thought I would hear; Howie was yelling at the girl over the phone. My knife slips and gashes into the skin on my left forearm. "Aw, fuck!" I yell.
"Ah, shit, something happened to Lore," I hear him over the phone while I search for a cloth to stop the bleeding. "So what if I do? You have no part of my life anymore, Shannon. Leave us both alone!" He slams down the phone and comes to my rescue. When he finds me, I’m on the floor, leaning against the cabinets. The cloth is soaked in my blood and I’m paler than possible. I no longer feel the pain; I’m numb completely. He slides... well, actually skids across the tile floor and joins me. He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a clean cloth. He wraps my arm in it tightly and holds his hand over the cut. My eyes begin to glaze over and I feel faint. He sees this and grabs my face in his free hand. "Don’t you even think about blanking out on me now." His voice is full of worry, of fear.
"I’m fine, really," I murmur.
He sighs. "How about we get this cleaned up and see how bad it is?" I nod. I’m still weak from what he said over the phone (I didn't know he was capable of yelling at someone, especially a girl), so he carries me upstairs to the bathroom. He perches me on the counter, grabs some cotton, and the peroxide. He removes the newest blood soaked towel. He holds my arm over the sink, so very gently. "Now this is gunna hurt, honey doll, and I know you know that. Here, wrap your arm around my shoulder so you can be more stable, and when it hurts, don’t be afraid to grab onto me. Ready?"
"Ready." I do as he says and wrap my right arm around his shoulders. He begins to pour the liquid over the cut. I groan in pain and bury my face in his neck. Tears sting my eyes. He lets the liquid fizz and bubble before pouring more on. After a while, the fizzing stops and so does the bleeding. I begin to let go of Howie, who is examining my newest scar. He finds a few bandages and pulls the cut skin together. I’m still dazed. Tears dry on my face.
He looks into my eyes, my face. He finally sees the pain. "Hurts that much?"
I simply nod. I sigh. "Who was she?"
"My ex... I forgot she had a key to this place. She had no right to come in here and harass you the way that she did. I put her in her place."
I hug him tightly. "Thank you so much, Howard. Thank you so much for everything."
"You’re very welcome, honey doll, he whispers. He sighs and pulls away. "Now that we have that worked out," he smiles, "I have something to give you." He helps me off the counter and takes my hand, leading me back to the kitchen.
"What, more towels to clean up my mess with?"
"No, something... I just have this feeling that you’re going to kill me, so let me get all of the knives out of sight." He isn’t joking. He tosses the knives in the sink or back into a drawer. I look at him quizzically. He pulls something out of his back pocket. "Just promise you won’t kill me," he cowers as he hands over an envelope. I open it and remove the paper inside. Flight reservations. Alright, nothing too new there, him being a Backstreet Boy (I finally got the name right!). But to Pennsylvania? To the airport closest to my old home... "I called your parents this morning at rehearsals. I told them who I was and made these reservations. I knew you wouldn’t make them yourself, and I know you probably don’t want me muddling in your personal life, but I felt it was something I had to do. I talked to Nick about it and he agreed..." He never looks at me, probably out of fear.
"You’re rambling, Howard," I smile. There’s tears in my eyes. I pull him into a strong hug.
"You’re not going to kill me?"
"That would be no fun," I smile.
...
We are set to leave tomorrow morning. This will be the first time I’ve seen my parents in nearly twenty years. Well... aw hell, you'll see later. I sorta lied about the twenty years part... But anyways, nervous is an understatement about seeing them again. We begin to pack that night; Howie is going with me. He knows that I won’t be able to get through this on my own. He is skipping rehearsals for a few days so he can come with me. I never felt this kind of love before. He hasn’t said the word "love" to me, but I can feel it. I can see it in his eyes. It’s something so strange to me, but I love it.
* "Hands" by Jewel.
