::THIRTY ONE::
The room still smells faintly of chocolate, so does her skin, the massage oil making it softer than it was before, if that’s possible. She’s sleeping soundly, letting out an occasional sigh when she rustles in her sleep, always wiggling closer to me. She’s cute, in a way that makes me grin every time I think about her, every time I look at her.
We’re sleeping late, after last night. Probably after the last two nights, to be honest. It’s almost nine thirty and I’m starving, usually I’m out of bed long before this. I don’t want to wake her up, I love watching her sleep. Easing out from behind her, making sure the bedspread stays tucked behind her so she won’t get cold, I quickly get dressed, checking often to make sure she’s still asleep. My angel.
“‘Nette;
I’ve gone out to pick up coffee and breakfast. Stay in bed for me.
Love, Sean.”
A quick note written on motel stationary, left on top of the novel she bought yesterday, which I put by the bedside in case she woke up while I was gone. I’m at the door with the motel key in my hand, torn. I’ve never left her asleep before, I’ve always woken up with her. Would she be hurt waking up and seeing me gone? What if she didn’t find the note right away? I still didn’t want to wake her, she’s so beautiful asleep.
It was probably only a couple of minutes that I stood there watching her, but it felt like a lot longer. I settled for something in between and crept up to the bed, leaning over her without waking her up. She let out a small contented sigh, smiling, when my lips touched her ear. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, beautiful, don’t get up.” She turned to nuzzle me, still asleep, making that deep purring sound that drove me crazy. She makes it hard to leave.
It feels so strange to be apart from her, awkward somehow, as I lock the motel room door behind me. There’s a place just down the street where I can pick up coffee, so it’s not like I’ll be gone long but it still feels weird. She’s stayed in my house since the day of the shooting at the bookstore, and I’ve woken up with her every morning since then. I thought about her, dreamt about her, every day before that, since I first met her.
The guy at the counter at the Starbucks must have thought I was crazy, I couldn’t stop grinning when I paid for the coffees and the few things I had picked up for breakfast. They had these iced cookies, pink ones, shaped like flowers. Not quite a daisy, but close, Jeanette’s favorite. I got her some yoghurt too, but it was the cookies that made me smile.
She’s sitting against the headboard reading her book when I opened the door, trying to be quiet in case I woke her up. She does curl up when she reads, all of the blankets pulled up around her. Grinning at me from around the cover of her book, she pats the spot on the bed next to her, pulling my pillow out from behind her back where she was leaning on it.
I get undressed again, slipping under the covers with her, handing her a cup of coffee. She used my note to her as a bookmark, that quiet Mona Lisa smile on her face as she did it, almost completely hidden by a wave of her hair. I’ve never been one to write notes, or love letters. I never know what to write, but if it makes her smile like that I could get used to it.
“‘Morning, Sean.” She waited until taking a deep drink of her coffee, her eyes closed, her smile wide. If I were to look under the covers, I bet her toes would have curled.
“Come here, ‘Nette.” I miss my back porch, and sitting with her out there, so I held her coffee, while she made herself comfortable in front of me. Her back pressed into my chest, my hand across her belly. “‘Morning, ‘Nette.”
She looks over at the clock by the TV, to notice that it’s almost ten. Letting out a laugh she rests her head back into my shoulder, taking her coffee cup back. “It’s not morning for much longer. When was the last time you slept in that late?”
That’s a hard question. There was a period of time, right after Stacy died, where all I wanted to do was drink. I would drink to sleep. Drink to try to keep my nightmares at bay. I remember being drunk, and being angry, most of the time. A lot of days it was hard to wake up, I didn’t have the will most mornings. The only thing that got me out of bed some days was the burning desire to make whoever had killed her pay for it.
Jeanette’s hand strokes over my thigh, a soothing caress over the blankets. “I’m sorry, Sean.” Apologizing for a hurt she doesn’t even know the cause of, she just knows it hurt. I had been lost in thought and hadn’t even realized it.
“I don’t know if you’d call it sleeping so much as passed out and unable to get up. I was a mess for a long time. I think this is one of the few times I’ve ever really slept in, ‘Nette.” I didn’t like the way I was. I understood it, but I didn’t like it. She doesn’t say anything, or try to cheer me up. Maybe someone else would have, but I have the feeling Jeanette knows exactly the pain I’m talking about. I like not having to explain. She leans back, nuzzling my neck.
“I got you something, beautiful. Close your eyes.” I reach over into the bag, digging out her cookie and putting it in her hand. Her stifled squeal of delight makes being laughed at in the coffee shop lineup worth it. She split it with me, it wasn’t bad, once you got around that bright pink icing. “This is our last day in Seattle, ‘Nette.” We’ll be catching a plane, another short hop, down to LA, tomorrow morning. “Is there anything you wanted to do today?”
That deep purring can be felt right through her back, and her smile’s contagious. “Something I’ve missed, oh, you can’t imagine.” Her eyes are closed tight again, holding her coffee cup in two hands, the perfect picture of happiness. “I’ve lived in Texas for years, Sean. Do you know how hard it is to get decent sushi in Texas?”
“Sushi, huh…” I don’t think I’m doing a good job of hiding my dread. I’m trying, I just don’t think it’s working and Jeanette’s not buying it either. She hasn’t been back home in about five years, I can do this. Sandro made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich one day that I could barely fit in my mouth. So I can do this.
“We could just pick up something to go, Sean, it’s….”
I put the rest of her cookie in her mouth before she can finish. “Sushi. There’s a first time for everything.” Watching her grin was worth it. “I want to go shopping with you afterwards, there’s something I want to see if we can find.” I’ve had the image of that red bedspread stuck in my head since the day we bought her bikini. Normally I hate shopping, but it’s different this time. Something else for our house.
“A lazy day of eating and shopping, I like that.” She drinks the rest of her coffee in one pull, turning to straddle my lap at the same time. “We can’t really do this on your back porch.”
“Not without annoying the neighbours. This is awkward.” She squeals again when I pick her up and drive her back onto the bed, pinning her beneath me. “That’s better.” Her hair had fanned out across the bedspread when she landed, her face glowing with her laughter. “You’re beautiful, Jeanette.”
“I’m happy. You make me happy.”
I’d like to. For the rest of my life I’d like to. Her dark eyes spark with a flicker of gold, lit by a narrow stream of sunlight through an open spot in the curtains, it was clearing up when I drove back. She tastes of coffee, and lemon cookies, and Jeanette, a kiss so deep it’s like falling. Her arms shift, finding their way around my neck, letting me hold her closer.
Coming up for air feels exactly like it sounds, buried deep in her depths, both rising to breathe for a moment. “It felt weird leaving you this morning, I don’t think I liked it much.” My hands are lost in her hair, slipping over her ears to rest against her temples, brushing against the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. She’s still smiling.
“I liked your note, Sean. It was sweet, and now I get to keep it.” She had tucked it into her book, as a bookmark, something she wanted to keep. Her hips raise a little and our bodies ease together gracefully, both of us moaning softly on that long slow glide to the bottom.
“I’ll write you one every morning if it makes you smile like that, ‘Nette.” She grins up at me, arching her back when my hips rock back into her, a smile that only barely falters when she moans again. Her skin warms, smelling of chocolate. I’m never going to think of chocolate the same way, it’s going to make me think of her every time.
We could rush, but we don’t. If we were at home right now, I’d throw the curtains open and we could make love in the sunshine. Right now I’ll settle for that one small sliver that falls over her, her beautiful face aglow as we make love slowly. Our kiss sends us deep again, spiraling to the bottom, lost in each other.
Rising for air, moving down to kiss her neck and her ears. Licking the sweet chocolate scented sweat from her. The racing of her pulse pounds in my ears, the vibration of her moans felt through the skin of her throat. Her whispered words, ‘I love you, Sean’, are felt more than heard, her fingers stroking the stubble at the back of my neck with every word. Hearing her say my name, in that breathless pant, makes it so hard to go slow. Was it her voice, her soft moans getting sharper at the end, or was it the flutter that began deep inside her, I don’t know which, but she was coming. Her hips pressing harder to mine with every stroke into her.
I nuzzled over her ear, over and over that I loved her, only her, my angel, as she came. Her hips bucking as she came, triggering my own release, blinding me to everything but the sweet scent of her skin, and the feel of her holding me, holding me everywhere. Our bodies settled back into the embrace we started with, kissing deeply again when we had caught our breath finally.
“Love me, ‘Nette?” She’s smiling, a lazy, sexy, contented smile. Neither one of us has moved, and we both seem to lack the will to want to. The two tiny tears she’s shed sparkle softly in the beam of light from the window, brilliant. Wetting my thumbs when I wipe the corners of her eyes, and they’re gone.
“Forever.”
Getting out of bed was difficult and neither one of us moved for almost half an hour, just kissing and playing with each other. Hunger motivated us after a while, it was past noon, and it was closer to one when, showered and dressed, we left the motel.
I followed Jeanette, my hand resting against her back, when an elderly Japanese woman led us to a small private room, walled off by paper blinds. Jeanette warned me about the shoes, but it was still a little odd to have to take them off before sitting down. The lady never said a word, not in English anyway. Jeanette answered her quick bow with one of her own, more a nod of the head than anything, before kneeling on a pillow at a low table. She warned me about that too.
Everything looks like I’ll crush it if I look at it. “I stick out like a sore thumb, ‘Nette.” We’re holding hands again, across the small table. Everything in the small room is stark, making me notice her that much more. That, and the view over the water, still as glass, stretching out beside us. I fidget once, finding a more comfortable way to sit.
“We could have sat at the front counter.” She’s laughing a little, dropping her head so I won’t notice. It was two deep out there, with stuff floating by on this weird little canal.
“We’d probably end up getting thrown out. You’d have to wait another five years to come back.” I picked up the menu, taking a look. I knew what some stuff was, or what I thought it was. The rest I had no clue about. “I think you’re going to have to order for me, ‘Nette. I have no idea what half this stuff is.”
She has the tiniest grin on her face, amused, but in no way making fun. “They do make a really good steak here, Sean. You don’t have to eat sushi. It was fun to tease you a little, but you don’t have to.”
I push the menu over so that it rests on hers. “Did I ever tell you about the day Sandro made me a sandwich?” She was laughing out loud when I told her about it, this huge monster sandwich, nearly three inches thick. Peanut butter and jelly. I trusted her to order for me, after that sandwich, nothing would scare me.
I had no idea what Jeanette ordered, she used the Japanese names for just about everything. She was polite and quiet, her voice little more than a whisper, when she asked for a fork. For me, I’m guessing. She left us with green tea, at least that I was familiar with, even if the tiny cups were different.
“Do you speak Japanese, ‘Nette?” We fidgeted under the table, ending up with our feet touching underneath, like we had to make up for the fact that we held our teacups with both hands. Needing something of our bodies to touch.
She drinks her tea in small sips, taking the same enjoyment from it as from her coffee this morning, like nothing existed but that one thing, right then. “Only stuff from the menu, and only because I used to come here a lot.” I touch the table between us and she smiles, continuing. “This used to be my favourite restaurant.” She looks out over the water again, her face in profile, taking a small sip from her tea. Every time I see her like that my breath catches. The first day we met, in the cemetery, she turned to look back over the mountains. The other day in the restaurant it was the same thing. “For the view, I love the water.”
I had missed the ocean since moving to El Paso, sometimes to the point that I’d guess would have to be called homesickness. “Do you miss living here, ‘Nette?” We both separated a little as the waitress brought a collection of dishes, putting them on the table in front of us. The fork was wrapped in a napkin, like a disguise.
I watched her as she looked out the window, knowing, just by watching, that she was far over the water. She takes another sip before turning to me again. “I love the mountains too. Have you ever just sat and looked at them? I’ll be doing something somewhere and…”
“…And you find that you’re staring at them and you didn’t even realize it.” Finishing the thought was easy, I had done the same thing every day since I moved to El Paso. Something about those mountains just pulled you in, until you didn’t want to look at anything else. Well, almost anything else. “You wouldn’t want to move back here?” It was a painful question, spoken in barely a whisper, with a need I would have hated to admit.
“It’s pretty here, but it’s not where I live anymore.” She doesn’t elaborate, just pulls my hand to her lips, kissing it and holding it while we watched each other for a moment. Our hands squeeze each other gently, saying more than we could in words.
“No…don’t tell me what it is. If I know, I’ll never be able to eat it.” She points out a couple of things to start out with, pointing to one in particular. She just grinned and shook her head at me when I poked at the green stuff on the side of the plate. ‘Wasabi’. She didn’t elaborate.
“Do I get to tell you afterwards what you ate?” A look of pure mischief crossed her face, her eyes crinkling in the corners with a secret joy I could only imagine.
“If I ask, after I eat it, you can tell me.” I felt goofy eating with a fork, watching Jeanette handle chopsticks with ease. After I dropped something for the third time, she rested her chopsticks on the edge of her plate and ate with her fingers, saying nothing about it, and I joined her, glad to not drop stuff in front of her anymore.
“What IS that?” Whatever it was, it was good and I debated whether I wanted to know or not, but the question was already out.
Her eyes light with a spark of humour and the corners of her mouth kick up in the start of a grin. “Are you sure?” I lick the little bit of sauce off my fingers and nod at her. I was almost finished anyway, so putting me off my meal wasn’t likely. “Eel.”
My face must have been priceless as she laughed out loud. I love that, when she’s so struck by something that she just laughs out loud, she’s usually so quiet. It’s not long before I’m laughing with her. “I never thought anything could get stranger than that sandwich, ‘Nette.”
It was starting to get cool when we left, just after five or so. I’ve never lived further north than LA, where we don’t really get autumn. Jeanette had mentioned a “rainy season” in Texas, and the more I look at her the more I look forward to it.
We had another saleslady gush over us, thinking we were a cute married couple, when we entered a upscale bedding store. They sold everything by colours. I had never really thought much about that red, but I guess it was a fall colour. The saleslady thought the brighter red one was more “me”, whatever that meant, but it was the darker one that I was interested in and nothing could change my mind once Jeanette touched it. Her pale skin against that deep red made me forget where I was, there could be nothing else.
I kissed her hard before holding her, smiling into her neck. Maybe it didn’t make any sense to be this happy over what was essentially a blanket, but it was the first really permanent thing for what would be our house. The candles and massage oil might make for beautiful memories, but they would be gone soon enough. This would last a little longer, which meant she was staying, that she wanted to stay.
It was just starting to get dark when we left, the streetlights coming up. All I wanted to do was take her back to the motel and spend the rest of the night making love to her. Just toss that motel bedspread on the floor, and lay Jeanette in the middle of that red bedspread. She nestled her back into my chest while we waited for the light, on the way back to the car. There may as well have been no one else for miles, all that existed was her. “Let’s go back, ‘Nette.”
“There’s only one more thing I have to take you to see, before we leave. It’s close I promise.”
I looked down at her, kissing a spot over her ear and nuzzling in her hair. Right now I would have given her anything she wanted. She smiled at me and pointed up. I had been lost in her, I never would have noticed. “The Space Needle, right?” She just grins up at me again, her smile innocent and wide. Her hand squeezes mine a little harder, it’s not hard to feel her excitement and be happy right along with her.
We paid for tickets and rode to the top, in what had to be the longest elevator ride I had ever taken in my life. “Close your eyes, Sean, trust me.” I kissed her hand, closing my eyes and putting my trust in her completely. She stops after a short while, taking the package from me and turning me to face what I didn’t know. “Open your eyes.” She held me now the way I had held her so often, her chest pressed to my back and her hand stroking across my belly. She kissed my back as she said it.
I don’t know what I expected to see when I opened my eyes, some sort of scenery I guess. I had only been in Seattle a short while, and there were already quite a few really nice places I had seen. “That’s why I love mountains too, Sean.” She kissed my back again. I knew that from where she stood, behind me, she couldn’t see what I saw but I had the feeling that Jeanette could see this so clearly in her mind that she would never have to set eyes on it again. It would be forever painted there.
“Rainier…and the Cascades…” Her hand pointed out from behind my back to tell me what I was looking at. She could have said Heaven, a hundred names for Heaven, and it wouldn’t have come close. I reached behind me to pull her into her rightful place, nestled against my chest. Her head rests against my shoulder, lost here against me. Lost out there, in the incredible beauty of that strange mountain floating in the sky, like it was attached to nothing.
That first evening, when she turned her head to look over her shoulder to the mountains, everything in her serene. Now I know why. “This is the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Jeanette.” She tilts her chin up to me, letting me cup her jaw and kiss her softly. “You’re the first.”
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