The Difference- Chapter 12

Chapter 12



“Daddy, can we stay with grandma tonight?” Prince dashed into the room breathlessly, and Michael had to laugh at his dirty, sweaty, drenched son. They had spent the day at the Havenhurst house and the children had a ball while he enjoyed listening to their laughter.  It was the sound his dreams were made of: carefee joy.  How he envied the uncompromising ability of childhood to live in the moment without giving a thought to the future.  Much as he always had attempted to recreate this state of magic ignorance, it had never truly been his to relish. Intense gratitude that his children had this freedom filled him like a glowing light.

“What in the world have you been doing out there? You smell like a wet puppy.”

“We had a super soaker fight.  Paris wants you to come outside. She needs an ally.”

“Why aren’t you her ally?”

Prince looked up at him as if Michael had just asked the question in Chinese.

“Ahh, ‘cause she’s a girl? Blanket is my ally.” Price stated with self-evident conviction.

“Hey, don’t dis your sister for being a girl. Not like she can help that. Plus, Prince, if you are really smart you learn to never underestimate girls.”

Michael hoped with all his heart his son would remember this advice years from now.  While women may be the physically weaker sex, they were by no means weak in any other sense of the word.  As a matter of fact, his mother, Rebbie, Janet, as well as Liz were among the strongest human beings he had ever met.  LaToya was a bit more flighty, but even she was a force to be reckoned with on many levels. These were the stong women who had sustained and supported him over the years. Other women in his life had held power over him and made him twist and turn like a deranged marionette in a hurricane of feelings and pain.  Diana, Brooke, Tatum to some degree, Madonna, Lisa, Lisa again… a never-ending string of women trying to use their sexual powers to either get to him or take advantage of him. 

Lisa…

Guilt twisted his insides like a wet piece of scarlet silk.  Red like her dress.  Bunching under his hands as he pulled it up over her firm behind… He swallowed and closed his eyes trying to block out the image flashing on the screen of his mind. 

“Daddy?  Girls are silly. Well, Paris is different; she is one of us guys, so she’s not always silly.  But from what I can tell about other girls, they are definitely weird.”

Thankful for his son’s voice refocusing him, Michael experienced a different twinge of remorse, remembering how little exposure Prince had enjoyed to other children other than his cousins and some kids of very select friends.  On one hand he considered himself fortunate to afford his children the homeschooling they thrived in: they had such immense opportunities to experience places and cultures, to see history first hand, and to learn from the great masters and philosophers of all times after just short plane rides.  On the other hand, he was well aware that they lived a charmed, but unusual and marginalizing existence in an ivory tower. 

They were remote from the so called real lives other people took for granted.  Thanks to him and his status, his children were condemned to be outsiders.  Even his efforts to protect them singled them out more.  Everyone who did not know better judged and derided him for making them wear masks. Well, first of all, it had not been his idea, but instead had been one of Debbie’s rare flashes of genius that had caught on.  Really, it had made such sense.  When they were out without him, they were able to blend in and for once enjoy the freedom of not being trampled or squeezed, gawked at, stared at, and flashed at.  He still remembered when Prince asked him why the monsters were always coming at them from the bushes.  It had taken him a minute to catch on that his son had referred to the constant string of money hungry paparazzi on their safaris, aiming for the best shot at him and his family. The question had really driven home his standing as a hunted creature.  Maybe that was fair, maybe that was what his eternal quest to be the best had earned him.  But how fair was it to have his children imprisoned by his fame as well?

Well, pretty soon, he would leave this circus behind.  His new life in Bahrain promised greater freedom.  He had bought a house that allowed access to open grounds, access to the beach.  Once again, he could wander for hours, enjoying the solitude and comfort of his thoughts and the company of his children.  Maybe this new, magical place would suffice to heal the wounds of losing his paradise, his Neverland.  The place of innocence that had been soiled and desecrated by an invasion fueled by hate and blatant disregard for his rights and humanity.  The rising anger was still able to take his breath away, even after all this time. 

They day they had staged their little D-Day Scenario on his land and his house, his new start had been within his grasp.  He had been so painfully close to having a new dream realized.  Filmmaking had become his new grail, his new challenge, and he had forged ahead with plans to finally realize this dream.  Visions of the future were once again welcome; once again he was filled with hope.  Each day had been marked by optimism and faith. 

One More Chance…it had been his signal and his prayer, his hope and his plan.  He would get everything back.  His career, his reputation, maybe even the stubborn little woman who could not manage to stay away from him, despite her dying marriage.  Or maybe her marriage was dying due to her inability to resist the call of his heart, or at least his bed.  How stupid he had been.  Once again, he had flown into the sun, and once again the wax had melted, hurling him into chasms of despair and hopelessness.  This time without a safety net.  It all had ceased to matter: his dream, his vision, his future, even Lisa.  All that remained was the instinctual drive to stay alive for his children by proving his innocence.

Suddenly, he was transported back to reality.  The tugging on his arm provided the life line to return to the safe haven of his mother’s house and to the loving presence of the only people that had sustained him.

“Daddy?”

“I’m sorry, Prince.  Say what?”

“Are you ok?”  Concern reflected back at him from the eyes of his son who at times was too mature for his age and seemed to possess some kind of time defying age-old wisdom.  Oh, parental guilt- it was never ending.  Once again, he felt bad for having ignored his son for a return trip down the hellish road of memory lane.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I was just thinking of some things. So, what did you want?”

“Grandma said we could stay with her. Is it ok?”

At that moment, his mom entered, carrying a sweaty and equally dirty Blanket with her.

“Jeeze, Mother, you need to hose him off. What did you guys do?”

“No, Daddy! No hose! Blanket needs to go swim. ” Blanket informed everyone, staying very serene, his eyes huge.

Michael laughed. “No, you need a bath! If you go swimming now, Grandmother has to call someone over to have the pool cleaned.”

Blanket shook his head emphatically. “Uhum!”

“Michael, I can have the nanny give him a bath.  The children are more than welcome to stay.  Paris also mentioned she wanted to have that movie night with ‘Toya who said she would be over later.”

“That sounds a bit scary.  But, ok, if you are sure and we are not imposing.”

“Don’t be silly.  You can stay, too, if you want.  You know you are always welcome.”

“I know, but I need to make some calls about business stuff, so I can do that in peace from the condo.  If you are sure they are not a burden.”

“Of course they aren’t a burden, Michael, you know they have a home here. So do you: this is your home, son.”

Well that was a reassuring thought. He was glad they had a home somewhere.  The place that should be his home was a dreadful reminder of his loss.  At times he felt like a vagabond. How was he ever again going to establish that sense of comfort and security of having a place called home?

Instead of waiting for the nanny, he helped get the kids ready for bed himself.  Paris finally had come in as well, triumphantly declaring victory over her brothers, causing Prince to protest that she had only won because he had come inside. 

“So?  It doesn’t matter why I won.  I won.  And you lost.  That’s that.  Just admit it: you were beaten.”

“If you win by cheating you don’t win.”

“Daddy, I did not cheat.  Tell him!  He gave up.”

“Paris, I wasn’t there…so how can I do that?”

“'Cause you love me?” She gifted him with a look that could melt the polar icecap.  And a smile that warmed him to the core.

Oh my! This little lady was going to be some kind of dangerous! She really knew how to use her powers.  Weird how she reminded him of someone else whom she was not even related to.

“Just because I did not give birth to them does not mean I can’t love them.  I love them because they are yours.  I love them because we are a family.”

Family.  What a joke.  Another one of Lisa’s cruel lies.  Maybe this one was even worse than the others as it had involved the kids. The last thing Lisa had ever wanted was a family with him.  All she had done was used the concept as bait, holding it out like a carrot to make the silly donkey do her bidding.  What a total idiot he had been. 

Michael helped settle the kids down and also cooked a light dinner for them and his mother, who was visible amazed by his culinary skills.  It was fun to surprise her like that every now and then.  Maybe he should not have stayed away so much. At times it seemed that he and his mother had become almost strangers.  Sure, the bond that always had connected them was as strong as it had ever been, but there were many things about him that she did not know.  Like his newfound joy to cook for the kids or take care of all their needs.  Well, almost all their needs.  He never would be a great fan of doing laundry…

Before Michael drove off, he checked his cellphone.  One missed call. He recognized the number and started to hit the return call button before changing his mind.  What would he say to her?  She had been sweet enough to accompany him and the kids to the airfield, after he had asked her to.  But what should he say to her now?

‘It was nice and all, will you come fly across the country for a roll in my bed before I send you on your way again?’

Really, he admired Julia.  If any woman had acted the way he had with her, she would have been history.  Well, maybe she really was the rare female who was actually able to maintain a friendship with him when stating that intent.  Well, the friendship with Julia included certain benefits, but she seemed to be ok with the arrangement   She had so far made no demands, had no fits, had been incredibly patient and forgiving.  He was sure she at least suspected…well, he did not want to think about that now.  Or ever again.

Driving back to Westwood, his mind lulled into autopilot by the tranquilizing flashing of lights and cars zooming around him, he recalled Julia’s face when he had emerged from the room at Bret’s party.  Right after…after he and Lisa had their head on collision.  Yes, that’s what it was.  An accident waiting to happen once he had put himself into the same room with her.  You don’t combine nitric acid and hydrazine and act surprised when the solution self-ignites.  Well, following her was his very own science experiment.  Minus all safety procedures.  No wonder it blew up in his face.

Such an idiotic mistake! He should have known better than to expose himself to her viral influence.  She was a plague much deadlier than pestilence.  One look and his brain had been put on ice, while his other senses went into reflex mode, completely bypassing any logical circuits.  When your hand touches the hot coal, you are supposed to drop it and pull back.  Instead, when he touched Lisa, all he could do was grab her and hold on tight. 

That night, Michael had actually managed to evade Julia for a bit, making the rounds among his friends, hearing their well wishes and praises without listening to the exact words.  He saw their faces and smiles, their friendly gestures and happy demeanor without being able to encode any of it into his memory.  He was high without any drugs.  Well, without any pharmaceutical drugs.  He had just had a powerful hit of the one substance in this universe he should have stayed away from.

“Mike, are you ok?  I had no idea Lisa was going to be a problem.  I feel like an idiot.  She called me the other day asking for a favor and when we talked I let this party slip.  She told me that you guys were good and that her fiancé was dying to meet you.  I mean…really, I feel like a jackass.” Bret had pulled him to the side, looking miserable and guilty. 

“No, Bret…don’t feel bad.  You know Lisa and me.  We always fu.. fuss.” 

Shit, he almost had made a Freudian slip there. 

“Yeah, well.  I know.  But after she took off, and then you left, I was worried I messed up.”

“Oh, my leaving had nothing to do with Lisa.  Really.  We are fine.  I just had to make a quick call to check in on the kids.”

It was getting really annoying how may lies he had to tell because of her. 

“Michael! There you are.  Are you ok?  I thought you left without me.”

Julia.

Ok, Mike, you can do this.  Act cool.  She has no idea what went on.  Just don’t get flustered.

“Hey, Jewel. I was right here- I have actually been looking for you.  Are you having fun?” He flashed her a winning smile and saw something in her eyes that he could not place. Putting his arm around her, he engaged her in a lovely conversation with Bret about his newest gallery.  She leaned into him, obviously relaxing, so it seemed like everything was ok.  He was not exactly sure why the thought that he must be a pretty smooth player upset him.

Michael stayed about an hour longer, counting the minutes as his headache escalated to torturous levels.  Why in the world was he such a mess?  He had a run in with Lisa and took what she offered.  He had given her a little taste of her own medicine.  Let her experience the bitterness of feeling used and gutted.  She had deserved every word.  And it was not like he had to force himself on her.  She had been more than ready, more than willing, and the word responsive did not do her body any justice.

There could only have been one possible reason for her to wear that damn dress.  He could just imagine her picking out her lingerie, hoping he would get to see it, longing to drive him wild.  And the jewelry… What had she expected?  Did she plan to turn him on, reduce him to a drooling, whimpering fool, then turn and leave with her little pet project?  Well, she obviously had forgotten that while he was many things, being an imbecile was not in his character description. He had always been a master at looking through every one of her twisted little gambits.  Only, this time, while it was crystal clear what she had been doing, he continued to have considerable trouble figuring out what the hell had motivated her move.  Plus, he still did not know what in the world she wanted to talk about in the first place.  Maybe she wanted to share the news of her engagement.  No, she had announced that to a room full of bystanders.  What then?  What could she possibly have to say that she had not already said a thousand times over?

So, while every fine-tooth comb examination of the events resulted in Lisa got what she came here for, he was not able to shake that damn sick feeling inside.  What was it?  Guilt?  Shame? Regret?  What?  Every thought, every deliberation irritated and angered him more.  She was not worth any of those sentiments.  And what irritated him even more was the fact that the only emotion that he could rule out from the devilish triad above was regret.  He told himself he should be sorry he had indulged in another taste of his personal forbidden fruit, but sadly, it had felt too amazing to wish it had never happened. 

A voice drifted through the swirling cacophony of his thoughts.  Crap- Julia had been asking something.  And if he felt any shame or guilt, it should be about having made love to his ex-wife while this wonderful lady was here with him.  This sweet, beautiful, sexy woman had given him nothing but trust and pleasure, and yet he her name had not even lingered at the periphery of his consciousness once he had closed that bedroom door.  True, she was not after a steady relationship, but surely she had also not counted on him dropping his pants during a sordid little interlude into paradise.  No hell...it had been a return- trip to hell.  He had to keep his facts straight. And focus: he had to focus.

“Michael, are you alright?  You are really pale and I’m starting to worry.”

They had been in the car and she had turned to him, regarding him seriously, while he had stared straight ahead, his thoughts running amok.

“I don’t know.  I think maybe being among this big a crowd again was just too much too soon.”

“Yeah…maybe that’s it.”  She continued to search his face for a truth he could not possibly provide.

Aiming to distract her, he leaned in and started to kiss her.  The first kiss felt strange and foreign.  He let his lips meet hers and saw her looking at him still, while he chose to close his eyes against the intrusion. His tongue licked the edges of her lips and she started to open under him.  Before long, she let him engage fully, greeted his tongue, and he heard her sigh under him, sinking back into the seat. Panic started to rise when he realized he felt nothing.  Nothing but fear and disgust at himself.  Dammit! What had Lisa done to him now? 

“Hm…., that was nice.  I thought for a minute…”

His eyes flew open.  Alarm bells went off.

“Thought what?”

A nervous laughter escaped her. “I don’t know, nothing.  I am just being silly. I thought that you had gone after Lisa and that you guys must have had a pretty bad fight.  You seemed really upset, so I thought that you probably just want to be alone tonight.  And, while I totally understand…oh gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying that…I was also sad to have the night end.”

Shit! She didn’t want the night to end. 

“No, that’s just silly.  As you said.  Lisa and I are done.  Have been done.  Nothing she can say will upset me ever again.”

“Well, I just got the impression during you little verbal sparring that there was still a lot of unfinished business.  And passion.”

He coughed. “Passion?  Heck no.  No, no, no….” A nervous laughter probably did nothing to convince her of anything. 

No, there was no passion, when he picked her up, sat her on the dresser, let his fingers explore her.  Whatever he saw reflected in the shards of her aqua colored eyes was not the passion burning in the cauldron of his own soul.  Whatever fueled their moans and screams as he slammed her against the wall, impaled her, and branded her with his aching erection was not remotely related to passion.  Passion…ha!

“Ok, if you say so.” Julia could not have sounded less convinced. 

“So, do you want me to come up tonight, Julia?  I mean, this night does not have to end.”

Terror gripped him and his heart rate escalated as he feared an invitation.  He hoped the half-hearted tone made it clear how he felt without making it necessary to tell her he did not feel like being with her.

Julia cocked her head, then reached out and touched his face.

“You are sweet Michael, and I want nothing more than to spend some more time with you.  But I think you wore me out last night, and I really need to get some work done.  So, if it’s ok with you, you can just drop me off.”

Thank God!

“Can I see you later on during the week?”

“Yeah, sure, just call me.  It would be wonderful to spend some more time- just the two of us.”

The night had ended with a chaste kiss and a hug- very fitting for two friends. 

Later on, as he paced the floor in his bedroom, holding Lisa’s card in his hands, every nerve, every cell battled the urge to call her.  He wanted to call her so badly; wanted to rattle her out of her sleep.  She was probably in bed now.  Probably having let Riff Raff screw her.  Had she at least had the decency to wash him from her body?  Had she seen his face when the other guy had bent over her?  Had she wished for his touch, longed for his kisses, or had she thanked her lucky stars that she could disengage in bland love making after their intense encounter.  His anger was more intense than he had experienced in a long time.  Not since the trial had he felt his insides pulled from him as he had to watch the dismemberment in agony, wishing he could just die.  But no, the sentence was life. 

If he called, would she answer?  If she answered, what would he say? 

I’m sorry…

Was he sorry?  His mind flashed back to her eyes as he met them in the mirror after having escaped to the bathroom.  He saw the flash of pain, of shock.  Did she feel used?  Did she feel discarded like yesterday’s trash?  Well, that’s how he had felt after he had opened himself to her and she had poured acid into his wounds.  So, if it was all fair turnabouts, where was the satisfaction he had expected?  Why could he not laugh and enjoy the pain he knew he had inflicted.  He had seen that one tear.  How come it had fallen onto the marble floor of his heart with the impact of a thousand tons of TNT? 

Maybe he needed to be the bigger person and call.  He needed her to know that he knew he had been out of control.  He needed to be honest at least about that.  Only, if he called now, he ran the risk of her not answering.  Or, the even greater risk of her accepting the call.

So, he had the really, really bright idea of calling her at the Hidden Hills House, knowing she was not home. That ensured she would not pick up. It would not be too hard to track her number down.  Hours later, after doing some detective work, he made the call.  It had taken five hours to work up the nerve to dial and actually stay on the line.  He could barely remember what he had said.  All he knew was that he had felt like a blabbering idiot.  And yet, miraculously, the vice around his heart had loosened, letting him breathe easier.  Good, it was done.  The ties were severed this time.  She had to get the message.  He was free. So was she. He should be relieved.  Part of him was.  That other part stared at the open cage like a zoo animal that was presented the gift of freedom after lifelong captivity.  Should he chose the exhilarating promise of freedom or remain in the restriction of the known safety zone? Was it a fool’s choice altogether?  Maybe there was no such thing as freedom.  Maybe he would forever be shackled to her. Bound by…what exactly?

Later, he made another call.  Instead of looking back, he looked forward. Forget the past and embrace the future: his new motto. He had asked Julia out to dinner.  Thankfully, she accepted, obvioulsy having forgiven his strange behavior at the party.  They had enjoyed a lovely evening and she had invited him to her home.  Watching a movie, holding hands, Michael actually allowed himself to relax and be in the moment for a while.

They kissed, caressed each other through their clothing, touched, and teased.  Things started to heat up, and he proceeded to help her shed the burden of her clothing.  He showered her naked flesh with kisses, enjoying touching and stroking her warm skin, and reveled in her sounds.  Julia became quite the active little collaborator as well, her hands messing with his pants, while she kissed his neck.  Strangely, even though all her attentions felt wonderful, he realized he was not getting as aroused as he had expected.  Well, he had experienced a great amount of stress, so maybe he simply needed to take things slowly and concentrate on her.  He removed her bra and panties, kissing her breasts, playing with her nipples, while letting his hands roam all over her body.  Ok, his reactions started to come online as he reclined her on the couch, starting to lay a road of little kisses down her chest and abdomen, making his way toward the apex of her thighs.

Julia scooted up slightly, and he took one of her legs, letting it dangle off the couch, opening her up to caresses.  He let his fingers touch her, open her, stroke her, and started to put little kisses on her most sensitive area when for some reason he decided to not engage in the intimacy he normally enjoyed.  What the hell was it now?  Not wanting her to catch on, he let his fingers play with her, prepare her more fully, bring her to the brink of an orgasm. He entered her, touching the ribbed spot on the inside, driving her crazy as he continued to rub over her distended clitoris periodically.

“Michael…oh, Gosh, please stop messing with me….”

He looked up at her, grinning evilly. “Oh yeah?  You want me to stop?”

“No! Not all the way. I want you to…”

“What, my little lady, come on tell me what you want.   I wanna hear you say it.” She was normally so prim and proper- he really longed to hear her talk dirty for once.

“Fuck me, Michael…” Her eyes were hot and liquid- a perfect reflection of the area he had just teased.

He kissed his way back up her body, then sat down next to her, pulling her to him, urging her to straddle him once again.  She started to kiss his neck, then traced a path down to his shoulders.

“Oh, Michael, what’s that?  Did you get hurt?” He pulled back and saw her staring at a spot on his shoulder.  Shit, he had forgotten.  Lisa had left quite an obvious bite on him. He flashed back to her teeth on him as she came, screaming against him.  He had been in such a frenzy at the time, he had not even noticed the pain until he had observed himself in the shower after feeling the soreness. 

Leave it to another woman to spot the mark.  And leave it to his body to immediately decide he was not in the mood to screw Julia anymore.  Fucking hell.  Julia had no doubt noticed the downsizing below her, which distracted her from a closer examination of Lisa’s brand.  She looked at him for a second longer, and just when he thought she was going to kick him out, she started kissing him, picking up the challenge to make him rise to the occasion again.  After she got on her knees and engaged his rebellious member in some lip service that surpassed talking, the mutiny was over, and the night came to its logical conclusion. 

Still, Michael hated the feeling that part of him obviously longed for the one woman who had done nothing but abuse him.  Well, he would use the head housing his brain and not let other instincts blindfold him yet again!

So, if all that was true, why had he not returned Julia’s call?  Deep in his thoughts on the drive from Encino back to Westwood, he resolved to stop being such an idiot.  As soon as he entered his condo, he checked his voicemail.  Julia informed him she would come to Los Angeles during the next days and wondered if it was ok to see him.  Of course, it was ok! He was happy to have a chance to meet up again.  As long as she remembered he was on his way out the country.  He needed to keep this nice and casual.

His intercom rang.  The doorman informed him that a package had arrived for him and asked if it was ok to bring it up. Minutes later he opened the door and thanked Dave for his trouble.  They had a little talk about Dave’s arthritis and the recent cooler than normal weather, before the man politely retreated.  Michael found he quite enjoyed those small, yet very human interactions with the select people around him. How refreshing to have at least someone treat him like just another human being and not like some weird, fallen star…some curiosity.  No, instead, he was just someone to confide in about aching bones.  If only he had such a person…

Michael sighed and looked at the package.  It had a business name as a return address and he put it on the table, trying to remember if he had ordered something recently.  At times, fans who knew his address here sent him gifts, but it was unusual to see a company name he did not recall doing business with. 

First thing’s first: he had to call Julia.

“Hey, lady.  I just got your message.  Sorry, I was at my mother’s and had the phone in the car.”

“Oh, no big deal.  I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you, but I have to be in LA for a couple of days, so I thought I’d see if you were available.”

“Yes, definitely.  I’m thrilled you called.  When are you getting in?”

“Tomorrow around 11 am.”

“Are you staying at a hotel?”

Smooth move, Michael, she will never catch on what you have planned.

“No, I’m staying with a friend.  Remember I used to live out there.”

“Ok, wonderful.  So, don’t make dinner plans, ok?  I have to free up my schedule, but I can do it.  I’ll call you during the afternoon and we can finalize plans.  How is that?”

“Sounds really great. As long as you don’t think it’s weird, I called you.”

“Julia, why would I think it’s weird?  I think it’s ok for friends to call each other, isn’t it?”

She paused. “Yeah, of course.  Ok, friend, I talk to you tomorrow.”

Did he say the wrong thing?  Was she starting to become complicated now, too?  Maybe it was something he did to bring this out in women. 

Shaking his head, he grabbed his laptop computer, getting ready to check his personal email.  Before he knew what he was doing, he had launched a Google search on Michael Lockwood.  Well, seemed Lisa’s new man identified as her musical director and guitarist and co-produced her latest album.  Having heard the songs and knowing the lyrics were directed at him to a large extent, he was surprised that her lover boy would produce songs that on the surface scream of anger, but contain so much more.  Songs that mostly seemed to be about her ex-husband, the man she fucked for ten years quite publically.  Well, maybe not all that publically.  The media were never too excited to report about him and Lisa when they could instead scrutinize other aspects of his life or invent plain lies.  Adultery obviously was not cool enough.  Now, if he had screwed his Llama, that might have sold papers…

He closed the window out, looking around, feeling half ashamed that he even had wondered who was warming her bed.  Why did he care?  Was Lisa googling Julia?  Not likely. 

Looking around to distract himself, his eyes landed on the package.  Oh, yeah, he almost had forgotten.  Looking at the address again, it seemed vaguely familiar, but he could not capture the thought before it dissolved into thin air.  He opened it gently, removing the outer paper, realizing it was a canvas. 

Artwork?

When he made it to the actual painting, he held it in his hands, staring at it, and he immediately knew the identity of the sender.  His hands held a canvas containing an aquarelle titled “Sunflowers by Night.”  He had never seen it before, and yet he knew. It depicted three sunflowers swaying against a night sky.  His favorite flowers.  As only a very few select group of people knew.  The flowers Lisa had sent wherever he went to make sure he felt happy. 

”You call them what?”

“Happy Flowers.- Why, what’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing.  You are so corny.  But it’s cute.”

She had leaned in to kiss him.  They had been dating and he stopped at a stand to buy her a sunflower- well had his body guard get out to buy her one. He told her she was his happiness now and that seeing the flowers that he had always associated with happiness would now always remind him of her.  So, when she could not be with him, she always had made sure his hotel rooms greeted him with sunshine and the yellow sea that made him smile as he thought of her. 

What was Lisa up to now?  So much for her getting his message. He saw the note and for a second thought about tearing it up.  Against his better judgment he opened it.

“I saw this a while back and it made me think of you.  Bret helped me to get it, and I was going to give it to you in NYC.  I have so much to tell you, and I know you are so angry at me.  The look in your eyes scared me, and I am not sure why I continue to subject myself to the torture.  But hey, you know me, when do I make sense?  You have never been cruel before, and it tears at me to think I might have had something to do with evoking these demons that now are turning against me and devour both of us in the process.

I was tempted to keep this, to burn it, to forget I ever got it.  But I can’t.  There are things I have to tell you.  They probably won’t make any difference at all, but I can’t worry about that.  I can only worry about the things I can control- and telling you the truth is one of those things.  I know I hurt you.  But I think you got me back.  Michael, I want us to stop this madness. I need us to stop before we are both destroyed.

The Sunflowers at Night.  Happiness at night…or happiness despite the darkness.  Or is it the dark side of happiness? Maybe it’s the happiness that can be there when the night is driven out by the rays of the sun that will eternally rise.  Somewhere. 

I thought I can write what I have to say, but I cannot.  I need to look at you when I do to know I have done everything in my power. 

Some things are forever, Michael.

L.”

Realizing he had held his breath, he took in a deep gulp of air. He stared at the letter, then at the painting, incapable of forming a logical thought.  Pictures flittered through his head as if they were imprinted on tiny specs of confetti: Images of meeting Lisa, their first kiss, their first fight, touching her hand for the first time.  Her eyes after he made love to her.  Her laughter, the rapture in her face when her body closed around him.  Her surprise and delight when he proposed. The lonely, sad face when she watched him in his studio, her tears when she accused him of neglect.  The anger when he pressured her to have a baby; the mocking expression when she dared him to have Debbie do it for him.  The first time she held Prince.  The last time she held Paris.  Lisa playing with Riley and Ben. Their nights at the Ivy.  Her tears during that argument that blew everything to hell.  Lisa with Nic.  Lisa with Lockwood.  Lisa with Danny.  Lisa in a red dress, her eyes turning dark…

Closing his eyes only served to see her eyes in a more vivid blue- like the background of the painting, rendering the yellow of the happy flowers even more pronounced.

He had to get out.  The air around him turned to compact matter and threatened to smash him. 

Escape. 

His eyes darted around and found the escape hatch.  Grabbing his keys, he ran from the images that were forever painted on the walls of his being.

(to be continued)

The Difference is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

©2011 Erika B Michaels. All Rights Reserved. This story is a work of fiction. Any names, places, and other identifying features are used in a fictional manner, for entertainment purposes only, and are in no way representative of actual events. This work may not be reproduced, copied, transmitted, or stored without expressed written permission by Erika B Michaels. All photos and images, mentioned songs or song titles are copyright their creators.