The Difference- Chapter 13

13

 



The table was perfect.  The hostess a little less so.  She was a certified mess.

It had all not been her idea, but the set-up still looked amazing.  Right setting; wrong actors.  Casting gone wrong. The project was probably doomed as well. Just like everything else she had ever touched.

Shaking her head to disperse the irrational thoughts, Lisa made sure she had the lighter accessible at her place setting to light the candles once the security guard called up that he was on his way.  The poached salmon was waiting in the kitchen, ready to be served.  The salad was tossed.  Dessert was in the fridge.  She had her favorite wine ready.  Rebellious as always, she would still drink red, despite the fish dish.  Then again, she recently was told by a famous chef that it was actually ok to drink red with salmon.  So, maybe this was just another fake act of rebellion.  In the end, despite all her big talk, she usually caved in to tradition and conformed.

Sighing, she thought, that instead of getting ready for the night that would signify the beginning of a new era in her life, she felt more like participating in a ceremony for surrender, getting ready to hand over the white flag.  But no, her mother was right.  She had to get on with life.  So this was not giving in or up; this was getting on.

The thought made her cringe.  She hated to agree with her mother.  Then again, maybe that was just an old gut reaction.  Maybe she was programmed to disagree with her mother in a perpetual effort to punish Priscilla for not having stopped her father’s departure from her life.  Which, as she very well understood was ridiculous.  Her mother had not been responsible for the horrific outcome.  Priscilla had been just another innocent sacrifice to the flesh-eating monsters that drove the industry.  Both her parents had been caught up in something they could not fight.  The rational part of Lisa’s brain knew this, having experienced firsthand how the “machine” could grind you to less than dust.  And the really scary part was that the spin-doctors kept you thinking that you were still a living, breathing person- when all left of you was dry sand, ready to blow all over the place at the lightest breeze. 

Still, there had always been a part that wondered if Mom had just loved Daddy harder, had tried harder, had been there, had kept warning him, could she not have made that difference?   Lisa knew it was unfair.  But maybe, just maybe, blaming her mother had been easier than blaming herself.  And endlessly easier than blaming her father.  Really, had they not all been victims?  But someone had to be responsible for losing her Dad.  So, punishing Priscilla had become her main coping mechanism.

What would you tell me, Daddy?  Would you tell me to hold out and chase a dream, bloodying my head against the unforgiving wall, or would you advise to move on and get what I deserve?

Then again, what do I deserve? 

Either choice carried high chances of misery.

Sending Michael the painting had been the last-ditch effort.  She had been so close to just throwing the damn thing into her fireplace.  She had set it aside, trying to sleep on it, when the damn nightmare had returned with a vengeance, leaving her weak and shaken all over again.  The next day, she had sent the note and the painting to his Westwood condo.  Really, she had no clue where he was staying and she chickened out from calling Katherine or Janet again.  Westwood was a good guess. Knowing Michael, he would return to his hide-out soon enough and then, once again, it was up to him.  She had reached the end of her rope- and was ready to tie the noose. Still, she kept teetering on her chair- not ready to kick it out from under her totally.  Maybe he’d rush in and catch her fall.

If he cared.  Or if he allowed himself to show he cared. How did he manage to stay so disinterested? Was he not the least bit curious what she had to say?  She had not followed his instruction to send a note to Katherine.  She had doubts mere words on paper would do anything to convey the depths of her emotions.  He could throw as many fits as he wanted, but she damn well knew he had felt their connection that night at Trump Towers.  He had lost his most precious commodity: his control.  The realization made her smile.  No wonder he had been pissed.  Nothing irritated him more than losing control.  Yes, he had wanted her, but further analyzing the events, she was sure he had planned to simply exact revenge for hurting her, then walk away. 

She remembered the exact moment he had decided the game to be over- and with crystal clarity she also knew, she had spoiled his perfect little plan.  The mask had slipped.  She knew what she had seen in those obsidian eyes.  Yes, there was lust and passion, anger and hurt.  But there was also something else.  Something he tried his best to hide.  Something she had almost missed in the frenzy of feeling rejected and used.  She still had power- the same power he held over her.  He got to her so deeply, could drive the knife in so profoundly, because his weapon was a mirror image of her own.  Their defenses did not work against each other.  It was like an insane duel with equally balanced, but opposite force fields.  He was the yin to her yang.  The sun to her moon.  The fire to her water.  Only he could destroy her and grant rebirth in the same move.  And she was not ready to give up.

Ever since she had set foot in LA again, her mother kept pressuring her to ‘make things right’ with Lockwood.  Priscilla had acted like Lockwood was some little virgin Lisa had corrupted.  Somehow it seemed to be Lisa’s responsibility to make some sort of honest man out of him.  Lisa started to feel like some poor guy in a twisted Hollywood version of a shotgun wedding.  Only, the role of the angry, avenging father was played by her mother.  It was too weird.  Still, with all her heart, she longed for that perfect family she had dreamed of for so long.  If Michael was going to be an ass and throw her away, she had to be ready to move on.  Good think, though, Priscilla had no clue about how wronged Lockwood really had been.  But then again, had he not decided to stay in the relationship, no matter how ugly things had gotten?

There was a time, when she had nearly destroyed herself in misguided attempts to erase Michael from her life.  How blasphemous she had been to desecrate herself by attempting to carve her heart out of her body and expect to stay standing.  She would have gladly cut out her very core and handed it to him on a platinum platter if it had meant he’d stay.  Forever would she carry the scars of almost having deprived her children of their mother.  She had learned that she could not injure her body and expect the pain to stop.  No, only walking through the fire, facing the demons of hell could lead to lasting delivery from agony.  Going on with her life was harder than ending it slowly, bit by bit- and surviving was the best gift to her family, while also being her ultimate act of contrition.  Plus, it was hard as hell to face every day, knowing the sentence was survival.

Somehow, Priscilla had found out about the whole issue of having declared Lockwood her fiancé.

“Are you engaged?”  The question was hurled at her as they went over some PE business, and caught her by surprise.  Her mother was a master strategist.  Hat off!

“Who said I was?”  And she was a master of evasion.  If you learn to dip and dart quickly, the blade had a higher chance of missing you.

“I have sources.”

“That’s nice.” Lisa had returned her attention to the papers she had been reading.

“I think it is wonderful if it’s true.  If not, I really think you should make it happen.” 

Sighing, Lisa had put down the contract. 

“I really appreciate your blessing, mother. I thought you wanted me to go over these agreements?”

“When did he propose?” 

“He didn’t.”

“Then…I have to say I am confused.”

“You don’t look confused.” Lisa tilted her head.  “Did you get treatments again, mother?  You know, that is poison you have shot into your face and you need to be careful.”

“Lisa, stop it right here.  Why are you so defensive?  I am asking a question, that’s all.”

“Don’t you think I would have told you if I got engaged?”

“Lisa, I remember a time when you did not even tell me you were married.”

As did she.  And it had been one of the smartest decisions in her life. 

“Well, but since you approve of this Michael, you should know you would be the first one to know.”

“Why does it upset you so that I approve of Michael?”

Lisa burst out laughing. This was hilarious. Sick, but hilarious.

“What?” She was sure her mother was irritated now, her tone, if not her face, certainly indicated that.

“I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d hear the words ‘Michael’ and ‘approve’ in the same sentence from your lips.”

More disapproval.  Mom better watch out or she would get new wrinkles…or not. 

“Mom, look, I am sorry.” She tried to collect herself and keep from laughing her ass off some more.  “No engagement yet.  So, whatever you heard was just a rumor.”

“I heard you called him your fiancé- in public.”

Lisa eyed her suspiciously.  What else had her mother heard?  She should work for the CIA- her spy network was truly impressive.

“I also heard you and he had a falling out and things have cooled off.  So, I am a bit surprised- and confused.”

Falling out was a good way to put it.  Lockwood was still a bit miffed about the whole incident in New York.  She really could not blame him.  He even asked her if she would be upset if he screwed someone to get even, and it had not totally shocked her to find out she was not.  She told him to please use protection and he asked if she had.  Touché.  So, she had lied and told him that of course she had. 

She finally had decided to put her mother out of her misery and informed her that while she was not officially engaged, she was considering a step in that direction.  Which was what tonight’s dinner was about.  Danny had picked up the kids earlier, looking around, asking what the occasion was.  She had filled him in that she had some major decisions to make and would have to have a big talk with Lockwood. 

“Are you finally gonna make an honest man out of him?”

Why was everyone so obsessed with Lockwood’s honor?  How honorable was it to stick with a woman who clearly had the hots for her ex?  Well, maybe if the amount of zeroes on the woman’s bank account was right, it was not a question of honor anymore. 

Why so cynical, Lisa? Do you question his motives?  Just because he was a model of civility after he noticed you fucked another man?

“Funny, Danny.  I will let you know.”

“Hey, stop being defensive.  I approve.”

How kind of everyone in her life to approve.  If only she could join the happy fuckers. 

“And that means the world to me.”

“Do the kids know?”

“Nothing to know yet.”

“Ok, well, I hope there is something to know when I bring them home.”

“Well, cool, we can all be one happy family, Danny.” He kissed her cheek, and ignored her acidic sarcasm.

So, here she was.  Waiting for Lockwood to get his ass here before she changed her mind. 

Lisa, you’re doing the right thing.  He is good for you. 

He is not making your blood boil.

He is not making you crazy.

He is not giving you sleepless nights.

He cannot give you the sun, the moon, and the stars with just one smile.

He cannot set you aflame and highjack your soul with one look.

He is not him.

So, yes, you’re definitely doing the right thing.

Nervously, she poured herself a glass of wine.  She did not bother sitting down and instead paced back and forth.   Her reflection caught her eye and drew her closer to the mirror on the sideboard.  She raised the glass to herself and took another sip. Was this how a woman about to propose to a man looked?  Where was the sparkle, where was the excitement?  Well, she had been down this road several times, so maybe her ‘get excited about getting engaged’ switch had gotten stuck from over-use.  This was also technically not the first time she had proposed.  Not really. 

“With this ring you promise to remember whom you love and who you swear to spend the rest of your life with.”

“Is that legally binding?” He looked at the ring she had put on the ring finger of his right hand.

“No, but breaking your promise is punishable by withdrawal of sex…forever…,” she kissed him and he hungrily met her tongue, “…and ever…”

He backed up in horror. “Girl! You drive a hard bargain.  That’s a fate worse than death.”

“Well, good, so keep your promise, buster.”

He approached her lips and lingered just out of reach. “How would you survive without me kissing you?” A barely noticeable butterfly kiss was placed in her lips.

“Without me touching you…” The brush of his fingers against her cheek left a trail of fire. 

“Without me giving it to you just the way you like it..?  His hands had snaked around her; fingers tracing her back, dipping lower as he brought his hips forward, dancing to an internal song, tantalizing her, forcing her to sway against him.

“…Just the way you need it?” 

Her eyes flew up and she stared at herself through the fog of recollections.  Yes, look at those eyes now…  They sparkled, illuminated by the inner fire: the eternal flame had been nourished by the oxygen of just one little memory.  Too bad it was of the wrong son-of-a-bitch.

Lisa’s gaze fell onto the small picture on the sideboard: little Lisa sitting in her Dad’s lap.  She picked it up.  Look at the eyes of the happy little girl: filled by another internal light that was just about to be snuffed out.  If only it did not have to leave.  If only he were here.  She needed him so much.  Had always needed him.  Maybe she would not be such a horrible mess if she did not have to suffer his absence.

Daddy, can’t you just tell me what to do?  I had to give up so much already.  Why do I have to give up on him?  Why can’t he see?  Just send me a sign, any sign…

The ringing cell phone startled her out of her thoughts and she quickly wiped the tear from her cheek.  She was just about to look at the display when the intercom also rang, her security guard buzzing probably signaling Lockwood’s anticipated arrival.  She looked up at the heavens, wondering if her Dad was trying to tell her something.  What was that?  Watch what you ask for?  Well, here was her answer driving up now.  How much clearer could the sign be?

Before lighting the candles, she opened the front door, then returned to the dining room to make sure the stage was set.  Hearing footsteps outside, she called out, “Just come in- I’m in the dining room,” as she fought with the stubborn candle that refused to accept the small flame.

Look, stupid, I don’t like this any more than you do, but if I can do this, could you please cooperate and light already? 

It finally did, just before she burned her fingers, causing her to curse.

“You shouldn’t play with fire.”

Holy shit!

Good thing the damn match had just burned out or she would have dropped it.

That voice.  A deep whisper.  The echo reverberating like a scream in her heart.

She closed her eyes. 

Daddy, when I asked for a sign, I did not really expect this. 

Did not expect him.

Her fingers gripped the chair before her and she felt his approach.  His movement toward her must have stirred the air into action, causing the little hairs on her body to stand up. 

The shiver racing through her and the heaving of her chest seemed to be the only movement her body was capable of. 

“You’ll get burned.”

She felt his breath on her neck.  Calling on some hidden source of strengths, she slowly turned and found herself staring into bright, dark, hypnotic blazes.  Too close.  The moth and the flame.  Little did it matter who was the first, who the latter.  The outcome was inevitable and deadly.

“How…” Her vocal chords were paralyzed like the rest of her.  A thousand questions raced through her mind.  Her language center was not able to make any of them stick.

“The door was open.  I guess you’re expecting company.”

He looked so cool, so collected.  The icy outer layer betrayed by the furnace in his eyes.  Michael wore dark jeans, a casual white button up shirt and a dark jacket.  Casual elegance personified. Candle light danced on his smooth, dark hair.  In another life, she would have reached out and brushed an errant strand out of his forehead.  Fisting her hands, she called on God or whatever power of the universe out there to keep her hands from reaching for her life jacket. She had to remember that he was more destruction than savior. 

Lisa nodded.  “Yeah, this is…,” she attempted to clear her throat, “…not a good time.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Well, I thought I’d repay the favor of your last two surprise entries.”

“Always tit-for-tat, right Michael?”

“Not really; you’re by yourself.” He took in the table and everything on it. Obviously, he was hinting that she had taken up his precious time with what’s-her-name. 

Air, she needed air.  She inhaled deeply and her lungs filled with his scent.  Oh God!  She could not fight this.  Her blood greedily took up his oxygen and brought his essence straight to her heart. 

“Not for long.  You need to leave.” 

“Funny, how you think you can just invite yourself wherever you please, but you can’t even offer me a glass of wine.”

She laughed, still holding on the chair behind her for support.  The house really had to stop swaying in that ocean she was caught up in.  He was the only thing fixed in her universe.  Her focal point.

“Wine?  Is that what you want?”

His eyes returned to her, leaving blisters wherever they touched. 

“You have no idea what I want, Princess.”

Now the flames had entered her body, filling her lungs, her organs, her heart.  Did the air conditioning not work?

“Don’t I?” Her voice was reduced to an atonal whisper.

He stepped closer.

“What do you want, Lisa?”

Your eyes, your lips, your soul.

“I…I want you to…”

His head dipped toward her, her eyes staring at his sensual lips in horror.  Why was he doing this? 

“Yes…?” Now his whisper was barely audible.

“You need to leave, Michael.”

“That’s what you want, Lise?  You want me to leave?  Really?” 

Yes! No! No, for heaven’s sake don’t come closer to my mouth.  I cannot touch you. I will wilt away if you reject me again.  And I will die if you don’t. 

His breath was a mixture of cinnamon and mint.  How did he manage to use all her senses against her?  She felt her nipples rubbing against the inside of her blouse, felt her pulse in her core, felt moisture soak her.  And he still had not touched her with anything but his eyes and the aura of his presence. 

“Michael, please…don’t…”

He tilted his head.

“Don’t what?  Leave?  You just told me to.  Make up your mind.”

He was amazingly skilled at this game.  She had to regroup during some kind of time out to muster an effective defense. Lisa called on the last bit of strengths she could muster, squared her shoulders and dipped away from him, escaping all the way to the other side of the room. 

“Are you done playing yet, Michael?  I’m not your little toy, you know.  What the hell do you want?”  Her voice was deep and strong.  A perfect disguise for the love that would kill her if she let him see it.

Turning slowly, he faced her, leaning against the very chair that had just been her scaffold. 

“You’re something.  You did this! You made me come here.  You!” His voice had been raised in accusation, his eyes flashing at her.  Good, she could handle his anger.  It was so much safer than the velvet net of seduction he had tried to ensnare her in. 

“Really?  ‘Cause I must have missed that. Did I invite you and forget?”

“I don’t know, Lisa.” His hand ran through his perfect hair, rendering it a sexy mess.  “Did you not send me a painting and a damn letter?  After I had specifically asked you to not contact me anymore.”

He obviously had received the present.  Wow- she had not counted on it to bring him straight over.

“Oh, you got it.”

Her eyes focused on the candle behind him.  She really should blow it out.  Bad enough she could not contain the eternal flame inside. 

“Yeah, I did.  Why’d you do it?  Why’d you have to torture me?  Why can’t you just leave me the hell alone?”

“Stop being so damn melodramatic, Michael.  I tried to talk to you.  Several times. You keep hiding.”

“You ambushed me.  You tricked me.  You seduced me… You fucking messed with my head.  It has to stop.”

“I seduced you?  You forced your way into the room I was in and fucked me against a wall.  You took what you wanted and you left me like a cheap whore.”

His head dropped and she could see he was chewing on his bottom lip.  Some things never stopped. 

“Just to be clear.  I took what was offered.  And it was what we both wanted.  I know it was. Don’t forget I know your body, Lise.  I know how you feel..I know your sounds… I know all the secrets you cry out to me without you having to say one single word.”

Lisa also studied the pattern of her area rug.  She swallowed hard.  He was so fucking right.  She had never wanted anything as much as she had Michael that night.  She would have paid any price to have him.  And she had.  She had paid with her heart and her pride.  It had been worth it.  No regrets. 

“Well good, I am so glad you helped yourself.  And yeah, maybe I did want to get your attention.  Maybe I even wanted you.  But I did not want to be treated like that.  So don’t you fucking ever think it’s going to happen like that again.  And I did certainly not fuck with your head.  What the hell are you talking about?  You seemed just fine when I left you there.  Did your date make a fuss for me taking up some of your time?  Were you distracted when you gave it to her next time, Mike?  Is that what this is about?  Could you not get me out of your mind?”

Michael shook his head and his eyes were flashing lightning bolts.  He was so pissed right now.  Good! She must have hit pay dirt with her words.  Michael might know her body like a book, but she knew his heart.  He was not a man to dally with two women.  She knew the passion he had shown her was fueled by the same damaging emotions ravaging and sustaining her.  His head might tell him to move on with fair Julia, but his body, his heart, and his soul still carried her brand. 

“You are so fucking full of yourself.  I left and never looked back.”

Liar! She almost laughed out loud.  He could not even look her in the eyes when spitting out the words. 

“Which explains your phone message.  You know, the one you had to leave on my home phone ‘cause you were too afraid to talk to me in person. But it’s ok, daddy, I feel y’a.”

There take that! Payback for the earlier “Princess” comment. He blanched. 

He took several steps across the room.  His eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?  Who is playing now?”

“I’m not playing.  I’m honest.  I know how you felt.  ‘Cause I was there and felt it, too.  I had to go and ride with someone after being with you.  You want that wine now, Mike, you might need it?”

She turned and poured him a glass, forcing him to take several more steps closer to her.  Turning back, he was within her force field again. Or she within his.  What difference did it make?  Her senses went into overdrive either way.

He reached out and took the glass, letting his fingers brush hers, sending white hot sparks straight into her already overloading reactor.  She pulled back, her battery overcharged.

“I might need it?  Why, Lise, what else do you have in store?”

“What’cha come here for, Mike?  Be honest.”

“Well, would you believe me if I said sex?”

Her eyes flew up at him, and he started to laugh, pointing at her. “Gotcha!” He continued to giggle, then took a sip. Very funny.  Well, she had to admit it was kind of funny- but she could not afford to laugh. He was really something.

“Actually, I would.  You had a taste of what you really want and you want more.” Her eyes issued the challenge she knew he would hate to turn down.  He was such a competitor.

He surprised her by reaching out and tracing her jawline with his finger, leaving a trail of flames. 

“Little Lisa.  So full of herself.  So sweet.  So twisted.”

Yes, she was.  Twisted after years of being bent by him into whatever shape her needed her to be in. 

“That’s your honesty?”

Come on, coward.  Tell me what you really want. And you might just get it. 

His eyes turned from playful to dead serious.

“The truth, Lisa.  I came here for the truth.  Your truth.  Whatever you have to say that will finally let me get away. Why’d you send that painting?  Sunflowers by Night.  Why?  Why now?”

“Are you sure you can handle the truth, Mr. Jackson?” 

Suddenly, she felt like Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men.  Fierce and justified.  Empowered. 

Terrified.

“I can handle whatever you have to say.  Hell, how much worse can it be than what you already said?”

So much worse! Possibly so much more damaging than lying about being indifferent.  She knew he was referring to that conversation and to the comment it all came back to.  The biggest lie of her life.  The lifeboat that had turned out to be a millstone around her neck.  Time to slash the rubber lining of the boat and hope it would let her float to the surface.  Or cause her to drown.  Either way, she would be free. 

She looked up to the ceiling, praying for strength.  Praying to her father to protect her. 

I can do this Daddy.  I’ll make that difference this time. 

“When I said, I was indifferent…You remember that?”

He laughed coldly. “Do I remember that?  Do I remember the day I died?”

Ok, he was not making this easy. 

“Well, I never meant to cause you to die.  I meant to give you life.”

His eyes narrowed and he took another sip.

“Thanks a lot.  I appreciate the gift.  I hear the bulls say that to the matadors after the coup de grace as well.”

“Michael, I lied.”

He stared at her with incomprehension.  Precious time ran through the hourglass of her soul like sand running through her fingers.   

“You lied about…?”

“I thought I was.  I did not mean to lie.  I wanted you to move on.  I wanted you to concentrate on the trial.  I …I have no idea what I meant, but I did not mean that.”

“You did not mean that?”

“No.”

“What did you mean?”

“I…I don’t …I could never…”

“You’re not being very clear, Lisa.”

“I was never indifferent.  All the different things I have felt for you over the years, Michael.  God, how could you ever believe it was that?  How would you?”

Nervousness, anger, despair, hope….the adrenaline whipped all those sensations around inside her heart blending them into a powerful potion. 

“It’s my fault?” His eyes were dark and unreadable. 

“Yes! No! I don’t know.”

“You’re not indifferent.”

“No.” She shook her head.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, turning away from her.  He inhaled, took in the oxygen she also longed for as she felt dizzy and disoriented.  The trip on the high wire was frightening and freeing.  Someone forgot to put up the net. 

Don’t look down now, Lisa, walk on!

“Say something, will y’a?”

He looked up at her again, this time she noticed red specks on his cheeks. 

“You weren’t indifferent.  And when, pray tell, did you discover that?  Or did you just lie to me for fun and knew all along how you fucked me up?”

She attempted to swallow the bitterness he force-fed her, digest the pain the saw in his eyes.

“I swear, I did not mean to hurt you.  I did not know.  I thought..it was…for the...”

“Godammit Lisa, if you say it was for the best, I will forget myself and…”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think.  I never planned to hurt you.  I was confused.  I was …fuck, I don’t know, ok.  All I know now is that it’s not true.”

“So, all of a sudden you discover you are not indifferent.  When I reached out for you like the last life line…when you were the last strong hold I could reach for you stepped on my fingers and let me fall into the pits of hell.  Now, that it’s over, that I’m free, that I have moved on, you discover it was all some …what?  Error in judgment?  How convenient.”  He emptied the glass of wine and held it out to her.

“You sure you need more?”

“Wine? Oh yeah.  Your brand of honesty? – I’m not sure.”

“Michael, you don’t understand.”

“Damn straight, I don’t.  When, Lise?  When did you discover you were wrong?  If not all along then when?”

“I started to have these nightmares.”

“Nightmares?  Oh really?  Were they anything like facing going to jail for something you didn’t do? Something so horrible you could not even imagine anyone doing it.  Did they include being locked up and never seeing your children again?  Did they include having your privacy ripped to shreds in a circus while your family had front row seats?  Where you all alone in a place so dark and horrific where your screams were your only companion? That kind of nightmare, Lisa?” He had taken another step closer.

She could not maintain eye contact. He was right.  Her nightmares were nothing compared to the living torture he had had to endure.  Her worst vision had not come true- not yet, not if she could help it.

The fear of seeing him in that crypt gave her another shot of courage.

“No, Michael, nothing like that.”

“What kind of nightmare did propel you into action, Lisa, and shed light onto your real feelings?  Whatever the fuck that means.  Do you have any real feelings left?  Where did you go?  Where did that honest person go?  Or was she just a lie like your indifference?”  His hand grasped her upper arm, pulling her close.  She had to crane her neck and recoiled at the despair in his eyes.  This was not going as she had imagined.  Once again, her intentions were not enough.

“I dreamt you had died ok?  I dreamt you were dead and you were in that fucking golden casket.  I dreamt I was there and I knew I loved you.  Oh God, I love you so much.  I knew I lost you and I knew I was dead as well.  Oh, God, I thought it was my Dad, but it was you, Michael.  It was your funeral…you were gone…You left me…I lost you…for good…”

She noticed she had started to shake and tears were streaming down her face.  She felt them on her cheeks before she realized she had shed them. Her voice startled her into silence as it had deteriorated to sobs. She did not know how it happened but her hands had become fisted into the sides of his jacket, grabbing on to him, shaking him, trying to force him to understand.

Michael just stared at her.  He was frozen.  Something shifted in his face and she saw him swallow.  Tears now also glazed his eyes as they stood connected by a silken strand of pain and something else that had to be the love that was calling out to him from the very essence of her being.

“Lisa…”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Lisa and Michael both startled and turned their heads toward Lockwood who stood at the entrance to the dining room, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Lisa?  Are you ok?” He started to march over toward Michael. “Get your fucking hands off her, you pervert.”

Lisa stepped in front of Michael without thinking. “Don’t touch him.”

Lockwood stared at her, his mouth gaping open, his face pale.

Lisa felt the heat of Michael’s hand on her shoulder.

“It’s ok, Lisa.  I’m sorry.  Your friend must have been startled by our discussion. I’m sure he was not about to touch me.”

Michael gently pushed her out of the way.

Lisa wiped her tears from her face and tried to figure out what had just happened and how she needed to proceed.  Lockwood.  She had to get him out of here so she could continue to explain to Michael.  She had come this far and she was not backing off.

“Lockwood, look, I’m sorry.  Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Yeah, you can explain to me what the hell is going on?  You invite me over to interrupt some romantic set-up with your ex?  How sick are you?”

“Hey, man, I doubt, this is for me.  Lisa had no idea I was coming over.  This was all set when I got here.” 

Lisa admired how collected and calm Michael appeared to be once again.  The beast had been contained and any minute now the layer of ice would snap into place. 

“Michael, I need to talk to Lockwood for a second.  Could you give us a minute?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to wait in our...I mean your bedroom?  I know the way…”

Lockwood took a step closer to Michael and Lisa reached out to stop the advance.  Michael did not budge and stared at her, ignoring Lockwood.

Well, good, his cocky side was back.  That had to be better than the arctic freeze. 

“How about you wait in the study?  Please?” Her eyes pleaded with Michael.

Don’t leave now.  We are not done.  Give me a chance.

“How about I leave?  I am so done with this three-man-show, Lise.” Lockwood offered and she was tempted to let him leave.  No, he deserved and explanation at least.

“No, you don’t understand…I…I just need to talk to you for a minute.”

Michael interrupted, stepping to the side and toward the entrance hall. “You know what Lisa?  I am truly sorry.  I interrupted your evening long enough.  I appreciate your patience, Michael.  And I’m very sorry to have intruded on what obviously was planned to be a very special evening for you and Lisa.  Lisa and I are done.  She’s all yours.”

“Michael, don’t…please.”  Tears started to rise again. 

Michael raked his hands through his hair.  “No, you know, what?  I can’t do any more of this.  I got more than I can handle.  You said what you had to say.  That’s what you wanted, right?  Tell me the truth.  Well, you did it.  I appreciate your honesty.  A little late.  But still…Thanks…I think.”

“So that’s it?  You’re leaving.  You’re just fucking walking out?”

She almost had forgotten Lockwood was standing on the side lines.  Or maybe it was just that she did not care.

“What did you expect?  You got it off your chest.  It doesn’t make a difference, Lisa.  Not in any way that matters.”

“What does that mean?  How can it not matter?  Did you not hear what I said? If you leave now, don’t expect me to come running after you.”

“I heard you.  But believe it or not, not everything is about you. I gotta get out of here.”

He walked to the door and Lisa stood there, frozen in place.  Lockwood had come up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulder.  She could not believe this.  It was all wrong.  Michael slammed the door shut and the sound tore her heart to shreds. 

Go after him! Don’t let him do this.  Don’t let him just run away.  You still have not tried everything.  You said you would risk it all.  Do it, you little coward.

The sound of Michael’s engine startled her out of her trance.

“Lisa?  Could you please tell me what is going on?  You asked me over and I find you with him? Don’t you at least owe me an explanation?”

Her eyes darted around the hall, spying her cellphone and her keys, grabbing both.

“I gotta go.  Please stay here.  I’ll be back. Please..” Casting him one more pleading look, she raced out the front door.

She saw the car slowly making its way out of the circular path toward the drive way.  Sprinting, she cut through the diameter of the circle, knowing she could make it if she put her heart and soul into it.  Panting, her heart pumping, she closed her eyes and propelled herself into the blinding cone of light.  

(to be continued)

Image:

Jeri Lynn Hoover: Sunflowers by Night

http://www.wearablewatercolor.com/about_the_artist.htm

©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. 

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