And he lay back, staring at the stars in the sky. Beside him was a vision of loneliness, his current state of being. That was all that was left, the vision of loneliness and his current state of being. Everything else was gone; stripped from his present and all he could do was watch it go with a sway of perfectly sculpted hips and a light whisper of a softly accented 'I'm sorry.' God, did those words have any meaning anymore?

He met her at a show down in Rio a few years back. She wasn't a fan, but her best friend was and she was dragged to it. After so many times of listening to the album over the phone and being dragged to the concerts and appearances, she began to know every aspect of the music and the band. After a while she bought the album for herself, but still refused to tell anybody that she had it.

After Rio she followed him back to the states, just for a little while so they could be together. She didn't speak a lot of English, but she knew enough to get around. He didn't know much Spanish, no�wait, she was Portuguese. But she spoke Spanish as well as her native language and he knew a little bit of it, so they communicated as well as they could. Every once in a while they'd be at a loss for words and have to drag down someone who spoke both Portuguese and English to translate, which was a big hassle, especially when they were making love. They made love like no other; the feeling in it more than he'd experienced with the empty teenies of his past that he so wished to forget.

The relationship was shunned, at first. He had so many fans in America; why did he have to go to Rio de Janeiro to find someone he chose to date? They couldn't even communicate well and even if he had time off, he couldn't run to Brazil to see her. Long distance relationships sucked�more so if one of the people was on the road with little or no contact anyway�but they sucked even more in different countries.

He'd thought of getting married. He knew she thought of it too, but it was too hard to do. He couldn't leave the States and his career but she didn't want to leave Brazil. They'd talked about it, which spawned the fight. They were yelling at each other in words the other didn't understand, until he said "Maybe we should just break up." She understood that completely, and with a huff, she agreed and ran off. She found the first flight back to Rio and now he was left alone to think about what he said.

Why did I have to be so stupid and suggest that? The thought of her was sending him on the brink of tears. He knew he'd have to call her and at least leave a message on her answering machine. She wouldn't be home until much later; she just left two hours ago and the flight to Rio was much longer than that. She probably hadn't even left the country yet, knowing flights the way he did. Maybe he could find a way to apologize to her, get her back here and forget the fight ever happened.

As he watched the stars, a tear rolled down his face. There was really no use to call her. The break-up was inevitable. He couldn't leave his career, which was based here in the United States, and she refused to leave her family in Brazil. He could understand that; she was very close to her family. He was really close to her family too, much closer than to his own. When they heard about this her father and her three older brothers would be on the first flight over here to beat his ass. He knew it.

He knew he had to call her. He loved her. He knew without a shadow of a doubt in his heart that he could spend the rest of his life with her, but things were so messed up right now. Everything was always so messed up lately. The career was getting out of hand, all of a sudden a big business boom sprung up out of nowhere and albums were flying off the shelf faster than they could stick them up there. His family and him were out of sorts over her, and now he was out of sorts with her. He didn't know how he was going to fix this. Well, the only way was to try a phone call.

He took out his cell phone. The charges to her home in Brazil on his cell phone were monumental, but speaking to her was worth the hundreds of dollars in phone bills. She was number one on his speed dial, as she always had been. He sighed and put the phone to his ear. It rang a few times before her sweet voice came on the answering machine.

"Maria, it's me. Listen to me. Please. You're either on the plane or in the airport right now, but I have to say I'm sorry. I am. I don't know if you'll accept that or not, but I didn't mean what I said. I love you. I love you more than anything. If giving up my career and moving to Rio to live with you three doors down from your family is what I have to do for us to get married, then I'll do it. I know you don't want to leave home, and I understand that. It's perfectly fine for me. I was just being�" The phone cut off. He made a face and dialed again. After it rang and the answering machine came on again, he began to speak again. "I got cut off, sorry. I was just being mad and stupid and I never wanted to upset you. You're just everything to me and I couldn't live without you. I don't know; call me back or come back or do something, please. I can't take this and it's only been two hours. I just�I need to talk to you. I hate talking to your machine, but it's the only way to contact you right now. I love you so much. Just talk to me again. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and sighed again, knowing that message wouldn't get him anywhere. She wasn't one to check her messages and she probably didn't understand half of what he said. Maybe she'd sense the worry and despair in his voice and call him back. Maybe�

As he waited for a slim chance, he embraced the vision of loneliness next to him. It felt good to hold.

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