| Behind Closed Doors Chapter VII |
| Well what d�ya know. . . Michael had never seen tiles like that. Not on the ceiling anyway. He stared up in the kind of fascination that can only be achieved by the insomniac. They were really quite attractive, those pretty blue bits of. . . What were tiles made of again? Slate perhaps? Or maybe some kind of cement? It was one in the morning, and Michael, flat on his back, couldn�t sleep. Now, ordinarily, this wouldn�t have been a problem, but Michael tended to consider it a plus if he could stay awake throughout the concert. He was pretty sure the fans appreciated it. He continued to stare at the blue tiles, the most peculiar sensation coming over him, like he was floating or something. . . Just as he was finally drifting off, a high-pitched screeching sound brought him right back again. He turned over and glared at the offending object on his bed-side table. Ring ring Great Ignore it He picked up. He knew he had to. �Hello?� �Hey baby! Miss me yet?� Cayenne, his girlfriend of two months. �Of course I do� Reluctantly, Michael swung his legs over the side of the bed, resigning himself to another night of trying to count how many times in an hour the leaky tap dripped. �You don�t sound like you do� She pouted. They hadn�t even spoken for a minute, and already she was annoying him. He really should cut her loose, he mused, and so the next sentence was lost to him. �Michael, are you even listening?!� �Of course I am baby� �So?� �So what?� �I knew it! You�re not even listening, you don�t even care!� He could hear her voice breaking. He restrained himself. He didn�t want to argue tonight. He didn�t have the strength. �I�m sorry, I am. What did you say?� He coaxed. �Do you love me?� Came the response. �Of course I do� He wasn�t sure why he kept telling her that when they both knew it was a lie, deep down. It just seemed the appropriate thing to do. �Then say it� �What?� �Say it! Say: Cayenne, I love you� Just as he was considering whether it was worth keeping up the pretense, there was a knock at the door. He excused himself to Cayenne as he tried to unlocked it. When the large slab of wood finally swung open, he felt that familiar little stab at his heart. Sara. Of course. He had known it would be, but he was never prepared for the effect she had on him. He could never understand how anyone could possibly ever want to hurt her. It seemed a worse crime than killing a unicorn. She smiled up at him, and the only thing that kept Cayenne alive to him was the incessant jabbering in his ear. He reached out to cup her pale face as he heard his voice tell Cayenne goodbye. �Cay, I�m gonna have to go� Her look of apparent joy immediately turned to dismay. �I�m sorry, I�m interrupting you� She began to back away from him, but he grabbed her and pulled her inside, promising her that she wasn�t. �It wasn�t important, really� �Oh. Okay then� Not wanting to leave, she was more than happy to accept his explanation, even if she didn�t quite believe it. She perched lightly on the side of the bed, looking up at him. �D�you mind if I sleep here tonight? I just can�t deal with Danny right now. He�s just being so. . . I dunno. Difficult�. She realized how lame it sounded, but it was the only way to really describe it. He was constantly looking over her shoulder, finding fault with everything, waiting for a reason to �assert his authority�, as he put it, and she was so tired. She looked up at Michael, who insisted that she could stay for as long as she wanted. ** Someone was screaming. Right next to his ear. It was a loud, piecing, inhuman scream that just wouldn�t leave him alone. Almost instinctively, Michael reached for the phone. He was still half asleep as he stumbled into the bathroom, Cayenne�s voice in his ear, every word she spoke like an explosion inside his all too fragile head. He turned on the tap and let it run for a minute before splashing cold water in his face. �Alright, tell me what�s the matter� His voice was patient, but tired and flat. �What was it?!� She sounded hurt and angry, and Michael could tell she�d been crying. �What was what?� �What was it that was so important you couldn�t even say goodbye properly?!� �Nothing� �So what? I�m worth less than nothing to you?!� �Of course not baby. That wasn�t what I meant� Michael gritted his teeth. �So what did you mean?� �I just meant that it wouldn�t mean anything to you� �So what, I�m stupid?� �Why do you have to analyze everything I say?!� Both were getting more and more aggravated as the fight wore on. �Because you never show you�re true emotions! If you did, I wouldn�t have to guess, would I?! Why can�t you just tell me?� Michael let his head loll back against the bathroom wall. He closed his eyes and thought of the beautiful creature lying in his bed, bathed in moonlight. He thought about how her pale skin almost glowed, and about how her hair shone like a million strands of solid moonshine strewn across the pillow. He thought about how much he wanted to go back in there and wrap himself around her heat and be warm. He suddenly felt a burning resentment toward Cay for keeping him from it. �Alright, fine! It was a friend, okay?� �A friend? Is that guy talk for a hooker?� �She is not a hooker!� �So it�s a she?� �Yes!� �Alright, who? WHO? Oh wait, I know. That wispy little blond, right?! The one you�re always fawning over?!� Suddenly, everything went quiet. Painfully quiet. Michael didn�t say anything, because he didn�t know what to say; Cayenne didn�t say anything, because she knew she had gotten it first time around, and so there was no need. They were quiet for what seemed like an eternity, so long that finally Michael was sure that if he didn�t speak, the silence would surely crush him, and so he said the only thing he could think of: �Yes� �Goodbye Michael� �No, wait, Cay, don�t� He didn�t even know why he was bothering. The phone clicked, and he knew in his heart that it was over. Finished. Finally. Some part, some intellectual part of him told him that it hurt, told him that he was in unbearable pain, but he knew deep down that he wasn�t, not really; He was relieved, and it scared him. He padded over the bedroom carpet as quietly as he possibly could, and crawled back under the covers, and, as he cuddled the soft, warm, pliable body, he wondered how he could ever have lead himself to believe that he could ever love anyone else. |