The Sky Grows Grey ~ Chapter 8

I, once again, tried to begin straightening up the mess in the apartment. Isn’t it strange how broken shards of glass are so difficult to get up? No matter how much I swept, I was continually digging miniscule shards of glass from my bare feet. “Oh, I give up! No matter what I do, it’s not going to get any better.” The dark brown textured crevices in the cream and brown cross-patterned tile linoleum protected the glass dust from the bristles of the broom. I knew that I could get on my hands and knees with a wet paper towel to remove the dust by pressing the towel to the floor, but my body was too achy, and I did not relish the thought of getting glass dust embedded in the skin of my knees, as they were two of the only places on my body without some kind of fresh mark. “This will have to do.” I put the broom and dustpan next to the fridge and plopped on the bed.

The sound of the key in the door lock caught me off guard and made me jump, as I’m the type of person that scares fairly easy. I’ve always attributed that fact to me being nervous around most people. My entire life there had been one reason or another to be nervous. I was always in flight or fight mode and did not really know how to relax. Because of my childhood and Daniel, I had such a hard time trusting anyone especially since the day I sought sanctuary in my church, and they called my husband to let him know where he could find me. The doorknob turned, and the door slowly opened. His face was alight with a huge grin, and he kept his right hand behind his body as he stepped into the apartment. Being careful not to turn around, he looked awkward as he moved his lanky body sideways to get around the door and backwards to shut the door behind him. “Hi, baby,” he said in a sweet loving tone.

“Hi. What do you have behind your back?” I asked intrigued. Asking questions was often dangerous because asking him what he was up to could sometimes bring about atrocious consequences. However, his jovial mood, tone, and excited movements helped me to gauge that questioning would be okay this time, and his response would be favorable.

“Something for you,” he answered with a broad smile pulling his lips from his teeth as he presented me with a beautifully arranged vase full of red roses and baby’s breath.

“They’re beautiful,” I exclaimed with tears in my eyes. I instantly melted. This was his way; this is how he did things. After every physical altercation, he brought me a dozen red roses because he knew they were my favorite; and since I had become his wife, I had been showered with roses and other lavish gifts. The roses were a reminder that deep in his heart he truly believed that he didn’t mean to hurt me. He just didn’t know any better, and I had yet failed to forget the day I figured this out.

…We had gone to visit his parents, and my mother-in-law walked into the living room from the kitchen with a swollen bruised eye. I instantly pitied her, but oddly enough, she was beaming. I could not understand why she would be so excited when some heinous act had obviously been committed against her. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the kitchen. “Look what Danny bought for me. Oh, it’s just what I’ve wanted for a very, very long time.”

I looked around and noticed the new refrigerator in the corner of the small kitchen. Velma had wanted a new refrigerator every since I first met her. Every single time we went shopping, she would stop in the appliance section of the store and look over the newest model of side-by-side refrigerators with a ice crushers and filtered water dispensers on the door. She daydreamed about how nice the stainless steel refrigerators would make her kitchen look, and I often had to snap her out of her trance lest we fall too far behind the men, which would never be permitted. Any time that Velma broached the subject of getting a new refrigerator, Senior would tell her, “Dammit woman! You are always asking for stuff. You’ve had that fridge for over twenty years, and it still works fine.”

She tried many different ways to talk Senior into buying a new fridge, and one day, she even brought up that her old fridge wasn’t energy efficient. Velma told him that a new refrigerator would help bring the “enormous electric bill” down, but he continued to tell her that the fridge she had was in excellent working condition.

“Nice,” I said smiling as she crushed some ice for me. I tried to sound excited for her, but I couldn’t help but wonder why Senior had bought the fridge. I asked before I could catch myself, “But why? What made him finally cave?” Immediately, Velma quit crushing the ice and quickly handed me the glass. She acted startled and nervous, and her hands began to shake. Velma put her hand to the bruise without saying a word before she turned her back to me. “Velma,” I asked quietly as I moved closer to her and placed my hand gently on her shoulder. She flinched. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I-I-I’m fine. I’m fine, yeah” she responded in a nervous but cheerful voice.

“Did he…” I began, but she immediately interrupted.

“No-no-no,” she quickly spun around and patted my hand as she looked up into my eyes. “He would never do anything to hurt me. You’ve got the wrong idea. You’ve got it all wrong.” She sounded relieved, but she was still shaking, and I knew that I had gotten it right. I knew this because I recognized all of the signs. I wasn’t the only one being hurt by the man I couldn’t help but love. “I’m just clumsy is all.” That was my excuse, the one that my master had taught to me. Now I knew where he had come up with the excuse. “ Now, he did have such fun teasing me about my clumsiness that when he saw his teasing hurt my feelings, he decided to make it up to me by buying me this new fridge.” Her voice steadied, and she seemed more confident as if she had convinced herself that her husband hadn’t laid a hand on her, and her clumsiness was the true reason for the swollen purple eye.

As she bent down to show me the freezer drawer, her hair fell from around her neck revealing three red bruises that looked like long lines where the skin had been pinched between something. The lines were about the same length of adult fingers, and I didn’t ask her about these marks, because I knew she would lie again. I actually understood why. If it had been me, I would have lied too because telling the truth could only get you hurt worse in circumstances such as these.

I hadn’t noticed that my husband had left the kitchen, but from the other room, I could hear his father and my husband arguing. Walls and closed doors muted their voices, so I couldn’t make out much of what they were saying until my husband’s voice rose. “You promised us Dad! You promised that you wouldn’t hurt her anymore! I should have known better than to leave because I can’t protect her now. Is that why you started back up? Is it because I’m gone and can’t protect her?”

I heard the loud pop of skin hitting skin quickly followed by an echoing thud against the wall that caused the picture frames to rattle against the drywall as they shook. A door slammed, and my husband barged into the kitchen. He had no visible marks on him and I instantly realized he had taken his larger father down with the single blow, not the other way around. Daniel’s body shook, and he quickly but gently grasped his mother’s shoulders. “Mom, are you okay?” A combination of a stunned look and pained expression was drawn upon her aging face. “You know you can stay with us if you need to.” Oh God, not with us, I thought. She doesn’t like me. “If not with us, I can take you to Grandma’s.” I suddenly felt that he must have read my mind. “She is always telling you that you are welcomed back home with her at any time.” His grandmother was a lovely woman with a very kind soul. She had tried to talk me out of marrying her grandson only using ‘He’s too much like his father’ as a reason. I finally understood what she meant, what she was trying to tell me. I had always known there was much more she wasn’t telling me, but I still did not know everything. “It might be good for her too since Grandpa passed away; and she is at home all by herself,” he continued.

“I’m fine. I was just talking to your wife about how clumsy I am. Wasn’t I?” I nodded my head nervously because I hated being drug into anything that might make him angry with me. As I expected, he glared in my direction. “I tripped and fell is all,” she reiterated even more confident than before.

He dropped his arms and cried with a pained expression on his face, “You’re just as ridiculous as he is!” He grasped my hand and jerked me from the kitchen and out the front door.

“Wait! I need to give your mom her glass back,” I gasped.

“She can get it next time they come to visit. Come on,” he said as he shoved me toward the pickup. Daniel unlocked my door, and he crawled into the driver’s seat, waiting impatiently.

“Okay,” I sighed as I got into the truck. I buckled myself in as he backed out of the driveway. He peeled out in front of his parents’ house, and the air smelled of burnt rubber. As I sat next to him in the truck, I wondered why he had gotten so upset at his father. I could not understand why it was so wrong, in his eyes, for his father to hit his mother, but it was okay for him to hit me. His actions baffled me and still confuses me to this day…

I grabbed the roses from him, hugged them to my chest, brushed my nose and cheeks to the soft petals, and inhaled deeply. The odor of the roses intoxicated my senses, as they smelled of sweetness like love and passion. I read the card aloud, “I love you, Dream Girl, and always will. No matter what happens, you will always be in my heart.” My eyes welled with tears, and droplets of tears fell from them onto the petals. I wept, for I knew that I loved him; and no matter how bad things had gotten, my feelings for him would always run deep. Though he never confessed, I knew his family’s secrets; and they were the same as mine. We were kindred souls; and neither of us understood how to truly be in a loving relationship since we had not the opportunity to witness one first hand. I could not speak for him and say that he had an idea how relationships should be, but I had an idea that they were not supposed to be like the relationship we had with one another.

A shimmer aught my attention, and I noticed that wrapped around the vase was a delicate gold rope bracelet, which was the same one he saw me admiring the last time we were at the jewelry store. Deep down, I knew that material possessions did not heal a broken heart or wounded soul. However, the gesture was one that I had grown accustomed to. Instantly I understood that he had been out all of that time thinking of me, or how he could make up for what he had done to me. I felt low and feared that I had deserved monstrous punishment I had received. I suddenly felt that I had been selfish, and I should have thought of his needs before my own. I began to doubt myself and tried to tell myself that it was just sex, the coming together of two people who loved each other tremendously. I fooled myself in believing that he had just wanted to be the one that I needed right at that moment in time, and I had denied him.

Ashamed, I sat the vase down, concentrated on carefully unclasping the bracelet, turned to him with the bracelet clutched tightly in my hand as I threw my arms around Daniel, and kissed him passionately. I had always believed that you could only hate the ones you loved. It takes the same kind of passion to hate as it does love, and in order to hate someone, a person had to have deep feelings for that person as well. Though I vehemently loathed him the night before, I loved him immensely at this very moment. As my desire burned through my veins, the ice that had chilled my heart earlier began to melt away, and I cried, “I love you so much. I am so sorry for last night, and I promise that I will never act in such a manner again. I don’t know what had come over me.”

He smiled as he squeezed my body close to his, looked down into my eyes, and responded, “I love you too. It’s okay as long as it never happens again.”

“It won’t,” I rushed. “I promise that it won’t.”

“Well, I figured that you were pretty hungry, so I bought some dinner for us. I better go out to the car and get it before it gets cold.” He dropped his arms, turned for the door, and rushed outside. A blast of cool air blew into the tiny apartment and shot quite a chill through my body before he closed the door behind him.

I took my place on the edge of the bed next to the low-sitting table in the corner and examined the bracelet more closely. I flipped the golden treasure over in my hands and read the stamp on the clasp, “24k.” My fingers fumbled with the clasp as I tried to place the bracelet on my thin wrist failing several times. Once the bracelet was securely fastened around my wrist, I extended my arm in front of me and twisted my arm back and forth watching the gold catch the light and reflect golden glimmers on the wall; and that is when I noticed her.

My friend, Victoria, had purchased a beautiful porcelain statue of the Greek goddess Aphrodite for my sixteenth birthday. She said, “I wanted you to have this because anything to do with Aphrodite reminds me so much of you. Like her, your heart is so big and full of love that it’s almost too big for your body. I have never known someone who has so much love to give, and you find the good in anyone which is why you do not have an enemy in this world.”

Though I knew of many reasons to disagree with her, the gesture was nice, and the statue came to be my favorite knick-knack in the tiny apartment. She was the only piece I owned which had survived multiple moves and survived every other violent altercation between my keeper and me. Unfortunately, Aphrodite did not survive our most recent battle. She had fallen off of her ornate pedestal embellished with tiny golden vines curling around the faux marble column. Poor Aphrodite had cracked into at least a hundred small pieces. I don’t know why I had not noticed her calamity before this moment. The smile vanished from my battered face as I began to pick up the pieces of the love goddess and tried ascertain as to whether or not she could be put back together. I doubted that I would be able to mend her but thought it would be best if I tried.

The brown ringlets of her luxurious long hair, which rolled gently down her back, were still intact. The pale blue gown no longer flowed gently down her body, for it was now in many jagged pieces. The long arms that reached out for a warm embrace along with the one leg poised in front of her unhidden by the gown with a slightly bent knee and pointed toe were shattered. Also, Aphrodite’s beautiful face was smashed into many tiny splinters, and I chuckled at the thought that she most definitely looked as bad as if not worse than I did. And, I began to cry again, for my heart was truly broken.

As I gathered the pieces to arrange on the small built in desk in the corner diagonally opposite of the room to prepare for Aphrodite’s resurrection, the door opened and the spicy smell of pepper steak wafted through the room. I turned and looked at my master with wet cheeks and red swollen eyes, and a cold gust of wind from the snowstorm outside brushed across my bare legs. I shivered as he looked at the pieces of Aphrodite and said, “I know that was your favorite.” he sat the food on the kitchen counter, and my warden continued, “I didn’t think that things had been all that bad until right before I left to get the steamer for the carpet. That’s when first I noticed her in the corner where she fell and broke.” He pulled something small from his pocket and reached out to hand the item to me. I gently placed the pieces of Aphrodite onto the desk and held my hand open under his. My keeper dropped a small tube of super glue onto my palm as he said; “I bought this for you, or rather, Aphrodite. I hope it helps, and I’m sure you can fix her.” He was certain that I could fix her, but I already knew that might be impossible. Time and time again, things got broken, destroyed, and ruined, and it was left up to me to fix them. Since the night of our wedding, I had been the one he depended on to make each repair; and the more time that went by, the harder it had become for me to be able fix anything.

He turned and started dishing the food from the steaming white cardboard boxes adorned with red pagodas printed on the sides into two dinner plates. I looked at the tube dumbfounded as I realized from his attitude that he had no true regrets or remorse for his barbaric actions. Though it seemed that he initially did, he suddenly seemed as if the little trinket and roses more than made up for my mangled body. Again, confusion filled my mind, and I was at a loss. My conflicted feelings tortured me and burned in my bosom. My chest ached and the backdraft of the fire billowed through my veins with each contraction of my heart. What do I do? What can I do? I thought for sure he had realized this time that he had finally taken things way too far, but he didn’t. How couldn’t he? To him, today was just like any other insignificant day. He whistled a jovial unfamiliar tune as he made up the plates of food.

Oh, I hated him so much, but I loved him too. He was one of the few people who had ever loved me regardless of my past and my upbringing. Once, Daniel even stood up against his father for me. Other than Shane, he was the only person that really understood what I had been through growing up because he went through similar situations. As my feelings scorched every smidge of my being, I felt infinitely small and insignificant. I could not think straight and lacked the strength to devise a plan to save myself, for my emotions had betrayed my mind. All I could think about was how I was going to save and protect him. Why? All I could understand was how much he needed me and how much I needed someone to need me for a change. Why?

I grabbed a wet washcloth and wiped down the short black table in the corner careful to catch the loose remnants of Aphrodite in my hand. I placed the small fragments with the others on the desk and entered the kitchen to rinse the rag out and clean my hands. I grabbed drinks from the fridge, a beer for him and a Dr. Pepper for me, and took them to the small table. He brought the plates over and sat one before me. After he placed his plate upon his side of the table, he reached in his back pocket and pulled out a tapered white candle, grabbed the sterling silver candle stick of his grandmother’s from under his arm, worked the candle into the holder, pulled his orange Bic lighter from his front pocket, and lit the candle smiling all the while. He walked over to the stereo and inserted the slow song mixed CD he made for last Valentine’s Day. The romantic music started so loud that I was startled and jumped. He turned down the volume as he said, “Oops.” My husband, then, shut off the light switch. “Voila,” he stated proudly as he sat in the beanbag next to the table, and I scooted over to my spot on the bed. “A candle-light dinner for two,” he said with an eerie grin on his face.

“It looks good,” I replied as I forced a smile upon my face, and I reached for my fork.

“Uh-uh-uhhh,” he scolded as he swatted my hand, and I put my fork down. “Let’s have a toast first.” He pulled back the tab on my Dr. Pepper and handed it to me. I quickly sipped off the bubbling soda as it rose to the rim of the can. He smacked my hand this time with enough force to bump the can against my lip just hard enough that my tooth cut into the tender flesh. I drew my lip in-between my teeth and sucked the blood from my fresh wound because I knew that bleeding would ruin his facetious mood. He often grew angry with me if he could see that I had been injured by his hand, especially if I had committed an inappropriate act, which warranted disciplinary action. “No sips before the toast,” he scolded with a tight line across his brow. “You know better than that. Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” I tried to keep from shaking as I answered. “I wasn’t thinking. It seems I have been doing a lot of that here lately,” I continued with my best smile on my face. “Sorry,” I chimed sweetly.

“Okay.” The corners of his lips curved upward, and he toasted, “To us and new beginnings, wonderful changes and a happy life.”

Our cans thudded lightly when we tapped them together, and I repeated, “To us.” I lowered my eyes in an attempt to hide my sadness, and I took a sip from my drink, and we began to eat. The pepper steak was usually too hot to eat, but the cold winter air had cooled the rich dark brown sauce down enough to where I could eat it without having to blow on each bite. The meal immediately reminded me of our first date.

…He softly knocked on the door of my father’s upstairs apartment door. Buddy answered the door and yelled, “It’s for you!”

“I’ll be right there,” I called out as I put on the finishing touches of my make-up. I bent over, and I shook my head in an effort to loosen my tight brown ringlets that rolled down my back. I flung my body upright, and ran my fingers through my hair. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I uttered, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” in a bashful tone.

“It’s alright,” he replied and handed me a small bouquet of brightly colored assorted flowers. His hands were as shaky as mine, and I was relieved to see I wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“God! You look awful,” Buddy blurted, “and you stink, too!”

“Hold on to these,” I directed as I handed the flowers back to him. I quickly spun around and playfully slapped Buddy on the arm. “Shut up, Dweeb!” I composed myself, turned back around, took the flowers from his hand, and said, “Sorry! The flowers are beautiful. Thank you. No one has ever given me flowers before.”

“Never?” He asked.

“Never,” I replied.

“I didn’t know what kind you like, so I got the assorted bouquet. I guess it wouldn’t have mattered what kind I gave you, though, since you have never been given flowers.”

I searched in the kitchen cabinets for some sort of container for the flowers. Dad, Buddy, and I had very little furniture and very little of anything since Dad let Mom keep everything when they split up. When she was hospitalized, Dad allowed the landlord to keep everything other than my clothes, books, CDs, iPod, computer, and Aphrodite in lieu of rent. I finally grabbed one of the tall thin jelly jar glasses from the cabinet and filled it with water. I emptied the packet of water softener into the water, mixed it, and placed the stems of the flowers down in the glass. I fondled the soft petals of the ruby red rose in the center of the bouquet and deeply drew in the heavenly scent. “Roses,” I exhaled.

“Excuse me,” he pressed.

“Roses are my favorite flowers.” I turned to look at him. “I love roses and always have. When I was little, my grandmother always smelled of roses. She wore rose scented perfume, powder, and lotion. Also, she had a wonderful green thumb, and her yard was full of rose bushes and some of the most beautiful roses. When she realized I was as fond of roses as she was, she dug up a small rose bush of hers and brought it to me. I dug a hole in front of our porch and buried the roots underneath the earth. Grandma taught me how to take care of the bush so it would not die. Honestly,” I giggled, “she did more of the caring of the bush than I did. I almost killed the little bush. Often, I cut up my small fingers on the thorns trying to remove the buds so I could carry it around with me. I knew how dangerous they could be if I wasn’t careful; but I didn’t care because all I could see was their beauty, and all I could smell was their sweetness.” I paused and sighed, “But, anyway, I have always loved roses.” I looked up and smiled at him as I sat the glass gently down in the center of the table.

“Well, that’s good to know then. You have no vase?” He asked.

“No, but that’s okay, this narrow glass will work fine.” I untied the yellow ribbon that was holding together the plastic of the bouquet together, wrapped it around the glass, and secured it with a tidy little bow.

“Are you ready to go?” He queried as he took my hand.

“Yes,” I replied, and he led me to the door.

“Remember, Dad said he wants you home by midnight,” Buddy hollered after me when I exited the door. Buddy was nervous about being home alone tonight because he had never stayed home alone before. Usually, he stayed at Jeff’s house when Dad pulled an all night shift, but Jeff was out of town for the weekend. This fact almost made it impossible for me to go on the date; but after many pouting glances, pleading looks, and down right begging on my part, Daddy finally decided that I could go.

“Yeah, okay!” I shut the door. Daniel walked me along the walkway, down the stairs, and into the parking lot where his truck was parked. He opened the door of his pick-up for me and drove to Chinese Gardens, the only fancy restaurant in town. “Is this where we are eating?”

“Yes,” I made reservations for a cozy booth right after you said you’d come on the date with me. He grinned slyly.

I gave him an uneasy glance and tried to hide my surprise. “But my Dad only cleared it this morning,” I replied.

“I know, but I always had the option to cancel if need be.” At the time, I took his enthusiasm as a good sign because he had thought of everything.

I was nervous that I wasn’t dressed up enough to eat at a place as fancy as Chinese Gardens. At least, after much deliberation, I had decided to wear my pleated dark grey and blue plaid miniskirt which drifted about an inch above my knee, form fitting plain baby blue t-shirt, dark grey knee-high dress socks with a pale blue satin ribbon laced around the top seam and tied in a dainty bow just below my knees, and my black Maryjanes with a slight heel. The hostess led us to our booth, and I slid into my seat with my back toward the wall. “Wow, this place is nice,” I gasped as I took in the view.

A small rock waterfall trickled in the corner; the walls were wooden with a red stain finish and brightly painted window screens. The tables were also wooden with the same stain finish bordering a brightly colored watercolor all of which was protected by several thick coats of polyurethane. He took in my amusement and asked, “Have you ever been to a Chinese restaurant before?”

“No,” I answered nervously, and a faint blush rose to the surface of my cheeks. “The closest we ever got to going out was the local taco stand, café, or sometimes, when we would come to the city, we would go to el Fenix to eat because Daddy only eats Mexican food or southern dinners. We’ve never had much money to do anything until Daddy bought his business.” This was normally an uncomfortable subject for me, and I often found myself trying to hide the fact that I come from an impoverished background, but somehow I continued. “That’s when we would go to el Fenix; but after the bank foreclosed on his business, we didn’t have the money to eat out again. Since Daddy just finished school, he said that things are going to get better; and he’ll have plenty of money, so we can do things again. I have a feeling, though, that graduation is going to come long before things get financially better.”

The server approached the table and welcomed us before he introduced himself as Bill. Then he asked, “Do I know you?”

I recognized the server and answered, “I’m the new girl in your English class.” I reached to shake his hand, “Pam.”

“Oh, yeah. I thought I’d seen you before.” Bill reached for my hand.

“Ahem,” Daniel interrupted, which I found as rude. However, I just brushed it off as bad blood for some reason I had yet to learn, or it could be that Bill was one of the less desirable people in town as I was often a poor judge of character, and easily fooled.

Bill glared at Daniel, “Oh, hi Dan.” The sarcasm was evident in his force.

“Bill,” Daniel returned with a cocky tone, “I think we are ready for drinks.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Bill answered with a pinched brow. He turned and smiled at me, “What can I get for you to drink?”

“I’ll have a…” I caught myself before I said Dr. Pepper because I figured that a place this fancy wouldn’t have soft drinks, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself on our first date, lest it be our only date, “…iced-tea, unsweet, with extra lemon.”

“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper,” he replied. After hearing his order, I wished I had ordered my Dr. Pepper instead, but I did not want to change my order. Again, I didn’t want to embarrass myself, and I wanted to make a good impression. Bill slinked to the back to retrieve our drinks. “So, since you have never eaten at a Chinese restaurant, is it safe to assume that you have never tried Chinese food?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Would you like for me to order for you?” He asked.

“That would be nice,” I answered. When the waiter returned, he ordered some eggrolls for an appetizer; and I nearly gagged at the thought, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t like eggs. Plus, I was so nervous that I would embarrass myself if I spoke up. He also ordered pepper steak for two with fried rice. I didn’t have any idea what pepper steak was and was excited at the thought of trying something new. The thought of fried rice baffled me as well because I could not imagine how one would go about frying rice. I wondered if they threw rice in the oil and used a screen to remove the rice once it was done. To my embarrassment, what was served to us was not what I expected at all. I was glad that I didn’t voice my opinions or ask any questions.

I was amazed to learn that an eggroll was not like egg salad; and if it had egg in it, the egg must have been brushed on before it was fried or an ingredient in the shell. I watched him carefully and mimicked his movement as he prepared to eat one of the eggrolls. He bit off the end, and grabbed a bottle of dark liquid, “Soy sauce,” he said as he sprinkled some into the center of the steamy eggroll.

I grabbed one of the four treats and bit the end off. I attempted to sprinkle some soy sauce down the middle as he had done and the sauce just poured out of the bottle. I looked at the bottle funny, and he put his eggroll on the small plate in front of him. He laughed as he said, “Here, let me help you. You are not going to want to eat that one because soy sauce is very salty.” He sat it aside, picked up another eggroll, and put it close to my lips. “Bite off the end.” I took a small bite and he held it for me. “Now pick up the bottle of soy sauce and put your finger over one of the holes on the red cap and tilt the other hole over the center.” I did and nothing came out. “Now, gently remove your finger just enough to let a little air in.” I did as he said, and a narrow stream poured into the end of the eggroll. “That should be enough,” he said, and I set down the bottle of the soy sauce. He handed me the eggroll, and I took a small bite.

“Mmm, good,” I said after swallowing the piece. He smiled and finished his eggroll. I finished mine and at the same time we reached for the last one. “You go ahead,” I stated. “I messed up my first one. This one is rightfully yours.” I pushed the plate across the table toward him.
He grabbed the eggroll and replied, “Here, we’ll share. I should have warned you.” He broke the roll in two and handed me half.

“Thanks,” I said as I took the piece from his hand.

“Anything for you,” he remarked dreamily and smiled bashfully. My cheeks burned with a blush. Our meal arrived and we talked on many different topics. When he asked about my mother as he had yet to meet her, I deviated from the subject; and he did not ask again. I learned that he was a sophomore in college and played on the basketball team. He and I had much in common such as our taste of music, the television shows we liked, they types of movies we enjoyed, and our love of swimming.

Every so often, he would get really quiet; and I would catch him staring at me. He didn’t do like most people and turn away when you caught them staring at you. Instead, he would look deep into my eyes, and I would gaze into his. His eyes were a deep blue today; the royal blue color of his polo shirt enhanced the blue tones in his eyes. Those eyes fascinated me, for they were soft and gentle pools of color accentuated by icy blue tones. It was then that I knew I could fall for this guy; it was then that I found myself, for the first time in my life, wanting to be in an actual relationship with anyone.

At the end of our meal, we both reached for the same fortune cookie on the money tray. My fingertips gently brushed the top of his hand, and my body tingled from the sensation of an electric jolt that shot through my fingertips and up my arm. I blushed and looked up at him. I realized he had felt it too, for he had blushed as well. I gently smiled at him, and he held my hand in his.

We left the restaurant, and caught a movie. I can’t even remember what the movie was about because my mind was focused more on the stirring of feelings within my body than on anything happening on the big screen. I had never experienced these kinds of feelings before, and I was nervous of what they meant. I should have known that I was treading in dangerous waters, but I didn’t care. All I could think of was how he made me feel, how good it felt when he touched me or looked into my eyes, and how I felt both nervous and excited to be with him this night. He reached across his body and caressed my arm with his right hand as he pulled my body close to him with his left arm, which was draped over my shoulders.

After he drove me home, he walked me up to the door of the apartment. I unlocked the door and invited him in to “listen to music or something.” He accepted and followed me through the door. I looked into the bedroom and noticed my brother had fallen asleep playing his PS3. I shut off the game system and television, covered him with a blanket, and shut the door. “He’s asleep,” I whispered and turned on the stereo. “Love Song” by The Cure played, and I grabbed his hands. “Come dance with me,” I invited as I placed his hands on my hips. “I love this song. I used to listen to it over and over again when I was little.”

“But, I’m not a good dancer,” he protested.

I pulled myself closer to him and whispered, “You don’t have to be” as I laid my head on his chest.

We slowly swayed with one another to the rhythm of the song. He tightened his hold around my waist and rested his cheek on the top of my head. “I could really fall in love with you, Dream Girl,” he whispered. I just tightened my embrace in response….

The smell of pepper steak and roses filled the air, and I was afraid I would lose control if the night continued the way it was going. I wanted so much to be held in his strong arms and have his rough hands gently caress my body. I wanted to curl up next to him as he told me of how happy he would make me and how he was going to take care of me. I wanted to feel his kisses on my forehead, cheeks, chin, neck, and shoulders, and I wanted to taste those same sweet kisses upon my lips. I glanced over to him pining for the days he treated me as if I were a queen. I wished to go back to where we first started when our love was innocent, precious, fragile, and young. I longed for the gentle embraces and loving gazes. I definitely wanted things to be perfect as they had been before, but I knew things could never go back because I couldn’t change the past. I could only change my future.

...to be continued...