Campbell
My mind is all over the place as I drive home. The only thing I want to do is get home and find a record to lose myself in. It’s the only thing that will help me erase these feelings. I don’t do loss, and Lakin will be a difficult one to get over.
I’ve searched every vinyl album I have and nothing seems to dull the twinge. My thoughts keeping drifting back to him, and what I’ve done. No solution presents itself and I can’t wrap my head around how to make this better.
I’m a fixer. I fix problems for people and avoid personal attachments where I could be the collateral damage. It’s a skill I mastered in the system and yet, somehow, I’ve found myself in the middle of a fire storm that could completely incinerate my heart. Lakin is a flame so tempting, I welcomed the burn. I wanted his permanent mark scarred across my soul, but my fear of what I might have to sacrifice held me back.
I turn off the stereo and lie down in bed. Pulling the blankets over my head, I hope the darkness and sleep will drown out the noise in my head.
It doesn’t help.
I just toss and turn, my thoughts of Lakin, Brooks, and the girls pull me in a million different directions. Growing more and more frustrated, I finally rip the tangled sheets from my body and let the cool evening breeze chill my skin. Seeking some kind of relief, I grip my necklace, my fingertips tracing the metal petals of the flower. I attempt to think of what Sharon might have counseled me to do.
I think about her poem and the words she left me with. I go over in my mind what she wanted for me and the regrets she had. I flip on the bedside light and open my nightstand drawer where her book is safely tucked away. Opening it to the page with her poem for me, I slowly read the words. I repeat the final words for the poem aloud, letting the meaning wash over me.
SHE LIVED UNKNOWN, AND FEW COULD KNOW
WHEN LUCY CEASED TO BE;
BUT SHE IS IN HER GRAVE, AND OH,
THE DIFFERENCE TO ME!
Sharon’s message is loud and clear.
My big ball of fear will only lead to regret. I was her Lucy…I can’t allow Lakin to be mine. I quickly jump out of bed and throw on my jeans and Chucks. I don’t worry about the knotted bun on top of my head or my lack of make-up; I just grab my car keys and rush to the one place I should have never left…Lakin’s arms.
Standing in front of his door, the gusto of the moment is beginning to fade, and now I’m just nervous as hell. What if he’s finished with me? What if he thought it’s over and thinks Brooks is right that he should stay away from me? It all whirls together and muddles the thoughts in my brain, but then I wonder, what if he loves me and is just waiting for me to realize I could love him, too? Before I can talk myself out it, I knock loudly on the door of his downtown loft.
No one answers, so I knock again. Still no answer. I look down at my watch and tap the glass face. Ten is late, but not that late, especially for Lakin. I knock one last time, but when he still doesn’t answer, I turn and head back to the elevator.
My confidence has flattened, my nerve gone. When the metal door opens, my shoulders slouch in defeat and I walk into the elevator. I feel stupid; this was such a bad idea. I want nothing more than to skulk home and crawl into my bed, pretend none of this happened.
Then the doors open, and there he is.
He drops a bag of pastries, the rough landing forcing the plastic lid to pop off and allows a few of the cupcakes to spill across the marble floor. He blinks a few times in disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” he finally asks.
Without a word, I move out of the elevator and bend down to clean up the spill, but he grabs my bicep and halts my movement. “Leave it, Cam. Tell me why you’re here.”
I can tell by the way he says it that he knows why; he just wants to hear me say the words.
“I, uh,” I stammer. “I wanted to talk to you.”
He steps over the bag and pushes me to the back of the elevator and pins my arms above my head. “What did you need to say, Cam?” His voice is raspy and tempting. He’s daring me to bare my soul, and heaven help me, I want to reveal it all.
The doors close behind us.
The only sound is our breathing, tangling and mingling into an intoxicating passion that I no longer want to resist. His body pressed against mine feels like a peace I’ve never known and the sensation is overwhelmingly distracting.
“Tell me, love” he whispers into my neck.
Without hesitation, I give in to his request. “You were right; I’m a liar,” I murmur.
He pulls away, perplexed by my response. He focuses every bit of his attention on my eyes, searching them for an answer. He looks as though he could swallow me whole, taking every bit of my fear, shame, sin, and lack of confidence with each delicious lick. Eluding his advances is no longer an option, nor would I want it to be.
“I want you to show me the truth,” I say with a knowing smile. His understanding snaps into place with a grin before he smashes his lips onto mine. Without contemplating the consequences or the implications of our relationship, we blissfully drown into each other. His mouth and hands bring my body to life, and I attempt to match him with equal vigor.
“Hmm, excuse me, are you finished with the elevator?” I hear a gentleman ask after he clears his throat.
Lakin and I break apart and I stifle a laugh into his shoulder when I notice that not only have the elevator doors opened again on the ground floor of the lobby, but a middle-aged couple were witness to some, or possibly most, of our elevator make-out session.
“Sorry, sir. I thought I had punched the button,” he says as he presses the button for his floor. “Have a lovely evening,” he adds as the doors close.
Immediately we both burst out laughing. “How embarrassing,” I giggle.
“Just a tad,” he laughs. “At least you get to leave and save yourself from any future humiliation. I pass that guy every morning on my way to work.”
The doors once again slide open and we step into the hallway to his apartment. Lakin laces his fingers with mine, kisses my knuckles, and pulls me to his front door. “I’ll gladly accept every ounce of embarrassment if it means I get to kiss you again,” he says before opening the door for me.
I’ve been to his loft several times, but it feels different now. Although we’ve allowed ourselves to dive into a forbidden realm, the tension is no less palpable. I’m unsure of how to proceed. I don’t know how to behave around him or what to say. My insecurities heighten now that there’s something different on the table for us. My hands start to get clammy and I fidget to calm my nerves, which have my stomach doing flip-flops.
Lakin notices my discomfort and pulls me to him. “Relax, it’s just me. It’s the same old us.” He lightly lands a kiss on my temple and I melt into his arms. The anxiety evaporates and all I feel is ease.
I nod and he squeezes my hand once more.
“Now, are you hungry? I was bringing you dinner and cake for your birthday, but it ended up in the trash and all over the lobby floor. Remind me to tip the super a little extra this year for having to clean that frosting mess up,” he says mindlessly as he moves into the kitchen.
He opens the fridge and rattles off a few of the options he has, which isn’t much. Actually, it’s rather pathetic what his fridge and cupboards contain. “I thought you were Mr. Kung Fu? Aren’t you supposed to have a well-stocked kitchen with plenty of protein and carbs for training days or something?” I tease.
“Hey now. You ladies have granny-panty laundry day; I’m allowed to have take-out grocery day,” he defends, pulling a stack of take-out menus from a drawer and throwing them on the granite countertop.