Chapter Thirty-Nine (Sparks)

Previously, on "Memoirs Of A City Girl":
Ch. 38 (Edge Of Desire)
-Brad asked if I slept with Luke when he was here.
-I told him yes, just to get back at him.
-I derived pleasure from watching him squirm in jealousy
as I continued to say Luke's name.
-But he gained the upper hand in the end.
-I ended up screaming Brad's name as my body exploded in ecstasy.
-We made love, but it was all too much.
-Painful memories of his betrayal bombarded me, causing me to 
break down again.
-He stopped to hold me in his arms, saying, 'I'm so sorry..."
-Brad offered to leave so I can figure things out,
 but I told him to say. I needed him.
-He assured me that he's not going anywhere.



Location: 1012 Pomona Promenade
Date: Saturday, 11/5/2011
Time: 9:43 a.m.

This feels like the first time all over again.  Waking up with achy muscles, barely able to roll out of bed as the sunlight absorbs the hazy flashbacks of the night before.  Had it not been for Brad snoring next to me, with the sheet slipping away from his hipbone, displaying the rest of his bare, muscular body without shame---I would have been convinced that it had all been a dream.  The emotional exchange, the confrontation of truth, the futile attempt at denying the cries of our bodies...and injured souls.  Something changed in me last night as I clung to him, breaking down until I ran out of tears.  The man that inflicted searing pain into my heart was the very same man that took some of it away with each tear that fell, with each sob, with each gasp for breath and with each kiss that he planted on my forehead.  We must have sat on the floor holding each other for hours, finding no use for words, only the heat of our skins pressing, our scent mingling, as if we quietly watched the remnants of our connection get resuscitated, piece by piece.  

I can't remember how I ended up in the bedroom.  I must have dozed off in his arms, and he must have inconspicuously carried me upstairs, careful not to wake me up.  Every now and then, I would toss and turn, somewhat alarmed by the presence of a man on my bed, then finding myself pacified by Brad's voice, whispering, "Shhh...it's okay, baby.  It's me.  Go back to sleep." 

As I watch the milk, eggs and flour take on a smooth consistency inside the food processor, I'm overcome by conflicting feelings.  I really don't know how I feel right now after having slept with Brad, after crying in his arms, after pouring my heart out, after finding him sleeping contently on my bed, as if he's been there all along.  I made sure I got up before he did.  Not because I wanted to make breakfast, but because I started to panic.  My protective wall of anger has dissipated and I have never felt more vulnerable.  



Just when I get ready to flip the waffle iron, a pair of strong arms close in on me from behind,  making me gasp in surprise.  Or was that from the electrical charges buzzing from his warm skin as it made contact with mine, waking up my pulse? It's like dejavu all over again.  Just like the first time, when I made mac and cheese for lunch at his apartment.  The way he snuck up behind me, imprisoning me in his arms, kissing my neck and murmuring, "Good morning, sexy."

"Mmm...morning." I reply just as breathlessly, with his mouth on my neck, lightly kissing it, causing my eyelids to feel heavy, until they drop in absolute delirium.  I pray that he doesn't find my mouth because at this point, he could very well have me bent over the stove and my only protest would be "harder, harder".

"Smells good...what are you making?" He asks in his impossibly sexy got-laid-last-night-and-just-woke-up voice, with the ripe mix of deep and velvety.  The kind of voice that just makes me want to climb on top of his morning wood, even when he's still half-asleep in bed, rubbing his eyes.  And for someone who stayed the night, his breath smells surprisingly minty.  He must have found an extra toothbrush in the guest bathroom upstairs.

"Waffles." Speaking of which, I should flip it over before it burns.

"You do make the best waffles." He nuzzles his face against mine while a hand slowly reaches down inside my panties. "But I had something else in mind for breakfast."

"Oh, don't you start with me. I'm sore!" I swallow, slightly pulling away from him, using up all of my self-control to sound convincing, despite this urgent need to feel his tongue between my legs again.  That damn tongue. God help me.  My thighs clamp together to hide the moisture already brewing within, before his fingers discover the truth.

"Mmm...good."

"Did I drive you away?
Well I know what you'll say
You say, 'Oh, sing one we know'
I promise you this
I'll always look out for you
That's what I'll do"



 I catch the gleam in his eyes as I set the plate of waffles in front of him, with the butter melting, joining the river of maple syrup overflowing from crispy square pockets.  The way he's sitting there, shirtless, with his raven hair glistening under the morning sunlight, makes my heart ache unexpectedly.  It's more a nostalgic ache, a longing and sadness for what we used to have.  Being away from him this long made it easier to pretend he didn't exist if I didn't think about him.  Over time, he became more of a memory, someone I used to share a life with, a life that didn't quite work out.  But now that he's in front of me, I can no longer pretend that he's a mere recollection.  In fact, this is what we used to do.  We'd make love, he'd hold me until we fall asleep, I'd wake up to make breakfast, he'd sneak up behind me and we'd talk over waffles or pancakes.

I finally find the courage to look into his pale blue eyes this morning, and he catches me as he takes a bite.  Our faces lock for what seems like eternity, both of our thoughts converging into memories and longings of days when we were in love, when we were happy and when we were each other's world.  Those days seem so long ago.  His sadness---I feel it, I see it. 

"These are just as good as I remember," he says, setting the fork down as a weak smile forms on his lips.  

"I know it's your favorite." I return his smile, wishing I hadn't said that.  Now my lips are trembling as I try to hold back the tears from forming.

He slowly eases back into his chair, eyes glistening like soft waves of a summer pool and mutters, "You remember." 

"Of course I do..." With one slow blink, tears roll down my cheeks.  It hurts to remember this, but it hurts even more to know that it matters in some way.  Why does it matter that I remember? Somehow, it does, even in ways that I can't understand.

Silence.

"How could I throw it all away?" His voice finally cuts through the stillness of the damp morning air as he slowly shakes his head, directly addressing me as if I have the answers.  As if I have the power to change the past. "How could I be so stupid?"

"Brad..." I swallow, my throat feeling dry as his name passes through it.

"I had all this...and I didn't even know it.  I didn't even appreciate it."

"It's all in the past.  Let's just try to put it behind us."

"Sorry."

"It's okay."



His phone rings, breaking our eye contact---as well as the thick fog of energy circling around the sunroom---perhaps an emotional residue from what could have been.  I can read his lips say "excuse me" as he pulls out his phone to check the caller I.D., then getting up to answer the call.  For a moment, I wonder who's calling him.  It could be work related, but I can't help but wonder if it isn't, especially now that he's single.  Is it another woman? What does she want? Then I catch myself.  Why do I even care? But in the back of my mind, there's no denying it. I do care.  Maybe it's because we had sex.  Maybe because he's here now, and my feelings are resurfacing.  Or maybe I just...want him to myself.  The way he's standing there talking on the phone, in his boxer briefs, rubbing his glorious abs, I can't help but feel...territorial.  To make sure he doesn't pick up on it, I avoid looking in his direction as I occupy myself with waffles.

"Sorry about that," he says as he places his cellphone on the table. "That was Dr. Benson." 

"Ahh, Dr. Benson." I reply calmly as I take another bite.  I can feel air escape my lungs in secret relief, knowing it's actually work-related. "How is he?"

"He's doing well. I have a meeting with him and Dr. Chan at 12.  He wanted to know if I got in okay yesterday."

"Oh, that's nice of him." Suddenly feeling sheepish, I flash him a warm smile.

"He's a stand-up guy." His eyes briefly meet mine before they return to his half-eaten waffles, which are probably getting cold. "You'll like him."



I had gotten so wrapped up in Brad's unexpected presence that I forgot he's in town for work.  Had it not been for Dr. Benson's phone call, I would have wanted him to stay longer, even if it's just...relaxing in the house, going for a walk or showing him around downtown Appaloosa.  At the same time, he could be leaving tomorrow.  He may have just stopped by here to straighten everything out.  Then I will be alone again, forced to deal with the silence and emptiness of my own home. As I get up from my chair to reach for my plate, I look at him and say, "Well, I won't keep you if you have a meeting." He seems surprised, looking around the sunroom for a moment before grabbing his own plate.  Then I catch him glancing at the plate full of uneaten waffles, almost in disappointment, as if he had big plans for them.  As a consolation prize and a way to override his silence, I offer, "You can take the rest of the waffles if you want."

Unmoving, with his plate in his hand, he playfully asks, "Are you trying to get rid of me?" But there's no denying the traces of rejection on his face, as if I'm pushing him to leave.  That wasn't really my intent.  In fact, I want him to stay.  But I have to protect myself first and not get too attached to his presence, knowing he's leaving.  And I honestly don't even know where we stand with each other. 

"No...but I know you still need to change." I chuckle as I walk in his direction to grab the plate that's dangerously slipping away from his grasp. "Here, let me get that."

"You know what?" Searching my eyes in some secret epiphany, he takes the stack of plates from my hand and sets it on the table.  Taking another step, he gently cups my face and gives me this look that just melts my insides, like I'm some beautiful creature.

"What?" I ask, struggling to find my own breath, which seems stuck in my throat. 

"Why don't you come with me? I can introduce you to Dr. Benson and Dr. Chan.  Have a tour of the hospital and see if it will be a good fit."

"I don't want to intrude on your meeting." My stomach ties up in knots.  Not only does he want to take me, but he wants to introduce me to my potential employers.  

"You're not. I know they'll be excited to meet you."

"Okay...yeah." I take a deep breath, nodding, feeling even more lost in his pale blue eyes. "I'll go."

"My clothes are at the house.  Do you mind if I go home to take a shower and change, then pick you up in an hour?"

"Not at all."

"Okay baby, I'll be back." He leans down to kiss me gently on the lips, whispering, "I love you."

"My heart is yours
It's you that I hold on to
That's what I do
And I know I was wrong
I won't let you down"



Location: Wolfson's Hospital And Research Facility
Time: 12:05 p.m.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, Dr. Benson and Dr. Chan were waiting for us in the conference room.  I was very nervous.  Despite Brad's constant reassurance in the car, I still could not shake my anxiety.  Even though I was already offered the position for residency, this meeting could be the deciding factor in which career I would pursue: medicine or teaching.  After taking in the neutral colors of the walls, I discreetly study Dr. Benson as he converses with Brad like long lost friends.  He appears to be in his late 50's, maybe early 60's (judging from his silver hair), with kind, muddy brown eyes and a gentle disposition.  

"Brad, we have an update on that research you started a year ago." Dr. Benson says after our formal introductions. 

"What did you find, George?" Brad turns to his older colleague in serious interest.

"So far, we have followed 568 patients from Appaloosa and Bridgeport who've had a history of alcoholism or substance abuse.  In the last six months alone, 28 had a major depressive episode and 80 had at least one parent who drank enough to cause problems in the family." 

"Wow...80.  That's a lot."

"You know what the scary part is?"

"What?"

"These 80 respondents were minors at the time and lived at home with that alcoholic parent."

"So what's the bottom line?"

"Basically, individuals whose parents were addicted to drugs or alcohol are more likely to develop adult depression than their peers who don't have that history."

"I see.  Did they quantify that?"

"Yes.  A 69% likelihood."

"Jesus Christ..."



"I know this hits close to home for you," Dr. Benson gives Brad a sympathetic smile.  What does he mean by "hits close to home"? My mind wanders, even more curious at Brad's ties to this hospital, and in his interest in alcoholism and substance abuse. I continue to sit there quietly, knowing my place, and holding off on my questions until a more appropriate time. Dr. Benson continues, "But your involvement in this research has raised awareness in the community. In fact, we are expecting twice the number of attendance in this seminar than the last."

"I'm glad to hear that." Brad says softly, but his voice is tinged with an emotion I can't quite describe.  It's somewhere between hope and pain.

"I'm proud of you, son.  Don't give up on your father.  He will get the help he needs."

"Thank you. I hope so."

"Dr. Santori, we would love to have you at the seminar." The dark-haired woman in glasses, who happens to be Dr. Chan, smiles in my direction. She appears to be in her mid to late 40's, and easily looks like she could be related to my mom.  Now that I think about it, I have never met any of my relatives from my mom's side.  It makes me sad.

"When is it? And you can call me Lyn." I return her smile, already feeling comfortable in her presence.

"We haven't set the date yet, since it was last minute.  But I'm assuming that you already know about Brad's two week visit."

"Oh," I mutter, briefly glancing in Brad's direction.  Our eyes meet, making me forget there are other people in the room.  Two weeks.  He's going to be here for two weeks.  I can feel heat rush to my cheekbones. "I wasn't informed." 

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you," he explains, trying but unsuccessfully to avoid my gaze, "the seminar is usually a three-day event, so it might be at the end of the week."

"Okay, just let me know when." I literally have to force myself to look away.  These are Brad's colleagues, and I wouldn't want them to think there's something going on between us. I have to stay professional. "I'll be there."

"So Lyn, I hope this meeting will help with your decision," Dr. Benson's voice brings my attention back to the other purpose of the meeting. "As I told you over the phone, we'd love to have you on board. And now that you're here, we can see why Brad thinks highly of you."

"Yes it has, Dr. Benson.  I will give you my decision on Monday."



After a quick tour of the hospital, we say goodbye to Dr. Benson and Dr. Chan.  It was refreshing to meet such wonderful people who clearly have a lot of respect for this raven-haired person in the driver's seat. It's even safe to say that Dr. Benson cares about Brad, in a fatherly way.  It's a side of him I've never seen before, a human side, and I'm even more curious to find out what else is hiding beneath his cool exterior.  And as I study the impressive interior of his new sports car, I can't help but wonder how many women he attracts, on top of his good looks and charming ways.  

"Are you okay?" He asks as he looks in my direction, passing a yellow light. "You've been kind of quiet since we left the hospital."

"Yeah...just taking it all in," I smile at him as I try to mask my own emotions. "Thanks for introducing me to Dr. Benson and Dr. Chan."

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm glad you came."

Silence.

Looking straight ahead at the road, he sighs and says, "I can take you back home if you have other plans right now."

"No, I don't have any plans," I reply softly.  

As we approach a red light, he slows down until the car stops.  This time with a serious look on his face, he asks, "Do you think we can spend some time today?" 

Before I can even think, I whisper, "Yes...I'd like that." 

"I want to take you to one of my favorite places in Appaloosa."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now."

"Where?

"It's a surprise."

"And I saw sparks
Yeah I saw sparks
And I saw sparks
Yeah I saw sparks"

*Copyright 2013 Lyn C.S.* ----------------------------

"Sparks" by Coldplay
Video by: Hazmat481