Abbey Burning Love. Donan Ph.D. Berg
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I had your ability to climb out of life’s valleys so quickly.” Melissa poured glass of iced tea for herself.
“You do. Think positive. For example, Mark.”
Melissa’s dry, ready-to-crack facial skin felt enflamed beneath the flaking. “Please, forget Mark. His nightmare competes with the fire’s terror.”
“Don’t hold the pain in. Agonizing isn’t worth it. Let me tell you it’s a lesson I’ve learned from divorce counseling.” Melissa stood and added cookies to the table. Carol bit into one. “Sugar free, ugh.”
Melissa sneezed into a tissue taken from a hoodie pocket. “Sorry. Think it’s allergies, not a cold. I’ll tell you one time. Then we forever forget.”
Carol glanced toward the refrigerator. “Have wine to kill the cookie taste?” Melissa shook head no. “Okay, what’s the skinny with Mark?”
Melissa’s mind loaded and replayed stored mental videotape. “Let me explain. A shaft of winter’s early light passed through the delicate lacey frost on the apartment windowpane. In Mark’s bedroom the light danced provocatively upon the lampshade while I cursed the dawn to wait. Head hurt. Little strength reserved to push up eyelids. Turned on my side, body scented sheets enveloped me. Remember fluffing the pillow; burying nose in the softness.”
“Where’s Mark?” Carol asked.
“Hold on, I’m getting there. The New Year’s Eve party at Mark’s apartment lasted past two. Hadn’t done that in years. You know I try to protect our family reputation and never be a distraction or gossip scandal topic. Contributors to Wally’s Club have to believe a singular dedication focuses on applying their donations to benefit struggling adults and suffering children. Not prop up a trashy party girl lifestyle. The cancer patient’s smiles matter most of all. All smiles geared to encourage drawing a visitor’s gaze down and away from the patient’s bald scalp badge of chemotherapy.”
“Okay, okay. Again, my question, where’s Mark fit into all this? Don’t disagree you work hard to protect our family and Wally’s Club. I’m concerned about you, not gossip.” Carol buried the bitten cookie with a napkin.
Melissa’s hand pushing front to back across scalp separated blond strands. Its silky feel recovered from the aftereffect of an ill-advised generic shampoo attempt the first night at the hospital and not the ravages of cancer. Triple conditioning applications, the latest one that morning, infused hair strands with new body. “Hold on. I’m getting there. We were in Mark’s bed. He’d run fingers through my hair and cupped chin in his soft hands. He professed and my entire body trembled when he complimented I possessed heavenly qualities God only bestowed on angels.”
“Wow. I’d tremble too,” Carol interrupted, returning bottle to the table.
“Quit it. I’m trying to be serious. I’ll censor the recollection if you want to make editorial comments.”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“Initially hadn’t wanted to stay past ten o’clock, but by then the Chateau St. Michael bottle Mark poured from contained not one more drop. Not that I objected, mind you. Mark switched to whisky, splashed into a bourbon glass straight up. Thought that since I stopped at three glasses of wine and drank black coffee, I’d be able to drive home at eleven. Sarah and Alice paced anxious to leave so I said good night to them and three others. Alone, Mark turned off TV, turned on Barry White CD, and I curled next to him on the sofa.”
“Are we getting to the good part?” Melissa stared. “Sorry.”
“Sort of. Maybe the wine, maybe not. Lips labored to find passion. Kisses always the end. We’d been dating for five and one-half months. You know that was long enough for the staff at Wally’s to consider us a couple.” Carol clasped hands on the table. “To heighten your anticipation let me digress from the sofa to mention Alice’s comments. When out with the girls, Alice would often grab my left hand and ask: ‘Where’s the ring?’ I’d almost convinced myself it would be just a matter of time. Mark, on the sofa in the throes of professing his love for me, reminded me we were no longer teenagers.” Carol twirled bottle in palms. “Nestled together, Mark’s arm caressed shoulders while he spoke softly I’d made a big difference in his life. He said knowing I loved him let him sleep though the night.”
“Sweet.”
“Mark explained he no longer awoke two or three hours before his set alarm hour. He could sleep until a normal morning hour. Early on I hadn’t attributed his inability to sleep or early rising to any particular physical problem, but took comfort in being able to put him at ease and make life better. Finally his kisses and embrace on the sofa stirred a passion within me and obliterated concerns of being a one-night stand.”
“I’m not saying anything, but hold on a moment while I get a second tea.”
“If you’re ready.” Melissa sipped to quench a growing thirst. “Didn’t feel any misgivings in suggesting his bed would be more comfortable than the sofa.” She paused to internally chuckle remembering his fumbling with feminine buttons, hooks, and zipper. She also hadn’t mastered men’s pants with clasps and a button in addition to a zipper. Must have been the alcohol!
Carol stared. “You going to let me in on the funny?”
“No. Censored.” Melissa pursed lips. “You imagine we fumbled with our clothes in Mark’s bedroom. Thought the alcohol caused fingers to temporarily botch the job. Well anyway, Mark traced fingertips on nakedness as I lay on the bed. He began with shoulders, moved downward to breasts, and then to the split of my legs. You excited yet?”
“Yes, but with personal memories. Weird to listen to your little sister.”
“Well, put hands over your ears at any point. Remember my skin tingled but my heart didn’t pound with excitement. Tried to stoke own fires with my hand grasping his manliness. With manipulation I hoped the Play Dough initially felt would rise to become the Rock of Gibraltar. It didn’t.”
“You read that somewhere? You didn’t just make it up, did you?”
“My own. Didn’t see you cover your ears.”
“Why? Need to hear the whole story so I can help.”
“Mark tried to enter me, but no engine spark exploded the passion piston. Gyrated hips and tried to rub closer, all to no avail. Hugs remained, only hugs and soft kisses. Mark declared hugs and kisses satisfied him.”
“Weird.”
“Guess I should still consider myself a virgin?”
“Guess so.” A quizzical look rose in Carol’s eyes. “He do anything else?”
“Not that night. Quickly dressed the next morning glad no mirror hung on the wall to reflect how dreadful I must’ve looked. Wasn’t until tiptoeing toward the hallway door with shoes in hand I realized only I occupied the bedroom. Mark, unshaven, met me in the kitchen. His unwashed face sullen beneath unruly hair; he stated how beauty could be skin deep. I cut him off.”
“Why?”
“He hung his head and I stumbled with words unwilling to accept the culprit had been alcohol or the oblique suggestion his failure rested with me. The more he blamed me, the more upset I became until finally shouting any relationship between us wouldn’t work. ‘Consider it over’ yelled twice. Those were my exact words: consider it over.”
“Then why did he visit you in the hospital with flowers?” Carol drank until a bottle bottom appeared.
“Have no idea. He possesses enough intelligence to understand it ended long ago. Perhaps he’s not as perfect as I thought or the community believes.” Melissa’s forehead touched the kitchen table.
Carol’s hand stretched to touch a shoulder. “Take a sleeping pill; let your body rejuvenate. We’ll forget Mark. We can visit Dad after mass tomorrow.”
*