Every Rose (21 page)

OK, so maybe I get in my car and head back to Oxford, bury myself in my studies, and forget these past two weeks even happened. I feel a sharp pain that works its way from my heart, into my throat, and comes out in a sharp gasp of air. I squeeze my eyes together and fresh tears roll down my face. Now that I’ve let myself feel again, I don’t think I could ever go back to the way I was, especially where Michael is concerned.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror until I begin to feel dizzy and the face that stares back at me looks like a psychedelic poster. My image twists and curves into odd, deluded shapes. A hysterical laugh bubbles up from me within me and bursts out before I can stop it. I close my eyes for a moment, shake it off, and will myself to go to my room.

I decide that I’ll take a page out of Scarlett’s Handbook for the Seriously Screwed Up Romantic: Tomorrow’s another day. I need to go lie down for a little while and try to clear my mind before deciding anything.

I grab a fresh towel and start towards my room. I hear quiet snores coming from my parent’s room. That was fast, I think. I ease my door closed behind me and rest my head on the door while I grope for the light switch. After several misses, my bedside lamp finally clicks on. Finally…

As soon as I turn around, I hear a light pelting on my window. Is it raining harder again? I pull back my covers and start to peel my shirt over my head. I hear the pelting again a little harder this time.
No way!

Grasping my shirt around my middle, I slowly cross the room to my window. I’m afraid to get my hopes up. I pull my curtain back and sure enough. In a little pool of light, there’s Michael, standing back a little ways with his hands on his hips. He looks…aggravated. I’ll take aggravated.

I throw my window wide. “Hi,” I call out softly, thanking God my room is the farthest from my parents.

“Hey, it took you long enough,” he replies. “Can I come in?”

“Through the window?” He nods his head. “Yes, OK.”

I look down to see how far it is from the ground and see that he has already pushed and stacked empty milk crates under my window. He climbs up; he takes the screen off; and, between the two of us pushing and pulling, he propels himself through my window. He collapses on me, winded from trying to be quiet and falling through my window. We scramble to our knees.

“Why are you here?” I ask in hushed tones. I waste no time. It’s killing me. Is he here to say goodbye? To forgive me? To chastise me?

I try to pull myself and him to our feet; but all of the sudden, I feel myself being jerked into a bone-crushing hug. His hands and lips are everywhere. He rubs my head with his hands. Then, his lips follow suit. My face is showered with little kisses and my arms are warmed under the brisk movement of his hands—up and down, back and forth. This is not the smooth, delicate Michael that I’ve come to expect. He’s rough and demanding and desperate.

It offers something that looks too much like hope. What is this? I have to know. I pull back as much as I am able and ask in my loudest whisper, “Am I forgiven? Are you saying goodbye? I don’t understand, Michael. You just sat there. You said nothing. I waited and waited and you said nothing.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry that I froze.” Kiss. “I’m so sorry that you had that awful experience.” Kiss. “I’m so sorry that you’ll have to carry that with you for all of eternity.” Kiss.

“If I had kicked the Child Molester’s ass the day that I found out about you two, none of this would’ve ever happened.” His whole body tremors with barely contained fury. “I abandoned you. I knew you needed me, needed help. But I let my pride get in the way. You lashed out at me with your words, and I let that rejection get in the way of my taking care of you. I knew better, and I just walked away; and I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself.” He grasps my head with both of his hands and rests his forehead on mine. “Do you understand that? You have your guilt and regret just like me. We both made mistakes, but I will never abandon you again. We can work through them together, though.”

Part of me, starts rejoicing as soon as I hear the words…
you needed me, don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself
. No one uses those words if forgiveness isn’t part of the deal, right? The logical part of my brain rears up and says,
No, no, he hasn’t spoken words of forgiveness to you and those words you must hear to know you have a chance.

“Michael, I was a big girl, making my own decisions. I stayed with him. I allowed him to treat me the way he did and take advantage of me. Then, I let fear control me. Weakness, control me. Your faith is so strong, so steady. How could your faith ever allow you to forgive me?”

He leans back and fixes me with his gaze. “It’s my faith that gives me the Grace to forgive, baby. ‘Verily, I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ That’s what my faith allows me to know. It took me a long time to understand it, but I can help you with that. I don’t hold it against you, though. I only feel anger and sorrow for what you went through.” I’m astonished by his resolve and his words.

“When you told me what you went through, I just…froze. All I could think of was jumping up and going to kill him. Do you understand? I’m trying to change my ways, but every day is a struggle. I’m continuously waging wars against my anger, my impulsiveness, my addictions. I was sitting there, willing myself not to get up and go kill
him
. Then, I was afraid if I moved while I was that angry, you would think all that rage was directed at you, and I didn’t want to scare you. So, I just sat there, talking myself down. When I finally got control over myself, I went inside to talk to you; but you were gone. I was so scared. I got over here as fast as I could. I was ditching my car on the side of the road when I saw you walk onto your porch. I came to your window and waited for you, but you took forever.”

“I was in the bathroom, freaking out,” I tell him. “You really don’t hold this against me?” I ask disbelievingly.

“No, Lorraina, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. These have been the best two weeks of my life, and I fell in love with you when I was only fifteen. Nothing is ever going to change that. You made a mistake, but you’re still a good person—the best.”

“Michael, I need you to understand something, though. I really feel like I did the best thing for the baby when I made my decision. I talked it over with the doctor a lot. She told me of all the awful side effects that the baby could experience because
of my stupidity. I weighed my and his parenting possibilities and found them severely lacking. If I had to go back and make that decision again, I don’t think I would make a different one.”

“I can understand that. I know you, and I know that you wouldn’t have made that decision lightly.”

“And you still forgive me?”

“Yes, of course.”

I exhale a long, pent up breath and brave a small smile. It feels as though I’ve been holding that same breath for almost four years. Was this why he was brought back in to my life? To help me overcome, and come to terms, with my past? “Michael, you have no idea what that means to me.”

He runs his hands up and down my arms. “You must be freezing. I’ve drenched you through and through,” he says.

I grab my towel from the bed and dry us both, stealing a couple of kisses as I do. “Can you stay?”

“Mmm…I want to, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I need you to stay,” I clarify.

“Yes, I’ll stay.” He collapses on the floor a
nd pulls me down with him. I collapse half covering him and half covering the floor. “Ya know, I never understood your draw to him.”

“That’s easy. Classic daddy issues.”

“Really?”

“Michael, I was so messed up from the divorce. Part of me was very happy that my dad gave my mom no other option but to divorce him, but another part of me was devastated because he completely dropped out of our lives. And no
matter how flawed, he was still my dad, and I just wanted him to love me.”

“So, when I met him, I thought here’s someone I can respect and he’ll respect me. He was mature enough that I could see starting my own family with him. I dreamed of being the center of his universe and having that unconditional love. Everything quickly spiraled out of control, though. He cheated on me, mistreated me, stole from me. He was an utter lie.”

I hear him swallow hard and feel him shake his head. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, baby.”

“Me too. But it made me who I am today. I think I’m stronger for it, and I definitely know what I want out of life.”

“What’s that?”

“You,” I tell him simply.

Michael draws us both back up to our knees. I frown at him. I was comfortable. He gives me a knowing look and overwhelms me with his proclamation. “Lorraina, I’ve known and loved you my whole life. The day I first saw you was the day my life began.  I used to write you poem after poem about that, remember?” I nod my head, feeling guilty because that’s exactly why I destroyed everything he gave me. I didn’t get it, and it scared me.

“I began to see the world in a whole different light.” He squints his eyes thoughtfully. “Like before I’d only been trying to survive this world; but when I saw you, I knew there was more for me. I knew that through your love I could make this world a beautiful place for us to be in. I lost sight of that for a while, but I’ve always known that you are the one for me. You’re the reason I turned my life around and fought against my former self. I knew that if I could conquer my demons I could win you for myself.”

“And you did. I’m not going anywhere, Michael. Consider me thoroughly won over.”

“I’ve wanted to make you mine ever since you told me that this is forever. I want to share every single day with you. I want you to bear my name, bear my children.”

I shake my head in disbelief, “Michael, I—”

“Don’t tell me you don’t deserve that. Don’t tell me you don’t deserve to be happy.” He forces my head up and the sincerity in his eyes is my undoing. I’m weeping again. “I told you once you were the most deserving person I know, and I still believe that. I know you made a mistake. But that’s what life is made of, baby—it’s choices and mistakes and wrongs and rights. It doesn’t mean that you’re any less deserving of what our life together will offer you.”

His tone softens, “Yeah, you messed up. You’ll never forget it. You’ll never let yourself forget it. But you will overcome it. You will go on to live a happy, healthy, peaceful life. You’ll be the fiercest mother on the planet because you’ll spend the rest of your life making up for that wrong. You’ll let it shape you until you’re the best at everything. It will drive you to be the best, the most forgiving, the most loving.” His words shake me to my core.

His voice rises again, winding upwards into a strong, steady presence. “Look at what you did for me the other night. You had no reason to trust in me, to love me, to forgive me but you did. That’s who you are.” His finger taps my heart with each syllable. “That’s who your choices made you. You’re more understanding, more willing to accept, more willing to forgive, more willing to love. Look at what we’ve come to mean to each other in this very short time. You would have none of that before. You didn’t understand it. You didn’t get it. It took something awful to wake you up to this, but you’ll never turn your back on that lesson.”

“Michael, I…I don’t know what to say. I want to believe every word you’ve said, but I’m still scared. I’m scared of what forgiving myself will unleash. I’m scared that forgiving myself is what will make me a bad person.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes, willing myself to believe. “I want all of these things with you, though; so I’m willing to try. I know that I’m gambling with my very soul, but I will do that for us.”

“I want you to be my wife.” He shakes my head at my sharp intake of breath. “I know we’ve only been together for a short time, but you’re the only person I’ve ever loved, the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with. Why waste any more time? I’ve been fighting the urge to ask you to marry me since Jason told me that a pretty little blonde was waiting for me to perform.” Another sharp intake of breath.
He knew all along?!
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

My head is cloudy with fear and proclamations and possibilities. Surely, I did not hear him correctly. I realize that my mouth is hanging open in a most unladylike manner. I close it and shake my head a little, trying to clear the fog.

“Is that a ‘no’?” He asks worriedly.

“No! I mean no, it’s not a no. It’s an ‘I can’t believe you just asked me that.’”

He grins his lopsided smile. “So what’s it gonna be then?”

“Yes, of course. Of course, I’ll marry you.” I’m rewarded with a face-splitting smile, the likes I don’t think I’ve ever seen on his beautiful face. I loop my arms around his waist and lean in and place my head on his chest. I can hear his heartbeat thundering under my ear. “I love you so much,” I tell him simply.

He gently brings my face back up until our lips touch ever so lightly. His full, soft lips move over mine, delicate and searching. I hear myself moan with abandon. I deepen the kiss until I urge his lips open and pour my very being into him. The blackness behind my eyelids turns to little blinding stars. It feels as though we share the same soul in this moment. I hope that feeling never relinquishes.