Authors: EJ Valson,Michelle Read
CHAPTER 76
I call in sick to work on Thursday. I can barely muster up the energy to get dressed, talk to anyone or eat for that matter. My stomach is in knots from the realization that I’m forced to do something that scares the hell out of me. If this doesn’t work, not only will I risk losing Stella, but Olivia will risk losing me. If I don’t take this potion and hope for the best, I risk Stella for certain -- and my life with Michael. I feel like I’m being torn in two, right down the middle, and the pain is unbearable. I decide that lying in bed and making a mental pros and cons list is a good idea. But as I get started, I can’t think of enough pros and my mind instead fills with thoughts of doom.
I close my eyes and try to breathe evenly. Images of my life with Michael fill my head. Memories of our life seep in to fill the cracks in my increasingly fragile mind. I can clearly see the moment that I found out I was pregnant with Stella. I see the moment we went for the sonogram and saw her 3D image on the screen. How we decided on her name. Her first birthday, first Christmas, and first swimming lessons with Michael. Her sweet round face, rosy cheeks, big blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. When I open my eyes, tears spill out of them and fall from the floodgates of my emotions.
I think about Olivia growing up. I remember all of the trips we took, and all of her “firsts”. First dance, first day of school, first training bra. Consoling her over fights with friends or boys that didn’t like her back when she liked them. Taking her to school and singing along with the radio together. Slowly becoming her friend, while still maintaining ground as her mother.
I imagine her getting older and not having me in her life. What if I miss her sixteenth birthday, her graduation, her wedding? What will she go through by having a shell of a mother? These thoughts overwhelm me all at once while snippets of my life with Michael, Stella and Olivia race through my mind at the same time.
A mother will have to make so many choices in her life. Choices that may never feel fair, but she will have to make them nevertheless. I decide that I have to take the risk. I have to try to get back to them. It’s possible that it may not work, and I may turn into a vegetable of sorts, but Olivia will still have Joe. He has proven time and again to be a good father. He loves her and I know that he will always take care of her.
Trying to recreate my life with Michael is too risky. If we deviate from the path we took before, we might never make a life together. Or if we do and we
still
don’t have Stella, I would never forgive myself. I would forever feel like I sacrificed her by not taking a chance. I would be lifeless inside regardless.
C
HAPTER 77
The weeks have flown by since John’s return. In that time, Astrid, John and I have come up with a plan to prepare for my “procedure,” as we are calling it. John will make sure that all of the ingredients are in place, Astrid will continue to meditate and field her intuitive skills so we are on the right path, and
I
will enjoy every minute that I have left in this life. Which I am continuously reminding myself to do while on a plane bound for England.
After making my decision to go through with this process I have decided to let go and live like these might be my last days on earth. I have been spending as much time with Olivia as I can. Taking her out to ice cream, the movies, buying her whatever toy she wants and letting her sleep with me every night. Of course, I worry I’m spoiling her, but I have no assurance I will get to do these things with her again, so I figure what is there to lose?
I spend more time with my parents as well. I make sure to have dinner or lunch with them several times each week, giving them extra hugs every time we part. Michael and I still talk frequently, but my focus has been on my family. I will get my chance with him soon.
Joe has been preoccupied with his personal life as well. Olivia made it known to me that he often talks on the phone to someone after he picks her up from school. She says he smiles a lot during those conversations. I’m still curious as to who the mystery girl is, but since he hasn’t let Olivia meet this person I can’t even get the details from her.
I quickly try to pull myself together as we prepare to land at Birmingham Airport. Before the seatbelt sign turns on, I grab my makeup bag and toothbrush and freshen up in the tiny airplane bathroom. I can’t wait to see Michael. Oddly enough, I feel nervous about his reaction when he sees me again. Even if Michael and I have spent almost a decade together and had many “first time” moments in our other life, I feel like I’m reliving everything as if it is the first time again.
Seeing a younger version of him always puts my current reality into perspective and tends to throw me back into those moments. The awkward encounters of meeting each other after being absent so long. Determining what type of affection is appropriate. What feelings are safe to express.
But in the end, it’s another chance for us to fall in love. And I get a reminder of all of the reasons why I fell for him the first time around. I now see so many of the qualities I had forgotten or overlooked while trying to coordinate our daily lives. It’s a chance for us to be free again and get back to the core of who we are together. I will forever be grateful for this epiphany.
When I get back to my seat, Stacy mentions that I look too good for flying when she wakes up from her four hour nap, hair a mess, mouth dry and mascara flakes gracing the skin below her eyes. I just shrug and smile while I sit straight up in my seat, waiting for the plane to touch down.
After landing, I see Steve standing in the gate area while Stacy and I deboard. I’m all smiles and in a hurry to get through Customs and to Baggage Claim so we can meet Michael by the rental car station. Coincidentally, his plane was set to arrive thirty minutes before ours, so it works out perfectly.
We get in the Customs line and I do my best to remain calm and not look nervous. I’m giddy with the anticipation of seeing Michael and I can’t decide the best manner in which to greet him. We aren’t officially a couple, but we
are
more than friends. From what I remember at this time in his life, he isn’t big into public displays of affection. It’s not something that is common in his culture, though I know that later he is much different and couldn’t care less. That change is something I personally take credit for.
Within forty five minutes we are out of Customs and into the Baggage Claim area. I follow Steve, who knows his way to where we are heading. He is so tall that people tend to move aside and make way for him. He starts to slow down as he approaches someone near a baggage carousel.
“Hey, man! How’s it goin’?” he says to someone I cannot see, while extending his hand for a shake. I look around him to try to see who he is talking too. As I peek my head around I see it is Michael. My heart instantly begins to flutter, and I get hot in my face. What is happening to me? I shouldn’t have this “school girl” reaction over my own future husband.
Michael glances to his right and sees me behind Steve. His smile gets wider and he extends his right arm out for a side hug. I can tell he is trying to keep it casual for Steve’s sake. He wants to remain professional.
I look back to see Stacy approaching us with her rolling suitcase. She gets right to efficiently claiming luggage and quickly finds our bags on the belt.
“OK, I think we are all set!” she exclaims, as she counts our bags.
An hour later we finally make it onto the freeway, after getting the rental car. Michael is sitting up front with Steve while Stacy and I sit in the back. She can’t bear to watch Steve drive because he is making her nervous, but I’m giggling with amusement as he guns it through roundabouts and maneuvers while driving on the opposite side of the road, on the opposite side of the car.
We pull up to our hotel after the short car ride.
I’m smiling, as I remember how shabby this hotel is. No matter how many times they claim they have remodeled, there is always a broken toilet seat or leaking faucet that makes the stay that much more amusing.
Stacy and I head to our double room, which consists of two twin-sized beds, a box television and a pants press. Michael is down the hall, and happens to get a nice king-sized bed, as does Steve. We decide the best course of action is to take a two hour nap, shower and get ready, then meet for dinner at the pub down the street.
However, I’m unable to sleep. Stacy is laying in her bed with her eye mask on to shield her eyes from the light, mouth hanging open and snoring. I’m thinking about Michael, who is three rooms down. I am startled by the buzzing of my cellphone. I had set it to vibrate so as not to wake us. I look at the number and see it is Michael’s Swedish cell number.
“
Can’t sleep….”
he writes.
“
Me either,”
I reply.
“
Want to come over?”
he invites.
Rather than respond, I choose instead to grab my room key and slip out the door. I tiptoe past Steve’s room and quietly knock on Michael’s door. I hear the chain and deadbolt unlock. He is smiling when he opens the door.
“That was quick,” he says, letting me in.
I walk over and plop down on the side of his bed. I am too wired with excitement to sleep. Michael walks over to me and takes my hand, bringing me up to standing. He pulls me in and embraces me tightly. I take in his familiar scent. It’s a cologne that he hasn’t worn since before I got pregnant with Stella. When I was pregnant, I used to feel sick when he wore it, so he stopped using it. But now it doesn’t seem to bother me in this body. I nuzzle into his chest and savor the moment.
He strokes the back of my neck so I can pull away to face him, and kisses me. Again I can breathe. Life is restored to my body.
After an hour of “reconnecting,” I head back to my room to shower and get ready. Stacy hears the door shut as I enter, and sits up from her slumber.
“Hi, where’ve you been,” she sleepily asks.
I shrug and then begin to blush.
“Oh, just visiting Michael,” I reply. I hear her chuckle while I go into the bathroom.
I hurry with my task, as I don’t want Stacy to have to wait too long for me. When I come out, she has already turned on her MP3 player and portable speakers so we have some music to listen to while we get ready. I fight the urge to grab her and hug her from behind as she passes me.
I want to thank her for everything she has done for me. For every moment she spent encouraging, supporting and befriending me. I want to tell her that I will forever look back and cherish the time we had together. But if I did this, she would probably think I was dying…or crazy. So I opt to let her pass without acknowledgement.
I sing along while doing my hair and makeup. I’m all abuzz with energy from the time I just got to spend alone with Michael. Within an hour both Stacy and I are ready to go. We do a final check to make sure we have our ID’s, room keys, money and most importantly, lip gloss.
We make our way to the lobby bar to meet Michael and Steve, as planned. They are already half finished with their pints when we arrive. Michael looks up from his barstool and his eyes meet mine. It’s as if we are sharing a secret with a look, and we are.
We walk a half block to the nearby pub. Upon entering, nostalgia immediately washes over me. I haven’t stepped foot in this particular pub in a few years. The dark paneled walls and burgundy carpet are welcoming. Old pictures of England and various artifacts adorn the walls. Well-worn, high back chairs and old wooden tables offer a cozy place to eat and drink.
Steve runs into some acquaintances at the bar, who ask us to join them at their table. We gladly accept and make our way to the back, to a table with large window seat bench that overlooks the garden. I take a seat next to Stacy and Michael quickly claims the spot on my other side.
We order dinner and make small talk with our “tradeshow” friends. Occasionally Michael slips his hand under the table and lightly squeezes my knee. A reminder of his affection for me. Each time he does it,
I’m filled with warmth.
Stacy and I enjoy a few too many glasses of wine but clearly we don’t have to censor ourselves, as one of the men at our table likes to say “fuck” a lot, so we are in casual company. After dinner we decide to grab a taxi and head down to the clubs in the city center.
The sidewalk is filled with college-aged youth and brides-to-be enjoying their “girl” parties. I hang back and link arms with Stacy as we follow Michael and Steve down the busy walkway until we reach a pub that has dance music blaring out the door.
Though old in appearance the bar is large and features a real dance floor, which is packed. There is a DJ in the corner and strobe lights are lighting up half the room. We make our way straight to the bar, where the bartender is delighted by our American accents and serves us quickly.
Stacy and I make our way to the dance floor and start dancing. Steve and Michael hang back and drink their beers. The two of us have a way of entertaining ourselves without caring what people think, so we enjoy jumping around to an old eighties pop song with the rest of the crowd.
The fun continues through the evening, and I keep drinking to avoid feeling jetlagged. The drinks flow as we go club-to-club. We aren’t thinking about the next day, when we have to set up for our show. For now, we live in our youth in a time I haven’t lived in for years.
It’s 2:00 a.m. when we decide to call it a night and hit up a pizza cart for a snack on the way back to the hotel. Steve and Stacy are walking ahead, making fun of each other’s dancing, while Michael and I trail behind, and laugh at them imitating each other.
Even though it’s about a twenty minute walk, we don’t mind. The weather is decent and we could use the refreshment of the night air before going to bed. As the night progressed, Michael stopped worrying about what Steve might think and made his way onto the dance floor with me. Even if Steve thought something was going on, he wouldn’t care. He didn’t the first time.
Michael stops briefly at a trash can on the sidewalk to throw his pizza scraps away and wipe off his hands before tossing the napkin in the garbage. A moment later he loosely wraps his arm around me and pulls me in closer, while I juggle the task of walking and eating.
“I had a lot of fun tonight. And a lot of fun earlier today,” he bashfully admits.
“Me too,” I reply with a slight grin.
As we continue walking, I recall the times we have done this before. In my other life I have had the pleasure of coming to England four times, three of them with Michael. The trips were full of long days of exhibiting and business socializing, and longer nights at various pubs and clubs on the main strip. I have hopes for the same type of trip again. Especially, if it happens to be my last.
I look up at that starry night sky over Birmingham. I will steal these last moments with Michael like a greedy thief. I will sink into this experience with abandon. Even if I get back to my future life, I will never get the chance to live this night or this moment again.