Читать книгу Reconnected - DH Steppler - Страница 8

“I’ve lost the camaraderie I use to have with my band. We don’t have the same easy dialogue and familiar horse play. I want it back; but, I don’t know how to fix it. I think it’s due to them thinking they have to be careful about what they say, plus the fact that every spare moment I spend with Lu. We don’t joke around as much or talk about sports or women like we used to. I feel so out of touch with them and I’m sure that I don’t know what they need or want and it seems I just come in, we rehearse, and I go.”

Michael began to move his hand over mine; maybe he was just doing it for the same reason other people bounce their knees or tap their fingers. To test the waters, I turned my hand over so that his fingers were in the palm of my hand. He looked up at me with a surprised look on his face. Then he moved his hand to line up with mine so that we were palm to palm and then he laced his fingers through mine in a very personal way. After a moment he unlaced our fingers and laid his hand flat over mine, he pushed his hand harder into my palm so that the most sensitive part of our hands touched. It was an oddly sensual feeling, like our hands kissed. Then he picked up my entire hand and cradled it with both of his.

Even though we were locked together because of the way he held my hand, he had that far-away look in his eyes as he stared at nothing in particular again. Maybe the music had seeped into his trance, maybe not. He seemed to be lost in thought and wasn’t in a hurry to come back to the table. He softly rubbed my hand as though he were trying to soothe and comfort me. I didn’t comment but just sat there feeling the strange sensations that were beginning to alarm me. That touching was not unpleasant but completely distracting. As I drifted off into my own reverie, I noticed that the feel of his hand on mine was not soothing or comforting but rather sensual and disturbing.

He continued with his puzzling as the next 70’s tune began. It was Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold.” He puzzled in his own head and I listened to the music, undisturbed by his internal struggle.

‘I want to live, I want to give

I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold

It’s these expressions I never give

That keep me searching for a heart of gold

Ann I’m getting old

Keeps me searching for a heart of gold

And I’m getting old

I’ve been to Hollywood, I’ve been to Redwood

I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold

I’ve been in my mind, it’s such a fine line

That keeps me searching for a heart of gold

And I’m getting old

Keep me searching for a heart of gold

I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold…’

Glad when the tune ended, I was working very hard not to break out in to song. I have some kind of condition that won’t let me just listen if I know the song. It’s like the song demands that I join in. It’s really quite pathetic and I struggle with it all the time. Most of the time I am in my car and I just enjoy the invite and sing with abandon but when others are around I take pity on them and hold back.

It got more difficult when “Reminiscing” by the Little River Band filled the balcony with a flood of more memories.

‘Friday night, it was late, I was walking you home

We got down to the gate and I was dreaming of the night

Would it turn out right?

How to tell you girl

I wanna build my world around you

Tell you that it’s true

I wanna make you understand I’m talkin’ about a lifetime plan…’

I could feel the words bubbling up in my throat and they were itching to get out. ‘Helen focus’, I chided myself. I needed a distraction from the music. I looked at Michael, still in his trance, and decided to use his face as my focal point to take my head out of the music.

Michael’s face was relaxed and motionless. There was no wrinkle in his brow; there was no wrinkle anywhere on his face at all; there was no smile on his lips; there was no tension in his jaw. He was straight and still (still holding my hand and still stroking the skin over my knuckles ever so lightly).

‘That’s the way it began, we were hand in hand

Glenn Miller’s Band was better than before

We yelled and screamed for more

And the Porter tunes (Night and Day)

Made us dance across the room

It ended all too soon

And on the way back home I promised you’d never be alone…’

I started to wonder how long I would have to stare at him before he would be even conscience enough to step out of his daydream state. I know that when someone stares at me, I can feel it. Was he feeling my deep investigative stare?

‘Hurry, don’t be late, I can hardly wait

I said to myself when we’re old

We’ll go dancing in the dark

Walking through the park and reminiscing…’

As the last line before the instrumental break finished, I heard myself sing out loud“…reminiscing.” I caught myself and immediately closed my mouth.

I concentrated harder on Michael’s clean-shaven face. He skin was clear of blemishes with no broken capillaries and his hair was trim but kind of a mess, a pretty hip style for the time, I guess. His jaw line, distinct and angled, gave his face a very old-world look like the straight noses of the Egyptians and the square jaw of the Roman’s. His look was different from either of those like maybe he was a hybrid – getting a little of this and a little of that and if you put it all together you get something different, something royal, and something special.

‘Hurry, don’t be late, I can hardly wait

I said to myself when we’re old

We’ll go dancing in the dark

Walking through the park and reminiscing…’

There was a few seconds of quiet before the next tune started. Just enough time to hear his breathing, comfortable and slow, like mine. Then I heard the beginning of the next song.

‘She’s come undun

She didn’t know what she was headed for

And when I found what she was headed for

It was too late

She’s come undun…’

‘Oh no’, I groaned. I sighed deeply trying to take on another perspective. That would be a good test for my self-control or it might just kill me.

“Undone,” by The Guess Who, was a song that I took personally way back in my younger years but the feelings seem to transcend time. When I commit to something, I commit to it completely. That’s a trait that stayed with me even to this day and sometimes to my detriment. When that kind of abandon and lack of understanding of the consequence is present, the grand endeavor it takes to reach something even unreachable, that effort alone, is reason for perceived success. If that success doesn’t happen a crisis of faith can be the result. In other words, I didn’t get what I wanted even though I tried really, really hard, so that means that God and everybody hates me. I listened to the next few lines of the song to see if the old familiar melancholy would return.

‘She found a mountain that was far too high

And when she found out she couldn’t fly

It was too late

It’s too late

She’s gone too far

She’s lost the sun

She’s come undun

She wanted truth but all she got was lies

Came the time to realize

And it was too late…’

Nope. I was happy and pleased that the words stayed inside my head and the old feelings were not to be found. Hopefully that old drama had given way to understanding, tolerance, and some good self-management.

Wow, how long had I been staring at his lips? It couldn’t be that long because I saw his eyes blink a minute earlier. Suddenly I felt as though I were looking into his hearth, his space, his personal being. I was crossing an invisible civil barrier, you know, like a peeping Sheila. Of all things that I guard myself from, voyeurism is high up there on the list. I know when to turn my head and mind my own business. With that thought swinging though my head and me trying to lose the image that I had been staring at for many long, concentrated minutes, it wouldn’t go away, his face was right there, in front of me still, behind my eyelids. Now it became quite important that I sever that visual tie and give him back his privacy. Yes, I knew what needed to be done, but that did not mean that I knew how to do it. Experimenting, I squeezed my already closed eyes shut more tightly; but, his face was still on the inside of my lids, except now the visual was tinged in red. I squeezed a few more times but got the same results. Still experimenting, I opened my eyes to look at something else, any thing else, to replace the image of his face with another.

I was looking down to avoid looking at his face and imprinting it in my head even more. I saw our hands, actually I saw his hands cradling my left hand and I watched as he stroked the skin on the back of my hand using all four fingers on his right hand. I felt it like it was a feather. It was a pamper, a nurturing movement, like a caress. I closed my eyes quickly. I didn’t want to see anymore. But wouldn’t you just know it, my eyes closed and I saw the image of our hands and his coddle right there behind my eyelids like it was a motion picture. I squeezed my eyes shut very tightly. The picture repeated itself in my head, as I watched with my mind’s eye.

Ok, let’s try that again. Before I opened my eyes again, I had to think about what I wanted to imprint on the back of my eyelids. I made my decision, not exactly a noble decision, but a decision none the less; I turned my head slightly to the right, adjusted to the new focal point, my eyes flew open. I frantically searched for that little dessert dish; I couldn’t find it; in my head I screamed ‘where the hell is his jello;’ my eyes swept the table once quickly – nothing. I inadvertently glanced at his face. I saw his gray eyes looking back at me as I quickly tried to be invisible.

I tried, for a brief second, to pretend that I didn’t see his eyes, that I didn’t notice that they were open and looking directly at me.

‘She’s come undun

Doe-doe-doe-doe-doe doe un doe-doe-doe un doe-doe-doe, Doe doe-doe-doe-doe un doe-doe-doe doe-doe-doe, Doe doe-doe-doe doe doe-doe-doe doe doe…’

The quest for an escape from my voyeuristic episode gave way to another idea. Maybe he’s ready to start talking some more; it’d been awhile. I opened my eyes and found myself looking directly into his. That time he was seeing me, not seeing through me. I smiled a simple toothless smile, an encouraging smile, a smile of indulgence – OMG, I just got that, I am not without my own coddles and I employed them mercilessly. With the look of patience I was giving him, he had no choice but to communicate in more detail.

Easily distracted, my thoughts went off to see if there were other times in my past that I was guilty of doing something myself that I found distasteful in others. I questioned my own perception, ‘am I manipulative?’ Am I cognizant of the effect my behavior has on others? Well, I think I’m aware most of the time. Oh crap, I say to myself, unclench, relax, it’s your vacation, too.

Another smile; this time a ‘welcome back’ smile, a ‘the ball’s in your court’ smile. I didn’t say a word; I waited for him to return my volley. I hoped he hadn’t lost the ball. As I watched, the light from the patio sent flicks of reflected light from his eyes back to mine; his eyes glistened and sparkled. I could feel some kind of intent in the clutch of those intense and cozy, gray eyes.

I still held my tongue. If the quiet thing were a sport, I’d be an Olympian. I had an old boss that employed that ‘I can wait you out’ technique in her interviews. It worked very well, people got so uncomfortable with the silence that they would begin to fill-in the space with everything they could think of about themselves. Really, people will chatter like magpies to avoid the awkward silence. I know that, because I saw it in my own behavior. Luckily, I caught on quickly; then it was a game. I’m not competitive but if I play, I can have the illusion that I can make my own choices and that I have the right to choose. Certain illusions are important to me.

I gave in and let myself look at him closely. I allowed my eyes to examine every inch of his face; I was, after all, waiting for him to speak and, he was, after all, doing the same thing. The rules of propriety suddenly became unclear; I knew there were no rules for the ‘I can wait you out’ game. The conflict in me was nearly palpable as I satisfied my own curiosity; I justified my actions under the guise that the information acquired could be of benefit in future conversations. I waited and searched his face for any new expression or any faint change in his eyes. I watched his long, luxurious, and enviable eye lashes seductively touch his cheek as he blinked. There was a phantom wish that I could still wear mascara and that I was wearing some right then; it did go with the occasion. It rankled my ego to know that his natural beauty would outshine my artificial contrivance anyway.

‘Never My Love’ by the 5^th Dimension had just begun.

‘You asked me if

There’ll come a time when I grow tired of you.

Never my love,

Never my love…’

“Ok,” Michael finally spoke.

“Dance now, talk later.”

Without waiting for my reply, he pulled me to my feet and walked me to the open area by the rail of his balcony.

Dancing to that song all those years ago hadn’t consisted of much more than two bodies rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the music. I was wondering if the dance for that particular song had changed much; he pulled me close into a tight dance hold.

‘Well, ok, whatever.’ I was thinking as my instinct took over.

He took the lead quite masterfully. I was impressed and I pretty much didn’t care at that point what the dance was supposed to be, only the physical was in my radar, the enjoyment of the partnership, the thrill of knowing what your partner wanted at every step, the timing of when to respond. We could all look beyond the barely shielded reactions and see the attraction, the taboo that was being tampered with. Again, I tried to be invisible.

‘God forgive me’, I prayed as I remembered my own promise. You remember, I was supposed to seize the moment and live in it. Shame on me. But God, I’m only human, a human who had not been touched or held in a very long time. How long had it been, really? I can explain that all of that interest was a need rather than a desire. The need for human contact is not an alien thought… Are you kidding? I chided myself again. ‘For heaven sake you are dancing, it’s a gift; get into it.’

That was good advice. I examined what was happening. Our bodies permitted no space in between that might allow a disconnect. We were partners with a common goal, a goal to sway with the music and feel what that meant within all aspects of our separate beings and of course, within our partnership.

‘You wonder if

This heart of mine will lose its desire for you.

Never my love (never my love),

Never my love…’

I felt his chin on my head and I felt his breath in my hair. He inhaled the scent of me, a long deep draw through his nose, taking in as much as his lungs would hold. Interesting, I thought. That was another observation I tucked away just incase there’s ever a need to revisit that moment.

We continued to sway; I was involved but there wasn’t really much effort to it, none required really. I just followed his lead; I didn’t want to turn inward for fear that I would miss something. Feeling everything at the same time was nearly impossible but I worked to capture the bulk of the images from that experience so that I could recall them later.

‘Now how can you think love will end,

When I’ve asked you to spend your whole life

With me (with me).

I’ll leave you never my love.

Oh, believe me, baby.

I want you forever and ever my love.

When the song ended, we just stood like statues, waiting for what ever tune came next. As we waited the few seconds, Michael adjusted his hold on me but didn’t let go. Instead he brought me even closer. Maybe he already knew what the next selection was, I supposed.

Elvin Bishop’s “Fooled Around and Fell in Love,” began its slow rise. That song afforded us the opportunity to continue without much effort, energy, or dance skills. We needed nothing but to adhere to that slow, easy and corporeal pulse. Simultaneously, and naturally we pulled our hands in close to our one body. The movement seemed to give weight and stability to our partnership; remaining flexible and ready to follow his lead was not a problem. But, honestly, his lead wasn’t going anywhere ambitious; of that much I was fully aware.

‘I must have been through about a million girls

I’d love ‘em then I’d leave ‘em alone

I didn’t care how much they cried, no sir

Their tears left me cold as a stone

But then I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love, yes I did

I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love…’

I found myself leaning on Michael, at first it was to get closer to him as I felt the music take me away; but then the reason for my breach in dancing etiquette was more due to necessity than passion.

‘It used to be when I’d see a girl that I liked

I’d get out my book and write down her name

Ah, but when the, the grass got a little greener over on the other side

I’d just tear out that page

I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love, since I met you baby

I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love…’

I rested my head on his chest and his shoulder. It felt nice. I closed my eyes and completely relaxed as the guitar solo took me away into a half-dream state. My head was too heavy to hold up without assistance, but it still took me a minute or two to understand that I was asleep on my feet. I didn’t want Michael to see how exhausted I was. Why? That was a “no-brainer;” I didn’t want to stop dancing. When would I ever have special moments like that again? When would I ever dance with Michael again?

‘Free, on my own is the way I used to be

Ah, but since I met you baby, love’s got a hold on me

It’s got a hold on me now

I can’t let go of you baby

I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love, oh yes I did…’

With my head on his chest and so near his lungs and heart, I heard a sound that brought me out of my conscience slumber, awake and fully alert. I concentrated on listening to his vitals. I could feel his heart and hear his breathing and I could hear his heart and feel his breathing. His whole body was in line and on the same rhythm as the music. Still, that was not the sound that sobered me instantly. I sank completely into his tempo, the tempo of the tune, slow and sensual; then, I heard it again. I identified the sound in a heart beat; he was snoring.

Well of course, he had to be at least as tired and I was, even more so because he suffered that bump on his head and was unconscious for a time. I wasn’t very concerned; after all, I saw him catch a few zees on my balcony that very afternoon.

We were close enough to the CD player, so I reached over and around Michael to adjust the volume and created some very quiet back ground music.

The dance was over but we were still in our partnership position standing perfectly still for close to a minute, maybe longer. Then we both drew in a deep cleansing breath and heaved a giant sigh, a sigh filled with satisfaction, regret, and maybe a touch of longing. The day had come to a close.

We cleaned up automatically, like robots; but, the chore was completed in no time at all. We stacked two large trays filled with everything from dinner and set them outside his stateroom door. He walked me to the skinny door, gave me a full body hug and kissed my neck.

“You smell so good, he whispered in my ear. Good night.”

The slider to my cabin was ajar, just as I’d left it. In five minutes I was in my favorite silk pajamas with my blanket; I crawled into bed. I was just about unconscious when the small light on the telephone was caught in my mind’s eye. It was blinking and allerted me to a message.

“Denice,” I whispered; fear shot through me like an adrenaline rush.

I leapt out of bed in the direction of the light, stubbing my baby toe on the chair next to the desk.

“Ow, ow, ow, oh my god, ow.”

My voice escalated in volume but nothing intelligible would come out for awhile. I forced myself to ignore the pain while I got the message left for me only an hour or so before. It was from Denice; she was laughing and energetic. I had to smile.

She’s amazing. I was relieved to hear her voice. She was safe. That’s great; I mutilated my toe for no good reason. Even the throbbing couldn’t detract from my intense pleasure at hearing her voice so strong and clear and obviously happy. I felt a touch of envy for those who shared her time that evening.

The adrenaline rush created a wide awake zombie out of me. I decided to pack a bowl. Gathering the necessary paraphernalia and sitting cross legged on my bed, I was careful not to touch the injured toe. While I performed the ritual, I heard a light tap on the slider, and looked up in time to see Michael let himself into my room.

“I heard you cry out,” he explained. “Are you ok? You look alright. Why the expletive?”

I waited just in case he had more questions, questions I could lump all together with just one answer. I wasn’t lazy, just very tired. Talking was an effort; I knew how to preserve my resources.

“I stubbed my pinky toe on that stupid chair,” I pouted and handed him the pipe.

“Green,” I offered.

He smiled and accepted. That time his toke didn’t overwhelm him into a fit of coughing. We sat crossed legged facing each other on my bed and shared that bowl back and forth until it was thoroughly dusted. That exchange was comfortable and easy, and felt completely natural. I put Pinky away. Michael leaned over and kissed my cheek and took my hand. He raised it to his mouth and kissed each of my knuckles, never lifting his lips until all were brushed. I watched in fascination my own reaction. My heart rate kicked into a higher gear and I was mesmerized by the strangeness of it all.

When the moment passed, Michael walked back to his own side. After he closed the slider and whispered his final “good night,” I lost all memory of what happened next. I slept like the dead.

Day Three

Drooling on my pillow, I woke up refreshed. Sleep did wonders for me. I looked forward to the laziness of the day, the comfort of my balcony, the addicting call of the sea, and any surprise that came my way.

I showered immediately and went through the trouble to dry my hair and gave it a touch of that face-softening curl that worked so well for me. Finally, I was dressed and ready for the day - just shorts and a scoop neck tee shirt. Denice wasn’t back yet. The thought gave way to a glance at the telephone that delivered her last message to me. Sure enough, the light was flashing. She’d called while I was in the shower.

She was having breakfast in Manny’s stateroom and would be back sometime before noon to look through the newsletter.

Through room service I ordered a rather large breakfast – not quite everything on the menu, and a pitcher of coffee. I couldn’t remember the last time I was that hungry and wished the kitchen would hurry.

I greeted my balcony for the first time that day like it was an old friend that I hadn’t seen in years, my expectations somewhat run amuck. The ocean looked just like it did the day before, dark navy blue with a moderate sea, no white caps. The sky was a paler blue contrast without a cloud. The air was soft, delightful on my skin. I glanced at my wrist to check the time, no watch.

The rail of the balcony became my home while I waited for the arrival of ‘room service’. It actually took a couple trips for the staff to get all of my order set up and ready to serve. I produced the gratuity from the pocket in my shorts and closed the door behind them.

I impatiently poured myself a cup of coffee, added the cream, and sat back to enjoy the aroma and the warmth of it. I drank it slowly while I prepared my bagel with lox and cream cheese.

As I chewed my bagel, I looked for the CD player. Music, added to that perfect setting of large sky and open ocean, could only enhance the ambiance. I didn’t see the CD player anywhere on the balcony; I went inside the stateroom looking for it – not there either.

When I came back to the balcony, Michael was sitting at the table; he plugged in the little CD player and was rooting through the music. Oh, company.

“Good morning,” I greeted him with true enthusiasm.

“Hungry? Want breakfast?”

“Good morning; No, I already ate, I just brought the music back.” He said.

“Do you mind if I choose?”

It was nice to have my own personal DJ. Our CDs mixed together created a very cool collection. We had no duplicates.

“Please,” I replied with a mouthful of bagel. I was curious to see what would be his first selection of the day. As I sat down at the table to continue eating my breakfast and discovered that I wasn’t really hungry anymore but I was a bit embarrassed that I had ordered so much food. I picked at it while I drank more coffee.

Michael had chosen the Steve Miller Band; the first song up was “Dance, Dance, Dance.” That song is fun and upbeat, hopeful.

‘My grandpa, he’s 95

And he keeps on dancin’

He’s still alive

My grandma, she’s 92

She loves to dance

And sing some, too

I don’t know

But I’ve been told

If you keep on dancing

You’ll never grow old…

Come on darling

Put a pretty dress on

We’re gonna go out tonight

Dance, dance, dance

Dance, dance, dance

Dance, dance, dance

All night long…’

Both Michael and I had our heads back and our faces raised to meet the sunshine. Eyes closed for protection, we sat in absolute peace; we let the music resonate in our minds and hearts. Whether deliberate or not, I couldn’t say, but, our breathing was in time, coordinated, like sleeping Siamese twins, slow, even, and in unison. That synchronicity supported the calm.

‘“I’m a hard working man

I’m a son of a gun

I’ve been working all week in the noon day sun

The wood’s in the kitchen

And the cow’s in the barn

I’m all cleaned up and my chores are all done

Take my hand, come along

Let’s go out and have some fun…’

Like on cue, two very big sighs in chorus interrupted the air around the music as Michael and I each inhaled deeply and exhaled. He chuckled a small snort of a laugh at the same time that I snickered. Could our moods be so exact, like the breathing, the peace? What could possibly be better than that, I questioned? And then I knew as Michael reached his pinkie finger across the few inches that separated us and hooked it around mine. It seemed a very small thing but that gesture was the connection and made everything perfect. I instantly stored the memory away for a more thorough examination sometime in the future, alone. Being there, on that balcony with the weather restful, listening to music, having a connection was happening and I didn’t want to miss the tiniest little bit of it. They were all precious moments to me. Moments of perfection were all we could ever ask from life anyway. ’Come on darling put a pretty dress on We’re gonna go out tonight Dance, dance, dance Dance, dance, dance Dance, dance, dance All night long’ We listened to every song on that CD. We didn’t move but only a couple times: once when he got water from his stateroom for us; after he took up his position in the chair next to mine, he re-hooked our pinkie fingers; and when I got the sunscreen, put it on my face, neck, arms, legs, feet, and hands. Michael did the same, took off his shirt and handed me the sunscreen. I was glad because I had too much lotion on my hands and it wasn’t a repugnant task to give his back protection. Of course, everyone knows that when you do a favor like that for a friend, you do get a modicum of tolerance when you address areas that were already marked as taboo. Yeah, I’m talking about the feet. I was discrete and sneaky but the feet got their own attention and were much protected from the sun when I finished with them. I took some punishment when he jerked and kicked around but I got the job done.

When things were calm again, we were still, like two sun worshipers. I was thinking that I’d better watch the time, not fall asleep, and move into the shade when the CD ended. I was acutely aware when Michael hooked our fingers together again. That action was so definite; it completed our unique connection as though we were part of a two person circuit.

Michael laughed when I couldn’t keep my mouth shut during “Fly Like an Eagle and again during “Abracadabra.” After that I tried harder to remember and respect others in the vicinity. Remember I said I was good at listening? That offered me some practice in self-control and as an added benefit, strengthened my listening skills. It’s all good!

The last song on the album was ‘Swing Town’.

‘Ooo oooohhhh

Ooo oooohhhh

Come on and dance, come on and dance

Let’s make some romance

You know the night is fallin’

And the music’s callin’

And we’ve got to get down to Swingtown

We’ve been workin’ so hard

We’ve been workin’ so hard

Come on baby

Come on baby let’s dance

Come on, come on, come on

Come on, come on, come on

Come on, come on, come on

Ooo oooohhhh

Ooo oooohhhh

Come on and dance, come on and dance

We may not get another chance

You know the night is fallin’

And the music’s callin’

And we’ve got to get down to Swingtown’

The CD ended; we didn’t move; the silence was both a contract breach and a relief. In order to get more music, we would have to disconnect. The idea took a bit of getting used to and then a small measure of preparation. I felt Michael’s eyes.

“It’s over, any preferences at this time?”

“How about some easy listening? Didn’t I see a Percy Faith CD in your collection?”

I knew there would be no lyrics for which to tempt me to sing along.

Even though we were quiet and peaceful, I felt the anxiety of the anticipated connection break, the separation of our pinkie fingers. Michael alleviated the stress with finesse by the way he changed the music. He took a deep breath and then released his hold on me. I saw and felt the breathing change; I followed suit because I immediately felt the loss. I matched my non-breathing to his non-breathing – in essence – we were in a kind of limbo. Using the serene elegance that was afforded by the calm day, he gracefully, lacking any extraneous movement, switched the CDs and pushed play. Almost in the same movement, he reclaimed the connection between us before we missed 3 heart beats.

Our first breath after the reconnect was deep and meaningful. We felt our comfort and peace return as quickly as it was severed. For an instant I was afraid that just the pinkie link wasn’t enough to reconnect. Maybe we should have another ‘hand-kiss’ for a stronger jump start. Michael obviously had more faith than I had. I relaxed immediately and was amazed.

We listened and allowed the music to enhance the joy; we practically wallowed in it. There was no way that I could protect myself from the giddiness I felt.

About midway through the sixteen songs Denice came out to the balcony. That time she was not averse to disturbing us. She sat down at our table in a chair she brought from the stateroom.

“Hellie, Mike, it’s time for decisions.”

She waved the patter at me. As my left hand was otherwise engaged I took the newsletter with my right. Denice placed her Patter on the breakfast table and got serious as she read and made her decisions.

With the itinerary page up in front of the two of us, we read each line to ourselves. I finished rather quickly and set the highlighter on the table in front of Michael. He gave me a quick glance as he pointed to the 8 o’clock movie under the stars. He wasn’t interested but thought it was important to me. I shrugged and then shook my head. “I’m happy here.” I qualified my reaction.

“Me too,” He answered.

I didn’t mark anything on the patter. Denice took more time. She concentrated on each calendared event and gave it her complete attention. When she finished, she looked pleased with her selections for the day.

She picked up my Patter to compare.

“Hellie, you didn’t highlight anything.”

She took a breath and stepped back.

“I guess nothing appealed to you.”

“MaSoeure, I’m happy here on the balcony. Was there something that you wanted me to see?”

“Well, no, it’s just that I feel like I’ve abandoned you. Today, I have several highlighted areas: The line dance class; the second pottery class; early dinner with Manny; movie Under the Stars; and finally the 10 o’clock show. I’ll be gone most of the day.

“I am fine, MaSeoure. You truly waste your time with concern over me.”

I made sure that she would go have her fun.

Michael reacted ever so slightly to my short verbal with my sister; he pulled on my pinkie. Was he restating his claim with that tiny little movement? No need, I was thoroughly and completely claimed.

“MaSoeure, I know you’re busy but could you spare me a minute or two to bring me up-to-date with you?”

“I’ve got a few minutes right now, would now be good?”

She was uncharacteristically concerned about my time probably because Michael was there.

“Lay it on us.”

I included Michael in hopes that the word ‘us’ would anchor him there with me. He stayed. I smiled.

“Ok,” she cooed.

Michael chuckled.

Her clear bright eyes sparkled with excitement as she talked about the life she lived outside of our stateroom.

“At some point, you’ll probably meet Carol and Andrew and Sam and Sarah, the other two couples in the group – Manny and I haven’t spent much time with them. We have been going off on our own. He’s a great partner. It seems we have quite a bit to say to each other. Sabitini’s was the perfect place. Last night dinner took over 2 hours. They gave us a very secluded table with a view of the water. I drank too much wine. You saw that I didn’t make it home last night. I know better than to drink and walk. I enjoyed the excesses. We are going to an early dinner with the group.”

She paused a moment to gauge my reaction. She saw that I was relaxed and happy. She looked at Michael. I knew she had questions but she also had the where-with-all to keep them for another time. While she talked, she cleared the table, stacked it all on the trays and set them near the slider.

I wanted to relieve her of any concerns. I smiled at her, my best ‘sister really’ smile and said, “I’m fine, I’m happy, no worries.”

There was no need to explain further. She was released, she was happy about that and comforted by the fact that she didn’t have to babysit me. She understood that she didn’t have to stay with me but she continued to talk to us about her pottery project. Her new friend, Manny was gifted with an artistic flare and she hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed with her childish effort. She said that we was sadened by the fact that her ability to draw didn’t translate to the ability to mold clay into anything recognizable.

“The class starts in 15 minutes, time to go, Manny’s waiting.”

She grabbed the heavily laden trays and was gone.

In the back ground the music played on. I took the last water from the cooler and handed it to Michael. He took it and propped it up between his knees so that he could open in without breaking our connection, clever boy. He took a long drink and handed the bottle to me. I followed his example and took a large swig. As I drank, I caught the flavor of him, a mild mixture of masculine musk and wild honeysuckle – a heady combination. The scent gave me an unexpected thrill. I passed the bottle back to him and watched as he took another large swallow. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his mouth thrilling to the thought that his lips were where mine had been. I knew I shouldn’t be doing that and that I’d be pissed off with myself if I didn’t stop with the school girl fantasy crap. I guess I wasn’t all that worried about my own wrath, because fear of punishment didn’t exist at that point in time. He held the bottle to his mouth for a brief moment before he took a drink; I noticed the action but just stored it away with the other stuff I wanted to examine more closely when the time presented.

I’m a slow reader – a slow reader of people on a moment to moment basis, I miss things on the first go around. And, no, I’m not dimwitted. Nature gave me a coping mechanism; I can revisit events in my life to look at again and again or to ‘reread’ and understand. Because I lack instant perception, I am grateful to be able to take and set aside snapshots of moments that I can recall when I need to understand more completely.

After about ten minutes I said regrettably.

“I’m going to have to answer the call of nature pretty soon, even though I’m uninterested in moving. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I got up to go and hesitated as I felt Michael increase the pressure by taking a tighter hold on my finger.

We both watched as I pried our fingers apart. As soon as the connection was severed, I made for the stateroom and the bathroom with speed and determination. Once through with my business and washing my hands, I decided to brush my teeth and to run a comb through my hair. The whole process took no more than 10 minutes.

When I returned, Michael was standing at the rail of the balcony and held up his right hand to reclaim the connection. It was as natural as our “in sync” breathing. I smiled, hooked his pinkie and didn’t say a word. The sun was nice, warm but not hot. The air was soft and smelled clean and delicious. We stood at the rail with our pinkies joined until the music ended.

My stomach growled. I looked at my watch…damn, no watch.

“Do you know what time it is?” I asked, as I covered my stomach with my right hand – an attempt to insulate the sound.

Michael looked up at the sky and said, “It’s 12:30 in the afternoon.” Again, clever boy.

“I’m hungry.” I whispered, “How about you?”

“I could eat.” He echoed my short sentences.

“Room service, then?” I asked.

“Ok, sandwiches?”

I turned away to go make the call. The action put stress on our connection; I released the tension by stepping back. I looked up at him.

“Oh, do you want to come with me?” I half joked.

To sweeten the pot, I said, “There might be fruit inside.”

Michael winked and said, “Ok.” That would prove interesting.

We walked through the slider single file, holding hands like children and I didn’t care. It was a fun game and I couldn’t deny the spine-tingling connection. We stood while I pushed the buttons on the phone and perused the lunch menu. Michael took an interest when he saw the menu. He pointed to things and I simply ordered what he pointed at.

“30 minutes.” I said.

Looking around the room; I was thinking about the fruit. Michael was sitting on the end of my bed with the fruit bowl in his lap. I grabbed the lone banana from the bowl.

My blood sugar was getting very low; I was serious and thinking fast; I would have to peel the banana with my teeth. Michael caught me before I could put it in my mouth. He made sure I had a good grip on the banana and then he peeled it for me with his free hand. During the process we had to adjust the pressure to account and allow for the other but for the most part, it was kind of like dancing. I laughed. The banana was perfect and raised my blood sugar while we waited for lunch.

I finished the banana and was done with the room; I needed to be out on the balcony. Michael finished his apple, discarded the core and followed me out. The table was ready to receive the lunch and so were we. We sat together, watched the ocean, breathed in unison and experienced the rightness of those perfect moments.

When the room service staff rapped on the door, we had to make some decisions fast. Well, ok, I had to make some decisions fast. I decided that I’d better move.

“Michael, I’m going to get the door, would you please choose some music to have with lunch?”

We dropped the physical connection and took action. In a matter of minutes I thanked and tipped the room service staff. I grabbed Pinky on my way back to the balcony. I was a bit keyed up over the blood sugar thing so, a bowl before lunch was just what the doctor ordered. Michael chose classical music. I said, “Green?” He took the pipe and we enjoyed the ritual and then our lunch.

After lunch, we cleared the dishes to the hall. We moved the table and chairs into the shade, reconnected, sighed, synchronized our breathing and allowed the ambiance to influence and nurture. All my senses were heightened and completely relaxed at the same time. The music ended far too soon.

“I was thinking of dinner on my balcony at 7:00? You could wear the blue dress again.” He offered.

“Are you wearing the tux? I checked to see if we were still on the same wavelength.

“Sure, a repeat of last night only we’ll be awake for the dancing. Prepare yourself; I’m going to my room to take a nap so I’ll be well rested. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

We made eye contact for a brief second and then he was gone.

Looking at the chaise lounge, I made a decision to nap on my balcony and went inside for a pillow. I stretched out, sighed, and closed my eyes. The little events of the day were roaming around in my head but sleep didn’t take me. I don’t know how much time went by before I gave it up, sat up, and put my head in my hands. Time was moving at a strange pace for some reason. I felt antsy and nervous and I wanted to cry. I don’t cry because crying turns my face into a big red puffed up mess.

As I sat there trying to figure out my problem, Michael stood in front of me.

“It’s happening to me, too; I think I know how to fix it.”

His voice had a tone that scared me, like he was scared.

“Come with me, I want to see something.”

He led the way. I followed him through the skinny door, through his slider, and into his stateroom. The two small beds were pushed together.

“Take the side near the slider.”

He gestured to the side he meant. Without hesitation or question, I did as he said. He took the other side, hooking our pinkies as soon as proximity allowed. I felt it immediately and so did he; the calm was unbelievably comforting. That single touch put everything right again. I closed my eyes and I felt the smile spread across my face, content. Just before I dosed, I heard his soft snore, listened for just a moment and then released my hold on consciousness.

I woke up after only one sleep cycle, about an hour and a half. I could feel Michael on my left, still snoring and still gripping my pinkie. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. He’d moved onto his side. I needed to pee but I didn’t want to wake him and was uncertain if he would awaken if I broke our connection. I carefully removed myself from the bed and made a bee-line to the bathroom, made sure not to notice how it affected him.

When I returned, Michael was still asleep but that didn’t stop me; I moved him over slightly and reclaimed his pinkie. I’d been without the connection long enough. I heard him sigh in his sleep, a deep satisfying sigh. Me, too.

The clock on the radio showed the time was 3:30 in the afternoon. I could sleep another cycle, until 5:00 p.m. I relaxed and closed my eyes and was instantly dreaming.

Consciousness returned slowly and gave me time to be focused when I actually opened my eyes.

“Hello, d’you sleep well?”

Michael was sitting up on the bed looking at me; the pinkie connection held strong.

“I’m not sure.”

I raised myself to a sitting position. We found ourselves face to face. We both looked down at our joined pinkies.

Michael said, “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

His voice was austere and too quick.

“Fine by me.”

I came back at him with the same level of vehemence.

“But, Michael, we are going to have to talk about it sometime.”

“Right now, I’m more concerned with how we’re going to be able to be apart long enough to even get ready for dinner.” He confessed.

“I got truly sick, physically sick, when I was away from you. Time had no meaning and I couldn’t think. I’m pretty sure that I suffered an anxiety attack.”

“I’m in the same boat. No pun intended,” I admitted.

“It’s 5:00 right now; we have two hours until dinner. Let’s try disconnecting for short periods of time at first. Maybe we can desensitize ourselves over a period of time.” He made plans for us.

“Can we start right now?”

I had to pee again and headed for my stateroom via the back door. He was reluctant to let me go.

“I’m going to take a quick shower – 20 minutes tops and then we’ll reconnect.” I tried to be encouraging.

He smiled at me briefly and then gave me the go ahead.

We released our hold and I ran, without looking back. I ran straight into my bathroom, stripped, took a shower and washed my hair. Dried my hair, plugged in the rollers, and put a touch of make-up on. That was as far as I got before I was hit with a huge wave of unease and fear. I was gripped with a sadness that was unbearable.

I heard a knock on my slider; trying not to cry, I saw it was Michael and the tears filled my eyes as I ran to open the door, wishing that I had not locked it. The look on his face was confused and wild. He was having a panic attack.

When the slider opened, he flew into the room and launched himself at me, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck. I responded in like manner. We stood in the middle of the room bound up into each other’s arms. We luxuriated in the reconnect. The calm returned and we both took some deep breaths. Still not loosening our tight embrace, we moved in unison to my bed and sat down. You would think that it would be awkward but our tenacious grip gave us the support we needed not to fall off the bed. Neither of us was in any kind of hurry to let go, so we stayed glued as one for a good 3 minutes.

Eventually Michael felt around for the pinkie on my left hand and hooked up. We released each other except for the pinkie connection.

“Ok, Helen, that was too long. How much did you get done?”

He was revising the plan.

“We shouldn’t chance it for any more than 10 minutes; ok?”

“I need more than 10 minutes, 15 should do it. How about you?”

“15 it is then.” He looked the way I felt, confused.

“Why don’t we stop for a few minutes and smoke a bowl?” I offered.

“Good idea,” he came back.

I prepared our bowl with finesse even with Michael unwilling to disconnect. I presented him with green. He nodded and said, “After you.” We enjoyed the ritual of the smoke and then we welcomed the mellow.

It was 6:00 o’clock; we had one hour before dinner. Michael said, “I’m going next door to do what I can before I get sick. As soon as I start to loose it, I’ll be back.”

“Don’t let go just yet, please. I need to make mental plans to get as much done as possible.” I gathered my thoughts for a minute.

“Ok, Michael, let’s try it again.”

Michael looked at me with worry oozing from his eyes; he smiled that brave smile; leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose; dropped my pinkie and was out the door.

The rollers were hot; I set my hair at break-neck speed. I finished up with some bathroom stuff, found my shoes, and put the dress on. My pace relaxed after being clothed. I removed the rollers from my hair, ran a brush through my fresh curls and then I got light-headed. I grabbed at the wall to keep myself from falling. Oh God, I knew that feeling and I couldn’t stand it. The anxiety in my chest was pressing into my lungs. I needed Michael!

I headed for the balcony; Michael was just coming through the slider. His face was white with panic; he was empty and truly distressed. We came together in a solid, full-body impact that was the sweetest relief. Encased within each other’s arms, we worked to get even closer. We buried our faces in each other’s shoulders, chins, and necks. We took great gasps of air, filling our nostrils with the other’s scent. We understood the damage, we felt the damage and with the reconnect, the repair.

As forceful as the attack itself, the relief from it was absolutely exhilarating. That connection originated deep within the roots of our beings, basic and nurturing. We welcomed the calm; it felt so good, we held on longer. Eventually we raised our hands up like we were going to high-five and hooked pinkies.

“Oh, you almost got your pants on.” I joked as I watched him zip up.

I stepped back to get a good look at him.

“There couldn’t be much to do. You look pretty well put together, to me.”

“I’m lucky I didn’t piss all over my self. That was extreme. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He was moving his hands all over the place while he talked dragging my poor pinkie along. I resisted all the tugging and then slowly, slowly leaned into him; he calmed down.

“In my opinion,” I began.

“That was extreme and I’m glad you didn’t piss all over yourself because this is only the second time I’ve ever worn this dress.”

“Ok then. If you’re ready and you look ready, I’m ready. So, let’s go see.”

Michael mumbled as he released my pinkie and took my hand. The change was intense and immediate and not to be denied. All of our senses were heightened; it was like going from black and white to living color, everything got brighter, in every sense of the word. Everything got better. We headed for the balcony and to the rest of the evening.