Risk Your Heart

Somehow my car drove itself to the plaza where that art store was. Damn Ford Focus. I'm trading you in for a...uh...well damn, I probably can't afford to trade you in for anything. But I'm going to put you into a trash compactor until you're smushed enough to be a can of sardines.

Of course then I'll have to take the bus.

Sigh.

We are going to get out of this plaza PDQ. Pretty Damn Quick.

You bet your tailpipe.

Sigh. Again.

The driving was hypnotic. Rain started up, but it was a gentle rain, soothing and soft, as opposed to the ugly gray downpours that seemed like the gods were emptying their toilets onto my oh-so-luminous-copasetic mood. Pretty soon the trees were lush and green lining the road.

Before I knew it, I was pulling into the church parking lot.

What the hell?

So to speak.

Damn.

I thumped my hand on the steering wheel. That's the last time I let the Ford Focus drive itself on 'I'm-spacing-out' automatic. This is what I get for sleepwalking. Or is it sleep-driving? Is this what the nightmares were about? I wanted to get out of the car because I didn't want to go to church?

I smiled. Seemed a little extreme.

I looked around for an umbrella.

Nope.

Maybe I'd just stay in the car.

Rain stopped.

Damn.

Fucking coincidences.

Gotta love 'em.

Like hell I do.

The song, "Do You Believe in Magic?" popped into my head again.

"Oh shut up, you," I said out loud.

I got out of the car.

"The church is probably locked," I said to no one in particular. No one at all, actually.

Nope. Open.

Damn.

I walked in. Same airy vestibule. Same poignant, serene silence. I took a deep breath.

I remembered a post-it I saw once. 'I meditate. I burn candles. I drink green tea .... and I still want to smack somebody.'

A small smile spread across my face.

To my right was the all-purpose room with the bulletin board, the one where I met Drew. I remembered everything about our first conversation.

'I usually offer to buy a woman dinner before I try to get on top of her,' he had said.

'I usually request dessert first.'

How could I not fall in love with him?

I looked to my left. There was a small sanctuary. I went in.

The seats were plush. The wood was glossy. There were tall thin windows, curved at the top, with beautiful stained glass.

I sat down in one of the pews. When was the last time I had been in church? Ummmnn, it was five years ago, when an acquaintance friend of mine got married. That place was a huge brick monstrosity, nothing like this sacred space.

At least for a few minutes I could breathe deeply. A sense of peace settled on me like someone had draped the lightest, softest blanket around my shoulders. The feeling reminded me of watching two puppies, sleeping, snuggled together in a basket.

I rubbed my face. I felt like I had aged five years since my birthday. In this moment of silence I knew why. Deep down I didn't like myself very much. Not all of myself maybe. Maybe just parts of myself. Way, way deep down, I thought I wasn't good enough for Drew. I mean, I wasn't good enough for my dad. If I were even partially all right, I mean, even a little bit, wouldn't he have stayed?

A shaft of sunlight broke through the gloom. I turned to look at it. In seemingly slow motion, it passed behind the stained glass, until it stopped right behind a panel of blue. The strength intensified a little bit, and a shaft of blue light, the same exact light blue color that I had seen as sparkling chains and ribbons between Drew and me poured through the window and into my upturned hands in my lap.

Friggin' coincidences.

The blue light stayed there, warming my hands, shimmering, looking for all it was worth like a pool of magical water and cloudless sky.

The movie Gravity rocketed into my mind. Which was weird, because I wasn't that much of a movie person. My old Dom, Nick, had wanted to see it. I didn't want to. Sandra Bullock, alone, out in space, for three hours? Snore.

He really wanted to go. It would be in 3-D. The effects would be amazing. Blah, blah, blah. He wasn't a movie person either. I think it was the only movie we saw in all the years we were together, which is why I remember it so well.

But why was I thinking of it now?

I looked at my hands. The blue light was still dancing in my cupped palms. Was it a metaphor for outer space maybe? Did it mean I was a space shot?

Gravity. She gets tossed around. Thrown out of her space station wing by a huge chunk of whatever. Runs her oxygen tank down to empty. Has to put out a fire.

Yes. I know. Life throws everybody curve balls.

I concentrated. Something. Something important. But what?

She revealed that she had lost her only son.

God, what that must be like, to lose a child. We all know we'll lose our parents one day. To lose a spouse early is crazy. But a child?

She lost everyone in her crew, except for George Clooney. Then he sacrifices himself for her.

I heard Drew's voice in my head. 'And what can we learn from this? We can learn a lot from movies.'

Yeah. We can learn that life sucks. But I already knew that.

"I'm disappointed in you, Leah." I said to myself. Which didn't make me feel any better, believe you me. Here it is, I have an amazing stream of dancing blue sunlight kissing my hands, and I'm sounding like...I don't know, nails down a chalkboard would probably be more pleasant.

That wasn't like me.

"Think of something else," I said.

I saw Sandra Bullock in that little space pod, and I couldn't let the image go. With all the things I'd thought of already, I was sure I was missing the point. I stared at the blue in my hand, as if it was a scrying mirror that would show me the answers, but it didn't metamorphosize into a movie screen before my eyes.

"Try to remember," I whispered. I let my eyelids drift down to partially shut. I pictured myself in the dark theatre. I remember watching, the screen huge, and about three-quarters of the way through thinking there was a really important scene. 'This is key. This is what it's really all about,' I had said to myself.

But all I remembered now was that George Clooney had reappeared in the spaceship window.

Damn.

I glanced at my purse. I didn't want to let go of the cerulean sun, but I really needed to know. I spread the fingers of my left hand to keep as much of the azure light in my hand as I could. I dug my phone out of my purse with my right hand, vowing again that I would organize that huge catchall bag soon. One handedly I pulled up the Internet, and I typed in 'Gravity pivotal scene'.

Thank you, YouTube.

George Clooney: One hundred miles to the Chinese space station. That's just a Sunday walk in the park.

Sandra Bullock (breathy): We can't.

GC: Sure we can.

SB: We can't. We're out of fuel. I've tried everything.

Now I remember. She's hallucinating the conversation, both sides. What is it Dr. Jeff always says? Sometimes answers have to come from within.

GC: There's always something.

SB: I've tried everything.

I tried everything, hadn't I?

GC: Did you try the soft landing jets? Landing is launching. It's the same thing. Didn't you learn about that in training?

SB: I only did it on the simulator. And I crashed every time.

GC: Listen, do you—

SB: I CRASHED every time!

Yeah. Me too.

GC: Listen, do you want to go back, or do you want to go forward?

Then there's a pause. He stares at her. Kind of like how Drew stared at me that day after the energy-wedding ring lecture.

GC: I get it. It's nice up here.

Then there's another pause. The kind that is designed to both make the listener feel uncomfortable and make it seem like the speaker is being compassionate to them at the same time. Nice up here. Well, it hasn't exactly been nice up here in my brain where I'd been hanging out lately. Nice up here. Like nice and cozy in bed?

I pulled the little arrow cursor at the bottom of the screen back a second, waited for it to render, and then listened to the last line again.

GC: Listen, do you want to go back or do you want to go forward? (Pause.) I get it. It's nice up here. You can just shut down all the systems.

He turns off switches on the control panel one by one. I think of my half-ass performance lately. Shutting down some systems anyone?

GC: Turn off all the lights, close your eyes...

I pictured myself curled up in the fetal position under my blankets.

GC: And forget everything and everyone. No one will ever hurt you. It's safe.

I'm beginning to hate this movie.

GC: Your kid died. It doesn't get any rougher than that. If you decide to go to the next step, then you need to just get on with it. Sit back and enjoy the ride. You got to plant both feet on the ground and start living life. Hey, it's time to go home.

Really, really, hate this movie.

Sandra Bullock grimaces like...well like she's running barefoot through ice and her heart is in a vice. Then she finds some inner reserve.

I thought of Drew's voice. 'You're braver than you know.'

Sandra Bullock's character uses the landing device that should set her down to propel her ahead, push her up.

"It's a metaphor," I said. "What should be the end of the journey is really the beginning."

Holy fuck.

The light disappeared. I guess I got the message.

"It's all right to curse in a church," I said.

As long as you don't do it out loud, I added to myself.

I put my phone back in my purse. Hhhmm. There was definitely a lot to think about it. I would have to take it in small chunks, to avoid getting a brain cramp. I walked out of the church feeling fully present. The sunlight streamed down. I could see individual specks of gold floating in the rays. Puddles on the pavement looked like wet liquid tar. A faint rainbow was on the horizon.

As soon as I got back into my car, the second I closed the door, it started raining again.

Friggin' coincidences.

* When I got home, Drew was sitting in the hall outside my apartment.

Huh?

He had a grocery bag with him.

"I thought you'd be home," he said. Drew stood up. "I texted you."

I took out my phone. Nothing.

"I didn't get a text," I said.

Bing.

Text from Drew.

Friggin' coincidences.

"Oh, there it is," I said, sounding like a complete idiot. I looked at the time. He sent it when I was having my epiphany over the Gravity video. I guess somebody didn't want me to be interrupted.

"What does it say?" Drew asked.

Really?

He smiled at me. God, he's got a gorgeous smile. A smile that radiant could bring a year of sunshine to a decade of rain.

"It says you're a dork," I said. I could hear the love in my voice. Obvious much?

"Well, at least I'm consistent," he said.

I read the text. 'Heading your way with food and a surprise.'

Huh?

"I love surprises," I said.

Which was funny, I never did before. I guess it was only with Drew. I trusted him.

I took out my keys and let us in. The air conditioning was running. YES. It was still hot and humid, as if the air conditioning had a lot of catching up to do, but it was working. I guess the apartment manager let the A/C guy in.

"Wait, why didn't you let yourself in?" I aksed Drew.

"I wouldn't want to overstep my bounds," he said.

Drew put down the food bag and grabbed me. One of his hands slid up the back of my neck, and his lips pressed against mine. His tongue demanded entrance, hot and possessive. I opened for him; how could I not? Fire licked inside me, devilish, burning. My temperature spiked, and I fisted my hands into the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders, but he pulled away.

"Overstep my bondage, maybe. Oversteps my bounds, never," Drew said.

Incorrigible.

He squinted at me, his gaze scrutinizing.

"Is there something different about you?"

I shook my head.

"Something is," Drew said. "Something's different."

"Unt-ah."

"Your hair."

"No."

"Your boob size,"

"No."

"Let me check," he said.

He slid a hand up my stomach to the underside of my breast. I danced away from him.

"There is definitely something different about you. I'm a guy. We are supposed to notice these things, right? How the hell can I tell what it is? You always look beautiful to me. You drive me crazy. How am I supposed to know if you're wearing a different shade of lipstick?"

"I'm not wearing lipstick," I said.

"Let me check," he said. This time his voice came out more like a growl. He took one giant step forward, put his hand on my lower back and yanked me to him. Drew very slowly licked my lower lip. "Hhhhm. I guess not. Better double check to be sure." His tongue traced my upper lip, gliding, caressing, teasing, just barely touching me.

I used my hand to fan myself.

He let me go.

"What's different?" Drew asked.

"My smile?"

Drew narrowed his eyes.

"What's in the bag?" I asked. I even pointed to go along with my question. Distraction anyone?

"Beaver tail."

"No way!"

"Yes, way. All the way from Vancouver. I had it overnighted."

"Awesome. That's so sweet."

"Candy. Sweet. Yes," Drew said. "I thought you needed to be reminded of our amazing time in Vancouver."

Like I'm ever going to forget.

"I wanted to ply you with sweets," Drew said.

"Why?"

"It's time to do more volunteering. It's time to start putting together plans for Thanksgiving charities. Want to help?"

"Sure," I said.

"The city interfaith coalition has put us in charge of soup kitchens, homeless shelters, and making sure the local disaster relief fund doesn't shut down."

Ut-oh.

"So I'm putting you in charge of all that."

"Ack."

"Why me?" I asked.

"I loved it when we worked volunteering together. I want more of that, a lot, lot more of that."

Apparently I'm not the only one who knows how to use distraction, because before I could think about helping the poor or helping myself to Canadian confections, Drew was kneeling before me. Drew lifted up the bottom of my shirt and planted soft, steamy kisses from one side of my waistline to the other.

Hhhhmmn. I wanted to argue with him, but there wasn't enough blood left in my brain.

"Take this off," he whispered, giving my shirt a tug.

"What if I don't?" I asked.

We both froze. Drew looked up at me. "I'll rip it off," he said, his eyes demanding and his voice suddenly fierce.

"Now," Drew said.

I pulled it up over my head, but very, very slowly.

"Oh, fuck, " Drew said. "Baby, you're glowing." He splayed his hands wide on my hips, smoothed them up my stomach, coasted them over my breasts, thumbed my nipples through the thin fabric of my plain, white bra, and then raked his nails lightly down my body until his hands ended up at my hips again.

"Off," he said, tugging at my pants.

"And if I don't?"

"Don't make me say it again."

"What about the beaver tail?" I asked.

"It can wait, Lee. Everything can wait. Everything in the whole, damn fucking world can wait."

"Yeah?" I asked. I unsnapped my jeans, slowly pulled down the zipper, and then made as big a show as I could of wiggling them down over my hips as I started to get out of them.

My underwear had a picture of a meter, a rainbow semi-circle, measuring angelic to devilish. The black indicator was stuck right at 50% with a caption that said, 'Care to tip the scales either way?'

I didn't even get my pants all the way off, because when Drew saw my underwear his eyes opened wide, and he looked like he was going stroke out.

He let his forehead fall against the front of my pubic bone so hard, it actually made a thunk noise.

"You slay me, Leah. You absolutely slay me."

I put my hands in his hair.

"Is that a good thing?"

Drew looked up. He slid his hands around to my ass, gently cupping my backside in a way that made me feel like my curves were the most full and perfect luscious fruit ever created.

"Yes, baby. That's a good thing."

He traced the picture of the meter on the front of my underwear. Drew looked up at me, the tiny half smile on his face turning wicked.

"Let's see if we can push that indicator..." Drew laid his finger on top of the black line. "Way over into the naughty side, shall we?"

Drew kissed the front of my underwear over the meter. He planted feather-light kisses further down, until he was over that perfect, tiny devil's horn, sucking me through the fabric, causing a blast of hellish heat.

He ran one finger under the elastic of the underwear, not far from where he had soaked the cotton from underneath and I had from above, and pulled it to the side.

"We're here," Drew said. "Let's push that meter all the way into 'Oh fuck yeah territory' why don't we?"

Drew came in close, so close I could feel his warm breath on my skin before his tongue reached out. Drew lightly licked the outside of folds first, before tentatively dipping in. He made a groaning sound, like tasting me was the most amazing, surprising, necessary thing in the world. As if drinking me in would not only fill every fantasy he ever had, but every primal need, every wish, every desire, every hope for delight to flood his senses.

If that isn't enough to melt your bear claw, or beaver tail, or turn your knees to Jell-O.

Turn all your bones into Jell-O as a matter of fact.

Drew got serious about the licking, lapping me up, pushing his tongue in and out of me, rasping his teeth near the top of my clitoris and flicking the tip of his tongue against it. I was burning up. It was an electrical fire that started in my core and radiated out to my extremities, and out of my fingers and toes, until I was afraid it would burn the building down.

I started to shake. Then shake harder. Then I started to shake so violently, Drew cranked his hold down on my hips and ass to keep me in place against his mouth.

"I-I-I-can-can't st-stand anymore," I said.

"Okay," he said. He stopped abruptly and backed up.

"Wait!" I yelled. I started to walk toward him, but my pants were still around my ankles, so I sort of waddled a few steps. Then I lunged forward and grabbed his shirt, snagging two big handfuls in my fists. "I meant, I can't stand up anymore."

He smiled at me. He so knew what I had meant. The shit.

I smiled back at him.

"I didn't want you to go away," I said.

Drew scooped me up, one hand under my knees and one hand around my mid-back, and pulled me to his chest. He carried me to the bedroom.

"I love you, too," he said.

"I didn't say that!"

"Yes you did."

"No. I didn't."

"Yup."

"Nah-ah."

Drew gave me a little jostle, tossing me up and down. He stopped walking for a minute to look at me with a very serious stare.

"Yes, Leah. You did."

Drew dropped me on the bed.

"Maybe part of your meter is stuck on angelic after all."

*

I woke up with Drew curled around me. We were spooned tightly together. His body was warm against mine, and he was snoring softly. I wonder if that was what woke me.

"Mmnnn-nnnah-iiiime-isit?" Drew asked in a groggy voice. The hand that had been wrapped around my waist slid up to my breast.

That earned a smile. I guess the language part of his brain takes a minute before it wakes up and makes sense.

"What time is it?" Drew asked again.

I looked over at my clock. It was blinking 0:00. Obviously we'd had a temporary power outage during the night. Friggin' rain storms.

I checked my phone.

Six forty a.m.

"It's only six-forty," I said.

"Mmmmnn," Drew said. His hand that was on my breast gave it one last caress and then slid lower. "Just enough time to fit in a quickie. If we draw it out long and slow and go into double overtime."