3 comments/ 14005 views/ 9 favorites Of Love and Ink By: jesstoyou I don't know why I try. I just don't. I get up at six in the morning every day, shower, tame my unruly hair into a stylist's dream, and paint my face up so that I look like someone completely different than when I woke up. I drag my tired ass out into the bright shiny world determined to make this new day better than the day before, I say to myself "Self, today I will meet my soul mate" only to be home by six more tired than when I left, alone and disgusted. Well, I am not completely alone. The bottle of Grey Goose under my arm screams to be opened from its crackling brown paper sack, I am only too happy to oblige. "But Ricky!! Why can't I be in your show?" Even dead Lucy's shrill voice alerts me that it is past midnight, and all I have accomplished is a nice martini induced buzz teetering on the brink of full on inebriation and five chapters of tripe. I am a writer ... well, I used to be. Now, if someone took account of my life they would see a lonely chick in her early thirties who by day traipses all over Dallas with her notebooks and laptop pretending to write a 'novel' but in reality she is trying to be seen by any available man who is meets her lofty standards making him marriage material. The outside observer would see that her disappointment is tangible when she returns home from the long day to drink away her troubles as she tries half heartedly to revive a writing career she is not even sure she really wants anymore. The outside observer would watch me pop a couple of different pills from an unmarked prescription bottle, and wonder what I am washing down with my cocktail. "Oh God ... why do I even try anymore? Please just end it already why am I still here!" I drunkenly scream to an unseen and unheard God hoping that this time it will hear me and put me out of my misery. But, another hour or so passes and I am still here, it never listens. I am drunk, depressed, and distraught, but still to my chagrin, very much alive. I push my laptop off of the bed, drink the last bitter dredges of my now warm martini and fall into the small pile of pillows waiting for my weary head. 1. "Who are you? Where am I?" I hear myself ask. But unnervingly I notice my lips never moved. The faceless man says nothing; he extends a warm hand to me and leads me through a lavish house to a bedroom. Somehow all of the sudden I am on a bed that feels more like a cloud, there are arms roving my body finding no purchase on any one spot, but invoking feelings of ecstasy unimaginable with in my very core. I have no idea who this man is based on his physicality's, but somehow I know his soul. The man making love to me is someone in my life right now someone I have wanted before, but never had, someone I have loved, and sometimes still love. He strokes my body as if he were born to do just that and right as we are about to climax together he stops. He looks up and around as I urge him desperately to continue. "I am calling ..." His voice is like cool silk sheets caressing my burning skin. "What? I don't care; I'll get the phone later... please don't stop ... don't go!" I claw at his back as he makes to withdraw from me. "Justine, there is no time I am calling ..." he says again with more urgency. His body slowly fades into nothing as the room dissolves into my familiar bedroom. And as I begin to hear the cacophony of the phone ringing more clearly I cry. He is gone again. It is a dream I have constantly, so much I am terrified to go to sleep because I know I will wake bereft of his warmth, his love, any love. The caller is insistent; the ringing phone would not cease I threw the comforter from my body. Angry, I flew from the bed faster than I should have after a night of drinking and chemical induced sleep. I clutched at my head praying that the jack hammer working tirelessly at my skull would break the surface and permit me to leave this earth. Unfortunately, my prayers again fall on deaf ears, and my life was spared as I grabbed the phone receiver. "What!" I bellowed into the handset. "Umm Justine you ok?" Malichai's voice sounded a bit more cheerful than my own as I tried to compose myself and rein in my temper. "God Malichai, what are you doing up so early?" "I am catching an earlier flight home today ... will you be able to meet me at DFW around ten this morning?" I was silent ... my head pounded with new unrelenting fervor hell bent on forcing me to recall each and every volatile sip of vodka that passed my lips the previous night. , I still felt drunk and this man whom I would walk through fire for, but he won't see it, wanted me to greet the day with open arms? "I think I just had a dream about you. Your call woke me out of it." I croaked giving my tired eyes a vigorous rub. "Oh yeah ... was it a good one?" he asked. "No, um, we were being chased. I think someone wanted to kill us or something. It was so surreal" As I lied I could still feel his demanding lips on mine and wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and dream about him some more. "Then I guess it's good I called when I did huh?" He did not sound convinced, but also did not want to hear the real dream; so we both were content with the murder scenario. "I'll pick you up at ten Malichai. Hope you have a good flight..." "Wait Justine, that's why I called, I did not want you to freak out when you saw him, Edward is flying in with me. He wants to visit for a week. Tell me you are ok with that." As soon as he said the name Edward my blood ran cold, and my head pounded so hard I thought my ears would bleed. Edward is the Bain of my existence and a pain in both of my ass cheeks. The last time Edward and I had been in the same city I told Malichai that if I ever had to see Edward again that I might kill him. And now Malichai is actually asking me if I am ok that he is bringing this effeminate son of a bitch to my home for a fuckin visit? Hell no! I am not ok with it! When we all lived in New York Edward propositioned Malichai, knowing that Malichai and I were together. And the shit of it is, Malichai went to him! "Justine, you know I have always been curious ..." He said to me as he grabbed his keys and proceeded to leave our flat to go sleep with Edward to satiate his bi-curiosity. I thought I would never forgive him. That night I packed my things, called my mother in Texas to get a plane ticket home. And by five the next evening I was back in Texas on the phone with wet hair talking to a begging Malichai. He wanted me back in New York, could not understand why I left, and had the ever famous argument of ... "It was just sex, it meant nothing ...I didn't even like it!" After three years with me he jumps up and gets curious. We both had always been eccentric, loved to try new things ... but together. It had never dawned on me after all the nights we spent at various drag shows and in gay clubs like Monster that Malichai would ever wish to go outside our relationship, much less with another man. I couldn't compete with a man; I had no idea even where to begin, so I did the next best thing and ran. He threw away the best relationship either of us could ever imagine and have not found again on some cock that supposedly, he didn't even like. But still, it took him four years of co-habitation in a studio apartment with Edward to satisfy his curiosity with his not so good homosexual experience. In the four years we were apart we spoke often, I eventually forgave his transgressions against my heart, but I never trusted him again, and he knows it. Still, when it was over between him and Edward I told him to come to Dallas until he figured out what he wanted to do, not my best idea as I am still very much in love with him. And now, I am just hours away from being faced with, Edward, * AKA* Satan. "Malichai, why would you invite Edward here? Are you really that oblivious to my feelings? Or do you just not give a damn?" "Justine, please, he and I are still friends, you know that..." "Ok, well Malichai, I can't stop him from making the trip, but you and your 'friend' can make arrangements for a 'friendly' hotel room! Oh, and Love ... Edward had better not say a mumbling word to me when I pick you up. If he does I may dive on him right on the spot!" "Justine, don't be like this ... a hotel room is not necessary ... we are just friends! He can sleep on the couch..." he whispered heavily into the phone. "Malichai, you are lucky I am even bothering to pick you up! Edward will not set foot I this house, not ever! And if you don't play your cards right, neither will you!" With that I slammed the phone down hurting my hand. As I cursed in pain I hoped that Malichai would send Edward to a hotel alone, and that Malichai would stay with me. But with little to no faith I ran a hand through my already mussed hair as I trudged back to bed. I had a good four hours before I had to be at the airport, and nausea was slowly creeping into my stomach. I lay down and attempted to will the sickness to wash over me as quickly as possible. As I lay there I contemplated my affection for Malichai and every other man I had gotten attached to only to end up with a broken heart every single time. "God if you can hear me at all ... Please I am begging you, take away my capacity for love. I am begging you, if you have any compassion at all close my heart forever, it is already in pieces ... put a shell over it, don't let anyone else in. Please stop dangling the prospect of love and happiness just out of my reach ... please ... G-o-..." My prayer fell silent on my lips as I fell back into bed pissed off, dejected, and distressed. No one heard me, I am sure of it. Of Love and Ink Ch. 02 As I sipped my third martini of the night two kids passed in front of my living room window hand in hand pushing a stroller holding a bright faced toddler chortling away. They had to be sixteen or seventeen and happier in love than at thirty-two years old I have ever experienced or even come close to. I had not realized I was crying until I felt Malichai's hands on my shoulders from behind. "You ok Sweets?" I had missed him for the week and a half he was in New York settling his affairs. But just then, I was fuming on the verge of boiling mad. His hands on me would normally be welcome, but tonight they felt like anvils weighing me down, anchoring me in limbo. "Did you get everything taken care of in the city Malichai?" "Umm yeah, the realtor gave me the check for our apartment. All of our stuff is on its way here as we speak." He said optimistically. "What do you mean our stuff?" I said turning to look at him confused. I had not been in New York for the better part of four years. As far as I knew I had nothing more there. "Justine your cameras, your dark room equipment... you had some books, and clothes. You took almost nothing when you left. I put it all in storage with my stuff when I moved in w-with Edward ..." His voice had crept down to a whisper. We had never spoken about my leaving New York, and we certainly never talked about why I left or what happened after. "Ss-so, where is Edward t-h-hen?" Malichai must have made my martini stronger than normal, I could already hear my words slurring into that place every soon to be alcoholic aspires to get to. I was almost 'right'. "I put him in a hotel Justine." His tone was patient, but there was a warning laying just on the surface, Malichai was headed out tonight, with Edward. "Humm, a hotel, yes ... somewhere close I'd imagine ..." "Justine, please ..." "No-no Mali ... its fine ... I told you to put him in a room. Y-y-you know what, I know you are just itchin to get out the door Malichai! Go, fly to him! I have writing to do anyways, just don't slam the door when you come back, hopefully I will be asleep." I bit out with a flourish of my hand that caused my drink to slosh over the lip of my glass. I pushed past Malachi in an atepmt to male it to my room before the tears came. "Justine ... Justine Please!" He called to me long after I slammed my bedroom door. He didn't dare try to enter uninvited. He may have been an insatiable trifling ass man, but he had never been one to flout basic etiquette. A couple of hours and two more very strong martinis had passed since I left Malichai to his own devises. I had not written anything. All night long I had done nothing but drank deeply and dreamed. It was not until I flew from my bed to the bathroom across the hall to get sick that I realized Malichai had not gone out. He had sat right next to my bedroom door waiting for me while I drank the night away. As I set the Grey Goose free Malichai wet a towel and put it on the back of my neck while he smoothed my hair back. "I-I thought you were going out ..." my voice scratched out something that resembled words, but it was mostly gurgles. "I was worried about you Justine ..." he cooed. "You were worried about little ole me? Well Don't, I am f-fine." "You don't look or sound fine Justine ..." His voice was full of sympathy and concern. But all I really heard was pity, and I did not need pity. "I admit, this is not one of my better moments, but really, I want you to go ... I just want to be alone." He secured my hair in a ponytail holder and held my elbow as I went over to the sink to rinse my mouth. When I looked at my blood shot eyes and tear stained face in the mirror I did not recognize myself, more than that, when I looked behind my reflection to my alabaster angel, Malichai resembled a shell of the man I had once loved so much. His azure eyes were tired and held no depth, and when the corners of his mouth tried to turn up into a small smile it was as if someone was pulling on strings, forcing the gesture. "Remember that night we walked down Madison Avenue hand in hand screaming some made up song in the snow Malichai?" I whispered lost in happier times. "Ha, yeah, how could I forget? You bought us those huge whistles. Mine was green, and yours was orange I think, we blew and blew them after each verse of our song ..." "Yeah ... but I needed to stop because I was out of breath. You wrapped your arms around me and said that you would carry me anywhere ... remember?" He gazed at my reflection in the mirror, looking as if at any moment he would cry. "Bubbles, I remember everything ..." he said on a heavy sigh. He had not called me Bubbles in so long! It was a nick name he gave me in New York. We had been out partying and I was surrounded by a happy group of strangers, gay and straight, all vying for my attention. He said that they were drawn to my smile and bubbly manner. From that night on, I was known as Bubbles, a name I had not known since I returned to Texas. "What has happened to us Malichai?" "I don't know Justine ... but whatever it is, it isn't good." His voice trembled with melancholy. "I should not be standing here in a cold sweat, drunk. I look like a washed out wino for God sake! I should be married now. It is 10.30, I should be sneaking into the rooms of my 2.5 children with my happy loving husband to make sure they are ok before he and I settle in to some stupid movie that we won't even watch because we are so into each other. Instead ... here I am, standing in the middle of a washroom with my bisexual ex contemplating if I would fuck him right now if given half the chance just because you are here and I haven't got any for the past year!" I half yealled. "Stop it Justine!" "What Malichai have I said something wrong?" "You are walking a thin line Justine. You should stop now and just go to bed..." "With you Malichai? What'd ya say ... wanna get a little nookie tonight, no strings attached of course ..." He set his jaw, and just when I thought my banter would crack his resolve, he took a deep breath and stepped away from me a bit. "Justine I love you ..." With that sentence, my teeth clenched. I realized a certain anger that reached into my soul twisting and turning, burning and writhing. I realized that he was going to force me to crack before my acid words ever touched him. And since my words were not going to faze him, I figured a bottle of liquid soap would. I picked it up and chucked it at his head. He dodged my make shift weapon easily as he grabbed both my wrists and turned my body into his "Let me go you bastard! I don't need you to pity me and I don't need you to love me! Let me go! Malichai please ... I can't ... please just let me go" I was sobbing now, and the intensity of our confrontation caused my buzz to wane some. He loosened his grip on my wrists and wrapped his arms tight around me as if he were attempting to hold me together. "Shhhh Justine, it's all right ... I am so sorry, about everything. I did not want this for us, ever." He was crying now too as he led us out of the washroom and back to my bedroom. He sat me down gently on the bed as I sniffed the last of my tears back. Malachi sat on the floor looking up at me as I concentrated on my nervous feet. "You don't have to stay in here you know?" I mumbled. "Yeah, I know Justine, I could use the company though, and Edward is just not going to fit the bill for me tonight." With that he reached for the bottle of Grey Goose and tipped it back taking a long drink, not seeming to mind the smooth bite the poison presented. When he offered it to me I took it happily and after about an hour had passed he and I were buzzed, talking about life and love long into the night as if we had not missed a beat at all in our relationship. The feeling between us was much like it had been so long ago in New York. Malichai was attentive, funny, warm, and most of all, though it probably was the vodka, he seemed right at that moment to be in to me. There was no one else in the world for him, and I was ok with that. I told him my dreams again, as if it were the first time we spoke ... and for the first time ever, we both shared the nightmares we had been living for the past four years we were apart. In the end I found myself doing most of the talking and as I did my ramblings went back further than our past. Malachite sat and listened patiently as I loved every man I had loved up to him for a second time. And as I spoke, I remembered just what it was to really love Malachi, but I tried to keep it in perspective. He had broken my heart once; he would never do it again. 3. "Ian was my first ... my fist kiss, my first dance, my first boyfriend, my first Love. God I loved that boy." Thinking about Ian in my drunken state threatened to bring more tears, but with another harsh swallow of vodka my tears were held at bay. Malichai still sat on the floor while I lay across the bed revisiting my past. He was content to let me talk as we drank together. He listened with genuine interest as I remembered my Ian. Ian was shy in high school, we both had been. But somehow, we were both always surrounded by people ... him the girls and me the guys. One day, he was going up the stairs as I was coming down, both of us surrounded by our respective 'followers' and we locked eyes as we passed each other. Even then his eyes had a profundity no teenage boy's eyes should have. The chocolate orbs told of devastating times, but held a glimmer of hope, and a small dream that life will be good eventually. Neither of us broke the stare until we lost sight of the other. From that day on, it was my goal to find the gorgeous Polynesian with the salt and pepper hair who would not vacate my thoughts for even a second. The day finally came months after we had first seen each other that we would meet again. I was walking through my neighborhood with a friend when Lucky, the neighborhood's only thug at the time called to us from his game room window. He invited us in to play pool with him and his 'boys'. As soon as I entered the room I saw Ian and time stopped. He and I did not play pool ... instead we went to the backyard and talked long into the evening. From that day on we were inseparable. Ian was the only boy of five adopted children. His second mother, the one I knew, had been a missionary in Samoa when her best friend and Ian's first adoptive mother died of breast cancer, leaving Ian and his sister alone. Marla Philips knew she could not leave the children in Samoa; their lives would be hell with no parents. So, she brought them back to Dallas with her, adopted them and three other island girls forming the only family Ian could ever remember having. To this day I would call Ian my soul mate, but we never had a chance in hell to make a go of it. When he and I got together, Marla was dying of the same cancer that killed her friend so long ago. The day she died I was at the house with Ian. She was so frail. Her bones stabbed through paper thin cracked skin, and her once beautiful mane had been reduced to tufts of scraggly hair growing in random spots on her be speckled scalp. Ian held her hand as he looked on her with a stone face, but I knew, with every labored breath she took, inside he too was dying. It happened quickly. A storm had rolled in that morning. I remember screaming when a huge thunder clap rocked the house. When I calmed down, Marla was gone. Ian squeezed her hand one last time, stood, set his jaw, and asked me to leave. I was a seventeen year old girl then. I did not understand why he was so cold to me. Ian barely said two words to me at his mother's funeral, and after, we did not speak for weeks. I would walk past his house and see him out tending the yard, but our once starring eyes would no longer meet. I think hated him after a while. Graduation came and went, and it was not until fall the next year that Ian and I would speak again. He showed up at my mother's door one night. I said nothing to him ... just stood aside permitting him entry into the house. I thought I would scream at him, say horrible things, but instead we just held each other ... until the sun rose the next day. "S-s-o what happened Justine, after that night? You have never said anything about him before; I thought I was your first love actually ..." Malichai was now drunk too. His words came slow and stumbling, and he actually sounded miffed that my heart had belonged to another man, before him. He stood, almost toppling over and came to sit beside me on the bed. As he sat he rested his hand casually on my behind. Soon he was stroking me softly, but thinking about Ian had me in a less than amorous mood. Uncomfortable with his attentions I made to inch away from him, but I inched much too hard and fell off the bed. I hit the wood floor hard, and decided instead of getting up, laying there would suffice for a while, besides the floor cooled my alcohol laden skin nicely. "You ok down there?" Malichai's head popped over the side of the bed. The chuckle in his voice made it obvious he had been amused by my mishap. "You are such an ass Malichai!" I slurred to him playfully. "Yeah yeah ... I know, and I am sorry, I will keep my hands to myself. Are you going to tell me what happened to Ian then?" Sighing I rested my head on my arms as I lay there contemplating whether or not I wanted to go on. "Um, well, the night he came to my mother's house I was packing for my fist trip to Europe. I was moving to Germany with relatives for a year that turned into two and a half years. Ian begged me not to go, said that we still had unfinished business. He said that he had not known how to deal with me and our relationship while he grieved for his mother. But, I was too young and too hurt to even begin to understand." I took another drink, this time the alcohol could not stave off my tears. They began to flow before I even knew they were there. Speaking began to get more and more difficult through my sobs. "I-I told him ... um, God! I told him I would never trust him with my heart again, and to take care of himself w-while I was away. M-Malichai, I would give anything to turn the clocks back. I would do it right now, go back to that night, and tell Ian I love him endlessly. I never would leave him if I could just go back!" Malichai had never seen me so upset. Little did he know that when I left New York behind his shenanigans I was almost committable. He came down to the floor with me and gathered me in his arms. I was so broken it was like he was picking up a sack of bones. I could not hold myself under my own weight. Reliving Ian and having Malichai back in my life was getting the better of me. I wanted to run away ... to hide. I wanted right then to shut myself off, to feel nothing. Loving just hurt too badly. Just when you think the pain will kill you, when you know you are at the threshold of your own demise, the heart beats ... it carries on louder and stronger than it ever beat before mandating that it will-not-stop. No matter how many pieces it is in, it will not cease to pump life into a broken soul. My heart pounded my chest steady and true, mocking me, telling me I had my chance at love, and blew it with my own infantile ego. It let me know, with each beat, that under no uncertain circumstances, it beat alone, and would beat alone indefinitely. "Shhh Love ... it's ok, you were so young then ..." Malichai was at a loss. All he could do is rock me in his arms as I again, like I had so many nights before, mourned the loss of my Ian. Malichai held me for the better part of an hour before I was able to compose myself enough to thank him for staying with me. I had not wanted him to. I had wanted to stay angry at him. I wanted to punish him for breaking my heart. I wanted to castigate Malichai for my loss of Ian. I wanted to burn him so badly because Ian was not there to console me, to touch me, to make love to me ... I wanted to hate Malichai because he was not Ian. But I couldn't punish him, not right then, I needed him too much. I needed his arms around me, and his kisses in my hair. I needed him right then to be my light and my hope, to tell me that this too shall pass. In the end Ian or no Ian, right then I needed Malichai to be my saving grace. Of Love and Ink Ch. 03 A tiny man sat perched on my forehead tapping at my skull with a minute hammer and chisel. It did not hurt as much as it was the most annoying sensation I had felt in a long time. He worked tirelessly, until I swatted at him to make him stop. As my hand flew at him I smacked myself in the face hard forcing consciousness. I was now coherent and could see that there had never been a tiny man trying to gain entrance into my head, but the tapping still persisted. The taps came in bursts of three ... taptaptap ... silence ... taptaptap ... silence then, after his last series of taps at my window frame a blue jay let out a boisterous scream, taptaptap ... jayjayjay! I thought the bird was attempting to get my attention that he may introduce himself, but upon closer inspection of the window and its frame I saw hundreds of caterpillars doing their best to squirm away from the hungry bird. "What cha looking at Love?" Half naked, Malachi lay stretched out on a pallet on my bedroom floor. Looking at him there reminded me of a Stuart Townsend on set dressed in his vampire garb. Sunlight cascaded across his fair hairless chest seeming to cause his pale skin to glisten. He looked so comfortable lying there, like when we were young, happy, when we were together. "Um, I think we are being invaded by caterpillars." My voice slid from my mouth lazy and soft, still tired from my restless sleep. Malichai rose and came over to the window, he stood inches from me, I could feel his heat searing into my back. Suddenly, I could not hear the blue jay's raucous war cries, and the plight of the caterpillars no longer mattered to me. All that mattered was Malichai's skin, and its proximity to my own. Since we had reconciled our relationship had been platonic, but there was always that smidgen of sexual tension lying just under the surface. "Hungry? I can make b-break-f ..." I stuttered unable to finish my sentence. He could hear the angst in my voice at how close he was to me ... yet instead of backing up he stepped closer still, pressing his body into my back. It was quite obvious he was in fact hungry, but pancakes and eggs were the furthest things from his mind. "No, Justine ... I am not hungry ..." he purred. His voice slipped around my head like quick silver as his hands stroked up my arms forcing goose flesh all over my body. I wanted him so bad I could taste it. I allowed my head to loll back against his chest as we both stood there silently fighting an inevitable battle. He wanted to break my resolve; I needed to keep it in tact. I knew the second Malichai and I made love for the first time in four years he would have me back in that place all lovers go. It seems like Eden on first glance. Lush foliage sets the scene, the sun shines bright, however the temperature is a comfortable eighty degrees no matter what time it is. But after a while, fierce storms roll in, the temperature drops fast, and that same Eden the two lovers have found turns to hell. "Malichai, what are we doing?" I murmured while trying to separate myself from him, but he would not have it. His arm snaked around my waist pulling me back into his body. The strength in his hold had me on fire and when his supple lips found my earlobe I thought I would explode. "I am going to make love to you Justine ..." he growled slipping an exploring hand beneath my t-shirt. "Malichai no. I-I don't, I c-can't." The attentions he was raining on my ear and neck were getting the better of me and I was cracking. "Yes, Justine you can ... and you do want this, I know you do. We have been apart for too long." He whispered breathlessly as his fingers gave my breast an impatient squeeze. That was all I needed to grab a hold of my reason. The thought of a full reconciliation with Malichai was never an option for me. Regardless that I still loved him, romance was not an option for us together. He had hurt me too badly, and I was broken. I could not go back. I needed to make him stop. "I said Stop Malichai!" I spat ripping myself away from him, but I could not go far as I was between him and the window. I could see by looking at him that he was taken aback by the venom in my voice and the force I exerted to get away from him. "Why Justine, what's stopping you? I mean you ask me to come here, yet you have not touched me in all the time I have been here with you. Hell you put me in a separate room! You don't want me with anyone else, friend or otherwise, but I can't touch you either? Justine, you have to help me out here ... I'm at a loss." He said trying to control his temper as well as his passion. Every time he seemed to want to touch me I flinched and he balled his fist and pulled back. "My Justine was never so frigid and angry ..." He said through clenched teeth as he took a step back. I felt the sting on my hand before I knew what had just happened, but the scarlet hand print on Malichai's cheek told the story. A few seconds went by. We were silent, but I heard his comment resonate over and over again in my head so I slapped him again, harder this time. I hit him a third time; I hit him repeatedly until I was pounding his chest in a futile attempt at silencing what he had just said to me. But I was getting tired, and my entire body was becoming rigid with tension. He wrapped his strong arms around me, staunching my assault with ease. "Get away from me Malichai! Get out of my room now!" "I am not going anywhere Justine ... I am so sorry I said that Justine, I take it back." "Whatever I am right now Malichai ... you are the reason ... you made me frigid, it is your fault I am angry! You and every other man I thought ever loved me!" I mumbled into his chest as he stroked my hair whispering how sorry he was. "Justine, I never wanted to hurt you. You have to believe me, I have always loved you, and right now I love you more than life ..." I pulled away far enough to look him in the eye, "And Edward? Where do I fit between him and you? I have been the third wheel before Malichai, it is not a position I fancy revisiting!" I pushed him aside enough that I could squeeze past him. His head dropped as I moved for the door. I stopped wanting to say something, anything to lighten the mood. His eyes slid up my body to find my own staring back at him. He could see I wanted him, I knew he wanted me ... "So, blueberry or chocolate chip?" I asked. "No one in New York City makes blueberry pancakes like you do Justine ..." He said offering me a small smile as I ducked out of the room to get breakfast started. My nerves did not settle until I heard him start his shower, but envisioning him naked did absolutely nothing to cool my libido. Three piping hot pancakes later, and I still hungered only for Malichai. We made small talk as we pushed bits of pancake and eggs around on our plates. I looked up at the window fixture he had created for me and put into the ceiling. It was stunning in the morning light. He had worked on the piece for two years after I left New York without my knowledge and had it shipped to me before he came to Dallas. The coffered dome had crystalline etchings cut into it causing sunlight to break through in a rainbow of prisms. "It really is beautiful Malichai ..." I said gazing up at the skylight. "You sure are ..." "N-no, I was talking about ..." I stopped mid-sentence. He knew I meant the window. Nervous, I made to clear my plate, but he grabbed my wrist and gestured with his eyes to my seat. I sat back down silent and apprehensive as a school girl in the principal's office. "So, you've been a third wheel before? You never told me about that ... oh, and just so you know, I do not intend on you being a third wheel between Edward and me. Like I said before, he is just a friend, and if it bothers you, after this visit, he and I will never speak again." "Malichai, you have no obligation to me, we are just friends too remember?" "Justine, we have never been, and never would be able to be 'just friends' Love. You know that, I know you do. Now, tell me about your third wheel experience." He was right of course. I was a fool to think that I could invite him to my home as a friend who needed to get out of the city for a while. From the moment I laid eyes on Malichai, I knew he was a piece of my soul. No matter how angry he made me, no matter how detached I thought I was from him, there is no way we could ever be 'just friends'. I had no idea what we were, but 'just friends' we were not. Of Love and Ink Ch. 04 AUTHOR'S NOTE **** Hey everyone ... thank you so much for reading! I am so flattered that my story has evoked such passion for poor Justine's plight. I feel that I need to explain a bit about who she is here before you read this next entry. As difficult as it is to admit, in a lot of ways, Justine is me ... I have lived most of this story. (So for those of you wondering who really falls in love with "a gay dude" it's me. :) Justine is growing ... her progress is slow, but in all of her turmoil, she is getting stronger, it is just not so easily seen. I guess this story for me is not so much about Justine's backbone as it is about her capacity to forgive love itself so that she can once again give as well as accept it for herself again. So if you are seeking Justine's courage, I think you will find it in her ability to forgive and open herself up once more. Thanks again for stopping by, and I do hope you continue to come back. AUTHOR'S NOTE After discussing Ian all night I was not sure I had enough strength to walk down memory lane with Malichai again. It was beyond me why he even wanted to hear about my lost loves. It really was irrelevant after all. Hearts are broken everyday ... why should mine be so interesting? But, in my apathy, there was a part of me that needed to purge, I guess as we sat there beside one another amid out plates of pancake crumbs that is what drove me on to tell him about Stephen. "Stephen L. Hamlin broke me down to nothing in the span of two of the longest years of my life." Malichai sat at the table sipping a mocha latte as I cringed at the mention of Stephen's name. I felt bile bubble up my esophagus as I restrained a curse in his name. "Wait a minute Justine, Stephen? Wasn't he the guy who came to the loft looking for you in New York?" I had hoped Malichai had forgotten that night. It was not the first time Stephen had found me. Malichai and I were showcasing some of Malichai's art on this particular night, and Stephen decided he would crash the show. Let's just say, the brawl he and Malichai got into left most of Malichai's sculptures in pieces and Malichai's name as an up and coming artist questionable in New York for a while. "Yes Malichai, the troglodyte is one in the same." "Ha! Jesus Justine! You loved a prat like that? He was so boorish and well just angry ... hell he cost me thousands!" "Oh come on Malichai, he was not fighting with himself. You both had an abundance of testosterone flowing that night. Besides, you were born and raised in the city, I thought you native New Yorkers wrote the book on angry and boorish?" "Funny funny girl Justine ... touché ... so, what happened with you and Mr. Hamlin?" I tucked into a seat next to Malichai as I made to tell him the tale of a jaded young girl who thought life would fall right in line for her after high school. It is the ultimate story of innocence lost, and cynicism gained. I think with Stephen was the first time I learned what it really meant to hate. To this day, I have not forgiven him. I was a girl of twenty-one when Stephen and I happened upon each other at a discothèque in Mainz. He was with a group of American soldiers stationed in Germany; I was with a few friends as well, one of whom was utterly smitten with the coco colored American with the green eyes. She begged me to introduce her. I guess she figured my being American meant it was ok for me to accost fellow Americans for her in the interest of German-American relations. But when Stephen and I saw each other, it did not matter who we had come out with, we were leaving together. After our first couple of dates I decided, like Malichai learned, that Stephen was rather uncouth. Every other word out of his mouth was a swear word, and little did he know, I noticed how he ogled passing women while we were out together. After our third date I decided our time together was time wasted, and had decided to move on. A few weeks past before Stephen and I spoke again, but when we finally did I saw a notable change in his manner. He was, sweet. In three short weeks this sophomoric troglodyte managed to grow up some to reveal the makings of what I thought, in my short years, would be a good man and mate. We dated for a few weeks before my dumb twenty one year old ass let him move in. Our relationship ran hot and cold. When we were not fighting, we were canoodling and fawning over one another. It was not until I got pregnant about a year after he moved in that the relationship did a complete 360. "Is it mine?" Stephen's old smug self came out again as he challenged my integrity and fidelity. "I-Is it yours? Um ... I think my hearing is off ... what the hell do you mean? Is it fucking yours? Well it's not Hans's down the walkplatz! Yes you prick! This baby is yours!" "Justine I didn't mean ...! "I know exactly what you meant Steve! You think because you are away half the time on your 'military exercises' that maybe I got a little on the side and lucky for you slipped up right?" "N-no Justine!" "Well not so lucky soldier, you got caught up, the kid is yours!" He packed his things that night and moved back into his military assigned apartment. I did not hear from him for two weeks, and when we finally did speak, I wished he had just stayed gone. "Justine ... we need to talk." "So formal, I'm not Justine any more? You're right; we do need to talk Stephen. The Doctor says I am about two months along now, I want this baby." He did not speak for a long time. I thought the line had been disconnected when I heard him sigh as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "No Justine ..." "Why?" "Justine, we are not ready for a baby! I am getting ready to leave for PLDC to get my promotion in two weeks! After that, I am more than likely shipping out to Kosovo for a year or more! I cannot have a baby right now!" Now it was my turn to hold the phone. I was in shock. I had become one of 'those chicks' ... you know the type used, abused, and through, but still ready for more, whatever he had to give ... it didn't matter, as long as he stuck around. "What are you saying Stephen?" "My friend and his girl used this Doctor in Frankfurt ... he is discreet. We could do a day trip, take care of everything and be back in Mainz for dinner. I was dying inside. My blood boiled and rolled in my veins like a derailed freight train, and my head spun like a dreidel top. My mother had sent me to Germany to learn something about the world, but this lesson was one I do not think she had in mind. "Steve, when are you coming home?" I did not know it when I asked him, but my decision hinged on his answer. If he had said that he was not moving back in, I think I would have kept the baby to trap him, to trap us, together. Because even with all his faults ... I think I loved the idiot, at the very least, I was so obsessed with him, that I was willing to have his baby for the sake of forcing him to stay in my life. I think he knew this as well. He moved back in a week before the abortion, and threatened to leave again the night before we went to Frankfurt because I had changed my mind. In the end we did go ... and about a year more of fighting, and his infidelity, so did Stephen. "Justine, Steve called me from K-Town last night ... " Stephen's best friend since high school Greg had not even closed the door before he started talking. They enlisted together on the buddy program and had only been assigned to different units once in their whole time serving until Stephen got assigned to the hospital in Kaiserslautern. "Oh yeah, what'd he have to say? By the way, do you know what charities are here in Germany? Do you think I could donate all our furniture or should I sell it?" I had been packing all day. I was supposed to take the train to Saarbrucken the next day to elope with Stephen. He had asked me to marry him five months before, and I quickly accepted his proposal. Ever since that day I had been planning out my life as a soldier's wife. I dreamt of our home on post with our family of four, a girl for me and a boy for him, a dog names Shadow, a cat called Tabby; the whole bit. "There is no point in you getting on the train ... you should just stay here." I chuckled some as I put a silk blouse into my bag ... "Do you think he will want his Kevlar coat? I know he probably has not gotten another one since he has been gone." "Justine, you cannot go to Saarbrucken tomorrow ... he is not going to meet you ..." "Shut up Greg! Just shut up!" I think I had been holding back tears when I opened the door for Greg. He never came round unless it Stephen was home. I knew his visit could not be a good sign. And the last couple of times Stephen and I spoke on the phone he had been short, and the very last time we spoke, he hung up on me making like there was a bad connection, but I knew the connection had been fine. "Justine, he got a girl pregnant in K-Town ... his dad flew in from the states to visit, and he and the girl found out she is pregnant during the visit. His dad insists he marry her." "No! You are lying! He would have told me something!" "Would he have Justine? Do you really think he would have told you? Yeah, he probably would, because he is such a great guy ... right?" I looked at Greg and immediately my tears stopped. I would not give him and Stephen more fodder to laugh at, now along with Stephen's new fiancée. I lifted my chin to him and dared him to say more. No matter what he had to say, I did not want or need to hear it. I began to unpack while he was sanding there watching me. I wanted him to leave, but apparently he was waiting for a queue. "Give this to him would you? I'd hate for him to freeze to death." I held the Kevlar coat out by the collar as I banged the door into the wall snapping the door jam off as I showed Greg out. I did not notice the rain until the phone rang. The timing was perfect ... I had finished talking as Malichai took his last bite of Pancake. He looked so natural sitting there across from me, and more comfortable than I ever felt in my own home. He rarely wore clothes, and this morning he sat eating pancakes in front of God and everybody naked as the day he was born. I was fine with his nudity until he jumped up to grab the phone. It was obvious looking at his erection that he had not calmed down from our first interactions just a couple of hours before. He found my blushing despite my chocolate skin tone amusing as he excused himself, brushing against my arm. "Oh ... hey Edward ..." My nerves stood on end at the very mention of Edward's name. Malichai stole a glance over to me and offered a small smile meant to comfort me. But the thing I found most comforting is the fact that the second he heard Edward's sickening voice on the line, his lovely erection began to finally diminish. It was not until I saw that that I offered him a smile back and began to clear the table. "Ed, I have only about an hour at most to spend with you this afternoon ... no ... no, Ed I know you came for a visit, but Justine needs me now ... Ed ... Edward I'm sorry! I am not going to mess this up again! One hour Ed ... I'm sorry ..." I tried to give Malichai his privacy, but somehow I could not help but eavesdrop on his conversation with Edward. When the conversation finished I was stunned. He really did want to be back in my life as my man ... my heart did flip flops at the implications, but my head ... my head would not allow me to run amuck like a silly school girl discovering love for the first time. My heart was more than ready to love Malichai ... but my head just could not reconcile how he hurt me in the past with his actions today ... my head was having none of this love business. *****   "So, the fairy boy is town then? "Malichai is no more a fairy than you are a carpet-muncher Renéee!" "Ouch chica! I'm just messin' with you!! Unless of course you're making me an offer I certainly could not refuse ..." Renéee shoved a piece of lettuce in her mouth as she winked a sparkling green eye at me. She had been trying to get me to switch teams for as long as I had known her. "Nope Renéee ... no offers, unless you'd like a martini ..." "Damn, shot down again ... I guess I will have to settle for that drink. So, when am I going to meet Mr. wonderful? He sounds hot ... I may have to go it straight for a night or two ..." I slapped her playfully on the arm ... "Trust me Renée ... you are not his type ..." Lunch with my best friend in the world, Renéee Woodward was good, but I was distracted. Malichai was off somewhere in Dallas chatting Edward up and though I was sure now that he and Edward were just friends, it ate me up to think about them alone together. Not that I wanted Malichai still ... well that is not exactly true, there was a part of me who wanted Malichai with desperate abandon. But there was another part of me who was terrified of going there with him again. I was not sure I could endure another broken heart, and though I loved him still ... I was not at all certain I could trust him. "Well now you are just bein' stingy Justine ... I can't have you, can't have him ..." she said with a mock pout as she took a sip of her drink. I met Renéee a week after Malichai and I had broken up. Reluctantly back in Dallas, friends forced me out to a drag show at the Village, and being already smashed when we got there I mistook Renée for one of the performers that night, and she mistook me for a drunk lesbian. Once she convinced me she was just your average club hopper wearing a hot pink latex body suit, bejeweled tutu, and a glittering white afro wig and an acquaintance Jason persuade Renée I was straight, despite my overly amorous advances towards her, she and I became fast friends. She had sat up with me many a night as I sobbed my eyes out over Malichai. I remember a while before he came to town Renée and I had been doing tequila shots all night when he called and he and I had an argument that somehow Renée became involved in ... "...'f you sss-soo much's even look at Justine 'gain I'll rip your b-balls off and s-sshove them down your throat you p-p-pussy poser!" She screamed into the phone from another line. Renée hiccupped and giggled drunkenly, into the phone singing a made up song of pussy posers and dreams while I grunted my approval of her defense of me. "Who the hell is this? Justine, what is going on over there?" Malachi half growled. "This's Renée W-woo ... woo woo woo ..." Laughing at her new song Renée was so toasted she could not even get her last name out, and in her confusion she became frustrated resigning herself to shouting obscenities into the phone at Malichai. "Geeroff the line Ren! This is 'tween him and m-meee!" I slurred. I could not be angry with Renée after her rants that night ... I had said worse to Malichai after all. Besides, in the back of our minds, Renée and I both knew that if I was gay she and I would be together. She is my female soul mate, and for a while, I thought I could picture us together in a less plutonic relationship, even though that was during a time I was on the rebound from Malichai ... it was no less true, and she knew it. Though Renée did her best to respect my position, when we drank together she became brave enough to test my choices. I'd start with a little flirting between us as we became more and more inebriated ... then later on in the evening she would get bolder. "You can't handle this chica ... you should just stick with your men." She'd say crossing her long toned legs inviting me to her while her eyes travelled up and down my body, making me more and more uncomfortable, but no less inclined to staunch the enticing air of our encounter. "I can handle whatever you got Lady ..." "Is that so?" She'd ask slipping her hand up my knee with a squeeze as our calves rubbed together gently. As she called my bluff I was up out of my seat making some excuse to leave the room hastily. "Can you bring me more ice when you come back Justine?" My drink is getting warm. She would call ending our little experiment. Renée tried to hide her frustration, but it seeped through her voice and painted her face with such boldness I thought she would never forgive my teasing. It was because she always forgave me that I could not allow her and Malichai to meet. Not because I was ashamed of either of them, but because they both loved me, and I loved only Malichai. It would be tantamount to a crime, an unforgivable sin to flaunt my feelings for Malichai in Renée's face as if she wanted me only as her friend. It would break her heart, and she would hate me, but she would want me still. No, they would never formally meet, and knowing for sure how I felt about the situation, there would be no more flirting between Renée and me, ever again. From this lunch on, we would be what neither of us had ever wanted or had ever really been, but what we were always destined to be ... Renée and I forever would be just friends. "Do you really think he is ready now Justine? Can you honestly tell me he won't break your heart again?" It seemed in the new tone in Renée's voice that she sensed our relationship had just taken an inevitable turn she'd rather it hadn't. She sipped her drink with a heartrending look in her beautiful normally smiling eyes as she looked out over the green at golfer's hitting balls into the setting sun waiting for me to answer a question I couldn't. "Are you going to answer that Justine?" I could not remember a time Renée had called me by my full name ... I did not like it at all. But there was no helping it. She would need some time, time that I could not offer her right then, Malichai was calling. "Hey Malichai ... where are you? How was lunch? Is he gone?" I spat out all at once. Renée adopted a jealous scowl as I clutched my phone praying that Edward had left for New York already. As I volleyed questions at Malichai not allowing him to give me an excuse as to why his hour long lunch with Edward was going to run over or why he feels the need to accompany Edward back to New York. "Justine calm own ... I am back at the house. Edward is gone. We got him on an earlier flight out, he saw no reason to stay on ... and you and I need to talk. Come home now please..." "Is everything ok? Has something happened?" "Everything is fine Justine ... I just need you. I need you here." "I'll be there in twenty minutes." I breathed with an air of uncertainty. "Hurry ..." He sounded desperate. Not like he needed me sexually, but like he truly needed me there with him ... like he was hurting, and he called me. I looked at Renée and could feel the anger and hurt she felt at having watched me almost jump through the phone into Malichai's arms. She needed me to feel that for her, but it was impossible. She had a white knuckle grip on her now empty martini glass. It had been half full seconds ago. Tears had welled up in her eyes as we sat staring at each other in silence. Finally, I spoke. "Renée, I have to go ... he's" "He's what Justine? He's so in love with you he can feel every beat of his heart crash against his ribcage every time he thinks of you?" she bit out. "Renée ..." "Or what Justine ... with his every breath he longs to be kissing you, he wishes every stroke of his finger tips was caressing your skin? What Justine ... he's dying for you? Would he?" "Renée ... please don't do this ... you know I love him, you know it has always been him, from day one." "And what about Ian, and Stephen, and even Mathias Justine, you loved them too right? They were for you? And what about me Justine ... did you really not know you were for me." "Renée ... stop it! You knew ..." Of Love and Ink Ch. 04 "Just go." She whispered broken and defeated. She was crying now. I did not realize how loud we had been, but now we had an audience. The maître d' came over to check if everything was ok offering Renée his handkerchief. I tried to put my hand on top of hers to lend some comfort, to say that we had always been and always would be friends, but she snatched her hand away as if my hand had been flame. "I said go Justine! You have made your choice! Now leave me the hell alone!" "She will forgive me ... again." I thought aloud with little conviction that she would, at least not for sometime anyways. And Like a self absorbed coward I'd left her at the restaurant to be consoled by an empty martini glass and our now very nervous waiter. But somehow, as I turned into my driveway and saw Malichai's car in its spot, all of my angst over Renée had erupted into an overwhelming need to be as close to him as I could get. "Malichai? I'm home!" I called with a tremor in my voice. The house was silent except for the faint ticking of a broken clock on my fireplace mantle. The clock ran, but it was never set right. At one point the batteries had died. The clock was silent for a few days, but then suddenly I woke up after drinking myself to sleep one night to find it ticking away with enormous vigor ... it had just come back to life, much like I had, and I never had the heart to stop it again, even to change the batteries. That clock had more of a will to live than I did at the time. As I stood pondering the oddity of the clock that refused to die I felt fingers travel up my waist starting at my hips. Soon, the light stroke of fingers turned to the demanding needy grab of strong hands snaking around my belly and up over my breasts to rest there for a single moment in time only to continue their exploration of my body until they found purchase hooking up and over my shoulders pulling me into loving protective arms. "I've missed you." Malichai's sultry voice sailed into my swimming head, and I just wanted to melt into him. "How could you miss me in just a couple of hours?" I whispered. Malichai did not answer my question; instead he began to kneel to the floor taking me with him as he suckled at my neck and nuzzled my ears. Once we found the floor we became a tangled mess of passion that had been locked away far too long within the depths of our souls. It was not until I felt him tugging at the lingerie under my skirt that I was able to come to my senses. My pliant body tensed in his arms as I tried to sit up, but he was having none of it. "Damn it Justine, let me make love to you ..." He said with a fire I had not heard in him in years. "But Mal ..." "Please Justine ..." He had me pinned to the floor, so it wasn't like I could go anywhere, nor was he. Somehow I knew, he was not really asking. This was going to happen. And though I tried to fight him, I knew my fight was ego driven, and that was not enough for me to really put up a good enough fight to make him stop. He had broken my heart, humiliated me, and my fight against him for the most part had been to punish him. But my resolve had waned to nothing. I wanted him, I needed him more than I have ever needed anyone before, and he knew it. In the attentions he rained on my body and soul in that moment made quite clear that the time for broken hearts, fighting, and punishment was over. Night had fallen by the time our passions were sated. I lay in Malichai's arms listening to his heart beat steadily as he slept. Part of me wanted nothing more than to bask in the pleasure of what had just transpired between Malichai and me. I had forgotten how much I loved his hands on me. I yearned to have him again. My body screamed for him. He was my drug, and though I had just had a hit, I needed yet another, and another and another, each stronger than the last. Just as he had years before, time and again, tonight he teased my skin with a touch so soft my nerve endings seemed to stand at attention begging for a heavier hand. And just when I thought I would perish from his tender attentions, his grip tightened rough and demanding on my breasts, belly, thigh, whatever he could get to, and I would be diminished to mush in his arms. He devoured my mouth with his own forcing me to delight in the sweetness of his essence, and as my tongue danced a forbidden dance with his own I decided that I needed no air ... ever again. And when he coaxed what I thought would be my last climax up from the depths of my soul my breath hitched in my throat threatening never to resume again. But as he surged into me hard and fathomlessly deep I felt the first spasms of his own climax and when he came my fingernails dug into his back marking him forever as mine. Finally, when my last orgasm hit me hard I screamed in my pleasure ... "Malichai! I will die from this!" Yet still, through all of the pleasure, another part of me wanted to run away as fast and hard as I could to put as much distance between Malichai and me as possible. Like I said, he's a drug, and I was hopelessly addicted, there was no letting go, and I found myself terrified that he would do it again, he would break my heart, I just knew he would. In that knowledge I tensed up and tried to wriggle free from his hold without waking him lest I rouse his desire for me again. "Mmmm, don't move ..." There was serenity in his voice that I had not heard in ages as his grip tightened on me. "Malichai, please, it's late, I have to go to bed." I tried to sound as non-confrontational as possible. "Oh come on, let's sleep here on the floor tonight Justine. Well, let's sleep after that is." He chuckled as he rolled my body under his again ... but this time I was not going to give in and pressed him to let me up. "Justine, what's wrong?" "Nothing Malichai, I'm just tired, that's all." "No, you won't even look me in the eye ... are you regretting what we just did?" "No ..." I paused a moment sighing heavily. "I don't regret anything Malichai, I am just tired." I said forcing myself to look at him. With that he got off me and helped me to my feet. "Thanks ..." I murmured before trying to side step him so that I could head to my room. "You're not getting off that easily Justine ... what's going on?" "Malichai please can't we chalk what just happened up to the fact that we are both just really lonely right now?" The look that fell on his face at my question broke my heart. He crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips. He looked like he was desperately attempting to hold back a flood of tears. "No, we can't Justine, because that is not what this was for me." He said simply. I stood staring at the floor for what seemed like an eternity. What could I say after all? I love you but not enough to lay my trust in you again? Yes, that is exactly what I was supposed to say, it was the truth after all. But what came was something grossly more acidic and full of cowardice. "Yeah right Malichai, you and I both know the only reason you are still here is because you wanted to see if you could get in my pants just one more time ... and you got your answer, you have reached your goal tiger ... bully to you! Now, I need a drink." I turned away from him to go and find some vodka, but before I could get far Malichai grabbed my arm in a vise grip wrenching me around to face him again. His azure eyes had turned to ice with a coal black rim lining them making him look other worldly and he trembled with anger as he studied my shocked face. "You're hurting me Malichai, let go!" "I'm not hurting you nearly as much as you have wounded me Justine." He said through clenched teeth as his grip tightened even more on my arm. "What the hell do you want from me Malichai?" I yelled trying to shake free of his hold. "I didn't do all of this damage Justine, I couldn't have." He pondered aloud with a shake of his head. "I am standing here telling you, showing you that I love you and you throw it back in my face with so much venom? What the hell happened to you Justine?" "Let go of me Malichai." I seethed as my arm throbbed slightly in his hand. "I called you home thinking this would be a new beginning for us ... I thought you understood that! You seemed to understand until after ... oh, yes, I get it now. You did understand that is until after you let your guard down. I uncovered your soft tender side again, the bit of you that is still capable of loving and accepting love and you can not handle it can you?" he asked. "Malichai I have writing to do, I don't have time for this." "Yeah, your precious novel you've been writing and rewriting for the better part of two years, and let's not forget your most valued tool, the chilled martini glass in the freezer huh? You'd rather play it safe drunkenly writing about love instead of living it! Justine, I am right here ready for all the love you have bottled up inside! I am here loving you Justine!" "Yes, you are here now, loving me, but for how long this time Malachi? You loved me before, remember? And I almost ended up in a bloody bath after. You may not have done all of the damage, but ... you know what, never mind, it doesn't matter. What does is that love never works for me, martinis and writing do ... simple as that Malichai now for the last time let-me-go!" I growled trying again to pull away. His grip tightened on my arm and when I winced he swooped me up into his arms with little effort. "I'll never let you go again Justine ... deal with it." He said more furious than I'd ever known him to be. And despite my raucous protests he carried me into his bedroom slamming the door behind us. Of Love and Ink Ch. 05 Malichai and I spent the next two days uninterrupted either in his bed or in the bath. He held me as I cried rivers of tears that had been dammed for the last four years, he rocked me slow as we talked and shared things neither of us had ever spoken about with anyone else. We played, and laughed as we revisited our child hoods while we used the bed as a trampoline. We made love, my God how we made love! Again he held me tight as new tears fell, this time from fear of myself and my feelings for him; and our retreat ended while he massaged my head in the bath. "Marry me Justine ..." The words slipped from his mouth slow and clear. "I can't ..." I whispered without a seconds thought. "You can't? What do you mean you can't? What, do you have to ask your other husband first? He chuckled as I shifted away from him to get out of the tub. "Justine, come on, I'm serious, marry me!" Grabbing a towel I looked over at him. I guess I thought if I looked at him long enough I would see the future, our future, together. I wanted to see that if I agreed to marry him, we would live happily ever after, but all I saw were two pleading eyes bluer than the clearest seas starring back at me. "I'm serious too Malichai, I can't marry you." As I left the bathroom I heard water splashing as he gave chase after me foregoing his own towel. "Justine, talk to me." He said as he crossed the threshold to my room. "You're dripping on my carpet Malichai." "Why Justine?" "Um, because you don't have a towel, dork" I said attempting to change the subject. "Why won't you marry me Justine? I turned my back to him as I towel dried my hair. He waited patiently for me to answer him, and after five minutes passed in silence I felt him leave the room. I did not turn to face him until he slammed his bedroom door rattling my walls. I could not remember if I had breathed since his proposal, but when I heard "The Thing About Love" blaring from his stereo I inhaled deep. And that breath rushed from my lungs again in one huge sob as I collapsed in a heap onto the floor. "Hi Mama, is everything alright?" My voice was raw from crying as I answered the phone. "Hey Baby, I'm calling to see if you are alright, why haven't I heard from you in three days!" "Oh Mama, I've been busy that's all ... you know how I get when I'm writing..." I said trying my best to put on a smile for her through the phone. "Yes, Justine, I know how you get when you are writing ... but somehow, I don't think that is why I have not heard from you. What's the matter? You sound like you've been crying." My mother was psychic. I could never hide anything from her, good or bad. She knows me better than anyone, and rightly so, she is my mother. I had not told her Malichai had come to town, and I certainly had not told her he was living with me indefinitely. I was careful to visit her often lest she make a surprise visit to my place and die of a heart attack on seeing Malichai. She never really liked Malichai. She tolerated him at one time, because I loved him, but if she had had it her way we would have never have met. When I came back home from New York, she vowed to... "stomp a mud hole in that white boy" if she ever saw him again. "I just don't know what you see in that big lump of nothing living off a trust. I know Mr. New York City ain't worked a day in his life! How would he have taken care of you like a man should take care of a woman playing finger paint all day long?" She said to me as I cried my eyes out in her lap the night I got back home. "Mama he's a sculptor, not a painter. And he is a good man, well he used to be anyways ..." I said between sobs. "Hupmh seems to me that a good man wants a good woman ... not another man!" she'd replied. My mother may be psychic, but when it comes to giving consolation, her skills are lacking. And now I found myself at a loss as to what to tell her. It was rare that she actually caught me upset, and she is a smart lady, so I am sure she already had an inkling I was upset behind Malichai yet again; to her chagrin, she knew we still talked often after the break up. "Justine, are you still there?" She said into dead air left by my silence. "Yes Mama, I'm here." I sniffed back tears as I answered here. "What's wrong Justine? Do I need to come over there?" She asked nervously. "No Mama, I'll be alright. It's just that ... um, Mama, someone proposed to me tonight." I mumbled hoping she did not catch what I had said. "Proposed! What? Like marriage? Who Justine? You never said you were even dating! And why are you sitting there crying? Is he there with you now?" "Um, yes Mama, like marriage. I'm not dating; he's someone I have known for a while, years. He is here now, but in the other room." "Justine, no please tell me that boy is not..." "Mama, Malichai is here, he has been for a month or so now, and he asked me to marry him." I squeaked into the phone through unending tears. "Well, I'd be sobbing too. What did you tell him Justine?" My mother sounded unnervingly calm as she posed the million dollar question. "I told him I can't Mama ..." Now it was her turn to hold the phone. A couple of minutes passed before I heard the click of a cigarette lighter. And when I heard her take the first few puffs of her cigarette I just knew I was in for it. "What about his ... boy-f ... I mean ... what about that other..." I had never heard my mother struggle for words. Normally nothing phases her, but Malichai's 'bisexual curiosity had her squirming. "They are finished Mama." I said with more certainty than I actually felt. "Are they now? And he's gotten this 'man' thing out of his system?" "Mama Please?" "Is he finished with men Justine?" "It was just the one time Mama, and he says he loves me." She took another long drag of her cigarette, held it, and blew it out as if she were attempting to blow Malichai right out of my head. "It was one time, so he says, for four years! And he said he loved you before! So, is the boy finished with the men Justine?" "Yes Mama, yes he is finished with men, he wants me, and he loves me." "And you want him too, you love him?" She asked flatly. A few minutes passed before I answered, for once content to listen to her smoke. "Yes Mama, I love him, I want him, I need him ..." "Then baby, if you love him so much what's the problem? Why are you sitting there crying? Why can't you marry Malichai?" I was taken aback by my mother's reply. I had expected her to have jumped in the car as soon as I told her Malichai was within striking distance. Beyond that, she has never called him by his name. To her, Malichai was always 'that white boy' or 'Mark' when she wanted to be really facetious. "Mama, you approve?" I asked feeling like I was sixteen again asking if I could have a boyfriend. "Justine, it's not for me to approve or disapprove. This is your life, you are a grown woman. Now, I am not thrilled, I know you know that. But I also know you know I want you to be happy. And Baby, if Malichai makes you happy, and can continue to make you happy, then I will be happy for you. Now, when are you going to tell him the good news?" "Mama, I told you, I cannot marry Malichai!" As my voice bounced off my walls I did not know who I was trying to convince. "Why can't you Baby?" She asked sounding like she was kissing an injury to make it better. I broke into Renéewed sobs as I grasped for reasons Malichai and I could never be married. And although my cop-outs were weak, I offered them up with vehemence. "Mama, he will be just like the others, he already has been. Eventually they all break my heart; I just can't take that again, I'll die Mama! He has proved it once before that all he can offer me is heart ache ... what happens when he wants to 'experiment' again? What if the next little adventure he wants to try involves adding partners, or worse? I love him bad Mama, but I just cannot marry him!" She did not get to reply to my rant. "I'm not him anymore Justine. I am not the man who broke your heart four years ago Bubbles. And I am not those other guys either, nothing like them, not anymore Love. What I am is here Justine. I am standing here before you needing to love you for the rest of my life!" Malichai's voice was tired, but determined as he made his case. "Mama I have to ..." "I know Baby. Go, talk to him, and when you two set the date ..." "Mama ..." "Justine, let me finish. When you tell my son you will be his wife, you have him call me ok?" "Mama I don't ..." "Ok, Justine?" "Ok Mama ..." ***** "My Mom and Dad never really had a chance ..." I said as I shoved a bit of chocolate chip cookie into my mouth. "How am I making this again Justine? You wanted a shot of espresso in your coco right?" "Yes, a shot of espresso, and a double shot of brandy, topped off with whipped cream sprinkled with chocolate ..." "Yeah yeah, I had everything else ..." Somehow Malichai had become the house bartender since he had taken up residence with me. He made my adult beverages to such perfection that I was conflicted as to weather or not he should continue his studies in sculpture, or open up his very own pub. "Did they love each other?" He asked as he served our night caps. It had been an excruciatingly long day turned night, and it was only eight in the evening. "No ... I really don't think they did. My mom was a country girl from East Texas. She'd never been to Dallas when she moved here, never had a job, or had ever lived on her own. She was fresh out of high school, and ripe for the picking. The way she tells it, she moved here with a relative, got a job at Blue Cross Blue Shield, my grandfather was her boss, his son worked under him. Kenneth Wayne, my dad, was wild. He had grown up in the city, loved fast living, and harbored no regrets ... I guarantee my grandparents were thoroughly exhausted and looking for someone to unload my father on when my mother came along. She was a god send as far as my grandparents were concerned." I sipped my spiked chocolate as I tried to explain why I could not marry Malichai, but the more I spoke, the less sense I made. My issue had nothing to do with my parents. I was reaching for excuses that just were not there. "My Papa found out his son and my mother were having sex. That was all he needed to decree that they would be married, said that he would be damned if his grandkids would be born bastards. He got his way, we were not born bastards, but my parents divorced two years after they were joined. I wonder what my grandfather considered my brother and me then?" "Was the divorce messy?" Malichai asked as he stroked a fingertip along the back of my hand. "Aren't they all? It was 1979, sex and drugs were the norm, and my dad couldn't get enough of either. He embraced decadence with gusto, carousing the streets of Dallas with this or that floozy, blitzed out of his mind on cocaine and alcohol. My mother on the other hand, was more practical. She begged him to settle down, to be the husband and father she honestly thought he could be, but he would have none of it. Eventually my mother got fed up. She sold the house my grandfather had given us when my parents were married for a pittance of two-hundred dollars. She said by the time she had made up her mind to leave, things were so bad that she could not stand the idea of waiting for a more realistic offer for the house. I was two years old, my brother a newborn. She packed the three of us up and never looked back." "How come you never talk about your Dad Justine? Come to think of it, you have never said much about any family outside of your mother and brother." "What's to say?" I asked shrugging. "Well how did you and your dad get along later in life?" "We didn't." Malichai let my terse answer end the conversation about my father and family. I saw understanding in his eyes. We had both learned something profound about me and my attitude towards love and affection in this one conversation. Granted, my history with Malichai offered ample reason for me not to trust him, but the damage had been done long before he and I had ever met. "Justine ..." He said taking my hands in his. The sympathetic tone in his voice made me uncomfortable, but when I tried to pull away from him his grip tightened. "I am so sorry about your relationship with your father, I am sorry about the way his and your Mother's relationship turned out. Justine, I am so sorry for the past awful relationships you've had leading up to right now, and most of all, I am sorry for my hand in that awfulness ..." "Malichai ... please let go ..." I could not take this ... this ... love. "I can't Justine ..." He said pulling me into his lap. As he wrapped his arms around my stiff frame I could not help but to look into his eyes happy to drown within their sapphire depths. "I am sorry, Justine, forgive me, forgive me, and then marry me ..." And there it was again. The proposal I had so long coveted jealously when seeing a newly wed couple exiting a church. Hell, I couldn't even watch television commercials for jewelers advertising engagement bands without spiraling into a full nasty funk wondering 'where's my ring, where's my man?' And now here I satin Malichai's lap in front of his offer of, everything, and I falter? In his eyes I saw the promise of endless nights of passion, days filled with laughter, and some tears, but shared. I saw long walks hand in hand along the Mediterranean cost as we celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I saw a house ... our home. In his hope filled eyes, I saw our children. "I think I'm breaking you down, Love ..." He said kissing away a lone tear that had fallen as I gazed at him. "Listen; don't give me your answer now. You're tired, you should rest, and I haven't worked in the past few days, that piece is not going to sculpt itself I'm afraid." "Malichai I, it's just that .." "Shhh, Love, later. It's late, you should go to bed. We'll talk in the morning." He left me with a tender peck atop my lips and a look that told me he needed so much more than a small kiss right then as he pushed the door to my room open. I did not realize how tight a grip I had on his hand until he pulled himself from me. I did not want to let go for fear that this be some elaborate dream in which after so much torment, heart break, and loss, I finally get everything I ever wanted. For the first time in forever I lay my head down sober. It felt good. My thoughts no longer rolled and broke like choppy frigid nighttime waters. When I closed my eyes it was twilight over tranquil seas. A warm gust seemed wash my soul in the briny sea breeze that was my contemplation. Way off in the distance I heard a gull seem to cry out "say yes, say yes" And before sleep finally overtook me, in thinking of Malichai, I was whole.