© 1998 Hanson: Forever & A Day
Disclaimer: If I have said it once, I have said it a million times over. I DO NOT know Hanson, or anyone from or associated with Mercury Records. But Goddess, do I wish I did. I have been a kind of compulsive short story writer lately, so I have many to add for your reading pleasure. At most, this story would be rated PG, perhaps PG-13--depending on what side of the mouth you're talking out of. (Old Clinton joke.) Now go ahead and read my story. But remember. SIGN THE GUESTBOOK! E-MAIL ME!!! I don't care! Just let me know what you think! Be brutal! Be honest! (Just be! He he he) I can take it!
Sprawled out on my bedroom floor, I lazily flipped through the channels, silently complaining about the lack of good television at 1:oo in the afternoon. Talk show. Soap opera. Soap opera. Talk show. Next station. Upon natural instinct my thumb froze over the remote. Either a blessing or a curse, I saw his face staring back at me throught the 13 inch television screen.
A deep sigh. Memories of the year before. The love. The passion. His eyes. Those piercing eyes, too overwhelming and powerful to be dubbed simply blue encompassed it all. All penned in his eyes. A story only I could read. In each other's arms when the earth awoke. Promising to never leave. All the vows of eternal love. All recorded in his eyes. A message only I could hear.
We had been together. Was it only a year ago? Memories come flooding back. The last one is the most painful, for he found a greater love. His music. The end, my beautiful friend. The end.
He stayed on my mind days after. I pulled my small black Pontiac into the driveway a half hour after curfew. Stumbling. Reaching out for someone who wasn't there. I opened the front door. Upon natural instinct my body froze. Either a blessing or a curse, I saw his face staring back at me from the black leather sofa.
A deep sigh. Confusion setting in.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" I manage to get out.
"Just visiting. Ike and Zac already crashed. I guess I couldn't sleep."
I nodded. The only thing I could do. Hunger. He followed me to the kitchen and sat down at the faux marble bar. I could feel his eyes on me as I rummaged through the kitchen.
"Liberty, you're not..."
Busted.
"...high, are you?"
Damn. He knew the signs. He still remembered them.
"Uh...NO!" I said, perhaps a little too forcefully.
His stare set me under a microscope.
"Don't lie to me," he said. Regret. Concern.
His eyes, too overwhelming and powerful to be dubbed simply blue, saw through my desperate charade. The pain. The fighting. The arguing. The harsh words. Leaving. Never looking back. Apologies. One last chance. Redemption. A redundant situation.
"Why are you even worried, anyway?" I demanded. "All you care about is that goddamned music of yours!" Crimson hair, violet streaks, falling in my eyes. Shiny,golden strands in his.
"Liberty, you know I still love you, but-"
"Music's just what you have to focus on right now. I've heard it before, Taylor. It's all bullshit and you know it!"
"We've talked about this before. That's the way it has to be. Just for right now."
"I'm not some book you can just put down and pick up where you left off whenever the hell you feel like it. I loved you. You know that. It was your decision to leave. I never told you to. I never wanted you to!"
Memories. Rushing back. Redundant conversations. Rhetorical questions. His warm hand on my face, brushing away my chemically treated hair. No words. His warm, sweet lips on mine. Hands searching. Tongues twisting.
"I need you back," he whispered. "I need things back the way they used to be."
The buzz was fading. Falling into myself. Thinking clearly.
"I miss you, Taylor."
Our lips reconnected. His eyes, filled with passion, love, longing. It was then we knew we needed each other. We knew instantly. Hands joined. Down the hall. An empty bedroom. A welcoming bed. Escalating passion. The only one to exceed my expectations. A new tomorrow. An old flame. Another chance.
© 1998 Hanson: Forever & A Day
