Lina 31
We came to my turn off and Telor turned in the opposite direction, pulling me along with him.
“My house is that way,” I said, pointing behind us. He pretended not to hear me and continued to lead me away from home. Was this how it was going to be? I stopped walking and almost face planted. “Telor, stop.”
“You heard Denny; we need to stay together as much as possible. I figured we could stay at my place tonight, since you’re avoiding Gavin.” My eyes widened and he rolled his eyes. “We can stay at your place tomorrow, if you want.”
He wanted me to stay the night...with him...at his place. Denny did say that. I shook my head; I didn’t need to justify spending the night at my boyfriend’s house. I was twenty-one and an adult. I could do whatever I wanted. It was not like I was a virgin or anything, though, as he pulled me along toward his place, I grew more and more nervous. Boyfriend. That word lingered in the forefront of my mind. Is that what Telor was? He seemed to be so much more than that. But I couldn’t very well go around calling him my soul mate. I guess boyfriend would have to do for now.
Telor’s place was on the top floor of Park Plaza, a large apartment tower in the heart of downtown, only a block or so from the museum. We stood in comfortable silence while the elevator moved us closer to the top. Telor quietly sang along with the song. He was adorable. Something he said to me before clicked for the first time.
“So you were the lead singer?” I asked. “In your band?”
“That would be me.” We were getting closer to his ‘before’ life and I knew that he wasn’t going to answer any more questions on the matter.
The elevator dinged, letting us know that we were at his place.
The apartment was decorated with the same taste as the loft in Serendipity. I had a feeling that Denny was responsible for this, as well.
“Let me give you the grand tour,” Telor said, taking on a docent voice. “Here, we have the living room, straight ahead we have the kitchen and dining area, to the left we have the guest room and bath, and to the right, is my favorite part of the place, my bedroom.”
Telor pulled me along down the hall and opened the door to a large space centered by a king-size bed and a set of French doors across the room. There was nothing special about it, but the fact that it belonged to Telor had me freaking out a little.
The whole room smelled like him, like jumping into a sea of Telor.
“If you want to take a shower, the bathroom is right there.” He motioned toward the door next to a chest of drawers.
“Um, yeah, a shower sounds good. I should have taken one earlier,” I answered. “Can I borrow a shirt or something to sleep in?”
“Uh, as much as I would love to see you sleeping in nothing but my shirt,” he said, strolling over to the other dresser with the mirror, “this dresser is full of clothes for you.”
He opened the top two drawers and revealed undergarments and pajamas. I gave him a questioning look, and, “Denny,” was his response. So, I was right, this apartment was compliments of Denny.
“Take a shower; I’ll be in the living room.”
For a split second, I almost asked him to stay and invited him to take that shower with me. There was something about his demeanor that stopped me, though. He didn’t seem angry, merely pensive. He needed a minute. So, I just nodded and gave him a quick peck on the lips as he left.
The hot water felt good against my body, working out the kinks in my muscles. I stayed in the shower until the water started to cool, and my fingers were pruney. After dressing in a pair of gray yoga pants and a pink tank top, I headed to the living room to find Telor. He was sitting in an armchair, feet on the matching ottoman, with his arms folded across his chest. At first, I thought he was sleeping, until I got closer and realized he was just staring at the wall.
“You okay?” I asked as I approached. I wished he were sitting on the couch, or even the loveseat, so I could sit next to him.
“Just fighting some inner demons,” he answered, holding his arms out for me. I take back what I said, I like this seat better. I folded myself into his lap and laid my head on his shoulder.
“What demons are those?” I had a feeling I already knew, with the way he shrank away from the waiter carrying the drinks earlier. I could see the yearning and the torment in his eyes. I also knew by now that he didn’t answer personal questions.
“I was a vice whore,” he answered, to my utter shock. “You give me a vice, be it drugs, drinks, or smokes, and I’ll take it, not just a little, but until I become so numb that I can’t feel anything. It’s a miracle that I lived as long as I did.”
He was an alcoholic. I couldn’t see it. Well, now, of course, I could, with the torment in his eyes as he admitted it and eyed the beverage cart behind me.
“You said was. Does that mean you don’t want it anymore?” I asked and snuggled closer to him, loving the way he held me tighter, as if he too couldn’t get close enough.
“Not so far. As a Guide, t doesn’t affect you the same way. It’s like drinking water. I want it, I won’t lie. But I don’t need it the way I used to,” he said softly. “I think it’s you, you make it better. Make me better.”
“Does it make it harder for you when you’re around other people who drink?” I asked, feeling guilty about earlier.
“No, not really,” he said. “Are you hungry?” And end questions. Despite my disappointment, I was okay with his boundaries. For now. He didn’t need to tell me everything at once.
“I could eat.”
Telor made us each half a sandwich and a small bowl of soup, which we ate quickly as we sat in comfortable silence. Was this how people in love felt? This connection and sense of belonging? The way we talked and moved together, I couldn’t doubt that we were made for each other.
I hopped off the barstool at the breakfast bar and made my way to the fridge. A sharp, stabbing pain radiated through my foot. My blood stained the large piece of broken glass that was sticking out of my flesh. I didn’t remember screaming, but Telor was at my side.
“Wrap your arms around my neck, Cariad.” He scooped me up in his arms and made his way to the bathroom before gently setting me atop the closed toilet seat.
Telor had the focus of a surgeon, inspecting the gouge in my foot as he told me, “This might hurt for a moment.” Using a pair of tweezers, he removed the single piece of glass, and squirted the hole with peroxide. He grabbed the towel on the bar and wrapped my foot in it, patting it dry, and then covered it with gauze and tape.
“I’m sorry, Catalina.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “That shouldn’t have been there.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” It was not like he stabbed me in the foot or anything. I tried to smile and laugh it off, but the anguish on his face was obvious. I figured there was something he was leaving out. Though, it was obviously not the time to bring it up. “Let’s go to bed.”
He carried me gently to bed and lay me down before climbing under the covers on the other side. When we were settled in and the lights were off, we lay facing each other, content in the moment of nearness.
The moonlight illuminated his face, and I ran my fingers over his cheek and jawline. I still couldn’t get enough of his eyes. They mesmerized me.
Slowly, he reached out and cupped my face between both of his hands. Inching his face closer to mine, he stopped right before our lips touched.
“How far in that memory did you make it?” he whispered, as if someone might hear us.
“Right after the face kisses.” I couldn’t help but smile a little. His mother seemed so loving, doting even.
Bringing his face closer to mine, he lined his left eye up with mine so our eyelashes were touching. “Blink,” he whispered, and when I did, he repeated it with the other eye, and said, “One day you’ll be a butterfly and fly. For now, you’re a caterpillar and you’re mine, mine, mine.”
“What was that?” I asked around my thickening throat. I could feel the swirl of emotions coming off him. Half happy and half painful. I knew the feeling of grief all too well.
“It’s the rest of that memory,” he said. “The eyelash thing is called butterfly kisses. My mum used to do it. She called me her caterpillar. I just thought that you should have the whole memory.”
“Can I ask a favor?” When he nodded, I said, “Sing to me.”
“Why do you want me to sing to you?” he asked, gathering me in his arms and pulling me close. No matter that it was a king-size bed, we were huddled in the middle, tangled in each other.
“Hearing your voice reminds me that you’re still here,” I said, feeling the pull of sleep. “Please?”
“Your wish, Cariad.” And he began to sing.
I didn’t recognize the song at first, but when I did, I smiled against his shirt. Randy Travis’s “Deeper than the Holler” was not what I expected from my Guide, but oh, how it was fitting. The south must have rubbed off on him. My eyes grew heavier with every word he sang. By the time he was down to the last notes, I was almost completely out.
“Go to sleep, Cariad,” he whispered. And so I did.