The Understorey

“Two jobs?” I asked.



“Yeah, fixing the beautiful children by day and making love to your wife by night.” She eyed me at the last bit.



I smacked my palm to my forehead and shook my head.



“I’m not going to become a physician Jules.”



“Why?” She asked, confused.



“Because I’m never going to make it out of here alive if you keep talking like that.”



“No, you can’t. I like you alive, remember?” She paused, “I’m sorry, but you look like an irresistible hobo. I can’t help myself.”



“That’s what I thought! Not the irresistible part, of course, but the hobo part.”



She dismissed me with her hand, “You’re so handsome Elliott and you don’t even have to try! That’s kind of annoying actually.”



“Oh whatever Jules!” I turned and looked at the door. “Guess what?”



“What?”



“I’ve gotta’ get out of here.”



“Why?”



“It should be obvious. Me with you alone equals bad things.”



“Oh,” she blushed.



We headed out the door and she completed the rest of the tour. Her aunt’s home was hands down one of the most creatively beautiful homes I’d ever seen. After the tour, we trudged down the stairs and met everyone in the massive kitchen. We still had a couple of hours to kill before we left for Caroline’s gig so all the older kids decided to watch a movie.



“Back to the scene of the crime,” I nudged quietly.



We both laughed and sat together at the back of the five rows of seats and everyone else piled in around us, knee deep in their own conversations.



“What are we watching?” I asked Jules.



“Not sure. My Uncle Rocky’s picking the film. He’s got pretty great taste in films.”



The lights dimmed and I heard the familiar ticking of the film before it shot onto to the oversized screen in front of us. Jules and I rested our feet on the seats in front of us but neither of us made it past the opening credits. We fell asleep with my arm around Jules and her head on my shoulder. I dozed off breathing in the scent of her shampoo.



When the movie was over, apparently the other kids just let us get some sleep and Jules’ mom didn’t wake us until everyone was ready to leave.



“Julia, honey,” I barely heard.



Jules rustled beneath my arms.



“Yeah?” She asked, unaware where she was. “Oh, what time is it?”



“Quarter ‘til dear.”



“Okay.”



Jules shook me awake and I sat up. We both stretched in our seats and stood up.



“I’m going to freshen up,” Jules said, “before we have to leave.”



I met Jules in the foyer five minutes later and we all piled into various cars.



We all marched into Antone’s with amazed eyes. The venue was dark and smelled of incense. One of their songs played softly to rev the crowd up.



“That’s all Caroline,” Jules said.



“This is really exciting,” I said.



The band came out first and began to play a low beat and then Caroline joined the stage. The audience erupted into shouts and applause. I guess she was the reason people came. Then, I saw why she was the real reason people came. Her dancing was phenomenal and I saw so much of Jules in her it was shocking. They looked alike, danced alike and even made similar facial expressions.



“It’s obvious that you’re family,” I said.



“Seriously? What a compliment! Thanks babe!”



The music was a mixture of Egyptian and Middle Eastern and was full of experimental beats, viola, and percussion. It was hypnotic, the music and the dancing. The best part of the evening was when Caroline pulled Jules up onto the stage and made her dance something they both knew together. I wish I had remembered to bring a camera, Jules looked so amazing up there. She was a natural. At the end of their song I lifted Jules by the waist off the stage and guided a breathless Jules back to her family.



“I’m sorry your parents missed that,” I said.



“How did I look? Stupid?” She laughed.



“Absolutely not! You looked so good up there! You looked like you belonged there! I’m so impressed Jules!” I screamed over the music.



“Thanks darlin’!” She spoke into my ear and kissed my cheek.



After the concert, everyone stuck around and waited for Caroline but she sent word that she was helping the guys do their thing and she would meet us at Isabel’s the next morning. We all left in such an uplifted mood and everyone wouldn’t stop gushing about Jules’ involvement. I guess a couple of them didn’t even know she was into Tribal. All in all, I’d say it was a fantastic evening.



I was really looking forward to bed and at the first opportunity, I fell into my cot and dreamed, for the first time, the dream that would forever fill my nights.



The dream of the ruthless ideal. The dream haunted me even after Jules left me.



Basically, it was everything I had imagined being a newlywed with Jules would be. We were on our honeymoon, only the location would change, and it always began in the morning. We were always eating at a table inside of our room overlooking mountains, the ocean, snow, desert, you name it. I’d be drinking coffee or tea and she was always reading. We were both together and only slightly distracted from one another. We stayed quiet, neither one speaking a word, but speaking volumes in the way we looked at and touched each other. Every glance, every flirtatious smile, each sigh of breath meant something profound. We kept our feet in constant contact and even in the dream I could feel the deeply steamed flux of electricity. Each time, It made me wake with an unquenchable thirst for Jules. That first morning, I woke hyperventilating.



The first few days, I thought it was because I was becoming claustrophobic from being wedged in between the wall and the billiard’s table but I would find out eventually that it was a physical reaction to the dream. It was euphoric. Every morning I woke slightly earlier than usual so I could revel in it as long as possible before the feeling wore off.



I need to see Jules. It was six in the morning but I hopped up from my cot anyway, showered, didn’t bother shaving, brushed my teeth, dressed and waited downstairs by myself for Jules to come down. Surprisingly, she was not five minutes behind me. The kitchen had massive rolling doors that opened to the outside patio and I opened them to breathe in the cool air. I sat at a breakfast table chair, staring from underneath the open door when I saw her descend the industrial staircase. I bounded to greet her with the largest smile, totally not expecting her to have met me so early. I held her at her waist and brought her delicate face to mine. I kissed her severely. I sat her back down and kept my hand at her waist because I felt she had lost her footing from the kiss.



“I hoped you would have been down here,” she whispered.



“You did?” I asked quietly.



She brought her lips to my ear, “I had a dream about us.”



I stared at her in disbelief.



“So did I.”



“What was yours about?” She asked.



“Our honeymoon,” I said.



“Mine too.”



Why I was surprised by this, I don’t know. I had gotten used to things being unusual between us, I just hadn’t expected this was all.



“Amazing,” I said.



She told me all about her dream. It was almost identical to mine but with a slight twist. She said she kept trying to talk to me but I wouldn’t answer her and all she was able to do was touch me and smile at me.



“Amazing,” I repeated.



I held on to her for a very long time. I cupped her face in my hands and stared into her eyes. Every now and then I would softly kiss her chin, cheek, forehead, or lips. I was passionately in love with Jules and I could see in her eyes and feel through her touch that she was too.



“I’m so in love with you Jules,” I said.



“And I with you, my love,” she answered.



“I don’t think I can wait to belong to you any longer. Please marry me after graduation Jules?”



Desperate.



“We can’t my love. We’ll need to wait just a little bit longer. What is four years in the scheme of things?”



“But why?”



“Because I promised your mother you’d become the man you wanted to be and I wouldn’t hinder that for anything in the world. I like to keep my promises.”



“Oh, mom can just mind her own business!” I said roughly.



“Elliott,” she sang, “we can do this. We can wait and we will be all the more in love because of it. Waiting is one of those things that test your character dear and I have a feeling that eventually we’ll be two of the most satiated characters that ever walked God’s earth.



“One of the greatest thing about character is its peculiar after effect. It naturally molds you into the person that you are meant to be. Many who suffer the pains of instant gratification suffer their characters because of it and never get to discover all that they could be. It’s tragic. Elliott, you and I were meant to wait. I feel it in my bones. Waiting is one of the variables of our fated formula.” She placed both her hands on my forearms and reached to lean closely into my ear. “And its results? Will be astounding,” she promised and sweetly kissed my cheek.



I looked on her gratefully.



“I’m afraid I’ve botched any chance of a romantic proposal,” I admitted.



“That’s not true,” she said. “What could be more romantic than a man so desperate to marry you he would ask a thousand times? No, there is nothing more romantic.”



“You’re a clever girl Jules.”



“No, not clever, truthful.”



“Then, both.”



I kissed her again, this time more melodiously.



“Eventually,” I taunted.



“Eventually.”



We let go of one another at the sound of Jules’ father coming down the staircase.



“What in the heck are you two doing up?” He asked. His eyes became large, “You two aren’t just getting in are you?”



“No Mr. Jacobs. We rode with everyone else last night. Jules and I were just the earliest risers this morning,” I said.



I glanced at Jules and she smiled back.



“Oh,” he said shuffling in his slippers and bathrobe to an empty coffee pot. “Didn’t either of you make coffee?”



We both shook our heads.



“That’s unAmerican,” he joked. “It’s too chilly for the door to be open. Close that for me, will ya’ Elliott?”



I rolled the door down and locked the chain. The kitchen began to heat up with warm bodies and Joan E’s cooking. She made these miniature quiches with the most delectable insides known to man. I never would have considered myself a ‘quiche’ kind of guy but I ate my share and three other’s worth of the darn things. Jules, on a whim, made a yogurt parfait with low fat yogurt, fresh fruit, and honey baked granola. That was probably her antidote to all the cholesterol I had just ingested.



“Here babe,” she said handing me a bowl.



“Jules, are you worried about me?” I cracked.