How Soon, page 1

A Literary Musical

Breathe again
My hands trace maps
Across your back
When your eyes
are rolling back
[1]

Eyes burning and bleary, she stares at the ashtray in front of her. It creeps up sometimes, the pain does, despite every attempt to push it back to that safe hole inside. Tonight -- tonight it's bad.
And she thinks of him suddenly. She tries not to think of him too much, because the thoughts always come with a profound sense of loss. She hasn't cried since he went away, hasn't shed one tear.
It still feels like a chunk of her soul went with him, though, and that's hard not to cry about.

Another cigarette, the millionth of the night. The ashtray is absurdly full, crumpled white filters built up like the mountains they talked about living in.

Why does it hurt so bad tonight? she muses, inhaling deep. It'd been a month now, and tonight the pain crept up more raw than the day he left. It wasn't supposed to be like this, dammit. Idly she exhales, sending a brief storm of ash fluttering off the desk and to the floor.

Here, I sleep alone
And the sun never shines
Here, I sleep alone
And the rain
Never stops
[1]

She chides herself mentally for even thinking of getting involved with - of all things - a musician. She'd known all along that *here* wasn't where he needed to be if he wanted those lucrative record deals. That's big-city stuff; that's smog and traffic jams and "have your people call my people" stuff.
That's not *here*.
But still,
it had happened despite that, despite both their bristly exterior posturing, despite their trying to walk away.
And they kept coming back to each other as though it had been a minute instead of a month that they'd last spoken.
But now 1700 miles lay bewteen them, and she had resigned herself to the idea that she may never see him again.
And it hurt.

I miss you so much
that it hurts when I'm without you,
Beautiful
[1]

The melancholy is so blood-and-guts deep that her only reaction to the phone ringing is to listlessly reach out and answer it. It's five in the morning and her usual instinctive worry at phone calls after midnight doesn't even nudge through.
"Hullo," she murmurs tonelessly, drawing on the cigarette again.
Her greeting is answered first by a mirroring inhale, then a very quiet "I didn't think you'd be awake."
In those six words, she can tell in an instant that he hasn't been sleeping, that he's been smoking too much and probably drinking more than he should.
A sharp intake of breath, amost a gasp, and she can't seem to find the words.
"It's you," she finally manages. It's the first time they've talked since he'd left almost three weeks ago.
"I miss you," he says quietly, voice ragged.
"I was just thinking about you," she replies. A pause as he takes a drag off the cigarette, then, "I know."
Of course he knows. That's why they keep coming back, because they know without words.
"Can't do this," he murmurs. "I can't sleep. I'm miserable. I hate it here."
"Come back," she says without thinking. "If just for a weekend, come back." Selfish, maybe, to ask that, but she doesn't care. Not now.
A choked sigh.
"If I come back, I'm not leaving."

Maybe I didn't hold you all those lonely, lonely times.
And I guess I never told you - I'm so happy that you're mine.
If I made you feel second best, I'm so sorry; I was blind.
You were always on my mind,
you were always on my mind.
Tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn't died.
Give me, give me one more chance to keep you satisfied.
[2]

Her eyes close momentarily. "You have your music. That will take you back."
And from the other side of the country comes a wry chuckle. "Something makes me doubt that."
She sighs. "You can't walk away from that. You're too damned good."
"No," he cuts her off. "I'm all yours. I already know; it's just about getting there. Do you remember all those things I used to tell you when I hardly knew anything about you at all? Knowing is already part of it. I've missed you for so long."
She swallows hard. "I hate you being there....not here...." and promptly sheds her first tears since his departure.
"Jesus," he mutters after a moment. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to talk to you, I didn't want to upset you."
She furiously grinds a fist against her eyes, rubs the tears from her cheeks. "I'm not upset. You didn't make me cry. I just .... cried."
It's his turn to sigh. "I'm sorry. I wish I could touch you -- just your face."
The tears let some of that stone wall protecting her heart chip away. "Jesus Christ, baby. Then f-ing do something about it. We've danced around this for over a year, how are we ever gonna know?"
And she wonders if he's not fighting back tears. "What I do know is how heavy you pull on my heart when I think about you. And I know there's a reason." He pauses. "Can you find out how much a plane ticket costs?"
Her fingers clatter on the keyboard as they listen to each other breathe.
"You can be here this weekend for $485. Wait a month and it's a hundred cheaper. Round trip," she answers, scanning the computer screen.
"One-way is even cheaper," he murmurs.
And it's almost too much to deal with, the twisting in her heart. She tries to fight back the selfishness.
"Listen to me," her voice is harsh. "You need to leave yourself a way out. If you do it, God dammit, get the round trip ticket. I don't want you to wind up trapped here."
"I'm trapped everywhere I walk," he responds simply.
And the twisting builds, emotion threatening to spill over.
"Baby," she whispers. "It hurt when you left. It was like .... an odd dream just drifted away, like something was almost there on the tips of my fingers and I lost it before I could really grab on." A deep breath. "I want you here, but I don't know if I can deal with you walking away from your dream. I don't know if I can deal with you leaving again."
She can hear him swallow hard, light another cigarette. "We've got two options here," he growls low. "A - you erase my phone number and email address, never f-ing talk to me again and I'll do the same .... or B - we work at it. Now. And something beautiful could happen. I want B."
"I want B," she echoes quietly. "I've wanted that for over a year now."
He doesn't pause. "I've wanted it since that night I told you I loved you. On the phone, remember? Because, for me to say something like that ... I don't know ... the feeling was so raw to me, it was so clean. And it still is."
Somehow she doesn't cry. "I don't believe in fate and I don't believe in God, but for Christ's sake .... you make me question all that. It almost hurts, doesn't it?"
"If it's easier, you can ask me to go away," he whispers.
"No," she says sharply. "No, god dammit. I tried to walk away months ago and I couldn't do it." A pause to light another cigarette. "I want you to come back."
"Okay. When?"
"Now. Today. This weekend. When you can." It's all out in the open now, no need to beat around the proverbial bush.
"I'll be there. I'm going to hold you for a year."

And you're my haven in life
And you're my haven in death, baby
Life and death my darling
I'm in love with you
You are my heaven tonight
I'm in love with you
You are my heaven tonight
[3]

"We're smoking too much," she murmurs after a long silence.
"We can get cancer and die young together," he retorts, and for the first time all night she can hear a smile in his voice.
"After we elope to Vegas. We gotta get married by an Elvis impersonator. Remember?" She smiles too as she speaks.
The spark of a lighter, then, "How could I forget? First we elope, then we go on the cross-country killing spree." They share a laugh. The killing spree, that's just their warped personalities talking; but the Vegas thing? She's not sure how serious that is, if either of them are completely joking about that.
Another moment of silence, and she's not surprised at his dramatic subject change. She's used to it.
"I've been drinking every day I've been here."
She sighs, though on some level she knew. "We've gotta talk about that, babe."
"I know," he sighs. "It's so easy .... so clean."
"It ain't so clean when your head's clear," she rebukes him gently. "But .... I understand. Sometimes you can't handle the clarity."
"I can't right now, at least," he says quietly.
"Would you let me help you?" she murmurs back.
He sighs.
"When I feel loved, all the crap goes away, but the last seven years of my life have been a desert. I've been so lonely."
She has to clench her teeth to keep her voice steady and the tears from falling again. "I'm here. And I don't know how I can love someone so far away, but I don't know what else this is."

...and I see the future. There's no death,
'cause you and I, we're angels.

I love you, Mal.
I know you do, baby. I've loved you since the day we met.
[4]

"I'm gonna be there as soon as I can," he says. "As soon as I can get a ticket. Pinky swear."
One corner of her mouth curls in a smile. "Pinky swear," she whispers, heart lifting at the mention of another endearment they'd come to use. "Round trip ticket, baby. I want you to have a way back ... if you need to go."
She hears a soft chuckle. "I'm not even there, and I already know I don't want to go anywhere else."
Her mind drifts. "You can get a good job here. We can save some money, buy a house in the mountains. After Vegas, of course." She can almost smell the mountain air.
"I'd like that," he says.
"You'll really come back?" she whispers.
"Yes. I'm going to hold you for a year."

I miss you so much
that it hurts when I'm without you,
Beautiful.
[1]

**playlist for this story: [1]"How Soon I Forget (vs)" - C.Layne; [2]"Always on My Mind" - Pet Shop Boys; [3]"Heaven Tonight" - HIM; [4]clips from the movie "Natural Born Killers"**