Our Story, My Way ~ From Then to Now (Part II)

{ October 22, 2009 @ 4:18 pm } · { Uncategorized }

I never wanted to leave his side. I wanted to stay enveloped in his warmth, his love for eternity. At that moment I knew I wanted him for the rest of my life. The problem was me. I have a whole slew of inner demons attacking my thought process.

We eventually did get out of bed. But we slept cradled in each other’s arms. No feeling can compare to that. Words can barely describe or create a picture of how it feels, felt, to be cradled in his embrace. He was, is, my Angel in disguise.

We woke and went to get some breakfast. Actually, it was a breakfast sub at a nearby sub shop. That was the best breakfast sub that ever graced my mouth. I am not sure if it was because the blissful feelings enthralling me or if it was really that good. But, I will say this, every time we ate there I still had those incredible feelings of satisfaction. But, again, it could have been the company.

I ate slowly purposefully. I wanted the moments we shared to last. The time to freeze, but our hearts continuing to beat in a perfect harmony. If only he knew, knew how much I wanted him. Knew how much I needed him. Knew how thankful I was for him. If only.

I wanted to share those thoughts with him, but couldn’t. My past subjected me to be closed with my feelings. Don’t give too much because you will always get burned. Nothing in life is that perfect. Nothing in life is that easy. Everything has a price and for this I thought the price was my heart. I didn’t want that to break. It couldn’t break! It hadn’t and it won’t! I have been guarded with ease until I met my Angel in disguise. This was my train of thought. In retrospect I probably should have shared this with him, but I was young… and we all know that means a naïve know-it-all.

After we ate, we headed back to his house. I had to face his mother, Priscilla, which was awkward for me. I have never spent the night at a guy’s house on the first “date,” nor had I slept with a guy on the first “date.” There is a first for everything and, honestly, I am glad he was my first for that. His mother was very nice, but I could tell she had reserved feelings about me. Though, she grew to like me, but not love me. I believe she loved his ex-girlfriend prior to me and in her mind compared me to her, but this train of thought could have all been a part of my insecurities.

In any event, she was very nice to me. She made me feel comfortable. Like this was where I belonged. I have never felt that before or still to this day with any other person’s I was dating mother.

I was pleased, and relieved, that it went smoothly. However, all I wanted to do was kiss Elvis. To be wrapped in his warmth. Being in his embrace was never close enough. In his arms I was still too far away. Though, we eventually had to part ways. I needed to return home. I knew my mother would be freaked, but I lied the night before and told her I was going to be hanging out with some friends and would probably sleep over one of their homes. She believed me without question. I had never really given her reason not to believe me. I was always honest with her, even when it hurt. I just wish I could have been honest with myself.

I was sad to leave him, but knew I would see him in a few short hours. We had work together again that evening. My mother greeted me as soon as arrived home. She instantly knew something was up. I had the “look.” I threw caution to the wind and told her, everything. Luckily she was not mad, but was more intrigued. She had never heard me gush about a guy like I was before.

After we talked I went to my room, to sit, to ponder, and to write. I wrote so many poems about him, but those have all been discarded. I sat, in my room, in the dark, day dreaming of the life I wanted with him. And we had only been on a single “date,” if you want to even call it that, but I did and I do.

I knew I was in trouble. Actually, I knew I was in trouble the moment we spoke to each other, but now that I had felt his embrace I was eternally his, even if he didn’t want me eternally.

The day passed at an extremely, almost unbearable, slow rate. Getting ready for work quickly became the highlight of my day. I was overjoyed with the prospect of seeing Elvis, hearing his soulful voice vibrate my insides and make my heart sing. Finally, it was time for work!

That night at work I was extremely giddy. My face had a perma-grin plastered across it. People were wondering what was up, but customers were delighted to be greeted with an upbeat smile. We did the same thing as the previous night, minus the stop at the gas station or the trip to the convenience store.

Conversations existed flowing and meaningful, considerable with a thirst for wanting to know more and more about Elvis, and him wanting to know more about I, Anabelle. I knew he loved me as much as I loved him. No question in my mind. The only question I had, that I always had, was “how long would he love me, how long until he discards of me?”

See, I didn’t have a horrible childhood, but I did have a childhood void of a father. A father who was absent. I never really knew why until I was much older. He was in prison. See, my father was a brilliant man, but had problems, stemming from his own childhood. This led him down a different path in life. Not too mention my own mother’s problems in her childhood, which branched off into her being a mother. Don’t get me wrong she wasn’t a bad mother. My mother, Anne, was and is very loving, understanding, and also brilliant, but also very set in her ways and world. She provided for me exceptionally well, always making sure I had everything, but I also got to see my mother’s hardships in life and more importantly in love. I vowed to never have those same hardships. To me the only way to not have those hardships was to never be dependant upon someone, even for love. No, especially for love.

I removed those thoughts from my mind momentarily and focused on him. His eyes were a dark shade of brown that shined with the passion he felt for me. They always put me in a trance when I would look at him. He was about 6’ tall, broad shoulders, not too muscular, but not flabby, perfect creamy skin smooth as silk, strong hands but soft touch, overall his physical appearance, in my eyes, was over a ten. He was off the charts in looks. Oh, and his lips, luscious. Full, but not too full to the point it feels like you are kissing a brick wall. No, his lips were full and soft, and when we would kiss it felt like I was in heaven caressing the clouds.

When we would talk I couldn’t help but wonder when he was going to stop. Not because the conversation was boring, but because I didn’t want to continue interrupting him with kiss after kiss. His lips had some sort of magnetic force pull with mine. His being the positive force and mine being the negative force with a yearning for uniting beyond our control.