King of Hearts
Page 100
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“Nah, maybe we’ll save it for later. I wanted to head into the city anyway, spend a couple of hours practicing.”
What he said brought back memories of the other night, and how electric it had felt to see him play for an audience, how he finally seemed to be completely himself. No pain. No loneliness. No addiction. No evil father trying to fuck up his life. No frightened mother, too paranoid to leave the house. He was better, and that’s all I’d ever wanted him to be.
Suddenly, I had a moment of clarity, a feeling that all was right with the world. And then I was feeling weepy again, but this time it was for a whole other reason. I couldn’t hold back the tears, and my eyes grew watery as they ran down my cheeks. Of course, they were happy tears, but when King saw that I was crying, he sucked in a breath and pulled me to him. Still holding my hand in one of his, he reached up and wiped the wetness from my cheeks.
“Hey, he’s going to be all right, you know. Look at him — he’s so excited and happy. Half the kids here are throwing tantrums.”
“It’s not that, it’s just…I love him so much, and I love you so much. It feels too good to be true, to have this much love inside me.”
His body was flush with mine as he dropped my hand so that he could cup my face, his thumbs brushing back and forth over the rise of my cheeks. His eyes flickered between mine, so loving, so serious. “Oh, darling, we should get married.”
I sniffled and let out an unexpected burst of laughter. He was never going to stop with this, but strangely, there was something different about it this time. He was just as sincere as he always was, but the change was in me, and I felt like my answer might be different now.
“Be honest, you only want to marry me for my money. Well, that and my world-class derriere,” I joked, my voice a shaky tremble.
King smiled a glorious smile, his retort provoking memories from words he’d spoken to me years ago. “No, I want to marry you for your witty banter. Well, that and your world-class brain.”
His response made me laugh once more as I took a final glance in Oliver’s direction to see the teacher was now leading the kids inside the school. Once he was gone, I turned back to King. “You know what? I’m kind of in the mood to get hitched today. Must be something in the air.”
I knew he hadn’t expected my answer when his smile grew even wider on his gorgeously handsome face. He pulled my lips to his and kissed me deeply before pulling back and whispering, “Must be.”
Epilogue
King
She walked into the room and I glanced up casually, my attention on my phone call. I looked away, then looked back. Fucking hell, she had a body on her, and I noticed something exotic in her dark features. Enjoying a brief yet detailed vision of sinking my fingers around her lush hips, I glanced down at her resume to check her name. Hmmm.
You have beautiful eyes, Alexis Clark.
Memories were a powerful thing. They could at once set you free or take you prisoner, hold your entire life captive.
I think that in the space between birth and death you can have one life, or you can have many. But in order to have many, you also need the strength to end the one that came before. And there lies the tricky part.
In the old life you might have been face down in the dirt, but that dirt held a seductive quality that kept you in its grasp.
There was once a time when I felt trapped in a dark tunnel, and the only light was a false one found at the end of a bottle. The only peace was the numbness that sang through my veins and blocked out the memories of the life I left behind. Edgar Allen Poe once said that he didn’t indulge in stimulants for the pleasure they brought, but to escape from the memories that plagued him. In that sense, we were kindred.
When I was a young man, I was confident, ready to take on any challenge, free of fear.
When I was a grown man, I knew the world and I was winning, even though there were worries that tried to drag me down.
When I was an older man, I was broken; the things I thought I’d done had ruined the things I’d left behind.
Now I was an even older man, and I knew that my memories didn’t have to own me, and nothing was ever lost forever, especially love. It was simply waiting to be reclaimed, and reclaiming required strength.
You see, I told you there was a tricky part.
And that part would never be truly surpassed. Much like a virus that can’t be cured but simply maintained, I would always look at the dirt and see something alluring. It was the strength I drew from within that kept me from succumbing to the allure.
My strength was in my music. It was in my boy, who grew taller every day. And it was in Alexis, who even when I was nothing had looked at me like I was everything. Thinking of her, I felt a sudden need to see her and rose from my seat, my sister eyeing me suspiciously.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Marina asked.
“To see Alexis. I’ll only be a minute,” I answered.
She tugged on my hand and pulled me back down with a surprising amount of strength for a sixty-year-old woman.
“You can’t see her now. It’s bad luck,” she scolded me.
Jay, who was sitting on the other side of the room, made a noise like Marina had answered a question wrong on a quiz show. “Nope. Complete load of horse rap,” he said, casually closing his book and leaning forward. “People made that shit up back in the day of arranged marriages. Picture it here: Dude walks in and sees his bride’s a howler, then goes, ‘Fuck this for a game of soldiers, I’m outta here.’ Before you know it, the wedding’s off.” A silence fell, and my sister shot Jay a scowl. “Or you know, vice versa. Lotta butt-ugly dudes out there, too,” he amended.
What he said brought back memories of the other night, and how electric it had felt to see him play for an audience, how he finally seemed to be completely himself. No pain. No loneliness. No addiction. No evil father trying to fuck up his life. No frightened mother, too paranoid to leave the house. He was better, and that’s all I’d ever wanted him to be.
Suddenly, I had a moment of clarity, a feeling that all was right with the world. And then I was feeling weepy again, but this time it was for a whole other reason. I couldn’t hold back the tears, and my eyes grew watery as they ran down my cheeks. Of course, they were happy tears, but when King saw that I was crying, he sucked in a breath and pulled me to him. Still holding my hand in one of his, he reached up and wiped the wetness from my cheeks.
“Hey, he’s going to be all right, you know. Look at him — he’s so excited and happy. Half the kids here are throwing tantrums.”
“It’s not that, it’s just…I love him so much, and I love you so much. It feels too good to be true, to have this much love inside me.”
His body was flush with mine as he dropped my hand so that he could cup my face, his thumbs brushing back and forth over the rise of my cheeks. His eyes flickered between mine, so loving, so serious. “Oh, darling, we should get married.”
I sniffled and let out an unexpected burst of laughter. He was never going to stop with this, but strangely, there was something different about it this time. He was just as sincere as he always was, but the change was in me, and I felt like my answer might be different now.
“Be honest, you only want to marry me for my money. Well, that and my world-class derriere,” I joked, my voice a shaky tremble.
King smiled a glorious smile, his retort provoking memories from words he’d spoken to me years ago. “No, I want to marry you for your witty banter. Well, that and your world-class brain.”
His response made me laugh once more as I took a final glance in Oliver’s direction to see the teacher was now leading the kids inside the school. Once he was gone, I turned back to King. “You know what? I’m kind of in the mood to get hitched today. Must be something in the air.”
I knew he hadn’t expected my answer when his smile grew even wider on his gorgeously handsome face. He pulled my lips to his and kissed me deeply before pulling back and whispering, “Must be.”
Epilogue
King
She walked into the room and I glanced up casually, my attention on my phone call. I looked away, then looked back. Fucking hell, she had a body on her, and I noticed something exotic in her dark features. Enjoying a brief yet detailed vision of sinking my fingers around her lush hips, I glanced down at her resume to check her name. Hmmm.
You have beautiful eyes, Alexis Clark.
Memories were a powerful thing. They could at once set you free or take you prisoner, hold your entire life captive.
I think that in the space between birth and death you can have one life, or you can have many. But in order to have many, you also need the strength to end the one that came before. And there lies the tricky part.
In the old life you might have been face down in the dirt, but that dirt held a seductive quality that kept you in its grasp.
There was once a time when I felt trapped in a dark tunnel, and the only light was a false one found at the end of a bottle. The only peace was the numbness that sang through my veins and blocked out the memories of the life I left behind. Edgar Allen Poe once said that he didn’t indulge in stimulants for the pleasure they brought, but to escape from the memories that plagued him. In that sense, we were kindred.
When I was a young man, I was confident, ready to take on any challenge, free of fear.
When I was a grown man, I knew the world and I was winning, even though there were worries that tried to drag me down.
When I was an older man, I was broken; the things I thought I’d done had ruined the things I’d left behind.
Now I was an even older man, and I knew that my memories didn’t have to own me, and nothing was ever lost forever, especially love. It was simply waiting to be reclaimed, and reclaiming required strength.
You see, I told you there was a tricky part.
And that part would never be truly surpassed. Much like a virus that can’t be cured but simply maintained, I would always look at the dirt and see something alluring. It was the strength I drew from within that kept me from succumbing to the allure.
My strength was in my music. It was in my boy, who grew taller every day. And it was in Alexis, who even when I was nothing had looked at me like I was everything. Thinking of her, I felt a sudden need to see her and rose from my seat, my sister eyeing me suspiciously.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Marina asked.
“To see Alexis. I’ll only be a minute,” I answered.
She tugged on my hand and pulled me back down with a surprising amount of strength for a sixty-year-old woman.
“You can’t see her now. It’s bad luck,” she scolded me.
Jay, who was sitting on the other side of the room, made a noise like Marina had answered a question wrong on a quiz show. “Nope. Complete load of horse rap,” he said, casually closing his book and leaning forward. “People made that shit up back in the day of arranged marriages. Picture it here: Dude walks in and sees his bride’s a howler, then goes, ‘Fuck this for a game of soldiers, I’m outta here.’ Before you know it, the wedding’s off.” A silence fell, and my sister shot Jay a scowl. “Or you know, vice versa. Lotta butt-ugly dudes out there, too,” he amended.
