FicWad

After my third Vodka and Cranberry, I couldn't detach myself from him. I was far from inebriated; it would take a lot more than four tablespoons of vodka to get me sauced. My spirits were lifted beyond recognition. My head felt light, my stomach felt warm and my heart felt like it was illuminating through my white midriff. My legs, I could hardly feel them moving through my black Maxi skirt, so it almost felt as if I was gliding on thin air. My lips worked against his as the music sent vibrations through our bodies. We would take a breath every now and then and I would listen to his heart beat at a heated pace, look back in those eyes and we were lip-locking again. He kept his hands on my waist, as they would mosey down my hips and firmly grasp my ass pulling me closer to him.

He spun me around as he fit his chin in the crook of my neck. We were now facing the band playing and in a crowd full of people. The lights were still dim as we swayed side-to-side, and subtle hands wandered softly around my hips and back up again. Every now and then he would softly nibble on my earlobe and then make his way down my neck leaving small bite marks. I took notice to my surroundings and realized that Kim and Frank who had been in front of us had now vanished. But I didn't care. It was like that night at Ray's party all over again. The first night I met Gerard. Everything that I imagined him to do to me was happening; only four years later. It'd been since then that I felt completely intoxicated by his presence. To describe it sounded rather silly, but it was almost as if his raw energy transcended into my body just by his touch, his kiss, the looks he gave me. An entranced grin was the only expression my face could pull off. I didn't mind that.


The moment his lips slipped from my neck and I felt his head contort toward the right side of the room, I knew where this was going. My grin grew a little tighter feeling his heart beat quicken for me. His hands slipped from my sides and made warmth shoot up my spine. His lips tickled the tiny hairs around my ears. He'd been whispering a lot of things; things that would make a church-going woman wilt, but all I could comprehend was his last words.

"Follow me," He whispered. Glassy-eyed and slightly inattentive, his hand latched onto mine and slowly pulled me through the crowd. I wasn't confident enough to ask where he may have been leading me; I didn't have to. I got that fleeting excitement rolling around in my stomach and that unfathomable feeling of adventure.

Passed the crowd, he led me to the steel door that led to the back exit, under a fire escape. The fragments of his ideas came together in my mind as any sign of protest left my body. The door was easy for him to swing open and pull me out of as the night air awakened my senses. Looking up, I could see the tiers of iron steps towering over us. He moved swiftly to the right, shielding us directly under a staircase. His body makes hard contact with mine, forcing my shoulder blades to make hard contact with the brick wall against me. My mind couldn't recoil any response or cognitive functions as his lips crashed into mine. My arms snaked around his shoulders. I pulled him closer with my handfuls of his hair in my hands. His hips passively grind against mine. I wrap my left leg around his right thigh gaining leverage. He slowly pushes my skirt past my knees. His lips work their way down to my neck again. I gasp for air. My hands still gripping handfuls of his ebony hair. I growl, biting down on my lip when his teeth clamp down on the spot in between my chin and neck. I could feel that tingling sensation in my fingertips, sobering me up. Then I finally realized we were in a back alley and what we were about to do could possibly get us arrested. But I'd already been pushed passed the point of no return.

As soon as I came to, my panties had been torn off my ankles and my weight was solely supported on him.

"Gee," I softly giggled. He stopped. Looking dead into my eyes again, his nose touches mine. "What are we doing?" I let out a hiss of giggles.

"Being spontaneous," He answered ironically. Sliding into me and keeping his balance.



"Breakfast in bed?"I exclaimed as the smell of browned toast, sausage and scrambled eggs filled the air of our bedroom. The savory smell of freshly brewing coffee married the smell of the sweet maple syrup and crisp of the toast. I rolled over looking to the clock. It was a quarter to six in the morning. The sun hadn't fully risen and the curtains weren't drawn. For the second time this week, I was waking up (almost) stark nude, in our sinking queen-size bed, in our cramped apartment in Queens Village.

"Of course," I sit up in bed and fully open my eyes. He holds the table-top piece of one of our kitchen trays with a piping plate fully dressed in breakfast amenities. While placing the tray on my thighs, he places a long and thoughtful kiss on my lips. I look to the floor. The entire outfit, undergarments and all, was strewn around the bed. I look down to notice that I was wearing his Joy Division shirt.

"Thank you," My thumb graces his cheek.

"Thank you," He groans seductively. Tugging the crew neck on the shirt, pulling me closer.

"For what?" He pauses to sit next to me on the bed. Sticking the fork into the scrambled steak and eggs, he searches for words. I open up and begin to feast.

"You keep me grounded, ya know," Another fork-full enters my mouth. "For richer or poorer, right?" I nearly choked. That smirk plays on his lips as he tries to feed me but my body remains frozen. I needed a response; but how did I know if my response would completely ruin his plans? I was caught in the largest conundrum, ever. I decided to snap out of it and just go with it.

"Right--of course--always," I stammered and devoured the rest of the food on the fork as he nodded and grinned. I sat there for a little, just chewing and contemplating the point he was trying to make.

"I mean, why not? We've already been through so much and-" Wait. Is he really doing this? Is this really happening? That's all that raced through my head. Where was the ring hidden? I grabbed the fork, stabbing through egg, onion, steak, and green pepper; assuring that I wasn't about to devour it.

"Why not, what?" The questioned formed slowly as the words rolled off of his pink lips.

"I wanna marry you, Mia," No hesitation. He just said it, flat out. I didn't know how to respond. Was this really how this was going to happen. No, Gerard wasn't the poetry in romance type, but I didn't want to hear romance. I didn't want to hear words out of a harlequin book, or an excerpt from his mother's romance novel collection. I wanted that raw passion that roared within his ribcage. That passion that illuminated in his eyes when I entered the room. That never-ending spark of inspiration he gets when he's painting a portrait. I heard that when he said my name, when he ended that sentence.

I didn't even notice the stray tear that fell from my eye. I wasn't crying because he was proposing; of course I was more than overjoyed and that, nothing could change. I guess all that we'd been through finally got to me. Everything that seemed like it happened for reasons that remained unapparent, made our relationship that much stronger. Dare I say it, our love stood the test of time. I wasn't declaring that any other hardships wouldn't find us down the road, but I was certain that with our hearts intact, we could survive it.

"I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my natural life with your beautiful mug," His eyes glisten in the dimmed light of our room. The sun was finally on it's way up. "Even if it means living in this apartment forever! I can't see myself living here, living with, living for anyone but you." With that, the waterworks came in full flood. I didn't care that he didn't have a ring or that he may not have had my father's permission. This was all up to me to decide and I couldn't find myself considering any "latter" decision.

I took a long gulp of orange juice, pushing the tray on the night stand almost knocking down the lamp. Gerard's startled expression made my heart race even more. Without thought or hesitation, I pounced on him in a joyous moment. Kissing him like I hadn't seen him in a month of Sundays. Touching him as if my fingertips gained feeling for the first time. Ripping his t-shirt off as if it was forbidding him air. He flips me over and my head is back at the other end, resting on my pillow.

"You might wanna call-in late," He winked. In that moment, I realized why our bed was so misshapen.



"What the hell happened to you last night?" Kim exclaimed as I hopped into work on two good feet. She was curling a clients hair, almost taking full attention off of the smoking curlers. I rushed to the back, placing everything down and dawning my smock.

"You mean, you actually came up for air and noticed I wasn't around?" I took my place at my desk that sat adjacent to Kim's station and across from the dryers. She rolls her eyes, making the wise decision to stop herself from retorting with a smart ass comment.

"It's usually like that for the first two months. You should know that; how long have you guys been together? Four years?" We were different. The first two months for us were purely experimental. We were products of two different worlds so we took that time to learn each other. Then we got to know each other, wanted to make out all of the time, making out all of the time blossomed into sex whenever and wherever we could fit it into our conflicting schedules.

"Not really," I clicked my nails dreamily on the cherry wood. She was steady curling the auburn-freshly dyed hair of the client, chatting about how great Frank was in bed. She was never the type to hold anything back. Anything. I think that's what I admired most about her. Me, being sort of an introvert strives off of her off-the-wall energy. We balanced each other like best friends should. We weren't the perfect pair, but that's what made us the dynamic duo. We were the complete opposite.

Suddenly, Kim halts in mid-sentence. Her eyes dart to the door swinging open to Stella; sunglasses draped over her hungover eyes. Her neck, thrown up at us peasants; a thick, printed infinity scarf swooped around it. A small laugh rolls in the pit of my throat. Another day, another bad mood. I could care less, I was engaged. The word sounded odd rolling in the creases of my brain. Engaged. The legitimacy of it surpassed wearing a rock the size of my eyeball. We meant more to each other than that.

I snapped out of my daze when Stella's unsatisfied demeanor approached my desk. She sighed.

"Clear all of my appointments this afternoon. Kim will be taking all of them," With that, she walked away. No thank you or congratulations my way. Nothing. Kim scoffed quietly and finished her client. I realized I hadn't told anyone at the salon. As soon as the thought grace my mind, it came out like word vomit.

"I-I'm engaged," It was almost as if I had to say it to others to believe it myself. Stella stopped in her tracks and Kim almost stabbed her poor client in the scalp with a rat-tail comb.

"You what?" There were only three people at this time in the shop, but it felt as if the world was just staring blankly at me, perplexed, floored, petrified. Her voice bounced off the empty mirrored walls and onto the drop ceiling. I'm sure the tourists in Time Square could hear her.

"Gerard and I are-" I couldn't finish my sentence focusing on the dissatisfied death glare that was shooting from Stella's eyes. "We're engaged," I let out. Hardly keeping that goofy grin off my my face.

"Bitch! Since when?" I was sure that Kim wasn't getting tipped from this poor woman.

"Hey! Language!" Stella's stern tongue reflects her arctic poise.

"Since this morning. He just told me he wanted to marry me; I couldn't say no. I mean, I love him. He's my first everything and he loves me--and there's no one else I want to be with," I rambled like a sixteen year-old girl and her first crush. Except I was way passed the point of putting my name with his on the inside of composition books. I was going to share his name one day, and there was certainty with that.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kim's client removes herself from her chair and desires her reflection in the mirror. Kim gives a small smile and then she continues. "He just out and said 'Will you marry me, Mia?' Where's your ring, paint me a picture, here!" She was two huffs of breath away from an early grave. Stella still just glared at me.

"He told me,"

"Wait. He told you that he wanted to marry you?" Her client cuts in.

"Well, yeah,"

"Without you even bringing it up?" Her eyes squinted, narrowing in on me. Stella took full attention to the woman.

"No,"

"Marry him," She said without hesitation and the most serious demeanor.

"You know," Kim starts. "I've been telling this girl that since the day we met!" The woman looks to her in disbelief.

"Mhm…" She gives a long and drawn out reply. Slapping dollar bills in Kim's open hand. Making her way to the door, she grasps my shoulder firmly.

"Do what makes you the happiest," A motherly smile plays on her thin lips. "I can see he does that for you." I nod giddily.

"Okay everyone, back to work!" With that, Stella disappears into the back room.



"So you mean to tell me, after four years he proposes to you…without a ring?" Kim and I sat at lunch, eating air and pure excitement. We were too much engulfed in my present situation to eat.

"Really, I don't care for a ring. What matters is that he loves me, for who I was when we met to the person he helped me become," She waves her hand at me, rolling her eyes.

"Check you out, being poetic and shit. It's that promotion that he got, I bet!" I paused. I didn't say anything about the promotion to Kim.

"How'd you know he was promoted?" I chose my tone carefully.

"I heard you guys celebrating last night," I turned a shade of bright red. Nervously scratching the back of my neck and letting out a cheeky grin. "Did you tell your Dad and Liv, yet?"

"Not yet. I was thinking of making my way over there after work," I was the most nervous to tell him. Knowing that Gerard didn't receive his permission he would feel some type of way.

"Fuck that. You know how your Dad hates being the last to know stuff; I'd call him," Huffing a nervous sigh, I turn to my phone. Thinking of the most time consuming way to contact him, I began to dial his number instead of finding him on my contact list. I wasn't afraid to tell him, I think I was more fearful of his reaction. Being a retired police officer, he wasn't the easiest person to relay news to; especially news like this. Upon hearing that his first daughter was going to be giving up his last name soon. Realizing all of this just made my stomach do cartwheels and back-flips.

I pressed the green phone icon and my mouth drew up like a desert. I felt like I was on a roller coaster for the first time. A huge rush of adrenaline went to my head as the phone rang once, twice and the third ring never finished.

"Hey sweetheart, how's it going?" I sat at the helm of the camel hump just awaiting to plunge to my fate.

"Hey, Daddy," I swallowed hard. Kim giggled from the other side of the table. She obviously enjoyed seeing her best friend turn the brightest shades of pale and sweat profusely. I looked at the time signaling our breaks were almost over. We got up from the table and started walking east, toward the salon. "I was just wondering if you had time to talk?" I was almost praying he was busy somewhere doing something that consumed his time so much that he couldn't talk to his oldest daughter.

"I've all the time in the world," As pleasantly as it sounded, that was possibly the last thing I wanted to hear.

"Of course--of course you do," I give nervously as we approach the doors of the shop.

"So what is it you wanted to talk about? Everything okay on your end?" I walk into the shop to see that everyone, including Stella, frozen where they were. Their faces expressionless, and their eyes dressed to the flat screen that hung on the wall. I moved passed and thought nothing of it. They were probably clinging to the finale of some soap opera or talk show.

"Everything's perfect, Daddy. As a matter of fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Just as I was about to finish the rest of my sentence, I watched Kim get as entranced as everyone else. This was weird because she wasn't a soap watcher. My heart of hearts told me to look up and then it all happened in slow motion. Dad noticed that I was completely silent on the other end of the phone. Everything he said was being drowned out by the breaking news. I couldn't believe what I had read, everything that I'd heard. Being brought back to reality was Kim shaking my shoulder.

"Mia, that's Gee's bank!" Her eyes never left the broadcast.

"Daddy, I gotta go," Hypnotized, I hung up the phone.


My heart of hearts was being held hostage.