FicWad

There's a motel in Texas, hard bed under wide, blue sky.
I had a dream there, but morning came too soon.

I opened my eyes, and stared at the ceiling of a cheap hotel room Irene had rented for me. The cracks caused by previous guests decorated the plain white texture. I'd have to tell the manager to fix the ones he still could. The ones that hadn't gone too far.

I was one of those cracks. I'd cut into a wall, trying to stop me from getting further, and now it was too late to turn back. I couldn't fill the cracks. Not with pictures of Rick, not with alcohol, not even with Fiona and Jack. Nothing could heal the damage I'd done to myself by trying to get to Carey.

I rolled over, and I said it out loud. Said: Give me one more moment...

I turned to my right side, and let my sleepy eyes focus on the sandy blonde hair of a much younger man. So much younger...

"I love you," I whispered to him, knowing he was sound asleep. I could say it to him, in that moment, and any time I found him crashing on the bus couch with his old, beat-up acoustic guitar in his lap, I'd say it again and again, until my mouth was dry from speaking. Then, I would turn back with tears in my eyes, walking to my bedroom. For months, my release was nothing but music. But the night before this one, it wasn't enough anymore. I greeted the bottles like a group of old friends, ready to accept me back into their midst.

And as I turned again, lying on my back, I felt the white bedsheet pressing against my bare skin. It was a scary thought, knowing that Carey would, as soon as we left this bed, have to go back to being my best friend's son. My guitarist. A family friend, nothing more.

And I would go back to being a woman in her forty's, loving a man- Loving a child, who could never love me back.

... Just one more moment, to finish this dream.

I rubbed my head, hung over from last night. The first night I'd drank since Jack was six.

The night before this one, was a blur suddenly getting clearer. Bottles of wine and shots of vodka were appearing in front of my eyes one by one, my sick, drunken laughter and Carey's caring hands trying to calm me down. Slowly, I shut my eyes again and let my mind drift away, back to a night of freedom.

I was drowning in memories of my lost childhood.The cold hotel room was too white for my taste, my black grieving clothes stuck out like a sore thumb. I don't know what my breaking point was. Remembering my father's cold stare as I left home, remembering that phone call from the hospital, that Rick Phillips had died in a car accident. The empty feeling of panic as I walked into Rebecca's empty house, or all the times Fiona and Jack have gotten themselves in trouble.

All I know is that after about an hour of tears, I had to stop being so... still. I had to keep moving, move on from Rebecca, Rick, and onto new things. And that's when my oldest friend came into the picture.

I walked to the minibar, the only remotly exclusive piece of furniture in the room, and grabbed a can of beer. One lead to another, and soon I was drunk to the laughing-at-anything phase.

I wanna be more like a river, less like a wall...

That's when Carey walked into my bedroom, finding me watching the TV with a bottle in my hand, giggling at the dumbest jokes I ever heard.

Remembering it, I thought Carey would hate me, walk out and go tell Irene and Ned to take care of it.

But that wasn't the case.

"Molly, Molly," he said, with his soothing, velvet voice, kneeling to me to be at the same height.

I looked at him, puzzled, offering him my bottle. His eyes showed fear, maybe fear for me, or fear of me... That's something I'll never dare to ask him. But as he took my bottle and placed it on the nightstand, I realized this was what I was waiting for since Rick died. Something Jack and Fi, as children, couldn't do. Something that even Irene and Ned were incapable of.

Carey was finally saving me from myself. He was the only one who had heard my silent cries for help, and finally he was rescuing me from the demons surrounding me.

"No," I responded in a whiny voice, reaching for the bottle of wine. Carey reached for my hand, held it in his own, strong ones, and looked me in the eyes.

"I'll take care of you, don't worry," he said to me, his green eyes smiling like his soft lips.

I didn't know anything else at that point. I just knew about the existance of him.

... not try to hold back these feelings at all.
Cause when I miss you, when I'm dying to kiss you...

Bravely sitting up, I leaned in, pressing my lips against his, roughly, passionately kissing him. As I pulled away, I knew I'd be sorry I ever did this. But in that moment, I didn't regret it one bit.

I gotta let that flow, more like a river.

Carey's expression turned wild, and I could see his heart and desire arguing with his mind.

It wasn't a long fight, because in a second, the young guitarist's body was lying on top of me, his lips willingly giving me what I've been yearning for for months.

It wasn't long, before both our shirts were on the other side of the room. Carey was pressing his bare chest against my stomach, delicately unhooked my black bra and dropped it on the floor beside us.

We unzipped and unbuttoned each other's jeans in perfect harmony, and each slid off our own.

He ran his strong fingers through my auburn hair as I buried my fingernails into his back, and his lips barely left mine.

Carey slid off his boxers and my panties, giving himself to me completely before the night- our night could be over.

"Oh, God," Carey moaned as we rocked the bed back and forth like newlyweds on a honeymoon.

Even after it was over, we slept in a tight embrace, until sometime in the middle of the night, when I must've turned in my sleep.

But our fingertips were still touching under the bedsheets. The soft, small contact of our skin was what was sending electric waves all over my body.



"Molly?"

I heard him call my name, and blamed the universe for not stopping time. So that Carey and I could stay together, touching, loving each other, without the world knowing.

'Cause in the morning,
There are kids, and dogs, and bills.
And sunlight.

I turned to the side again, staring into his green eyes. For the first time since I knew him, they were unreadable.

The sun shining from behind the curtains was enough to remind me of the real world.

"What now?" He asked, his voice deep, but the ghost of his young spirit was unmistakably present.

I didn't hold back the tears. I let them flow, with no shame. Now, there was no part of me that Carey didn't know. Why would I be ashamed of crying?

"We get up, we walk out and-" I choked on the last words.

And a new day...

"We pretend this never happened," I finished, and the young musician next to me began to wheep.

I couldn't bare the sight of my true love like this, so I turned around, not bothering with wrapping a bedsheet around me, slowly gathered my clothing and put it on.

"I'll always remember," he said, and now fully dressed, I turned to him, a questioning stare in my eyes.

"I don't wanna forget," he objected, standing up and starting to put his clothes on as well. "This was real, this was the realest and purest thing I've ever done of felt. And yes, I know you're older, and it sucks, it sucks that I can't kiss you and hold your hand outside of this room. But at least let me remember."

I walked to him, crossing the short distance between us, stepped on my toes and kissed him intensely, resting my right hand on his neck.

And a new day...

"I love you, too, Molly."

That's when I realized that all those times I'd told him I loved him, he heard me.

And he finally had a place in this world where he could say it back.

And another new day...

We stood there for a few more minutes, embraced, breathing each other... And kissing, mostly kissing.

But the time came, as my alarm clock rang at 6 a.m., for Carey to go back to his and Jack's room. His heavy boots hit the soft, carpeted floor, before using his key to unlock a door three rooms away from mine.

We looked at each other, with stares that could only express love, until Jack's voice interrupted us.

"Hey, man, where were you? It's 6 in the morning!" My son said in a sleepy voice I knew too well.

He still looked at me, as he answered. "Nowhere special," he said, but his eyes told me how hard it was for him to say that. Because this cheap hotel room in Texas would always be the most special place in the world for us.

Carey walked into his room, and I leaned onto the door after I shut it.

I cried for a while, before stopping and picking up my guitar again.

Because I felt like a river for a night. And then went back to being a wall.

... without you.