Alone Again Naturally

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —

Alone

Edgar Allen Poe

It didn’t matter, she decided. That was just her subconscious way of keeping him with her. She couldn’t help what she dreamed. She couldn’t help who came to her in her dreams. It used to be that really cool blond haired bad boy that did the Calvin ads. God, he was drop dead gorgeous, and to her sleep self, his gay factor never played any part. Then there was the actor who did the last Ann Rice movie. It was the hair she surmised. The hair and eyes, and the way he would look up at you with his head bowed down. Let’s see, once it was Michael Jordan, but could you really count that one? They had just shared a hot tub together. Nothing sexual there. She had asked him boxers or briefs, but woke up before he could answer her. There was the time she dreamed of Billy Ray Cyrus, but it was a funny one. They were walking on a dirt road and he fell into a giant mud puddle. Nothing sexual there either. Oh, and there was that one dream of Captain Jack. She had always wanted to make love on the deck of the Black Pearl, and boy howdy did He ever rock her boat. She smiled and blushed profusely although no one was there to see her. She had that one dream of David and James together with her, the only one she had ever had like that. It was after an all day marathon of Buffy and Angel….and she dreamed it often after that. She bit her lower lip. Well now. Dreams were dreams or so it seemed and nothing can be done about something as ethereal as those.

She let the towel drop from her body and picked it up to take it back to the hamper. She blow dried her hair and got the curlers out to style it some.

She had forgotten the wine that she had chilling in the freezer, and remembered to get it out. On her way to the kitchen, she decided to check the phone. Blinking, she knew that what time she was on the beach she had apparently missed a call.

“You have one missed call.” The robotic female voice told her. “Press one to continue.”

Her heart sank as his familiar deep voice resounded from the walls. “Mon petit, mo chagren, I’m held up here, and unfortunately won’t be able to make it tonight. I will be there sometime tomorrow. Can you please forgive me mon ange? Je t’aime ma cherie always.”

She hung her head. So much for her planning anything. It just wasn’t meant to be. This was fate yet again stepping and showing her who was boss. She made her way onto the kitchen and got out the bottle of wine, finding the corkscrew, uncorked it and got a glass.

She poured the blood red liquid into the glass, swirling it around, watching it stream down the sides back into the bottom. He would get here when he got here she thought. No need for disappointment. She would just enjoy another night by herself.

She went over to lock the door and turn the lights out. No need for a porch light really. The lighthouse on the other side gave off an eerily faint glow with every revolution that it turned.

Grabbing the bottle and glass, she walked back to the bedroom, and sighed as she saw the negligee’. She swiped it off the bed, put it back in the drawer and pulled out her trusty gray shirt and a pair of shorts to wear tonight. Who would see her? And it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to seeing her like that anyway. He was used to what she wore by now, knowing for a full blown fact that she wasn’t a high class girl. She wasn’t into make up, or silks or satins. She wasn’t one to get girly, although tonight she had planned on it, and fixing her hair up. She could dress up no doubt, but always preferred being who she was as opposed to who she wasn’t. A runway model she wasn’t. But he was used to those kinds already. He wasn’t used to someone like her.

She lit a few of the candles she had placed around the room anyway. No sense in this not being a nice night. And besides, he would make it up to her. He always did. This wasn’t the first time he couldn’t get away when he wanted to. Business kept him in the city, as well as his other obligation to things. She understood perfectly, her having times that she was either late, or couldn’t make it all together herself. They always tried to make alone time, a time they could just be them selves with each other and not have to worry about restraints, social pressures, or other things. They were a couple in love out here all alone. No one else was ever brought to their paradis sur terre as he called this stretch of shore, their heaven on earth.



She drank the glass of wine and opened up her nightstand to get out a couple of valerian. She popped two in her mouth and took a swallow from the bottle. Hell, there wasn’t even a point in the formalities of a glass tonight. She propped herself up, and turned the music back on to classical. She dimmed the lights and closed her eyes, fantasizing how tonight would have been different. How tonight she would have shown him a different side to her, and how she would have surprised him by what she had decided. She clicked off the bedroom shade and watched as the light from the candles made shadows on the wall. They played out their minuet upon the room, weaving in and out like she had done only a few hours prior to Mozarts symphony…

She drifted off slightly, in the world between slumber and wake. The wind began to pick up outside a little more, and the chimes on the porch began to make that haunting melody of the damned. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard a barge go by, heavily loaded making its way from Carrabelle to Brownsville. She smiled in her semi sleep at the thoughts of being back out on the water again, sailing with him in the catamaran. Nothing scared her more, or excited her than the feel of the waves rushing past at break neck speeds when the wind filled the sails

The rain was falling once again on the tin roof, coming down in sheets and torrents as the wind blew it like a kite in a hail storm. The thunder once again made its’ presence known with the booming of the gods. The lightening jagged was streaking across the sky at an alarming rate for this time of year, but she never noticed…
The half empty bottle lay on the nightstand, she, curled up in the middle of the bed, on her side. Her legs were splayed, and her hand rested under the left side of her face. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow, and half way across her face, shielding her closed eyes to the now somber dance of the shadow fire…