| Subject: The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove68 |
Author:
Schnee
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Date Posted: 08:14:10 03/24/01 Sat
In reply to:
Schnee
's message, "The Ubiquitous Mr, Lovegrove" on 08:05:43 03/24/01 Sat
Hearing the sound of raindrops pattering, I relish being wrapped up in the covers. There’s nothing like spending a lazy rainy day in bed. When I roll over to snuggle up to his warm body, I find Michael missing from his place beside me. Sitting up, I realize it is not raindrops I hear, but the sound of the shower running.
Being so not a morning person I flinch at the thought that Michael is up and about already. Recalling his state in the twilight hours, I wonder if he slept well after his nightmare. Worry creeps within me. The fear in both his voice and in his eyes was unlike anything I’ve ever seen in him. But his silence afterwards gave me no information to work from. All I could do was try to comfort him, knowing nothing of what frightened him so.
Was it about Section? Adam? His sister?
Or was it about our child?
The terror in his eyes, followed by the look of relief at seeing me and the touch of my belly has me considering this possibility. Tossing the covers aside, I concede to my curiosity. I shiver as the cool air prickles my bare skin as I quickly dash across the room.
Slowly inching the bathroom door open, I peek into the steamy room. The warm air beckons me in. With the rustling of the shower curtain, Michael turns toward me as I step in, joining him in the shower.
“I hope you don’t mind the company.”
“No. I was just standing here. Thinking. Hopefully I haven’t used up all the hot water.” Michael replies apologetically.
I quickly become conscious of how his eyes appear tired and sullen. Now I’m certain he didn’t sleep much. I begin to feel guilty for finding sleep. But with pregnancy, I find myself needing more sleep. I can easily nod off without even trying.
His hands lightly touch my shoulders as he attempts to switch places with me, giving me access to the stream of water. Grasping the bottle of shampoo, I take a dab and begin to lather my hair with it.
“Are you still thinking about the dream?” I meekly ask. Knowing that he didn’t talk about it last night, I’m even more uncertain whether to bring the subject up. But having witnessing his frightened response to the dream, my concern pushes me to give it a try.
“It’s hard to explain. The nightmare itself didn’t make much sense. But it dredged up thoughts and feelings that have affected me.” He answers strangely. After a pause, he adds, “There’s something I need to do before we leave Marseilles. I’ll be going shortly.”
Oh.
Sensing his abruptness, I’m not sure how to reply or what to do next, as I stand there holding my sudsy hair. I can’t help him if I’m not certain what I’m dealing with. At a loss, I place my head under the stream of water, rinsing the lather from my hair. The hot water feels cleansing as it pelts against my face.
Blinking the water from my eyes, I turn and see Michael hasn’t moved. But I sense he is considering his words carefully. As I reach down to retrieve the conditioner, Michael speaks again.
“If you like, you can accompany me. I’d like to leave in about an hour. It’s up to you if you want to come along.”
Before I can answer or question him further, he moves the curtain to slip out from the tub. Still feeling dumbfounded, I slick the conditioner through my hair.
Does he really want me to come? And what is it that he has to do before leaving Marseilles? Why is it such a secret?
Cryptic as always. Every time I think I understand him, he throws me another curve. I should be used to it by now. I surmise that the only way to get any answers is to join him.
As the water begins to get cooler, I hurry to rinse my hair. Knowing that Michael spent much time thinking under the spray of hot water doesn’t help me to feel any better about his behavior. He’s generally quick and utilitarian. I’m usually the one that hogs up all the hot water. I’m convinced that whatever is bothering him runs deeper than just simply a nightmare.
~~~~~
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