Petrichor

It was like a microclimate.

Outside, it was a hot, humid day but inside – inside, it felt almost cold. In so many different ways.

Lisa stood and watched, trying to convince her eyes that what she saw was real. Because otherwise, her sanity would be gone. The peace of mind she tried to cling to so desperately would be shattered. On a rational level, it was evident. She hadn’t seen him in ages, hadn’t had his skin touch hers in so long it felt like forever, and yet at the same time, it was as if hours, days, weeks, months and even years had lost their feeling and their meaning. A part of who she was had frozen mid-action and had stayed where he stood, with him, all the time, until the end of time. The perpetual momentum.

Which meant that someway, somehow, she had taken residence wherever he was. In heaven, or there, in that beautiful, cold, otherwordly mausoleum.

Her arms folded over her chest, trying hard not to shake, her whole body screaming against the suddenly sinking temperature, she observed the way the sunlight shone through the finely decorated windows and skimmed over the marble surfaces. Creating tapestries made of nothing but light. Something that she could observe, but not touch, not grasp and not take with her, if not in her memory.

Nothing but.

All was cold. All was lifeless. Even the sunflowers that she had so carefully placed there, where he rested. Where he was asleep and caught in his eternal dream. Or so she hoped.

The flowers were exquisite to look at, but not alive. Because whatever was alive was bound to die, and Lisa was not sure that she could stand another loss. She still remembered how long it had taken her to make those flowers look just perfect for him. Given the circumstances, perfection was perhaps the least appropriate term, but still… she had done her best. They were beautifully arranged in their vase, and her eyes scanned the words without really reading them.

“I will always love you. Eternally.

L.”

Eternity was a very, very long time. Lisa hoped that someday, one day, she could still be with him and make up for what they had not had the chance to resume. For what they had lost. But until then, she had to do without him. Having him with her all the time without really being able to have him. Being touched by him without having the chance to touch him at all. They were made of different substances now. He had become a dream. He had become a cloth in the Milky Way, a supernova, a universe she no longer had access to.

And she missed him more than any word on any vase could ever express.

The silence in the mausoleum seemed imperturbable, but she had to speak. Once out of there, she would resume her silent communication, she would keep replaying her unspoken, endless prayer of love in her mind, but at least for now, with just the two of them there, she could say the words out loud in complete freedom. He was asleep, yes, but maybe there was still a part of him that was able to hear.

“Michael…”

She closed her eyes for a moment, the echo of his name reverberating in the air. Breaking that everlasting silence. Lisa took a deep breath.

“I feel like I’m suspended. I am the shadow of the woman I was with you. Of the person that I used to be. And I’m doing my best, you know? I really am. I’m trying to move on, to survive with what’s left of me. I do know, baby… I know that everything has changed. Nothing will ever be the same again, and I have to rearrange myself around the emptiness you left. But I just cannot stop talking to you. Feeling you. And I don’t even want to. I want to go on, I need to carry on, but not without loving you. I don’t think I can do that without loving you.”

She felt the stinging pain of tears tickling her eyes, yet she stayed where she was. Immobile.

One last thing. She had to tell him one last thing before she went back to her emotional hiatus.

“When I said eternally, I meant it.”

She lingered there for another minute or two. Waiting for an answer that she knew would never come – not in this lifetime, at least. Witnessing his long sleep. But it was too hard, too painful, and this time the peaceful feeling that sometimes accompanied her visits wasn’t there. She needed to leave.

She stepped out of the mausoleum, and the June air felt thick with humidity, sticking to her skin. How could she breathe like that? Lisa sighed and the mask that she had become accustomed to wearing snapped back into place.

And then it was dark again, and her eyes tried to open, struggling a little.

She didn’t wake up with a start – quite the opposite, in fact. Her eyelids opened almost in slow motion and she was in her bed. Alone.

She squinted, touched her forehead, rested the palm of her hand over her eyes. She listened to her heartbeat and her breathing. They were both strong, regular. It occurred to her that every year, around this time, she had the same dream. A nightmare, really. And she didn’t know why. At least not on a rational level. Those dreams were scary enough the way they were, and she was not sure she wanted to know why they even existed in the first place.

Her back hurting a little, Lisa sat up on the bed for a moment. The curtains were not completely closed, and she noticed the purplish morning light peek through. It was a brand new day.

Quietly, she got up from the bed and, without a word, put on a pair of sweater pants and a hoodie.

She found them in the park surrounding the mansion, near the pond. The air smelled of grass and blooming flowers and, as she approached them, an intense and utter feeling of relief washed over her.

Obviously being gifted with a superhero-like hearing, Michael turned. When he smiled, it was like seeing the sun crack through the clouds.

“Hey, beautiful lady…”

His voice was soft, and he looked gorgeous. Even in that crisp morning that didn’t feel like summer at all, but more like spring. Even with the light being grayish and imperfect. Oh, but he was just like that. Everything around him took a more vibrant color. Thanks for the magic, Michael.

“Hey… Good morning.” Lisa ran her hand through her hair and stepped closer to him.

Secured against her father’s chest, baby Abigail cooed, babbled and stretched out her chubby little hands at her mother, and Lisa smiled.

“Here… There you go, Abby… Go to mommy…” Kissing her daughter’s curly hair with his usual gentleness, Michael let the baby leave the safe shelter of his embrace and carefully placed her in Lisa’s arms. “Look at her. She’s always so friggin’ happy. Thank goodness she didn’t inherit her mom’s pissy-ass attitude.”

“Cut it out…”

Lisa tried very hard to keep a serious face. All the while, every cell in her body was busy singing a Hallelujah. It was pure, absolute, undiluted joy. Complete perfection condensed in a moment destined to brand her memory forever. Her nightmare was finally dissipating, becoming nothing but fog in the back of her mind.

“Mama!” Abigail squealed and grabbed Lisa’s face. “Ma-ma!”

“Hi, baby girl…” Lisa kissed her cheek and began to rock her.

Michael pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants and giggled and Lisa, still with that pretend stern look on her face, stared at him, taking him all in. He looked terrific, strong and healthy. And more than anything else, happy and at peace. He had regained enough weight to go back to that sexy, thick physique she had always loved so much. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and didn’t give a damn. His hair shorter now, he wore casual jeans and a white button-down shirt and looked like a poster-boy from that Sexy Fifty-Year-Olds magazine. So darn gorgeous.

Lisa felt like the luckiest bitch on the planet.

“What are you two doing out here, by the way? It’s about to rain.”

“No, sleepyhead. Had you gotten up with me, a couple of hours ago, you’d know that it has just stopped raining. And that’s why Abby-Go-Lucky and I were out here. For the petrichor.”

This time she laughed.

“For the what?”

Michael raised his eyebrows. He looked amused.

“For the petrichor.”

“Da!” Abby exclaimed and reached her tiny arms out to her father. He stepped closer and rested his forehead against his fifteen-month-old baby’s, just like he knew she liked. Abby laughed, and he smiled, his eyes full of love and peace. Then he bent his head and kissed Lisa on the lips, softly.

“I love you, even when you’re moody.”

She smirked against his lips.

“Thank you. I love you too. Even when I’m moody.”

“I know.”

Ass.

She reached up and touched his cheek.

“So, you two were out here smelling the rain, huh.”

Michael pulled back.

“Why you gotta be so rustic?”

“You mean genuine.”

“No, I mean crass!”

They started walking together back toward the main entrance of their house. In Ireland. Where they had moved permanently just a couple of years earlier, after… well, after the heavenly catastrophe that had brought them back together. For good, this time.

“But anyway, whatever. Abby appreciates nature, just like her daddy. And the petrichor is one of the most beautiful sensations in the world.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t know about that, but at least it’s a nice-sounding word…”

He rolled his eyes and, as they kept walking, placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his body. Little Abby grabbed his finger and cackled.

“I can’t think about a better scent… Except for, you know…” He leaned closer, and his voice dropped an octave as he spoke right into her ear. “…Your skin. But anyway…”

He backed off again and looked up at the sky. The clouds were turning into fluffy curtains, and the sun would soon become the main protagonist on stage. At that very moment, while she observed him out of the corner of her eye, Lisa felt like falling in love with Michael all over again. She wasn’t even surprised. It happened every day, one way or another.

“I woke up in the middle of the night because it was pouring down. I can sleep through those crazy thunderstorms we have here but, once the rain starts, I wake up instantly. And I am always in a great mood. And this morning, Abby and I decided that we didn’t wanna miss the aftermath of the rain…”

Lisa turned her face and kissed his hand, still resting on her shoulder as they kept walking.

“Uh-uhm. And how was it? What did I miss?”

“Ah, let me see… lush green leaves dripping water… the feeling of damp earth under my feet and air thick with moisture. I could feel it on my skin. Birds chirping as the sun started peeking through…” His dark, expressive eyes smiled down at her, and he shrugged. “…Petrichor.”

“Magic…” Lisa replied in a whisper.

Michael bit his lip, still staring at her. His eyes turned smoldering.

“Yeah… magic.”

She averted her gaze, looking straight ahead and to the main entrance to the house. Their home, the place that had helped them rebuild their life. Away from toxic people, toxic places, toxic habits. Things that would have swallowed them alive, if they hadn’t left them behind. She got lost in thought for a moment.

“You wanna know what petrichor is, for me?”

“Yes, please.” His arm pulled her closer to his body, once again. “Do tell me.”

Lisa’s lips curved into a slight, remote smile.

“It’s the steam rising off the ground after that first good rain following a long dry spell… Kinda like having you back just when I thought it was never gonna happen again.”

He stopped mid-step, and she did too. As little Abby got entranced by the hood of her mother’s sweater and started pulling at it roughly, Lisa and Michael stared at each other for what felt like forever. One single look conveying, without words, what had transpired in the last couple of years.

Meeting again in Los Angeles in May 2009, right before he moved to England and started his final shows. Meeting by pure chance, utterly oblivious to each other’s presence at a party held by a mutual acquaintance. Getting into a heated argument. Ending up in bed together for a night of such intense, excruciating passion that Lisa had felt it for days, in every inch of her body and soul. More passionate encounters had followed that first one – and, from that moment on, Mike had never had the chance to spend another night alone. Not that he wanted to.

Lisa’s marriage had been on the verge of dissolving for a long time. It happened when romantic love was something one felt for someone else. And seeing Michael again had been the pickax shattering the frozen lake. Clean waters were swirling and flowing underneath fake ice and only momentary immobility. What didn’t matter ended up being swept away in the process. The solid foundation of their love reemerging, becoming visible at the bottom of what they had tried so hard to hide under a pile of meaningless faces, people, moments, words, decisions.

Entirely out of the blue, in an unexpected move possibly coming from some higher once again power pulling the strings of their existences, Lisa had discovered that she was pregnant about a month after their first heated night together. And there was not a doubt in the world that the baby was Michael’s. He had hit the target alright, right away. It looked as if fate had taken advantage of their tendency to be careless and irresponsible when it came to protected sex.

How fortunate it had all been.

The initial shock had eventually turned into utter, unfathomable happiness. Happiness had turned into a renewed trust in what the future had in store for them. Predestination, God’s will, divine decree. Their love for one another had shed its skin and had become a shining diamond of faith – which had been its original form, after all. Every piece of the puzzle had once again begun to fall into place in such a beautiful way – something they both had been so stubborn to notice the first time. They were now mature enough to know that, when destiny seemed to act in such a harmonic manner, they just had to go with it.

And they had.

Michael had managed to finish his shows and make history once again. Then he had hung up his dancing shoes for good. He had new projects to take care of. Movies. A lot of humanitarian work. His family. And now, his woman – and a brand new baby on the way. A blessing from above.

Lisa had divorced so fast that dude’s head was still spinning, and Michael had been glad. There was something about that guy that he didn’t like. Something about that blond guy just didn’t sound right. Michael was convinced that, in the long run, that odd fellow would have tried to fuck Lisa over. She still rolled her eyes at his assumption, but he didn’t care. His was a very clear gut feeling, and it didn’t matter anymore, anyway. Lisa was back with him now. Where she belonged, where she was supposed to be all along.

Abigail had been the cherry on the cake. And, as often happened when a particular event shook people out of their stupid mode, everything else had been a pleasant consequence. Michael and Lisa had moved out of Los Angeles and out of the States, getting rid of many useless people in the process. Ambiguous courtiers that no longer had any role in that new stage of their lives that was about to begin.

It had been a great move. They had learned from their previous experience that marriage was a matter of two, and not a matter of dozens of people, too often busy scheming and plotting for their own personal gain. And finally, nobody else was getting in the way of whatever it was that they were doing. Planning, deciding, butting heads, or making up. There were now just two actors on stage when it came to their relationship, and it was OK. That was precisely how it was supposed to be.

“Hey… sleep OK?” Michael turned to her once again as she opened the door. “You looked a bit tense, earlier.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

Lisa walked into the foyer, and Abby started wiggling her legs and bouncing in her mom’s arms.

“Yes, honey… I’m gonna put you down in a minute. Let’s go change your diaper, first… stinky little princess.”

“Lise?”

“What?” She turned to Michael and stared at him.

He was closing the front door. His hand rested on the doorknob and his eyes studied her intently.

“Why were you upset?”

Her brow furrowed as she blinked.

“I’m not sure… I think I had a bad dream. But I don’t remember anymore.”

Michael tilted his head.

“Would you want to?”

She seemed to ponder over his question for a moment. He was not sure if she really did not remember or was choosing not to.

Then she smiled, and her blue eyes were everything he saw.

“No. No, I don’t.”

End.

Last edit: June 2019.