Beauty Comes Back
Summer days had come...and were slipping away. Soon the cool breezes of autumn  Would arrive, blowing into my bedroom like an angel in the night.. comforting...cool breezes. I was just grabbing my dinner from the microwave, when my cell started going off, ringing an annoying cacophony of a tinny sounding rock ballad from Pearl Jam. A weak "Hey" was all I got when I answered it "Damn! I screamed into the tiny device clenched in my palm, "I've been worried 'bout you!!!"
"I have not been home in 13 days" came a monotone reply. "Yea, thanks for the obvious" I spat sarcastically. Then realizing my relief... I spoke more softly...caringly. "So..you OK? I don't want to be all *in your face* but I was...you  know..worried..." My voice faded off as I realized how much she really meant. I thought  back, how when we met, and when we first got to know each other...care for one another. We met in of all places, detention. It was my first time there. She had lost count. Soon, I'd look for ways to get sent...just to spend an hour or two....with her. She would Save me sour runts - cherry was my favorite - and hand them to me in  class.. soon her hand seemed to just linger a bit on top of mine as she'd pass them to me under the desk, a slight twinkle of mischief in her eye...

As I stood with the phone to my ear Memories of those sweet and sour times washed over me. I began to  wonder, Can we make it ..can we make it work this time....over and over in my head like a White Mist, cleansing away the remembrances of the other times that sometimes came - of shouted foul words, of angry glances, and of anger-driven tears. I shook and cleared my head, realizing that the phone had been silent. "Speak to me baby" I croaked, as I listened to her slow breathing..imagining the slight rise and fall of her chest...she was  waiting on me to say...something...perhaps the right thing. I started to walk thru the  house, wondering if perhaps the signal was getting lost on this overcast day. "Baby, can  you hear me?" My ear strained to hear...even some broken up gibberish coming from the ear piece would have provided some comfort.
Nothing.
I walked out the kitchen door, out to the Pretty Backyard View off the back deck, overlooking Huntington Light, and the rocks lining the bay below. "Hon...did I lose you?" My voice strained as I made a last attempt  to re-establish contact.

"No."
"I'm here. Just...not all here, if you can understand that. Last few days...I feel like a F'in  Zombie." Soon my ear was filled with uncontrolled sobs..and the blubbering of "I miss you SO  much".

She had broke first.
My spirits rose and my heart sank. I felt relieved...but the words 'me too' stuck in my  throat. I had to hear more....I needed to hear more. I wanted to know what happened for  us to reach this point...again. So I relented in answering her. I steeled myself up for  the worst.
I asked "Where are you?" "Trailways" She weakly replied.
"downtown?" "Yea" answer back a small squeak of a voice.
"K babe. Don't move. Find a bench inside and I'll be there in twenty."

"Pooptart"
I finally was able to smile again, as the jeep roared to life, As I put it in gear I was  
thinking about Her Funky lil' expression when things were going 'not exactly' to plan. Like the time I mistakenly called her Ashley, this was definitely "Pooptart", only worse.

The sun had fallen below the horizon now, and I flicked the headlights on as up ahead the sandy road started to fade to black. I thought about our years together..and how it had come to this?  Not totally my fault, and surely not hers. I'm not the easiest guy to live with. Perhaps I needed to not be such a hard ass. I needed to think clearly and End my fight before it even started. Maybe half the battle was just keeping my  mouth shut.

God I missed her.
Sometime what you need is right under your nose, and you can't even tell. Not that she helped with that part. Every time she thought she screwed up somehow, she'd lower  her head, and in almost a whisper say "I can never be what you need". She had no idea how wrong she was. She was  everything I needed. A little innocence...A little seductress...a little trouble...and a slap in the face to keep me in line. She was all those things...and more. She was the only one who kept my life,,,well, alive. Somehow she had done what no other women had ever done - she managed to wrap her hands 'round my heart, and with wet, Sticky Fingers massaged it's weariness out, and added vibrance and clarity in  the process. But that was long ago...a Winters Kiss of a memory. But so sweet.

In fifteen I was on the edge of town. The streets were almost desolate., as the paper shufflers emptied the office buildings -  on the dot of five - leaving behind the stale stank that rose in the heat from the sidewalks. I made a right onto 10th, aptly nick-named Junkie Street, and parked in a lot across from the bus station. Just a few of the usual decrepit characters outside, but they dropped their gaze as I trotted past and stared them down. I grabbed at the glass door handle, wondering how many derelicts had touched that exact spot that day, and then I  saw her, in the flicker and glow of the fluorescents above. Thankfully, there was no one standing around her to deal with, trying to get a quick trick with what  they thought to be a skanky whore. But was my princess in rags.

God she looked a mess.
Rumpled and crumpled, with days old mascara stains on her cheek. Tattered jeans. Leather  jacket stained with God-knows-what. curled up in a heap with only a filthy backpack as company. She didn't see me as I walked up and stood over her. My beauty's eyes were tightly clenched closed, like a child trying to ward off demons in a bad dream. "You know, Just for fun, for once I'd like to pick you up from someplace that  doesn't smell like pee". She didn't move out of her curled fetal position, rather, she opened one beautiful, (and amazingly clear) emerald eye, and swung the pupil around to  focus on me. Still unmoving, her voice seemed to groan a bit. "What took you so damn long? I had a few convict types eyein' me up, thought I was available as fresh meat." "Babe, don't Purge me off you like that"  I knew she was lying. This town didn't have too many "convict types" and they wouldn't be hanging out at Trailways. She looked blankly at me... with a pouty face. "Yea, well, that's the way the Fortune cookie crumbles babe." She managed to right herself on the bench, her gnarled dark hair hanging 'round her face. framing the beauty I knew was hidden behind  the smudged and tear stained makeup. "How you feeling, can you walk?" I asked as I assessed where she was, and where I had  parked the jeep. "Can you carry me - please?" She looked up with me with those eyes.

Great.
I flung the pack over my shoulder, bent over, and cradled her in my arms. She seemed lighter. My muscles rippled as I strode with my lovely package in my arms, her legs slightly swinging, as a small smile crept onto her lips. Damn Bitch. Oh, the Guilty tricks she could play. "Lets get you home" I muttered between breaths. Pushing my back into the bus station glass doors, they swung open with a bang as I stumbled over across the street and to the jeep. I swear I heard her snicker. And no matter how much I cared for her, the scent of my unbathed, unkempt beauty was starting to get to me. Next to the jeep, I bent low, and with a flick of my wrist and two fingers, swung  open the passenger side door, lowering her gently into the seat.

The ride to the beach house was uneventful, as beauty slept - or feigned sleep - most of  the way. The last five minutes she opened her eyes, and her posture straightened, like she  felt close to where she truly belonged. Razor grass clumps on the dunes whizzed by, and the  scent of the ocean started to overcome the mix of stale smells that had started to permeate the  cab of the jeep. I swung wide into the drive, and the headlights caught a glimpse of one of her metal sculptures. "You kept it" she whispered...and a kind...more genteel smile came over her face.
"Course I did. It's part of me now. And of you." I exited the jeep, and after the twenty minute ride, she had regained her strength enough to walk herself over to the sculpture.  Her hand grazed over it, like a mother with an endearing child. The sculpture responded to her gentle touch, swinging slightly now in the ocean breeze. I watched her as I clicked open the front door lock with the key.
She turned and our eyes met. "You really...like it?"
"It reminds me of you. Course I do...", and I turned and entered the house, leaving the door open for her to follow.

We spoke little...it was too soon for questions yet. As I made some tea - chamomile is her favorite -  I heard the shower, as she began to wash off the impurities of the past two weeks. I sat in my favorite chair, looking out the kitchen window, watching as Huntington Light swathed a beacon to all that needed a guide thru the darkness of the bay. I blew off the swirls of steam under my lip, as the sweet  smell of the herbal tea started calming my senses. Was good to be home...knowing she was there too. I heard the shower water stop, and her thumping about as she gathered her things in the shower room, remembering where things were kept.

After a period of silence I felt...watched. I looked over to the hallway, and she was there, wrapped in a towel, leaning in the doorway, just observing me. I smiled. Her sins  of the past two weeks seemed washed away, all that was left was that lovely inquisitive smile, that bright, sparkle in her eyes, and every curve I've grown to love. Her skin was still fresh and pink from the hot shower. I looked right at her eyes...she knew the next line from my playbook...
"Baby, I could look at you all day" Her smile grew shy, then impish. She looked down..and then the mood changed. She turned away, at the same time dropping the towel, but her eyes never left mine. her sleek form slowly sauntered toward our bedroom.
"You can look all day, if you want...but touches are allowed too you know."

She didn't need to say that twice.

As we lie together touching, exploring and enjoying each other, my mind began to  
Purge the events of the past month. Like a Ghost of what had happened...did it all really matter ...now? I may have been ready to forget, and just enjoy the moment...but she felt the need for atonement. Her eyes, Misty with the thoughts of what she had done, not knowing if she could admit her soul eating guilt...asked me the question that had no simple answer. "How...How can you so easily take me back?" she said...almost tearfully. I thought...for a moment. Then I let my heart speak. "Ever since we met babe, It's like This Road in faith I been walking. It just feels right whenever we're together. good times and bad, I always feel my life is more complete when you're around. When you're not, something is missing..." I twirled a piece of her still damp hair between my fingers. "I want nothing more in life than to be with you." She sat up on the bed, the sheets falling away from her. "When you talk like that, damn I want to jump your bones!" And then she did.

And all that was Bitter, all that was wrong, all that made me wonder if I had made the right decision that night... Faded away.

Though the room was dark, Huntington Light on the other side of the bay, gave me glimpses at the beauty that was atop me. Like some slow motion strobe, as the beacon slowly swung around, I'd catch enticing glimpses of her tanned shoulder, the curve of her breast, the soft glow of her skin, the pleasure on her face. Shadows rocking and moving...joined together for pure pleasure. As her hips quickened, Her breathless voice came thru clear "oh baby..yea, i feel it!" And then together we shared that moment - that special space in time - that only lovers do. Damp skin and damp eyes were met by feather kisses, and we let our passion wash over us both. And as quickly as the moment came, it was over, and only the beacon of Huntington Bay kept time to the end of our rhythmic, private dance. Soon the sound of her soft breathing was all I heard, as she lay cradled in my arm, her head upon my chest. I went to make a fresh pot of chamomile for her, since she never got to that first pot. When I returned, she was half roused, and looked appreciatively at the steaming cup. As she blew and took tentative sips, I studied her face. The curve of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips, her pointed chin. None of that had changed. What within her mind caused her to ...just go? I started...unsure how to put what I wanted ...into words.
"Honey...babe..Let's Pretend that the past two weeks never happened. I don't need  to know...anymore."
She Spun her head so that her eyes stared intently into mine. Her eyes searched mine wondering why...my change from all the other times..
"I just don't care anymore Sydney" You go away every few months, and come back so beaten, and worn...I don't know why, but you make up these excuses...It just doesn't matter anymore. Only you do." Her gaze softened. "For now, if you can live with that, and me that way...OK...but I promise, one day..you'll know why."  I got up looking at her beautiful form, kissed her forehead, smiled, and left the room.

That little speech apparently saved my life.
Years later...
I watched as our daughter dangled her petite, Pretty foot off the dock into bay. "Dirty Water daddy" she said, splashing away at it anyway. I didn't answer, my heart heavy with the knowledge that her mother - Sydney - had been gone longer than ever before. We were on our fourth week at the beach house without her. Suddenly, as the sun rose it the sky, in the distance, the beat of helicopter blades broke through the sounds of the seagulls and breakers along the sea wall. The black, unmarked chopper seemed to be making a beeline for our dock. I sensed...something. The chopper flew directly over us, low to the ground, and then made a quick arc, and landed just yards away, on a windswept grassy plot next to the house. I gathered my daughter, holding her close, unsure what was happening..and yet I knew..Sydney was involved somehow.
And then I saw her. And my heart lept to my throat. A man, in suit and tie, jumped out of the aircraft as the rotors whined and slowed. "Mr. Hecht?" I shook my head yes as I glanced back at Sydney being assisted off the chopper. The man continued "Sydney has done our country - and possibly the world - a great service. She's saved the lives of countless service men and women in her latest foray into the netherworld. But there was an...incident. This time sir, it may be that the Nightmares never heal". I rocketed past him, not listening, nor understanding what he spoke about. I just wanted to be close to my Beauty. They sat her on the rocker bench alongside the deck, and Sydney...was different. Her eyes were glazed, and she sat motionless...listless on the bench. When I caught her eye, she barely acknowledged me. Suit an tie man came up from behind and put his hand on my shoulder. "Mr. Hecht, because of Sydney's duty and Valor, the Corporation will be taking care of your family, and all expenses incurred during her recovery...if you should need......" His words again melted away in the Autumn sun. I was handed a pen , and asked to initial and sign ...for what I don't know. But one word did catch my eye. TERMINATED. I looked at the man, straight at his dark glasses (I just knew he was staring back) and asked about that line. "Sir, you can't divulge any information that Sydney may elude to. Not even in her sleep. As I said, the Nightmares never heal. Any word of a leak, and she, you, your family, will be terminated. In exchange, we let you have her back." And as quickly as it had come. the black helicopter was gone.

"Pretty Colors Mommy!" our daughter exclaimed as they skip along together wear matching dresses to the local church's gathering. Beautiful smiles across both their faces. Yes, a few weeks and my beauty was again the perfect mother, the perfect friend, the perfect lover. She remembers little.. of whatever her past was. But late at night, as I sip chamomile, I can hear her panicked breathing, and from her mind..comes images..of what she has seen...groans and moans of dark times in her mind...and I take pencil to paper and scratch out the images she seems to portray, in almost solemn whispers.
One day other’s will know. But for now,
I am a bored doodler...and nothing more.