Dangerous Diaries

Chapter 13 - La Pared

I was once told love doesn't ever just disappear. It fades. But did my love really just vanish from her heart? Did it all just wash away with a quick blow to the head? I know over the years, while I was gone, the love between us may have become a little worn, but when we reunited weeks ago in the hotel room, everything rushed back in a full circle. It was as if our hearts were alive again. At least, I know that's how I felt.

I needed more understanding from her. So I begged Shakira to come see me as soon as she could. She agreed but because she was still recovering, she asked that I visit her in her home. I was more than honored to be invited to her house in Los Angeles.

On this rainy April day, I simply wore blue jeans, a pair of sneakers and a black jacket over my t-shirt. I was greeted at the door by a small Hispanic woman.

"Hello, Mr. Jackson. It's nice to finally meet you," she said shaking my hand firmly.

"Thank you." I turned to wave to my driver before stepping inside the home. It was very bright and quite beautiful. Her taste in décor matched mine which I secretly took pride in. "Where is she?" I asked looking down to the small woman.

"She's in her bedroom resting. I was told to just take you up to her when you arrived."

"I hope I'm not a bother."

"Oh no," she said waving my worries away. "She seemed pretty excited about your visit today," she whispered matter-of-factly.

"Okay, great," I said matching her tone.

The unnamed woman began leading me up the stairs.

"What is your name again?"

"Oh." She stopped halfway up the staircase to turn and give me her hand again. "Marisol."

"Marisol? Nice to meet you too," I said with hand shake.

She turned back around to finish leading me to my destination. "Oh, Mr. Jackson, I'm such a big fan. I loved everything you've ever put out. Thriller was my favorite," she bragged as we began walking down a long corridor.

"Oh yeah? Thank you so much."

"I know the whole dance."

I giggled as images of Marisol dancing with me in a graveyard came to mind. She was small and built like my mother, like a Latina version of her.

We stopped in front a closed door. "Just let yourself in," she said as she patted my shoulder then made her way back down the stairs.

Slowly, I placed my hand on the wooden door painted white, resting my grip on the golden knob. I quickly questioned myself if I should've knocked first. But daringly, I decided to twist the knob and invite myself in.

With the door opened, I had to take three steps in to see her resting in her bed to the right of the door. She was on her side, facing me, and her eyes were shut. The most peaceful look illuminated her face as she rested halfway under her covers.

I glanced back and shut the door softly. "Shakira?" I called out in a whisper.

As the corners of her mouth slowly lifted, I began walking closer to her bed.

"Hi," she said, eyes still closed. Her hand slipped out from underneath her sheets and reached for me. "Come."

A warm smile grew upon my face as I stepped even closer to connect our hands. "Did I wake you?" My fingers intertwined with hers and an electrifying sensation jolted throughout my soul.

Finally, she opened her eyes and connected with mine. "I wanted to sleep until you came. I haven't been feeling the best lately. I'm sorry we have to meet this way."