The Runaway

Twenty-Two: Confessions

"The love of a boy, the love of a girl
The love that comes from a warm heart in a cold cold world..
Everybody wants to find graffiti bridge
Something to believe in
A reason to believe that there's a heaven above.."

Prince's POV:

2016.

I ran with the narrative that I had finally moved on from Grace Ventura with the mystery woman from the jazz club.

I'd ran with the fact that I had found love again.

When in reality, it was the total opposite.

We'd spent the last three days at The Lake House, entangled in one another. In a bubble of bliss and love that was like no other. I'd ignored all phone calls, emails and the typical "where are you?" questions.

New songs. Old creations that were created in the mid-nineties. Early mixes. Grace Ventura had danced all around the small space that I named "The Lighthouse" while singing along to a song I'd never released called Tip O' My Tongue. She made me laugh, eventually kissing my lips in a way that made me throw her over my shoulder and take her back to the bedroom.

Music blared. Gossip sessions were had in the jacuzzi on the patio. Famous Amos were eaten as she told me how long she'd waited to see me be Prince again. Deep conversations took place under the blankets as the cool air blew through the barely lit room we slept in.

The week before her transition. The night before. The day of. The days leading up to her service when I'd sit with her for hours in the funeral home. The day of her service when I contemplated doing the unimaginable. My nervous breakdown the next day that landed me in the hospital with a damaged and broken heart.

We talked about it all in hushed whispers, our words being carried out into the wind soon after. I had missed us. The normalcy we had experienced within the four walls. I would never have that again.

We showered together one last time and then, it was back to reality. I asked her to come with me and she shook her head, telling me that she too, had a job to do when she wasn't in my presence.

"I'll see you later," She whispered, kissing my lips softly, allowing me to pin her against the sheets for a moment. "I really love you. Look for me.."

That was hours ago and I found myself in downtown Minneapolis with those in my inner circle for an outing for the first time in a long time. Busy, yet nobody bothered us. We spoke amongst ourselves, the cool breeze relaxed my body and I understood then why Grace always fell asleep with the windows open.

I felt a presence, a hand holding mine. Heels that weren't mine clicked against the pavement, yet my tan peacoat was on their body.

"Mi scusi, ha visto l'uomo con i tacchi?" Italian hit my ear and I smirked without acknowledging her at first, until her soft spoken tone got closer to my ear. "Abbiamo avuto una delle migliori sessioni di fare l'amore della mia vita e lui... si è vegliato e mi ha lasciato!"

Her stride matched mine with ease. Her wedding ring still shined in the sunlight and I kissed her cheek quickly, playing along with the teasing she threw my way.

"Did he now?" I quirked, my eyebrows raised. "Well, I say we go talk to him. Dipping out after you were sexually satisfied, what man does that?"