* chapter music *
- Gentle On My Mind -
Elvis Presley
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Elvis POV
Fuck, fuck, fuck went through my mind as I dazed into the awakened's world, feeling Sal's arm around me. A warm breath from the petite frame I'd now shared the fleeting night hours with co-existed with mine. My own breath evaporated into the scope of nothing, roaming the space between four walls. While hers made use of the non-existing space between us. The space we made sure of was there when we fell asleep. With the attained brush of her breath on my neck, she consumed my time, putting my willingness to act in limbo. I just laid there for a good minute or two, taking in the sight of her gentle arms in my shirt and petite hand holding onto my bare chest—tangled with me. Feeling her up against my back as I felt the rush of a lifetime, I had no way of convincing myself otherwise anymore.
Light as a feather, I tried not to shake as I lifted her arm with three fingers and slipped out of bed. Walking across the room with hands going deep into my hair, I wanted to tear it out. Shoot something or throw something. The insides of my brain boiled like the sloppy spaghetti I stapled Sal's climbing abilities as once upon a time. Whereas I should have been more concerned with her capacity to crawl onto me. The terror of turning to steal another look at the girl sleeping in my bed dawned upon me.
I was so God damn in love with her.
I had tried to get out of the room yesterday. I let go of her; I kept my distance as soon as we entered my room. Getting her in here, I realized we had to sleep at some point, and I honestly needed to get out of there as fast as I possibly could.
From finding a shirt, fixing the bed, and talking to a very silent Sal, she just stood there with my shirt in her hands. I knew she needed me. I knew there was a chance of her asking me to stay with her. I could see she needed someone with her tremendously when she fell apart with me by the car.
Avoiding and denying had become my second nature, but God, I could not leave her pleading. I couldn't bear watching her big doe-eyes trembling as she spoke. Repeating I was only watching out for her in my thoughts, I climbed into that bed with her.
My bed. Sal was in my bed. A delighted shiver went through me, making me swear all sorts of things on the inside. I was so screwed.
Dressed in just blue striped pajama pants, I snagged my pants and t-shirt left on the floor from last night. Only taking time to change into them until after I'd gotten out of the room—as if running away from an all-consuming tornado. Nearly tripping while balancing on one foot, I stumbled across the hall. One foot in, the other miscalculated—dodging and staying clear of the pants' leg. Gone with the wind, a flimsy scarecrow would have done a better job of getting its pants on.
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The achievement of buttoned and sipped-up clothes got broken down by lactic acid. No pride left. A clean face was also left behind. Knocking my chin in the muddy grass from running guys tearing up the field, my arms clung to the football. A cough got stuck in my throat as the others threw themself at me to get what was mine. The struggle of breathing subdued. And with a grin behind my protective face mask attached to my helmet, I saw Red coming to the rescue. Crossing long stretches of grass with his hair traveling the wind of a light grey day in May, he came all the way from the white ranch-style fence in the distance, which made up one of the many potential enclosures for horses. As of now, most of them have football written all over them, though.
With the pass of the ball, somehow escaping the clutching guys, they let go of me, and I managed to get to my feet—with my knees green and dirty.
I had to leap to catch up with the game, as the ground had seen more of me than the players. But the blast wasn't really getting to that ball; it was watching Lamar and Scotty having a real serious duel going on. Chuckling over their constant bickering, my Mama calling for me caught my attention.
«Elvis! Booby!» She called as the boys sent me humorous faces, smirks, and visualized big boobs with their hands. Lamar, Scotty, Red, Bill, and George; all of them wore way too much confidence in their choice to make sport of my dearly given nickname. Even my little lanky fourteen-year-old cousin, Billy, dared too much today. Flipping them off, I ran to my Mama. I'd deal with em' motherfuckers later.
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Rosalie POV (Sal)
I had only seen Gladys for a second, but I recognized Elvis's Mama from the press—a little rounded frame with lively, soft black hair just below her ears. She resembled Elvis quite a bit. She saw me at the top of her stairs as she came out of the arch leading opposite of the living room I'd seen rushing through the foyer. I was just a spec compared to the high ceiling and roaming of air traveling through the first and second floors. Leaving me with a joyous «Oh!» She quickly moved her feet while lifting her skirt out the front door with an open view down where we'd parked last night. A tanned pathway that flowed by the house.
Elvis's car was gone by now—and with a recollection of red hair, keys, the drive up to the house, and voiceful fans, I remembered the last moments before I couldn't handle the prison I'd made for myself. Elvis had said he'd return to his fans for ten minutes, but he never did. Whether he forgot or not, I didn't know; but somehow, I knew they would forgive him.
Hearing her call for Elvis, I slid my hand down the railing as I carefully took on the steps dressed in yesterday's clothing. Unsure if I should approach Gladys on my own or wait for Elvis, I'm freed from my dilemma as he showed up.
Broad-legged steps, with a white bowling ball for a head, the guy looked like he'd gotten tempted by a pig's mud bath. Unable to contain my amused smile, I took on the walk to meet them, watching them interact.
Scents of obviously untouched nature hit you the moment the sky was above you. Undoubtedly, Graceland had land in all directions, with no sight of the gates, hidden by abundant plant life, starting just at the edge of the path. A life of both tall and low additions—and green as far as your eyes could see.
«Son! What in the world did you do to yourself?» She promptly scolded him as he, unbothered, simply laughed, taking off his helmet to lean in for a kiss on her cheek. His locks of hair hang loose, marked by the activity he'd taken part in.
«Darlin', you got dirt on your chin.» She exclaimed, jumping back—seeming young with a graceful nature.
«Ma! Come on.» He complained, hurrying in to place a kiss on her cheek anyway. She sighed in response, shaking her head while she couldn't help but smile at her son.
Sending warmth through me as I saw how he treated his mom, I could understand why mine was so charmed by him. That evening in December, when I came home with Rachel to find him with flour on his cheek, he had melted my mom's heart.
A few feet away from them, I held my arms around myself as I caught Elvis's eyes. In them was yesterday night's closeness and something else. Fear maybe? Fear of what?
«Ma, this is Sal.» He said proudly, with a boyish nervous smile. Daring to move closer to them, his mom turned with an endearing smile.
«Oh, sweet girl, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?» Her smile widened as she reached out to squeeze my hand, and I felt my cheeks go all rosy. «I'm Gladys, Elvis's Mama, but you probably already knew that? Just as I know, your name is Rosalie, dear.» She teased just as a mother could when meeting one of her sons' close ones.
Her love lay thickly on her skin. I couldn't keep joy from showing up on my face, releasing me from the built-up tension. Taking her other free hand in mine, I returned her affection. «Of course I know, Elvis never stops talking about you...And I now see who he gets his genes from..» I cheekily blurted out, making Gladys beam with glee as she walked me inside, shielding us from today's cloudy, cold weather—hooked arm in arm.
«Oh dear, he is a beauty, but no thanks to me. I don't know where it all came from.» She hummed lightly as she gifted her son a look, making me giggle. Humorously, she entirely skipped over his father's looks. But I knew there were some resemblances there. Seeing Elvis in the corner of my eye, he bit his lower lip, charmed by our meet-cute. He followed behind, shaking his head as I got steered through the arch along the wall of the stairs. The room I saw Gladys come out from earlier.
Casting light from a bright white sky, the windows divided the dining room into squares. The chestnut, gold-colored marbled dining table made the room, together with a majestic chandelier. A chandelier that made every other lamp irrelevant. I didn't believe a single diamond or jewel could compare to the glistening reflections it cast. However, the nuances of sapphire throughout the room convinced me not to put a bet on it. From royal blue curtains reminding me of theater drapes to black marbled floors and display cabinets with intricate ornaments showing rows and rows of fine crystal dining tableware, it was hard to know where to look.
My eyes held on to every detail as Gladys kept up her pace with her arms locked with mine. It was as if my mind couldn't get enough of each tiny little piece—and a creeping need to snoop in drawers and shelves was escalating. Almost forced to let go, we headed for the kitchen, and in the end, I had to turn my head straight. With me not containing my nosiness, my thoughts were overshadowed by Elvis' reaction, chuckling from deep down in his stomach in response to my reaction.
«Now, I'm sure you're both hungry. Have Elvis told you about his favorite sandwich?» She released me, disappearing into the fridge with rumbling sounds, causing her voice to echo through a closed-off space. The deep brown kitchen cabinets, yellowish fridge, and interiors reminded me much more of a cozy home than the royal ball going on in the next room. A quaint kitchen table with a belonging couple of chairs and a loveseat kitchen bench felt inviting, familiar, and like a link to the kitchen I grew up in. Nowhere close to the greek columns outside that looked like they had been flown in from the past. Even though my kitchen colors were blue like a greek sea, it was nowhere near the term spectacular. And from what I'd seen, Graceland was just that.
Shoes on stone swapped the sounds occupying us, and turning up in the doorframe was Red—nearly causing the need for a taller ceiling. I'd seen Red once or twice, firstly shaking hands outside Regina's dad's work-rented cabin. But more than that, we'd shared a call or two. «Hey E, The Colonel is here,» Red said with a voice more stable than the mountain the floor was carved out of, with his light eyes resting on Elvis. His solid jaw moved with a subtle smile on his lip, for most only noticeable using a magnifying glass—giving me a salute when spotting me. «Hello, Sal.»
«Hi, Red.» I greeted him with a kind smile.
With two firm pal-like pats on Red's shoulders, Elvis gave Red a short smile. «Give me a minute and a half, Red.»
I would never have guessed that someone like him could move without sound, but he was like a black panther in its well-known home. As Red disappeared, Elvis let his eyes glide over me with a nod toward the dining room.
«Excuse us, Mama; you'll have Sal back in a moment.» He smiled sweetly for his Mama as his eyes came upon her, right after giving me the cue to move.
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From the utter awe the room brought on just minutes ago, it held a second demeanor now—a hanging mood, every bit as heavy as the chandelier I'd admired. With the addition of two more shades of blue in the dining room, the two of us took in the room in our own way—gazing. I watched Elvis nervously walk up to one of the windows facing his front yard. I didn't know if he was looking at something in particular, but my guess was that he couldn't have known either. Seeming lost, worn out, and tense.
Quiet, with softness to my fingertips, I rested my hands at the back of the closest chair. It needed no more than a little pull for me to take a sideway seat. Wetting my lip and aligning my sight with my shoulder, I waited. Observing him.
«I.. ah... I just wanted to make sure you were fine... We haven't had the chance to talk today.» He said, mindfully turning around. Awfully similar to the man holding onto the drawer to find me a shirt, he seemed to be in a state of eerie unsettlement. «Yesterday.. yesterday was..» He couldn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to.
«I know.» Breathy, nodding, my eyes went to find the stripes throughout the marbled floor, seeming like a continuum of neverending shades of black and white. Following the pattern as it swirled, I tried to find a way to keep myself from spiraling. I didn't want to break down here. Not now, with Gladys in the other room. I couldn't explain what went through me driving into the gates of Graceland last night. My chest stung while fears barricaded within me—with the lack of air getting in or out. It felt like crumbling into nothing, leaving it to Elvis to put me back together again. Reminiscing, I missed his touch for several reasons. But there was only one I could admit. «Thank you for being there..»
«Sal..» He said, and without warning, he moved closer to me as if I'd been slipping through his fingers rather than sitting still in his dining room. Squatting down by my chair, a worried touch of his hands cupped my knees—causing me to breathe distorted before I let his warmth ease into me. «I want you to tell me when you feel out of it... When you feel like yesterday... Can you... can you do that for me?» His insisting eyes connected with mine, and while they had widened at his brusque way of approaching me, they now flickered through his whole form, embodying frail petals falling.
As close to begging on his knees as he could, I watched him need for me to give in to his care. He had asked me this before; the difference was I didn't ever feel comfortable enough to let anyone in. I never even wanted to give in, even if I promised him I would. Undeniably though, a part of me thought differently today, and it started with me seeking solace in his hand last night.
Pent-up images, memories of aches, hiding under the covers, and aloneness found their way to me. Something wanted out, but no matter what, the feelings stayed. Building and building, the thunder-stuffed emotions never got released by lightning before or after. Something had to give. And so my thumb moved to its closest companion—itching my index finger with the nail of my thumb excessively. Elvis calmly took hold of my thumb—leaving my fingers to rest on his knuckles.
Unsure of what to tell him, he took my silence as a sign to go down the road of memory lane.
«I know... I know we never talked about this after our fight at the mansion. But I think we should do that now. You, living here..? You're under my roof. I can't have you walking around without knowing what's going on under my own roof. I don't wanna fight about this again; I really don't... But you have to let me in, just like yesterday. You know how you're so honest with me when it comes to my issues? Well, I want you to be just as honest about yours.»
Locks of my hair fell forward, and while I rested my blue on our hands, contemplating, I observed his silver band ring—circling his own index finger. From following the marbled lines of the floor, I followed the ones on his skin. It had the same soothing effect on me. With the lift of my chin, facing him, he immediately got a hold of my eyes.
«Don't you leave me hanging now Sal... And I'm just reminding you, there are gates keeping you in.» He smirked shyly to lighten the mood, making it less daunting.
It was impossible to hide my incoming smile. Of course, he would bring that up—implying there wouldn't be a repeat of Ms. Runaway.
«There's that pretty smile of yours that really charmed my Mama.» He chuckled, shaking his head.
«Dork.» I foolishly called him.
«Dork? That was a new one.» He laughed quietly, softer than I'd imagine a cloud could be—keeping the intimacy of our conversation. His smile was unmistakably taken by close-hearted carefree happiness, if only for a moment.
«There's many more where that came from,» I spoke softly but with a gentle smirk on my lips—feeling an at-ease notion taking over my previously troubled hand.
«Wouldn't expect any less.» He lightly hummed. «But.. Sal, jokes aside. You have me here, but you don't know anybody else yet. At least not too well. It's gonna be a little wild here at times, being around me full time. I want you to look past that and come to me for anything. Even if I look busy or about to head out. Or even if I'm out traveling—you call. If you need something, I'll do anything for you, Sal.»
Taking his words to heart was a lot easier, with him stroking his thumb dearly at the back of my hand. Still letting his four other fingers hold onto my thumb. He had this endearing look to him, reminding me of what had happened before that fight in January. The moment. Hands at my cheeks, with our eyes knowing we both saw something else than we should have in each other. The difference being I didn't feel the need to get away this time. From feeling a crack in my wall, I now saw a peephole—admitting there was a risk of falling through, and maybe that I even wanted to.
«Elvis, I'll..» I began to say as Red barged in.
«E. I tried telling the Colonel that America agreed to change the length of one and a half minutes, but it didn't really work,» Red said dryly.
Chuckling at his friend, Elvis shook his head, looking past me towards Red. «I'm sure he grew really fond of ya' with that one.» He grinned while squeezing my thumb once to let go and stand up. «I'll get back to you, Sal.» He assured me, with a cheeky smile more meant to amuse Red than me. «You'll survive, right?» He joked, nodding towards the kitchen with Gladys waiting.
«Of course, go.» I laughed discreetly, watching him go with his pal and bodyguard to meet with the Colonel. «Elvis?» I then blurted out, like a sudden breeze coming through an opened window.
Nonchalantly turning around, his gaze softened when I spoke. «I'll tell you.» It reached all of him, his smile. While his chin slowly nodded, I knew it meant a lot to him.
At the back of my head, something told me the Colonel's visit was due to what happened yesterday. Actually, there was no question, and I could already see the headlines, 'Elvis goes feral' or 'The Pelvis of Elvis goes rogue in Madison, Georgia.'
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«Gladys, I'm back,» I said, arriving in the kitchen as she dropped the last slice of bacon in the frying pan with the sound of an oil fizzle.
«Oh honey, sit down, and I'll have your breakfast ready in five.» Her thick southern accent, much like Elvis', showed as she smiled at me.
Bananas lay beside a knife, ready to be chopped, and rather than taking Gladys' suggestion; I chose to chip in. I took my place next to her, getting ahead of the game to prepare them. And in the process, it earned me a warm smile from Gladys. «Thank you, but you really didn't have to do that.»
«I wanted to..» I said kindly. «Also, I need to see how you do it. Elvis told me I did it wrong last summer.» I chuckled.
«Oh, that ungrateful boy.» She shook her head unpleased but not too seriously. «I hope he didn't boss you around in the kitchen.»
Laughing lighthearted, I shook my head. «No, we had fun. I hardly knew him back then, so I don't think he had it in him yet.»
«Oh, has my son done so later on?» She frowned, worried.
«Not in the kitchen, no, he was a sweetheart in my pink apron. I came home to him baking with my mom one day.» I smiled, both entertained and fond of the memory.
«He baked with your mama?» Her eyes glistened in wonder as she turned slightly to bathe in shared glances and the answer I had for her.
«Yes, gingerbread cookies. Deformed ones, but still gingerbread.» I laughed, biting my lip, as I remembered I chased him around for switching up the heads.
«You know, I love my son deeply.» She said, feeling her mood change beside me as I heard the sniff of her nose. Her eyes watered as she put down the spatula turning to take my hands in hers. The hands of a mother, a parent, so warm and nurturing, nothing could compare.
In a trice, seeing her teary eyes meet mine troubled me. «Gladys, what is it?»
«I wanted to tell you this straight away, but I didn't want him to see me crying.. but thank you for taking care of my lovely son Rosalie.» She insistently said, pressing my hands to her lips before letting me go. I had never heard my full first name spoken too much, but from Gladys, it sounded as dear as any fond nickname. She made it sound so lovely I didn't want to correct her—and so she became the one person I fancied to hear calling me Rosalie.
«Oh... Gladys..» I consoled her. Finding her cheek with my thumb, I wiped her tears as her son did mine last night.
«I... I just... I've seen him run off for months and months. I thought he was out doing God-knows-what to help him cope, and then I came to find out he has an angel by his side.» In a matter of trying to calm herself down, she waved her hands in front of her rounded face of pure red lips and shed tears. No need for any hesitation; Gladys was an open book that you could read and interpret all at once.
My throat tightened as I thought of her having to endure all she did. Watching her son getting slandered from every corner of America and soon being sent out of the country. These days Elvis didn't even want to leave her for more than a few hours without making sure she was alright. I had never seen them together up until today, but their tight bond was obvious even to the blind eye.
«Gladys... I don't know what to say..» Taking a deep breath, I felt deeply for her—but powerless.
«Oh, darlin' Rosalie, you don't have to say anything... I just needed you to listen.» She snuffled with a motherly glow illustrated with the finest chosen colors, tilting her head with enough care and love for Graceland's fourteen acres. Her dark brown eyes looked nothing like Elvis' clear shade of blue, but they held every bit of what made up how he saw the world. Every feeling was strong and earnest. Trying to end her tears, she walked off to grab a kitchen paper towel.
A cough broke our bubble, making me turn to see Scotty and the undeniably recognizable-shaped hair he owned. The sharp turn made possible by gel looked like someone could take a tiny surfboard for a beach day. In conclusion, his dark blonde hair was by far in a better state than at his apartment after the Russwood-concert-haze.
«We need you in the other room, Sal.» He announced, half awkwardly and half gravely.
No one would have managed to get another word in, as an ear-piercing BAM could be heard in the background. It being May, made sure the excuse of the 4th of July couldn't be used. This wasn't fireworks.
What followed was Scotty smiling faintly, pretending we didn't just hear someone take a shot.
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Author's note:
Oh, wow, this chapter had quite the word count, and for good reason. It held Elvis' confession to being in love, the Booby-nickname moment with the guys—which is probably one of my favorite comical relief moments 😂 I laugh my ass off each time I read that one, because I can imagine a moment like this could have happened. I had the best time writing that scene because while I enjoyed making fun of Elvis, I also can feel his half-serious rage with the boys messing with him 😆 Oh, and the one and a half minute joke always gets to me 😂
Elvis introduced Sal to his Mama in a way that just makes me weep hearty tears. God, that was a significant moment for him, and he was so nervous and proud to have his Mama meet Sal. We have the intimate dining room conversation, which is probably my fondest memory of writing this book. They are taking steps together, with trust and care, and it shows Elvis taking the upper hand, encouraging her to let him in. While he made sure to be a safe place for her, taking her thumb in his hand the moment he saw what was occurring. And there has been a breakthrough for Sal—telling Elvis she'll share how she's feeling with him.
I'm hoping this chapter could bring a bit of heartwarming feelings to your day or night 🥰🌷🌕
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(Chapter 41/64)
This chapter is slightly edited with Grammarly.
New chapter every week (Tuesdays)
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