Sustaining themselves on a barbaric amount of snacks and candy, Michael and Nicole were hyper for most of the drive. Michael would find humor in the most mundane situations. Even when stuck in traffic he had a great spirit, making games from license plate numbers, or staring into random cars, wondering what they were talking about or what songs were playing on their radio. Together Nicole and he would make up stories about the strangers' carpooling together, guessing whose in-laws they were visiting for the holiday based on which spouse looked more miserable.
Everything became a game. And subconsciously, Nicole loved to play.
Nicole's tensions disappeared as Michael's laugh eased her fears and helped her forget again that this relationship was doomed. Listening to the same tracks on repeat, Michael knew more than just the lyrics, he'd studied every note. Following the melody of the instruments one at a time, Michael would pause, anticipating one special chord, then ask Nicole if she heard it too. She never could. But Nicole welcomed the distraction and the vibrance of his smile when Michael would ask, "Isn't that a great sound!?" And in the quiet moments, as one track played out to introduce the next, Michael would reach for Nicole's hand, comforting her in a way she would never admit to needing.
On a normal trip from LA to her home in El Paso, Nicole would plan to be on the road for 12 hours, so she would split the drive over two days, each way. But by the time they reached the half point, due to unaccounted for Thanksgiving traffic, it was nearly 6 PM. The candy high was plummeting to a crash and miserable stomachaches as Michael and Nicole were each growing tired and restless.
Circling the streets for a hotel that wasn't at capacity, it was close to 9 hours after starting their journey that Michael parked at a mid-level inn nearly to Tucson. The room was nothing special. Green carpet, the same shade as the patterned wallpaper, was dense and cold. The window unit blew out stale air. Even the fluorescent lights had a tint of sadness. Two matching beds claiming to be Queen sized anchored the room, alarming Nicole in their abnormally square shape. But it was fine. Everything looked clean enough for just one night.
Michael yawned loudly before throwing his bag to the floor and collapsing onto the bed closest to the door.
Michael: Driving is so much work!
Nicole: I know. But we're more than halfway now. I told you you wouldn't want to come.
Michael: No, no, I'm still excited!... Just tired.
She watched him a little longer, his face buried to the pillow gave his words a muffled filter. Michael was wearing black loafers, fully visible under his perfectly fitted jeans. His jacket was the same black bomber he wore the time he picked Nicole up before the sunrise. Nicole loved that jacket on him, accentuating the broadness of his back and slim cut of his waist.
Nicole: Maybe before you fall asleep, we could clarify some things?
Michael: Hmm?
Michael rolled onto his back, shirt lifting to the top of his belt as he struggled to kick off his shoes.
Nicole: Do you like to sleep with lights on?
Michael: Nope. Pitch black.
She watched him sit up to easier pull at the sleeves of his jacket. A plain black t-shirt reminded Nicole again of that night as Michael struggled to undress.
Nicole: Do you snore?
Michael: I...I don't think so?
Michael tossed the jacket to the foot of the bed without a thought before relaxing to his back, eyes closed and arms crossed against the pillows behind his head. A near-silent beat bounced from his lips as Nicole watched his jacket glide softly to the floor. Then following the line of his physique up the mattress, Nicole admired his strong legs, long arms, powerful core and parted mouth. For reasons she couldn't explain, Nicole found herself growing flustered again.
Nicole: How could you not know? That's kind of important.
Michael: How could I know? I'm sleeping.
Michael smiled to the ceiling at his obvious rebuttal, but when Nicole didn't respond, he opened his eyes and tried again.
Michael: We've slept together before, Nicole-- er, near each other, you know?... Why are you asking all this?
Sitting up to see her better, Michael instantly realized Nicole's tensions had returned. She looked like a totally different person from the women he was trapped with the last 9 hours.
What happened?
Nicole: I just-- I take my sleep very seriously.
Reaching out, Michael summoned her closer, surprising them both when Nicole accepted his hand and joined him at the edge of the bed. Petting his short nails and deep brown skin, she sandwiched his palm between her own, finding a strange comfort in the way his size protected hers. The inability Nicole had to resist Michael's touch was terrifying to her. There was just something about this man, time and time again, he would never stop offering his hand. Michael sat up a little taller before tipping like a teapot until his shoulder pressed against hers. Feeling her soften by the second, Michael waited, granting her the space to speak.
Nicole: ... You don't snore... Actually you're a very quiet sleeper. Like a mouse or something. You barely even move.
Michael: Good to know.
Michael smiled, watching Nicole move her mouth like she wanted to say something else. But she didn't.
Michael: Are you nervous?
A slow nod before a long hesitation.
Nicole: Yes... It's uh... It's been a while since... I just want everything to go well, you know?
Michael: Everything will be fine, I promise! And I swear I'll follow all the rules.
Smiling, Michael squeezed her hands, then tucked loose hair behind her ear as he whispered a secret.
Michael: If you knew how badly I want to kiss you right now, you'd be very proud.
Michael grinned harder as he watched her cheeks rush with red. Nicole bit her lip to suppress her smile. Then forced herself to stand.
Nicole: I'm going to shower.
He watched her float away to the bathroom, the water quickly turning on. Michael undressed, trading his jeans for plaid pajama pants before turning out the lights and reclining back against the mattress again. For a moment he considered what might be on television at this hour, but the remote looked so far away. He was left alone with his thoughts.
Michael wondered if there was a reason Nicole hadn't discussed their relationship with her parents. Not like they were getting married any time soon, but from the day she said yes to going steady Michael considered them to be a serious couple. Maybe Nicole didn't feel the same way?
These things were different for women though, at least from what he knew of his own family. Michael was always encouraged to date around and meet many girls, as were his brothers. But LaToya, just a couple years older than Michael, was raised only to "be a good wife"... Not to find a good partner. It would be easy for LaToya to find a man to marry. She was a great catch. But she was picky and sometimes Mother would get frustrated that she wouldn't just settle down and have babies like other women her age. Maybe Nicole's parents had similar expectations?
The water stopped. Nicole was humming on the other side of the thin drywall and Michael found himself imagining what she'd be doing next. He pictured himself behind her in the doorway, watching her press the towel to dry her body. Not a stitch of makeup, her skin was bright and pure. Her smile reflected in the steamy mirror as she brushed her teeth, Michael biting his own thumb as he watched her bend at the hips to spit in the sink. Nicole wiped her lips before returning the towel to it's hook, revealing her nakedness fully to him now. He smoothed her hair, dark and weighted with water just like the night in the pool. Oh, how he craved just one sweet kiss.
What color panties would she wear?
Michael squeezed his eyes tighter, trying quickly to push these thoughts away in exchange for anything else as he heard the bathroom door creek open.
Nicole walked gently in the darkness, careful not to bump anything as her eyes adjusted. He watched her drift, checking the thermostat, then fidgeting with the blinds before finally settling on her bed. She pulled back the sheets and fluffed the pillows.
Michael: Nicole?
She jumped, unaware Michael was still awake. With a hand on her chest Nicole took a deep breath as Michael tried to stifle his laughter.
Michael: Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you.
Nicole: It's fine, Michael. I just assumed you were already sleeping.
Michael: No... I was wondering... What do people do for Thanksgiving?
Nicole: Usually families just sit around and eat. Watch football. Talk about what you're thankful for. Things like that.
Michael: Oh, is that all?
Nicole: Most families start their own traditions I guess. But yeah, that's about it.
Michael: Does your family have any traditions?
Nicole: ... Not anymore.
Laying down, Nicole pulled the sheets over her shoulders. She could see through the darkness at Michael now, flat on his back as he adjusted his own blankets. Both arms were above his head as he stared to the ceiling. She considered letting the conversation end there, but as Nicole closed her eyes to welcome new nightly dreams, instead she was flooded with memories.
Nicole: When I was little my grandma would always spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with us. She lived out in east Texas and would come visit for the whole week when school got out to take care of me while my parents worked. She loved the holidays, cooking and buying gifts and just spending time with family. My parents and I are all kind of loners, but she had a way of bringing anyone together. She had so much joy, it was infectious... Kind of like you in that way. People would flock to her. She just didn't think life should be taken so seriously, you know? So for Thanksgiving she would always cook. And for as long as I can remember, I was her sous chef. Just doing small things at first, I'd mix the macaroni and cheese or oil the pie dish. Then finally I worked my way up to slicing onions and peeling potatoes... But it didn't matter what we were making, we just had a good time together. She loved to gossip and watch soap operas when we were waiting for the food in the oven. And when I got older she'd let me sip her spiked eggnog until my parents got home. We would giggle all evening and they never knew why... We had dozens of little secrets like that... Anyway, I learned all her recipes by middle school, but I still insisted on doing nothing more than peeling potatoes for as long as I could. Nothing tastes quite as good as it does when it's made with Grandma's hands, you know?... She passed away the summer I started senior year. We tried to skip the holidays after that. We just ordered pizza and sat around being sad... Last year was a little easier. I knew I'd be leaving for school, though I didn't know where yet, but it felt good to cook again. I felt like she was there with me, in a way. So... I don't know, I guess we don't have any traditions right now.
Shifting to his side, Michael watched the words fall from her mouth. Nicole's story broke his heart, making Michael picture his own grandmother and their special connection. There was something very magical about grandmothers.
Michael: I'm so sorry, Nicole. She sounds like a beautiful person.
Nicole: She was... Gosh, she would've adored you, Michael. She loved music and dancing and had such a great laugh!... She always told me to find a nice boy... With a sweet laugh...
Nicole chuckled as she choked out the last words, suddenly overcome with the tremendous weights of guilt and heartbreak and regret she'd now been feeling for weeks. This seemed to be the final straw. Nicole thought about her grandmother often, always feeling her presence in the wind or when smiling at old photographs. But grief comes in waves, just like the ocean. Sometimes it's calm raising you in its hope and beauty, and other times it will overwhelm you, shocking you in its depth and inability to escape. But either way, you must keep swimming.
Michael, knowing the strain in her voice and torture behind her hidden eyes, wasn't sure what else to say, so preparing himself for the consequences, he quietly crossed the room and broke rule number two. Nicole welcomed him in bed next to her, holding his waist until her silent tears recessed. Her voice was barely a whisper as Nicole breathed into his t-shirt.
Nicole: I'm so sorry. I don't know where that came from.
Michael: You don't need to apologize.
It was quiet again as her heartbeat calmed and Michael stroked her back, the texture of Nicole's thin blouse was smooth on his fingertips. Fearing he'd overstayed his welcome, Michael shifted to leave.
Michael: You should get some sleep--
It was one of the few times Nicole spoke without any hesitation.
Nicole: Please stay?
Gripping the body of his shirt with surprising strength, Michael wouldn't have been able to leave if he wanted to.
He didn't want to.
Michael wordlessly agreed, wrapping both arms to cover her shoulders. It was the closest they'd ever been, Nicole's wet eyelashes tickling his throat. Her open palms embracing his abdomen. Their legs tangled together amongst cloth and sheets. The desire for a kiss was overwhelming, multiplying by tenfold since the moment of Michael's earlier admission. So he closed his eyes, settling instead for his lips to rest in Nicole's hair.
It was silent again before Nicole spoke for the last time.
Nicole: Will you sing something?
For a long moment, Michael said nothing, leaving her to wonder if he had fallen asleep that quickly, but she was too perfectly warm, wrapped up in him, to look up and find out.
One particular song came to mind. Michael had thought of it often over the last few weeks. His voice was deep and slow.
Michael:
Got to be there... in the morning.
When she says "hello" to the world.
And show her that she's my girl.
Oooh... What a feeling it'll be,
The moment I know she loves me...
Cause when I look in her eyes,
I realize... I need her sharing the world beside... me
So I've... got to be there.
Where love begins, and that's everywhere she goes.
I've got to be there so she knows.
That when she's with me, she's home...