Love Knocks
/A rap on Michelle’s door startled her enough to spill her glass of evening wine.
“Hello?” Michelle said. She shot upright and moved to the door, looking through the peephole; her eyes shifted as her ears perked for a response.
She changed into her pajamas for the evening, as she did every evening after work. When depression ravaged Michelle’s senses, she crawled into bed, as she said it was evening somewhere.
“It’s Jason,” he said, “from the bar.”
Michelle’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.
Jason, a man of imposing height, his face adorned with a scruffy beard and a glint of mischief in his eyes, stood at the door. He nonchalantly shrugged, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. “You wanted me to stop by, didn’t you?” he asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Where’d you get my address?”
She hastily threw an Army hoodie over her shoulders, her heart pounding in her chest. She shoved her feet into a pair of yoga pants, and slid her feet into Polo slippers, her mind racing with questions.
“The bartender slipped me a note as I paid my tab,” Jason explained. “He said you wanted to see me.”
“Give me a minute,” she said. Do you live in the area?” She raised her voice as she moved to the hallway mirror hung on the cream wall. The dim lights reflected shadows in the creases of her pale complexion, weakening the depression she saw in her eyes over sleepless nights. She studied her cheeks and the lines under her eyes, empty with the need to destroy loneliness.
“An elf held me hostage in a home down the street,” Jason said with a straight face. “That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it,” he said. “It’s a long story, but I promise it’s worth it.”
Michelle couldn’t help but put her hand to her mouth to hide a laugh. It had been years since she had smiled—not since losing her husband. And now, a guy on the other side of her door gave her butterflies, not black eyes. Michelle wrapped her long, red hair around her neck. She leaned into the mirror to fix her lipstick, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry if the bartender gave you the wrong impression,” Michelle said, almost punching herself in her voice box for saying it. Michelle cracked the door.
“The wrong impression?” Jason read a wrinkled yellow sticky note and scratched the top of his head.
Polo perfume floated out of her door.
Jason lifted his wide gaze. “Wow.”
“What?” Michelle tilted her head and narrowed one eye.
“You’re beautiful.”
Michelle tried not to blush, but his words, a rare compliment in her life, warmed her heart and gave her a flicker of hope. But the words went straight to her head.
Jason’s calm demeanor helped her ease into a lowered guard. “You wouldn’t want me,” Michelle said, looking down and away.
“Am I missing something?” Jason craned his neck around her, looking for anything that might belong to a man. “Are you married?”
“And if I were?” Michelle hugged herself, her voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. “Marriage hasn’t been kind to me, Jason. It’s left me with scars that are hard to heal.” Jason shot her a defensive glare. “I’d leave.
“My kind of guy,” Michelle said. She stepped back and motioned him inside.
Jason passed by her with suspicion baked into his crush.
“Nice place,” Jason said, circling.
“It’s not too bad, is it?” Michelle said. She hadn’t counted her blessings in years.
Michelle positioned the leather couch and dark loveseat toward the forest near Lake Chelan.
A large, furry white carpet rested below the oak coffee table, covering the mahogany floor. Michelle’s backyard blended into the wood line. On summer evenings, Michelle used to barbeque on the balcony and play pool in the basement.
“The bartender,” Michelle said.
“What about him?”
“He’s my brother,” Michelle said. “He did a background check and looked over your Facebook,” Michelle said.
“I don’t know whether to be freaked out or impressed,” Jason said, stroking his chin. “I did some digging on you, too, so I guess we’re even.”
Over the following months, their friendship blossomed, and after two years, Michelle found solace and healing in her life with Jason by her side.
Michelle laughed as they taught Rachel to walk.
Depression is real, and hope heals.
By Andy Cooper
From: United States
Twitter: AC0040