AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I threaded my fingers together and stared at my skirt. “Thank you so much, Dee.”
He bent down and gave me a hug. I, in turn, ended up holding on to him longer than was polite, but I didn’t care. I missed hugs and kisses. My parents used to kiss and hug me all day. Declan used this desire of mine for physical touch to his advantage most of our relationship. Often threatening to leave me at every turn if I didn’t conform to whatever he wanted of me. But that didn’t change a thing. I ended up alone anyway, missing the physical contact and connection. Truthfully, I’m starved for touch.
“There, there, Lily girl. You’re good. I was only teasing you,” Dee said as he eased himself out of my arms. He winked at me. “You are beautiful. Now go out there and bring him to his knees.”
My cheeks warmed. “No dirty talk.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t go there, you did.”
My cheeks heated up all the more. “Yeah. Thanks again, Dee.”
I walked out of the salon and did one of my favorite things to do in the city, walk through the Time Square subway station. I needed the PATH train back to Jersey City anyway, but there was always something thrilling about going down to the underground subway to me. The sweltering heat and congestion, impromptu performances, and beautiful little children and families. There was always a new story to see there.
When I stepped off the escalator at the entrance, the vibe was already abuzz with open guitar cases and the contorting limbs of artists scattered in my path. New York City. Nothing like it.
This eclectic mix of people was one of the first things I admired about the city when my best friend Mary and I visited during spring break of our sophomore year. That was also when I met Declan. I stared off as that first encounter replayed in my mind.
“Hey… give me your phone number, I wanna take you out anywhere you wanna go.”
“I live in Boston, I’m on college break… I doubt you’ll call or remember. You’re drunk. My name’s Lily, by the way….”
Declan hadn’t even asked for my name.Was he drunk?Drinking wasn’t his issue, at least not back then. He was true to his word, though.But oh!From that night on, Declan pursued me. He sent flowers, cards, and called every day because he “missed me,” He kept saying he wanted to fly me up for a dream date that would include front row seats forLa Boehmeat the Lincoln Center, followed by a romantic dinner at the five star River Café. His strength and determination captivated me.
Declan,I sighed. I had been intrigued, seduced by his attention. He was my first love and lover. The one that stood up for me to my parents’ and brought me out from under them in Quincy. My parents meant well, but I was their only child. They had me later in life and were at times overprotective, keeping me close in their circle at home. Sure I made friends, but not without getting their stamp of approval. Declan didn’t follow their rules and didn’t come up for a meeting before I flew down for our date. It was the first time ever in my life I went against my parents’ wishes and returned to New York City to see him.
Declan had assured me, no expectations when I agreed and came down for our date. My lack of experience with dating, and all that goes along with it, didn’t seem to bother him. He even offered me his spare room in his Chelsea apartment when I came to visit.
During our show and dinner, he was respectful, though he left no doubts that he wanted me sexually. What surprised me was that he acted on impulse, something I had never experienced before. Sure, I dated through high school and even college, and I had gonet as far as oral sex, but not intercourse. None of my partners had ever pushed beyond my boundaries. All respected and understood my desire to hold onto my virginity until marriage, something instilled in me in my upbringing. Something my mother did with my father and encouraged for me to do as well. And then there was Declan. He had no boundaries, just touched and caressed me. Admittedly, it thrilled me. So when we got back to his place that night and were making out, my conscience struggled as we grew closer to intercourse.
“I don’t know you well enough. I don’t do casual sex,” I said to him.
“I don’t think of you as casual sex,” he said, stroking my thigh.
“I would only have sex if I am in a committed relationship. One that led to marriage.”
“I want that, too. I know we just met, but, I want you to be my girlfriend. We can work it out. I swear. I would like a relationship with you. I can see a future with you.”
That promise of a future was all it took, and I gave myself completely. My stomach lurched as bile rose in my throat. I hadn’t thought about that in a long time. Now it seemed so false. Still, during those three years of our relationship, Declan was my champion; taking me into his world. Hell, he even drove to Boston back then to get me. He made me feel wanted, desired. Something even my parents couldn’t challenge.
My mind returned to the subway, and as I walked on, the sound of someone playing a violin crossed my ears.
The performance of the day struck my senses and awakened me from my stupor and place along the white tiled wall. Someone was playingTchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto. My father held a great fondness for the piece and would often play it, though as a principal musician for the Boston Symphony, the viola was his passion.
I peered through the crowded underground in pursuit of the source. Would my father have considered this performance overdone? He could be quite critical, but he placed the same critique upon himself. He was always striving and pushing me to work harder to try to achieve it.
“Allegro vivacissimo,” the music is almost over. I had reached the golden winged train mural, taking in the beautiful art and music right in the midst of the roar and rushing people at the Time Square terminal coven. I joined the small crowd gathered around the young Asian male in a printed T-shirt, so entranced in the music he played before us.
When he finished the piece, he immediately started to play “The Devil went Down to Georgia.” The music brought up more sentiments within me now, of my mother and her love for theFramingham’s Joe Val Bluegrass Festival. How she begged my snobbish father to play it for her, but he instead bought her a fiddle and taught her to play the song.
Boy, did he regret it. She played the hell out of that song.
My parents were opposites, but my father adored her. I had thought Declan adored me too, but he didn’t. While my parents had often questioned whether he was good enough for me, in the end, it was Declan who decided I wasn’t good enough for him. I fell head first into depression after their deaths and gained weight which was the deal breaker. He cushioned the blow by taking me to an upscale restaurant.
“Yes. It’s not that I don’t love you. I do. And you tried to be less spoiled, and I appreciate that, but you were thin when I met you. Aren’t you embarrassed by how fat you are…?”
My stomach churned as I took a few dollars out of my handbag and dropped them into the musician’s case. I next made my way downstairs to the 1, 2, 3 subway platform, where I needed to be to take the train down to Christopher Street and transfer to the PATH. My heart contracted as I queued and stepped onto the train, grasping tightly to the metal pole in the packed and cramped space by the sliding doors. No time for that now, I needed to prepare to go to the Waldorf Astoria and accidentally on purpose meet Jonas Crane.
CHAPTER THREE
