A Bump in the Night

For the next eighteen months, things couldn't have been better. I'd never seen a happier person than Megan; the smile never left her face and the passion with which she made love was unparalleled as far as I was concerned; again, I was thinking of marriage. Then, almost overnight, her demeanor changed. She seemed nervous and worried. I asked if something was wrong a couple of times but she said it was something she had to work out.

I was beginning to think a man was involved. Was she falling for someone else? She struggled for almost a month before approaching me one night after dinner. Just like the night she told me she wanted to model, she poured us each a glass of wine and requested we sit in the living room.

"John, would you ever consider moving overseas?"

"Overseas, like England or France, you mean?"

"Specifically, Paris, Honey, I have an opportunity to model full-time there."

My heart sank like a rock. There was no way I wanted to leave my parents and all my friends to move to Paris; hell, I didn't even know the language. "When did this come up?" I asked.

"About a month ago. I got a call from Ford's Modeling Agency. They told me their Paris branch was searching for someone my look. Honey, this is the big time. I'd be working with world-renowned photographers and modeling for companies like Cartier and Armani."

She was so excited her face glowed as she spoke.

"Honey, with your talent, I have no doubt you'll develop a reputation of your own. I'll bet you'll be famous in no time. We... we could be a power couple."

I'm sure she saw the lack of enthusiasm in my face. "It wouldn't be forever, Hon. Right now I'm hot as a pistol but looks change, styles change, hot models today are the has-beens of tomorrow. "Honey, I know this would be a giant move but please think about it, please."

I knew there was no way I could make a move like that but I said I'd think it over and I did. Just like Megan loved what she did, I also loved what I did. It wasn't glamorous and I'd never be famous but I loved the look on someone's face when they'd see their portrait for the first time. I loved the accolades I got from clients and the reputation I was building. I was good at what I did, damn good, but if thrown up against photographers like Skrubneski and Lindberg I'd be swallowed up like a guppy in a shark tank.

My prodigy had outgrown me. I remember reading one time that if you really, really loved a bird you'd never clip its wings and keep it in a cage, you'd let it fly and live the life it was meant to live. I knew that as much as it hurt, it's what I had to do.

For the next week, Megan had been walking around the house like she was in a daze. I knew she was waiting for my answer and I wasn't going to torture her. This time it was me who poured the wine. We sat on the couch and each took a sip. "Honey, I just can't do it; I can't leave the life I've built and go to Paris, I'm sorry."

I watched as she forced a small smile, "That's okay, Honey, I kind of knew you couldn't do it. I'll call Ford's tomorrow and let them know I'm not going."

"You'll do no such thing," I stated.

"Honey, I'm not going without you. I love you, I don't want to be without you."

"Do you remember what you said when you told me you were going to start modeling full-time?"

"I... I think I said a lot of things, I don't..."

"You said you had to do it, if you didn't you'd always wonder what could have been; we're at that same crossroads again, Honey; if you don't do this you'll always wonder what you missed. Life is for living, Honey, and I'm not about to stand in the way of you living yours. You go, take Paris by storm just like you did Chicago."

Her face scrunched up and the tears started to flow. She lunged at me and hung on like she'd never let me go. I could feel my own tears sliding down my cheeks. It was early evening but there was nothing left to do but make love. We took our time and shared our love over and over, physically and emotionally. There was something in the air that night, I never saw Megan come so many times or so hard. I was hard as nails almost all night and came four times myself before falling asleep with my love wrapped in my arms.

The next day she called the Ford's Agency and made arrangements. They found her a small apartment right down the street from the Moulin Rouge. They told her Toulouse-Lautrec lived just a few doors down the street.

The night before she left, we went to dinner at Plato's Place, one of the finest restaurants in Chicago, then went home and made love until it was time for her to go. Saying goodbye at O'hare was the hardest thing I ever had to do. After watching her plane take off, I got in my car and started for home but only made it as far as the first parking lot; I pulled over and cried my eyes out for an hour.

I told Dave a couple days earlier that I wasn't sure I'd be in. I knew I'd be in bad shape. I moped around the house for a couple of hours but finally went in around noon. I had to get my mind off of things.

Driving home that night to an empty home was like driving to my own funeral. I had never felt so hollow inside. It took all my willpower to keep from breaking down again. What good would it do? It wouldn't bring her back. I had to get used to being without her.

I'd been home for about half an hour when my phone rang. My heart almost leaped from my chest when I saw it was her. "Hi, Honey!"

"Hi, Babe, how's my man?"

"Missing his woman, how's Paris?"

I heard her chuckle, but she sounded tired. "I haven't seen much of it yet. I did see the Eiffel Tower from the cab. I can't believe I'm actually here, Hon."

"You sound tired."

"Yeah, I'm beat. It's one o'clock in the morning here. I have to try and get some rest. The agency is sending someone over about nine to help me move into the apartment and show me around a little; as tired as I am, I'm so excited I don't know if I'll get any sleep."

"Okay, Hon, I'll let you go for now but call me when you get a chance, okay?"

"Of course, Honey." I heard her yawn. "I'm sorry, Hon, it's not the company, believe me," she joked.

"I know, you get to bed and dream of me; I know I'll be dreaming of you tonight."

"Good night, Babe, I love you."

"I love you too, Honey, sweet dreams."

It felt good to hear her voice but the euphoria didn't last long. I felt so all alone.

The next day, Dave and I were going over some images on the computer when my phone buzzed. I looked at the picture and read the text. "Dave, look."

"Is that the real Moulin Rouge?"

"Yeah, Megan says she shot the picture from her balcony. The modeling agency set her up with an apartment."

"Wish you were there with her?"

"Of course, I do, but I'd never make it over there, Dave. You know yourself, with Ford as her agency now, she might be based in Paris but she'll also be globe-trotting all over for shoots while I'd be stuck trying to make a living. It'd never work, Dave. I'd rather have my memories.

As days turned into weeks, the seven-hour time difference proved to be a problem. Between it and her constant work schedule, we'd send each other text messages but rarely did we get a chance to talk with each other.

One day, while eating lunch in the food court, I found out Megan was also keeping in touch with Sheila. She sat down at my table and we had a nice talk. Megan had just come back from a shoot in Rome and Sheila knew all about it. Evidently, she received the same pictures and text messages I did. I'm not sure why but it made me feel good to know I wasn't the only one Megan corresponded with.

A few weeks after our talk, Sheila looked excited as she hurried into the studio with a magazine in her hand. "Have you seen this?" She asked, holding it up so I could see it.

It was Megan on the cover of Vogue. The title was, "Women of the World Wear Vuitton." In the lower corner, it said, "Cover by Annie Leibovitz."

I heard Dave mumble, "Holy Shit," from behind me.

I took the magazine from Sheila's hand to study it closer. Damn, Megan looked incredible.

"She misses you like crazy, you know that, right?"

"No more than I miss her but it can't be helped, Sheila. I'd never stand in the way of her career."

"You could go for a visit." She looked over my shoulder, "What about it, Dave, you could do without him for a week or two, couldn't you?"

I had thought about it. The fine art prints were still selling well so I easily had enough money socked away, and I had more than enough vacation time built up. I looked over at Dave. He looked at his phone to check his schedule.

"I have weddings this Saturday and the next. I have nothing scheduled for the one after that so I could work here that Saturday. If you want to take off, I'll tell Phillis to make sure she doesn't book anything."

I walked over to our appointment calendar. "So, I could leave on Sunday and come back the following Sunday or Monday. I wonder what her schedule would be?"

"Call her and find out," Sheila almost dictated.

I looked at my watch; it was almost two o'clock--around nine o'clock in Paris. I took out my phone and hit the speed dial. It was good to hear her voice. I congratulated her on the cover and asked if she knew her schedule three weeks in advance.

Her squeal was almost deafening, "Are you coming over?"

"Just for a week." Another scream almost shattered my eardrum.

"Honey... Oh, wait a minute, that's... " She sounded disappointed and I knew she remembered a previous engagement. "Oh, Honey, I just thought of something, this will be even better..."

"What will?"

"Honey, you can meet me in Tortola."

"Where's that?"

"It's in the British Virgin Islands. I've never been there but some of the other models tell me it's absolutely gorgeous. I have a three-day shoot scheduled there but we'll still have the nights together and after the shoot, we'll stay for the rest of the week, how's that sound?"

My heart was pounding to the excitement in her voice. "It sounds like pure heaven, Honey... absolute pure heaven."

I could hear her actually jumping up and down as she squealed again. "I can't wait to see you," she screamed.

I'm not what you'd call a seasoned traveler but I was ready to endure any degradation airport security threw at me. Luckily, it wasn't that bad. Once on board, I nervously sat back in my seat and mentally prepared for the seven-hour flight knowing Megan would be at the end of my destination.

When I checked in at the hotel they had a note for me. Megan had already started her shoot but made arrangements for me to be driven to the location if I wasn't too tired. As my cab approached, I saw a shooting crew of seven or eight people, not counting three models. Everyone was surprised when Megan took off running in my direction as soon as she saw me and left everyone hanging. She jumped in my arms and peppered my face with kisses. God, it was great holding her in my arms again.

After lamenting how badly we missed each other, Megan took me by the hand and walked me down to the beach to meet everyone. Evidently, Megan told them I'd be coming because they seemed to know my name and a little about me. One of the other models asked where my grey suit with the big red "S" was. "I may have embellished just a little," Megan chuckled.

That night we had dinner in an outdoor restaurant by the sea before making love for the rest of the night. The entire week was like a dream. We swam in the ocean, went snorkeling over beds of coral, and made love every night. It was as if I was living someone else's life; of course, the problem with living someone else's life is that eventually you have to return to your own. Saying goodbye to Megan was even worse than when she left for Paris. The only salvation was her promise to come home for Christmas. I'd always hated winters in Chicago but I was looking forward to that one.

When she did come home, I think my folks were as happy to see her as I was. She stayed until after New Year's before returning to Paris. I was almost getting used to those airport goodbyes, but I'd never get used to the loneliness I felt after she left.

Within a few months she got another cover, that time it was Elle, then another two in rapid succession, Vanity Fair and Cosmo. The frequency of phone calls and text messages started to decline around the same time. It took longer than I had anticipated but I was losing her. I never fooled myself, I knew the day would come when she decided on Paris.

I couldn't blame her; she was hobnobbing with the rich and famous, traveling to exotic locations, and becoming world-renowned in her own right. I wondered if five years down the road, anyone would believe me if I told them the world-famous model, "Megan," once lived with me? I doubted it.

I'd still get text messages from her, just not as many as I had previously and they didn't have the same exciting tone to them. It was obvious she was losing interest; maybe she had a lover.

I expressed my suspicions to Sheila one day over lunch. She assured me it wasn't true but didn't really convince me. I was falling into a funk... getting depressed, I needed to start socializing. I hadn't had a date other than with Megan since I bumped into her. I started thinking about Michelle; she was a real cutie who worked in the food court and always flirted with me whenever I saw her. A couple times I thought of asking her out but just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Over the next couple of weeks, I had a hard time concentrating. I couldn't keep going the way I was. I thought, over time I would get used to being without Megan and it would get easier, but the truth was, it was getting harder. I started thinking about moving to Paris but was it too late? Had I already lost her?

That's the question I kept asking myself as I went to bed that night. I'd obviously have to find out for sure before moving. I thought of calling her but it seemed like too important of a question to ask over the phone. No, I'd fly to Paris for a couple of days and ask in person. I kept reminding myself about the bird in a cage but the thought of losing her forever was devastating. I finally fell asleep on a wet pillow.

When I awoke to the alarm the next morning. As usual, I was on my right side, facing the clock. I opened my eyes and immediately started to plan for my trip abroad. I'd have to work it out with Dave then call...

Something was off... it felt as if someone was in bed with me and was pressed against my back. I pushed back slightly and sure enough, someone or something was in bed with me. I didn't have a dog... who the hell?

Cautiously, I slowly turned my head and looked over my shoulder. Was I dreaming? I thought I must be. I blinked my eyes a couple of times and was thinking about pinching myself but then she spoke...

"Hi, Honey--surprise," she added with a chuckle.

"Are... are you real?"

"Yes, Honey, I'm real. If you need convincing, I can give you a blow job."

To Hell with the blow job, I just wanted to hold her. I turned and wrapped her up in my arms. It felt so good we just lay there for a while enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies.

All kinds of things ran through my head. Was this our last hurrah? Was that what it was about? She came to me before I had a chance to go to her. I wondered how long we had together. "How long can you stay?"

She looked into my eyes, "How long do you want me to stay?"

"Hah," I chuckled, "forever."

"Okay, done."

I looked into that beautiful smiling face, "No, really, how long?"

"My dearest, darling man, I've had my place in the sun; I've proven to myself that I'm worthy of living a happy life. Now it's time to live that life... with you if you'll have me."

My brain was spinning like a pin-wheel in a hurricane. "You... you mean you'd quit modeling?"

"No, I still want to model, but like I did before, here, in Chicago. I talked to Ford but they didn't want me anymore if I wasn't going to travel so I called Lainey's to see if they'd take me back and they jumped at it."

"Are you sure, Honey?"

"Can we get some breakfast, I'm starving."

"Yeah, of course."

She checked the closet and smiled when she saw her old robe was still hanging there. "Why don't you grab a shower while I go make breakfast."

I jumped in the shower and was almost bursting at the seams at the turn of events. By the time I was dressed, Megan had bacon and eggs cooked for both of us. We sat down and gave each other a big smile. "Honey, you asked if I was sure; yes, I am completely sure. I can't even tell you how much I've missed you over the last three years. I've been to some of the most beautiful and exotic places on earth and all I could ever think about was how much I wished you were there with me.

"When I was here last Christmas, it really drove home what I was missing. Honey, growing up, I was taught by my mother, and to some extent, by my aunt, that I was less than nothing. When you're a kid, crap like that sinks in, it makes you question everything you do and everything that happens to you. I was never so happy in my life as when I was with you, but in the back of my mind, I always wondered if I deserved to be that happy. I knew it wouldn't last if I wasn't deserving. I had to prove to myself that I was worthy, Paris helped me do that, but now I want to come back, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I pray you feel the same way."

I couple days later, I took twenty grand out of my half of the money from our fine art print sales and purchased a ring. I still had plenty to pay for a wonderful two-week honeymoon without touching her half of the money. It took me two weeks to find the right place and time to propose. Dave and Phillis shot the ceremony and reception at no charge as a wedding present. We spent the following two weeks in Paradise, also known as Hawaii.

As time progressed, Megan and I couldn't have been happier--at least that's what we thought until Ariel was born. She was the spitting image of her mother and the light of our lives. To celebrate, we bought a three-bedroom home on an acre of land.

Five years later, Dave retired and handed the studio over to me. Megan still models but only part-time; even so, she still makes more money than I do. We both have brand new luxury cars but Megan won't part with my old Chevy. It sits in its place of honor in the back of our garage and she has told Ariel the story of how we met a couple of times.

My dad always said, "Without the bad times, we wouldn't appreciate the good times." Megan and I have had our share of both but it was all worth it.

The End.