Love Among the Ruins Ch. 04

Damon waved as the van pulled away from the house. Painted on the side were the words "Cottonwood Springs Day Camp." He could just make out Trevor waving back through the tinted windows.

Damon was so relieved to see Trevor starting to take an interest in... well, in things that 13-year-olds normally take an interest in. It's not easy for any child when they lose their mother. And heaven knows there were far too many children walking this earth right now who could lay claim to that particular burden. But Trevor, by any measure, had been through a pretty tough year. He had heard--though thankfully not seen--his mother killed by a floater. He had been stranded among strangers for over a week in a place, a regional airport, not equipped to house or feed the hundreds of travelers stranded there for the duration of the alien blackout. He had suffered thirst, hunger, and privation, yet had somehow persevered to be returned, as if by some miracle, to Damon.

And it was a miracle that Trevor had been returned to him. A miracle that the plane Claire and Trevor were scheduled to take had experienced mechanical problems that delayed their flight, a flight that would have had them fatally in midair when the "bad" aliens imposed the initial power blanket. A miracle that Claire had told Trevor to stay inside "with that nice man Kelly" when she stepped outside the terminal building to seek help, and was almost instantly vaporized by a floater, along with the handful of brave souls that had accompanied her. A miracle that Trevor had been able to reach his father by phone so soon after power had been restored, and that transportation had been so quickly arranged, with the assistance of the "good" aliens, to bring Trevor back to his home. And a miracle that Damon still had his son, the one thing still in his life that gave him direction and meaning.

Damon thought back to that fateful week: the initial shock over the undeniable reality of an alien invasion; the growing certitude that he had lost his family; the unexpected appearance of Bobi, and the even more unexpected bonds that had grown between them; and finally, the news of his son's resurrection (at least in Damon's own mind), and confirmation of his wife's demise.

When Damon held both Claire and Bobi in his thoughts, as he did now, it evoked a confounding mixture of despair, loss, longing and... and what? Betrayal? And what should he feel betrayed over? That Claire, who had providentially escaped certain death, should have squandered her reprieve by stepping thoughtlessly into the sights of a floater? That Bobi, who had exploded brilliantly into his life like a Roman candle, should have fizzled out and faded back into the colorless world from which she had come?

Or was it guilt? Guilt that he had surrendered himself to the suddenly revealed needs of a guileless young woman before he was even certain that his wife was gone? Guilt that he had so immersed himself in the sensual bath of Bobi's sexual awakening that he no longer thought of his wife and son? Or the guilt of knowing that since Bobi had driven away down this very street not a day had passed that he had not thought of her, yearned for her.

Yes, she had called. Twice. Just to assure him she was safe and doing well. Could he see her? Well, not right now, that wouldn't be best right now. And then came the note written on plain stationary. "I think it's best that we not see each other," the note said, or something to that effect. He called repeatedly, but she wouldn't pick up. He eventually gave up trying to reach her.

But he couldn't seem to give up the thought of her, nor the memory of those bottomless brown eyes that had gazed at him with such trust and such desire. Nor could he seem to relinquish the possibility that those eyes might be returned to him, somehow, sometime.

From inside the house, Damon heard the phone faintly ringing. He had almost reached the door when he heard from behind him a car drive past on the street. The car slowed, he could hear, but it didn't stop entirely. He turned and recognized it immediately. His heart turned somersaults in his chest. Bobi's car very slowly drove past his house, until it hesitantly came to a stop in front of the house next door. Damon was frozen in place, unable to move, to speak, to breathe. Bobi's car sat motionless for several seconds, then the backup lights lit and the car very slowly reversed until it sat in front of Damon's house.

The car sat there. Damon stood, rooted. No wind stirred the branches, no bird sang, and the sun hung frozen in the heavens. The driver's side door swung open, yet no one emerged for a long time. Finally, Bobi's head appeared above the roof line and she slowly made her way to Damon.

"Bobi," Damon half whispered.

"Yes," she replied, studying the walkway beneath her feet.

Another several breaths.

"You know, I can't tell you how many times I've driven past here, but I've never been able to stop."

"You have?"

"It's stupid, isn't it?"

"Why?"

"Why did I drive by or why didn't I stop? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. I don't know anything anymore."

"Are... are you alright?"

"Are any of us?" she responded cryptically.

"Can you come in?"

Bobi hesitated.

"Sure," she finally replied.

Damon pulled out a chair for her when they reached the kitchen table.

"Would you like some coffee? I've got some still warm in the pot. And I can make some more."

"Sure, that sounds nice. I guess it's kind of our drink."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, it kind of is."

Damon emptied the remains of the pot into a mug and handed it to Bobi, then busied himself making another pot.

"How's Trevor? Has he been coping okay?"

"He had a rough time of it at first, but he's starting to come along. Kids are resilient, if you give 'em a chance. I enrolled him in a summer day camp. I think he's enjoying it."

Damon sat across from Bobi as the new pot of coffee brewed.

"And how are you?"

"I miss you," he blurted out.

Bobi stared into her cup.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm okay. Making do. Trevor keeps me on the straight and narrow."

Damon hesitated.

"But I do miss you."

The new pot had finished brewing, so Damon took Bobi's mug and refilled it, and filled one for himself. As he set hers in front of her, he noticed her eyes were brimming with tears.

"I'm sorry, I've upset you."

He took her hand.

She grasped back tightly for a few seconds, then released his grip to reach into her purse for a tissue, which she used to dab her eyes.

"It hasn't been easy, staying away from here, staying away from you. I've tried so hard to be good."

"What on earth do you mean? I would give almost anything to have you with me. You don't need to stay away on my account!"

"But I have no excuse now! The world isn't ending, the sun still rises, you still have a family."

"A small family. A family that I would like to make whole again."

Bobi looked at him with an expression of surprise equal to the one he wore at his own utterance. He had not consciously come to that conclusion. But having said it, he found nothing that he wanted to take back.

"I barged into your life without an invitation. I haven't earned that place. I should never have come here. This was a mistake."

She stood abruptly, grabbed her purse, and headed towards the front door. Damon leapt up and ran to intercept her.

"Bobi, wait!"

He spun her around to face him. She refused to meet his eyes.

"I don't know what this guilt is that you're carrying around. I'm the one who should feel guilty. I'm the one who slept with a stranger before I knew for sure what had happened to my own family."

"And I'm the one who tempted you into that," she threw back at him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks now. "What does that make me?"

Damon took her by the shoulders.

"Hey! Look at me. Look! We thought the world was ending. For all we knew, we were the last people on earth. Maybe we weren't saints, but we weren't monsters either. We were human, that's all, we were just being human, with all the flaws and weaknesses that come along for the ride!

"Look, I've been torn up, too. I've felt guilty as hell whenever I think of Claire. But you know what? Not a day, not a single, goddamn day has gone by for the last year that I haven't thought of you. Even when I was convinced you never wanted to see me again, I've never stopped thinking about you.

"So, know what I can see now that I haven't seen before, now that you're standing here in front of me? I can see that I was lucky. I was lucky as hell!"

He was nearly shouting now.

"Because if you hadn't come along my wife would still be dead and I'd have this big fucking hole in my life and I wouldn't even have the memories of what we shared together for those few days."

Damon released Bobi's shoulders and took a step back, still breathing heavily from his outburst.

"And I wouldn't have this one last chance to tell you I love you," he said more quietly.

Bobi finally looked up at him.

"I've wanted you so much!" she sniffed. "I've known I didn't deserve it, but I couldn't help myself from wanting you. I tried to ignore it, to pray it away, everything, but I just couldn't help it. Every time I drove past here I wanted to throw open your front door and run into your arms and get lost there again. But I always just drove on past. It just didn't seem right."

"What could be wrong with loving each other?"

Bobi shrugged.

Damon stepped forward and reached out his arms for her. Bobi threw herself into him, clinging to him like a drowning sailor to a raft. She buried her face in his chest, choking out sob after sob.

Damon stroked her hair and gently rocked her back and forth.

"It's okay, it's alright. It'll be alright."

When the tears had slowed somewhat, Damon led Bobi to the nearby living room and sat her next to him on the couch. He leaned forward and brushed away the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

"I want us to get past this, Bobi. I want you to stay in my life, if that's what you want."

"I'm not sure that what I want is what I should want."

"I wish there were something I could do, that I could say, that would help you believe in yourself, to trust in your own feelings. I don't understand why you feel like you have to fight what you want, what you feel."

Damon leaned in with the intention of giving her a supportive hug, but to his surprise she intercepted his gesture and gave him an impassioned kiss.

"This is why," she whispered, her lips never fully leaving his.

"And this is why," she said, taking his hand and guiding it to her breasts.

Damon felt her nipples harden through the fabric of her blouse and bra as he caressed her sensuous breasts.

"And this is why," taking his hand and guiding it to the crotch of her stretch slacks, then fondling his rapidly swelling cock while continuing to kiss Damon fervently.

"Because this is all it takes for me to cross that line where there is no tomorrow and no yesterday, where there's just you and me and our bodies and our desire."

"And our love," Damon asserted.

"Is that what it is?"

Damon pulled back from her and looked her in the eye.

"Yes, that is what it is," he stated emphatically.

Bobi retreated further to her side of the couch and sat in silence for a few moments.

"Mama's gone now," she stated flatly, not meeting Damon's gaze.

"What?" Damon asked in surprise.

Hesitantly, Bobi continued.

"She's gone. She... passed... a couple of months ago."

"What? How? Why didn't you tell me? I would have been there for you. I would have wanted to be there for you!"

"It was so sudden. And then there were so many relatives. Aunts and uncles and cousins..."

"And your father?" Damon inquired tentatively.

"Um, he left when I was little. I don't even remember what he looks like. So it's just been mama and me my whole life, almost."

"How did it happen? Your mother, I mean."

"Heart attack. Real sudden. And quick. At least that. Quick."

"I'm so sorry, Bobi. I want to be there for you."

Damon leaned over and squeezed her hand.

Bobi looked up at Damon and he could see tears again begin to well in her eyes.

"I've felt so alone!" she sobbed.

Damon scooted over to her and embraced her. Her tears soaked his shirt until the fabric clung to his shoulder. After a few minutes, she calmed and pulled back, drying her eyes with a tissue.

"Back when we were... That week when everything was so crazy. It was like, there was no 'before' then. And maybe no 'after'. There was just 'now', you know? I could just lose myself in you. In us.

"But when the world is back to normal--well, sort of normal--there's a past again. There's a history. And you have to carry that history, drag it along with you."

"You don't have to do that alone, Bobi," Damon countered. "You can share that burden with someone else. You can share that with me."

"I'm scared," Bobi responded.

They were both silent for a while. Then Damon took Bobi's hand.

"You know, Bobi, you're not the only one who needs someone. I don't just want you, I need you."

"What?"

"You heard me. I need you. I need that person who found me, and comforted me, and trusted me. That person who allowed me into her life, into her being. I need that person back again. I need you."

"What could I possibly offer you?" Bobi sniffed. "I'm just a simple, naive girl who doesn't even have a college education. I'm not even good enough for you."

"Good god!" Damon exclaimed with rising irritation. "Don't let me ever hear that kind of talk from you again! Any guy would be lucky as shit to end up with you. Don't you dare sell yourself short!"

"Really? You mean that?" Bobi said.

"Of course I mean that!" Damon replied with rising heat. "I don't know who puts these ideas into your head. Are they feeding you this crap at that church of yours? All this 'women can't do this, women shouldn't do that?' It's so backward. And all of it probably proclaimed from the pulpit by some half-ignorant preacher who only has a high school education that he never believed and has half forgotten anyway!"

Bobi's face reddened as her hopeful expression darkened into a scowl.

"I see," she said flatly.

Damon, realizing he had gone too far, tried to backtrack.

"I'm sorry, Bobi, I shouldn't have said that. I just get so..."

But Bobi, already standing to leave, interrupted him.

"You know, coming here was a bad idea. I should have followed my instincts and just kept driving down the street."

She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Damon chased after her.

"Bobi, please, I'm sorry! What can I say? Please, I don't want you to leave. What can I do to apologize? Please don't leave me again!"

Bobi ignored him and, without looking back, marched purposefully down the walkway to her car and hopped in, slamming the door behind her. A few seconds later she sped off down the street and out of Damon's life.

------------------

Damon stood in front of the mirror trying on his third shirt. A half finished gin and tonic--his second that evening--sat fizzing weakly on his dresser. It had done little to quell his nerves.

He surveyed his reflection and decided it would have to do. He already regretted getting talked into this, but his pride wouldn't let him back out now. His work buddies, tired of seeing him mope around, Damon guessed, had persuaded him that he needed to get back 'on the scene,' as they put it. They probably had a point, but agreeing to a blind date now seemed like a recipe for disaster. He had little faith in his friends' taste, although they were well-meaning enough. And Damon had even less faith in his own readiness to start seeing other women. But his buddies had pointed out that he had a rare weekend without parental duties (Trevor was on a school-sponsored and chaperoned field trip for the weekend) and he should take advantage of it. So, here he was on a Friday night, getting ready for a date.

He looked at his watch. Shit! He had to get going. He threw down the rest of his cocktail, steeled his nerve, and headed out the door.

An hour later, he was waiting at the hostess station at the Oldtown Grill, the upscale restaurant at the newest downtown luxury hotel, The L, a 25-story monstrosity of steel and glass that towered incongruously above the historical red brick buildings that populated this corner of the city. The hotel's much ballyhooed opening in the summer half a year earlier was quickly followed by scandal when not a week after the first guests checked in, one of the frosted glass panels that lined the balcony railings of street-side rooms fell 15 stories to the sidewalk below. Miraculously, no one was injured, but a few parked cars were totaled and the hotel, not to mention the street around it, had to be closed for months while engineers tried to figure out what had gone wrong. They should have asked the aliens for help, Damon thought sardonically.

Damon looked anxiously at his watch. One minute until...

A prim, professionally dressed woman approached the hostess stand and caught Damon's eye.

"Hello, Damon?" she asked.

"Samantha?" Damon responded, holding out his hand.

She offered a firm handshake as Damon regarded her. She was about his age, he guessed. She could fairly be described as attractive, but there was a severity to her countenance that Damon immediately found intimidating.

"Do you go by 'Sam'?" Damon asked as an icebreaker while the hostess led them to their table.

"No, it's Samantha," she replied without elaboration.

That exchange represented the highpoint of the evening. Damon couldn't imagine two more opposite people. If he saw red, she saw green. At a restaurant noted for its steak and seafood, she ordered airline chicken. She seemed almost eager when Damon suggested they order a bottle of wine, but then she drank only half a glass. (In his unease, Damon finished most of the rest.) And her favored topic of conversation seemed to be the business climate in the city and state. Not exactly thrilling repartee.

They ended the date with an awkward handshake. Damon prayed to the gods of chance encounters that he never run into her again.

Rather than return to his car in the garage just around the corner, some nameless urge prompted Damon to walk through the neighborhood. It was a rapidly changing district; The L was just one of a number of high-end construction projects that was transforming what used to house a downscale night scene back when he was in college and had been a warehouse district years before that.

A few blocks along, he came across a nightclub he used to frequent as a student. Feeling lonely and a bit nostalgic, he entered on a whim.

The interior was very much as he remembered it. Looking up, he saw suspended from the ceiling the rowboat that gave the establishment its name: The Boathouse.

He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. The place was only just starting to fill up, but the dance music was blaring, colored lights were flashing on the dance floor, and a few couples were gyrating around on it.

By the time he had started on his second beer, the place was packed. The music's beat was visceral. People were forced to converse by putting their mouths inches from their partner's ear and shouting.

Well, if he was going to hang out here, he might as well try to get some action, he thought. He noticed sitting along the far wall an apparently unattached woman who had the additional allure of not being young enough to be his daughter.

He downed as much of his beer as he could in a couple of big gulps and abandoned the bottle on the bar. Screwing up his courage, Damon approached the woman and leaned in as close as he dare to not appear intrusive but still be heard over the din.