Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story

Annie stood frozen.  Tears dripped from her face.  She despised him for finding her but even more because he had seen her in such a broken state.  More than anything, she hated herself.  At that moment, the idea of death seemed like a gift.  With every ounce of resolve she had left, she stood defiant, ready to say anything that would make him turn and walk away.  She stiffened her back and locked onto his eyes.  Taking a long and steady breath, she prepared to drive the last nail into her own coffin.

“I stopped loving you a long time ago, Michael,” she said matter-of-factly and without emotion.  But, inside, her heart stopped beating.  A piece of her soul died.

He stared back at her, his mind digesting her words slowly.  It wasn’t possible that she had truly meant what she had said.  Not after all they had been through and shared.  It was the drugs and booze talking, not her.  Then without warning he pulled her body against his and kissed her on the mouth.  It was quick, hard and fast, like a bolt of lightening striking out suddenly from the center of a storm cloud.  And in the flash of that moment he felt her soften to his touch, like the petal of a flower weakening under the weight of a droplet of rain.  It was all he needed to reserve the hope that someday they’d be together again.  It was a tiny spark of affection, hidden beneath the layers of garbage she had tried to cover it up with; it still lingered there.  It was a small victory for Michael and filled him with a sense of relief.

In retaliation, Annie slapped his face fiercely with her hand.  Instead of turning away from the blow, he smiled.  The elation he felt in his heart far exceeded the sting left from her hand.

“Go to hell!” she yelled.  “I hope the memory of that kiss remains with you because that will be the last kiss you’ll ever get from me!”  Then, grabbing her crutch, she trudged off toward her cottage.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” he mumbled out loud.

He waited until she was out of sight before he walked back into the bar.  Jimmy was waiting for him.

“What the hell happened to your face?” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” he answered with a smile.  “Some other time.”

Jimmy shook his head.  “You leaving now?”

“Yeah.  But if you need me, this is my cell phone number,” he said, sliding a piece of paper across the bar toward Jimmy.  “She’s pretty messed up.  Can you do me a favor and keep an eye on her?”

“That goes without saying,” Jimmy replied.

Michael nodded and quietly slipped from the bar.

It was before noon when Michael got the call from Jimmy.

“The freaking bitch is out cold and no one can wake her up,” he screamed into the phone.

“I’m on my way.”

Minutes later, Michael’s jeep skidded to a stop in front of Annie’s cottage.  Inside the cramped two-room cottage, a half dozen people were gathered.  Jimmy was beside Annie’s bed violently shaking her and demanding she wake up.

Michael pushed himself inside.  “She got a pulse?”

“Yeah, but it’s faint,” Jimmy replied.

“Okay, get her out of bed,” Michael instructed, as he assessed the cluttered room.

“Ah, Mike, she’s not wearing anything under the sheets,” Jimmy whispered.

Michael turned around and faced the spectators.  “Everyone out!”

One girl remained. “Do you want me to call 9-1-1?”

“No!  We don’t have time to wait for the fucking ambulance.  I’ll drive her myself,” Michael answered, trying to remain calm.  “Jimmy, grab a pillow case and load up every pill bottle you can find.  Check the bathroom and kitchen cabinets too!  Everything comes with us.”

When Jimmy disappeared into the bathroom, Michael went to Annie’s dresser, pulling out a pair of sweat pants and a shirt and began to dress her limp body.  Through it all, Annie remained semi-conscious.