Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story

“Smelt who?  What are you talking about?” Taylor asked.

“I smelt Michael’s cologne.  I’d know his cologne anywhere and this was so vivid, like he was actually here.  And when I woke up, this flower was on my pillow.  Spooky, isn’t it?”

Taylor swallowed hard.  “You must have been dreaming.”

“Yeah.  I imagine I was, but it was so real.”

“There was a small article about him in the entertainment section of the news paper this morning,” Taylor quickly stated, trying to change the subject.  “Something about the progress of their new album.”

“Really?  Can I see it?”

“Yeah.  I’ll bring it in later for you. Annie pressed the flower to her nose again and smiled.  Then tears began to form in her eyes.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Taylor asked, touching the quilt over her friend’s leg.

“Yeah, I guess I must if I’m imagining his cologne in my room.”

“Call him.”

“No, I can’t.  Besides, it’s probably too late.”

“Too late for what?” Taylor asked.

Annie shook her head.  “I said some really horrible things to him, Taylor, which I’m sure only made the situation worse.  But I wanted him to hurt.  Isn’t that awful?  I wanted him to feel the pain I’ve been suffering through.  Does that make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense.”

Annie was sobbing now.  “All I wanted was for him to love me and only me.  I wanted to be the first and last thing he thought of each day.  I wanted to make babies with him and grow old together.  I don't give a shit who he is, what he does for a living, or how much money he makes.  I just wanted him.  But I guess I wanted him too much.”

Annie wiped at her cheeks and sighed.

“Call him.  Ask him to come back,” Taylor insisted.

“I’m not even sure where he is.  He could be back on the west coast by now, Boston, or any state in between.”

“Then call his cell phone.  He has that with him wherever he is, right?”

Annie nodded, wringing her hands nervously.  “It’s early.  He’s probably still sleeping.”

Taylor stood from the bed and pointed to the telephone.  “Call him.  I’ll be back later to take the tray.”

Taylor danced down the hallway and into the living room.  Michael was reading the paper, shirtless, barefoot, with hair still damp from the shower.  His legs extended onto the coffee table before him.

“Where’s your cell phone?” she asked with excitement.

“In the bedroom.  Why?” “Go get it!”

“Why?” he asked, getting off the couch.

“Because you’re expecting a call!  Now, go get it!”

“From who?”

“Your wife.”

Michael retrieved his phone and returned to the living room.  He set it beside him on the couch and tried to pretend his heart wasn’t about to burst through his chest.  Several minutes passed.

“She’s not going to call,” he said.

“Be patient.  She’s as nervous as you are right now.”

“Am I that obvious?” he laughed.

“Yes.”

“What am I supposed to say when and if she does call?”

“Let her do the talking and try to relax.”

“Where does she think she’s calling me?”

“She hasn’t a clue, but you risked the entire plan last night with your secret bedside vigil.”

Michael smiled.  “What can I say?  I had a moment of weakness.”

“Brilliant move.  Annie said she woke up and smelt your cologne in the room.”

“I needed to see her and the baby.”

The ring of the cell phone caused them both to jump and Michael reached for it.  It rang a second time before he answered it.

“Hello.”

“Hi, it’s me,” Annie sighed, relieved to hear his voice.

“How are you and the baby?” he asked, trying to maintain his calm.

“I’m better.  She’s better too.  It’s amazing how clearly you can see things when you’re well rested.”

Annie paused, wondering where to go, what to say.  “Did I wake you?”

“No, I’ve been up for a while, sitting here reading the newspaper.”

Taylor giggled and wandered from the room to give him some privacy.

“Taylor said you were in our newspaper this morning but I haven’t read the article yet.  She said it mentioned the progress of your new album.”

“Progress?  Then the article must be a nice, short piece of fiction.”

“Michael?”

“Yeah, babe?”

Hearing his familiar reference to her made her face blush.  She fanned the heat with her hand.

“I was wondering, if you weren’t in the middle of something or recording, if you could come back to see me.  But, if you’re busy, I understand.”

“You want me back in New York?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.  I thought we could talk some more - rationally this time, and maybe come to a different conclusion.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.  Where are you?  How long would it take for you to get here?”