“Well, I suppose I should get going,” he said.
“You can stay for a while, that is, if you don’t have anything else to do.”
He followed her down onto the beach and sat beside her on the log in front of the fire, careful to keep a safe distance. It was the first time they had been alone since he had arrived. Nervously, he toyed with the long stick Sammi had used earlier to roast her marshmallows.
“Nice night,” he said, trying to ease the awkwardness.
“Yes, it is. It’s my favorite time of the day, when the house falls to silence, and the girls are finally down for the night. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with them. I can’t imagine my life without them. We’re best friends. But I do love the quiet of the night while they’re sleeping.”
“I used to be your best friend,” he commented sadly.
“Yes, you were.”
He stood and tossed a few more logs onto the fire making it roar back to life.
“So, tell me about Boston,” she asked, changing the subject.
He sighed heavily. “Well, I saw the guys mid-week.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah, it was the first time we were all together since the… funeral.”
“So, how did it go?” Annie asked.
His shoulders began to slouch. “It was really hard,” he replied, turning to face her. “There were some hugs and some tears. John thinks we should get the band back on the road as a tribute to Brian. He wants to audition for a new front man.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I think it sucks. There is no replacement for Brian, and I think it’s an insult to his memory to even attempt to find one.”
“I think you’re probably right,” Annie agreed. “So, how was it left?”
“We also discussed the option of going forward as we are, a four member band, with me doing the lead vocals.”
“And?”
Michael rubbed his hands together, uncomfortable with the conversation. “I don’t know. We’re all thinking about it for now. To tell you the truth, I’m not real thrilled with that idea either. It wouldn’t be the same without Brian and I don’t think I could ever pretend that it is. Know what I’m saying?”
“I understand completely. Brian was your brother and it will never be the same without him, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be good on another level. Give it some more thought and maybe you’ll see things differently then.”
“Yeah, someone once told me that time heals all wounds,” he replied, forcing a faint smile to his face.
“I suppose it does - in some cases.”
“What about in our case, Annie? Do you think your wounds will ever heal?”
Immediately her back stiffened. “The conversation we were having didn't involve 'us'. It was about you and your wounds healing – not mine.”
“Okay, so why don’t we talk about your wounds.”
“Lets not.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it won’t be pleasant for either of us.”
“I didn’t say it was going to be fun, Annie, but I thought we agreed before I left that we would try and work through some of the issues between us.”
Annie’s eyes began to tear. “Why must we keep going back there, Michael? It’s not a place I like to visit by myself, never mind with you, so drop it!”
“Maybe we should have gone to see a counselor or something before throwing it all way.”
“Maybe you should have kept your pants zipped and none of it would have happened in the first place!” She stood defiantly and brushed the sand from her pants. “I think you should leave now.”
He rose and faced her, toe to toe, refusing to back down. “I don’t want to leave. I want to get this shit out in the open so we can move forward.”
“I already have,” she screamed and began to storm toward the house.
“No you haven’t! If that were true, then you wouldn’t be standing here arguing with me. You’d be in bed with Jay!”
Annie stopped in her tracks then marched back to confront him. “You bastard! Don’t bring him into this! He has nothing to do with what happened between us. He’s decent and loving and never lied or cheated on me the way…” Annie choked on a heavy sob.
“The way I did? Go ahead, say it!”
Annie covered her ears with her hands. “I don’t want to have this conversation!” Quickly, she turned and began to run down the beach. He caught her by the wrist and spun her around. She fought like a lioness, struggling beneath his grip, clawing and slapping at his face and chest.
“It needs to be said,” he panted into her face.
“It’s all been said before and it makes no difference now so, back the hell off and leave me alone!”
“No! I don’t want to let you go!”
“You made that decision a long time ago!” she screamed, struggling in his arms. Then her ankle twisted in the sand, which sent them both crashing to the ground with Michael landing on top of Annie.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Get the hell off me!”
He made no attempt to release his grip. He just stared at her - almost dazed to be that close to her again. His breath was quick and dry.
“What are you going to do now, force yourself on me?”
With every ounce of strength she had left, she shoved him hard against the chest with her hands and pushed his muscled body off hers. She heard him grunt in agony when he hit the sand, but chose to ignore it and sprang to her feet, preparing to flee.
“Sometimes, it’s best to leave certain doors shut,” she said, as she began to walk away. “Because all the truth does is bring more hurt.”
He sat up and rubbed at the searing pain throbbing in his healing arm. “You know, I believe you’re right. I’ll make sure to thank my therapist when I get back to Boston.”
Annie heard the pained distress in his voice and spun around. She saw Michael grabbing at the location of his bullet wound and felt the bottom fall from her stomach. He was hurt and suddenly nothing else mattered. She went back and knelt in the sand beside him.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered with concern.
“I hit something hard when I landed.”
Annie’s hands brushed the top layer of the sand and felt the peak of a boulder sticking above the surface. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to remain calm. She knew how fragile his arm was now because of the gunshot and the surgery the doctors had performed to piece it back together for him. Further injury would undoubtedly end any hope of him playing guitar in the future.
“You hit a rock, Michael. Let me take a look at your arm,” she said evenly, riddled with guilt.
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t feel anything crack. It will probably be okay in a minute or two.”
“Take your coat off, please.”
“Annie…”
“Just do it!”
She helped him slowly pull of his coat and then laid it across her lap. She moved closer to survey the exterior of his shirt. There was no blood, which she was hoping was a good sign.
“When did you start seeing a therapist?” she asked, attempting small talk, as she slipped her fingers beneath his t-shirt.
“In rehab, but I’ve continued to see one, on and off, since I got out. It’s helped me work through a lot of my issues with Brian’s death, our divorce…” he paused thoughtfully, lowering his head to catch her eye and then holding her gaze. “…the love I still have for you.”
“I’m really glad you’re getting help,” she replied, forcing herself from making eye contact with him.
“Well, I’ve gotten nothing but good advice, up until now.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, slowly inching her fingers around the scar tissue marking up his otherwise smooth skin.