Chapter Fifteen: Kashmir
DANIEL sat across the street from Harry’s, waiting. Since their encounter three days before, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Nicolette. He vacillated between extremes of anger and eager anticipation, frustration and excitement. He had played through a dozen different conversations over the intervening days, but his confusion made it impossible to find a satisfactory scenario; his recriminations always ended with him taking her in his arms; his all-is-forgiven hugs turned quickly to bitter recriminations. He had considered walking away from her, often with encouragement from his friends and family, but time and again, he found himself replaying that first moment at Harry’s, seeing the familiar stranger standing before him. That initial rush of excitement had never stopped surging through him, despite being briefly submerged by other feelings.
He fought to repress an ear-to-ear grin, knowing it was dangerous to get his hopes up. Their unexpected encounter had stirred up his psyche, evoking joy at seeing her while rekindling anger and betrayal fueled by long years of bitter self-recrimination.
His intellect insisted that keeping his distance would be prudent and to play it cautious, to wait until his feelings settled before seeking her out again. Though he agreed with his intellect that it was more prudent to back off, Daniel nevertheless found himself sitting in his truck at Harry’s, waiting for Nikki to finish her shift; his emotional landscape was too steeply slanted toward her.
Listening to my heart?, he thought with amusement.
Earlier that afternoon he had visited Tommy’s little studio apartment. Tommy lived on the Catholic church’s grounds where he traded work for room and board as a grounds keeper when his night job at the San Francisco Medical Examiner's office didn’t keep him occupied. Daniel wondered how he managed to successfully juggle both jobs and still have the time and energy to offer romantic advice to his friends; Daniel had been having enough trouble keeping down one part time job with his paramedic outfit before Nikki had crashed back into his life!
He tapped his hands on the wheel impatiently as he recalled Tommy’s indifferent shrugs and laconic responses to Daniel's uncertain questions and giddy conversation. At one point, Tommy had looked up and cut through all of Daniel's doubts and equivocations regarding Nikki: “Now that you’ve seen her, we both know you’ll never have peace until you hear her voice at least one more time... Probably several more times,” he added glumly, looking back down at the bass guitar perched in his lap.
That was all the encouragement Daniel had needed. He had excused himself shortly after that, hopped into his truck and made the short drive up the coastal freeway to Harry’s. It had taken an enormous exertion of will to wait in his truck rather than head into the restaurant the moment the engine stopped; Nikki wasn’t likely to appreciate a second disturbance while she was working...something Dane said the day before suggested he was persona non grata at Harry’s after his last visit. He checked his watch, marking the time since the last time he’d checked (four minutes, twenty seconds), and counted the number of minutes until 9pm. It was Monday night, after all -- how much longer could Harry’s possibly need a hostess? It’s not like there’d been any new patrons in the last twenty minutes.
C’mon Daniel, he chided himself, this is ridiculous. You’ve waited for hours on watch lying face down in cold mud back when you were with the Army. You should be able to wait -- he checked his watch again -- thirty four minutes. He glanced at the radio in irritation; the dubstep wasn’t doing it...it was time to break out the big guns, the serious waiting music.
He fiddled with his phone until Led Zeppelin poured from the speakers. The opening notes of Kashmir flowed over him as he tilted the seat back, the powerful, contemplative melody lulling him into an introspective mood with its slow, inexorable rhythm. He settled in to wait as the music reverberated through his memories, his mind drifting.
Kashmir was playing
on someone’s phone -- must be in one of the picnic areas behind the screen of trees, he thought, the haunting melody drifting faintly through the forest around them, the music only intermittently audible over birdsong and the somnolent whispering of the canopy overhead.
They were sitting side by side on Daniel's jacket, which was spread out on the grass of the hidden forest clearing they had stumbled upon the year before. The clearing was bordered by a screen of trees and rank undergrowth which sheltered them from the cool afternoon breeze and any casual hikers that might pass by. The little open-air cathedral had become one of their favorite places when they wanted a little privacy.
Daniel tilted his head back against the smooth, sun-warmed bark of a tree. It had been almost two weeks since his father's burial, but exhaustion still dragged at him, making his mind sluggish and his moods uncertain. Since the funeral, his mother had become withdrawn and quiet, numbly shuffling about the house like a ghost during the rare times she wasn't in bed. He still kept a lonely vigil over her grief from the top of the stairs, sometimes late into the night; even then his own grief was subdued as other matters demanded his attention. He had moved Audrey upstairs into his own bedroom, giving his mother privacy and his little sister relief. Ramona's grief frightened them all, but little Audrey was even less equipped for it than her older brothers.
Lulled by the sun's warmth and Nikki's presence at his side, he felt himself starting to doze lightly, exhaustion finally gaining the upper hand. She had nestled up against him, her forehead buried against his neck, her breathing deep and even. He fancied he could feel her heart beating through the thin green fabric of her t-shirt. A faint scent of green apples teased his senses as an errant breeze picked up the scent of her hair. He breathed it in, letting it soothe his grief, welcoming the distraction. It was the first time since his father had passed that he'd allowed himself to get away from the family, though the press of his responsibilities made his rest uncertain.
A sudden thought occurred to him, bringing him back to wakefulness.
"Nikki -- the day you got the news, when you came to the house, your nose was bleeding. What happened?"
There was a long pause as she sat up, startled at the question, the air feeling chilly after her warmth.
"I was in such a hurry to get to you after Greg's text...I punched myself in the face trying to get the latch on the side gate open. I get so frustrated with it, sometimes."
He hesitated, studying her earnest expression, the shade from the tree dappling her features as it swayed gently in the breeze. It was a plausible story -- he knew the gate latch on the side gate often got sticky, exposed as it was to the Half Moon Bay salt air. He also knew the latch was just a little bit below Nikki's eye level, and that her frustration with it mounted very quickly when it stuck. But some intuition from years of acquaintance left him certain she was lying. For one instant, he considered challenging her, begging her to share her secret with him, to let him help her before whatever she was keeping back could--
She abruptly leaned forward and kissed him -- a gentle touch of her lips on the side of his mouth.
"Nikki," he started, dimly aware of the opportunity slipping away. She smiled teasingly, kissing him more aggressively, the smell of her hair clouding his thoughts.
He struggled to recapture his train of thought, to push her back before it was too late, but when she ran her hand up his thigh, the thought fled. He was suddenly angry at Nicolette, his resentment boiling over, other emotions surging through the breach.
He sat back up, kissing her back, his anger and frustration jumbling together with his grief, fueling his need. He sensed her surprise as their kiss quickly jumped past gentle teasing to open mouthed desperation. He ran his hands down her back, wincing at her gasp as her hair briefly caught on his watch. She gasped sharply has he roughly pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside.
"Dan," she protested, but lost the thread when he leaned forward and kissed her nipple, roughly tweaking the other one, making her back arch, her breath coming faster as she was momenta
rily lost in a surge of sensation and desire.
He leaned into her until she fell back onto her elbows, half on half off his jacket, her hair spreading out over the grass. He rolled on top of her, her knees coming up, pressing into his ribs as she settled back. He kissed her with almost bruising force, their breath combining as she kissed him back, running her hands over his back, through his hair. He wondered if this was it, if this was going to be their first time.
Even in the midst of his excitement, a small part of his mind couldn't let it go: Why would she lie to me?. The snarl reached his lips as he kissed her again, his teeth catching on her lip; he tasted blood.
He felt her hands slide around his shoulders, coming to rest against his chest, pushing against him. He ignored the pressure, taking hold of her wrists, suddenly wanting to feel her body against his as he leaned forward, kissing her neck, excited by the sound she made in response. Distractedly, he wondered what had happened to his shirt as her chest pressed up against him, her skin feeling hot against his as his weight pinned her to the ground.
"Dan," she said, the faintest hint of alarm coloring her voice.
He raised his hips, giving himself room to pull her running shorts down, then began fumbling one handed with his own belt.
"Dan!" Her voice was pitched to cut through his frenzy. Still panting with excitement, he looked up, meeting her eyes. He was surprised to find them brimming with unshed tears. He realized he had both of her wrists pinioned in his right hand, nearly his full weight on them.
"Not like this, Dan," she said, sadness and pity filling her voice, "You're the only one I want...but not now, not like this."
Jesus Christ!, he thought in shock, What am I doing?
He rolled off, jerking his hands back as if her skin might burn. He stumbled to his feet, horror and shame flooding through him, expanding until he wanted it to vomit it out. But his grief and anger were still raging unchecked, desperately seeking an outlet. He stood over her, hating himself, hating her, hating--
"Is this how it's going to be, Nikki? That every time we start to get close, you're going to withdraw and leave it all on me?"
She frowned, her eyes watering, "What? I don't--"
He continued raging, not even hearing her, "That when it feels like I need you most, you're just...gone, leaving behind everything we've built, no matter how much we love you and need you?"
He stared down at her, as she sat up, hugging her arms over her chest, her eyes filled with tears as she met his angry, raging gaze.
"I can't even help you without worrying that it might push you away! If you're going to leave," he was practically shouting at her, "then why should I love you at all?"
Confused by the love and pity he saw in her eyes, he turned on his heel and stalked off, not even bothering to pick up his shirt or jacket, unable to meet her sad, hurt eyes, her expression
etched into his memory.
"I'm sorry, Nikki," he murmured as the last notes of Kashmir faded away.