Chapter 7
The night was chilly, but he felt warm. He was in love. Wasn’t that what love did to a person? Make them feel all warm and happy. Davis was the first man he’d ever been completely in love with and things were going so well! Sam pulled his coat around him closer and quickened his steps. They were having a nice meal in tonight, and he was anxious to get home with the groceries so he could start cooking!
At their apartment, Sam stopped to pet the calico cat that always sat on the brickwork next to the stairs. She purred and rubbed up against him, begging for more attention.
“I can’t today, Sassy.” He smiled at the cat. “I gotta make my man some dinner!”
He made his way upstairs, his mind already churning over what he needed to start first. It was such a giddy feeling to know he was cooking for someone who would really appreciate it!
Two hours later, Davis burst through the front door, flowers in hand, and greeted Sam with a huge smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling. They hugged, while the delectable scent of dinner swirled the room.
After a sweet kiss, Davis put his hand to Sam’s face. “How was your day?”
Sam smiled, once again feeling warm and content. “It was good. How was yours?”
“Alright. Did Jenny in Accounting get back to you about that account you were worried about?”
Sam pressed his lips together, his green eyes glistened with subdued joy.
“What?” Davis asked as he took his jacket off and hung it up in the closet, perplexed by the look on Sam’s face.
Sam bit his lip, trying to keep himself from crying. “I just…” he began, as a tear spilled over.
“Aww, what’s this?” Davis moved to take Sam in his arms, hugging him.
Sam snuggled against Davis’s broad chest, inhaling the scent of lavender and Old Spice. “What’s wrong?” Davis queried gently when Sam sniffled again.
“I’m just not used to someone who actually listens to me about work and stuff,” Sam admitted.
Davis grimaced, shaking his head slightly. “Well, you have me now, so that’s not going to be a problem anymore.” He hugged Sam tighter. “Now, let’s eat, I’m starving and dinner smells wonderful!”
It was another great night, in a series of great nights.
Morgan emerged from her hypnotic state with a smile still on her face.
“And what’s that about?” Charlotte asked pointedly.
“This is someone new,” Morgan intimated. “He’s so in love, I can still feel it buzzing in my head.”
“Where is this one located?” Charlotte asked as she started her notes.
“San Francisco, I think.” Morgan searched her memory, remembering her impressions.
“And when?”
“Seemed much more recent…” Morgan murmured, her mind going back over the experience.
“How recent?’ Charlotte queried.
Morgan blinked a couple of times, then shrugged. “They don’t come with time stamps, you know.”
“Any clues?”
Morgan concentrated harder, trying to look for anything that would give her an idea or indication of the time period, finally shaking her head again. “Nope, nothing really.”
“And no more about the girl and the firefighter during the earthquake?” Charlotte asked hopefully.
Morgan grunted in exasperation. “No, it’s not like some kind of preview, what comes, comes.”
Charlotte nodded, looking disappointed.
Morgan left the office feeling annoyed; suddenly she had to please the hypnotherapist too? It was bad enough her publisher was starting to push her for the next set of pages for her new book, and Morgan had nothing to give them. It became a constant knot in her stomach every time she wasn’t writing. And every time she sat down to write, the words just wouldn’t come. Previously, the words had flown out of her like water, she couldn’t type fast enough. Now…nothing, nothing was flowing. It was beyond frustrating!
Walking out of the office building, Morgan turned right, needing to walk, to clear her head. As she walked, she thought again about Sam and Davis, they seemed so happy, the warm feelings just reverberated through her body. It made her miss having someone to count on, someone to curl up with at the end of the day. Her last relationship had been short and unsatisfying. She identified herself as bi-sexual, and she hadn’t really been with a woman in many years, but there had never been anyone who had made her feel the way that she had felt Sam did in her memory. It made her ache at her core, at the remembrance.
She didn’t know if it was coincidence or just happenstance that she was walking toward the Castro District of town. She passed the Pink Triangle, the memorial for gay and lesbian Holocaust victims. The thought disturbed her, what so many LGBT members had been through at the hands of the Nazis, and many others for that matter. So many men and women had and were still being targeted for their sexuality, something Morgan felt no one could control.
A block later she saw Orphan Andy’s, a local café, with a rainbow flag hanging prominently on the light post outside its doors. She walked into the café, taking in the colorful Tiffany style lamps hung over the tables and diner-style counter. The young man at the counter told her to take a seat anywhere. She sat in a booth at the far end of the restaurant, facing the door. She wanted to do some people watching.
A young man wearing a rainbow tank, long sleeved shirt, impossibly skinny jeans, dangling rhinestone earrings, and makeup bounced up to the table. Morgan saw that his name tag read Jerry.
“What can I get ya, sweetie?” he asked cheerily.
“Coffee please?” Morgan answered.
“Anything to eat?”
Morgan smiled brightly. “I’ll look at the menu, thanks.”
Jerry winked, and sauntered off, returning with coffee, cream, and sugar a minute later.
Fixing her coffee, Morgan checked out the clientele. There was a couple of older men sitting and arguing amiably over coffee. There was a younger woman sitting alone, playing with her phone while sipping her drink and absent-mindedly eating a pancake. Then there was the heated discussion going on behind the counter between two waiters and the cook; they seemed to be debating whether or not George Michael was hotter than Boy George.
Morgan was still grinning about the spicy remarks flying back and forth when Jerry returned. He glanced over his shoulder at his co-workers, then rolled his eyes at them, looking back at Morgan. “They can never solve the mystery of the Georges.”
“They do seem to have rather strong opinions,” Morgan observed.
“Personally, I prefer Jon Bon Jovi.” Jerry chuckled.
“Oh, me too,” Morgan agreed.
“So did you decide on food?”
“I did. I think I’ll take the stuffed French toast.”
“Good choice!” Jerry enthused.
Morgan sat enjoying the atmosphere, watching people come and go. As her food arrived, she heard the bell jingle at the front door, and she glanced up to notice a woman with short blonde hair with dark roots. She was dressed in sweat pants and a dark blue sweatshirt that read Navy on it. Morgan watched as the woman interacted with the staff, it was obvious she was a regular customer as they knew her order, and joked with her as she waited.
At one point, the woman walked down the aisle toward Morgan. Their eyes connected for a long moment. The woman nodded to her politely and Morgan was stunned to notice that the woman had bright cornflower blue eyes. The woman continued on by, as Morgan did her best to catch her breath. She’d never seen eyes that color before, except in the memories of her past lives. The idea shocked her, what were the odds? Desperately trying to think of something to say when the woman returned, Morgan found herself completely tongue tied. The woman walked with long, purposeful strides. She picked up her order from the counter and before Morgan could blink, she was out the door.
Morgan stilled, feeling completely flabbergasted. Maybe it meant nothing, maybe she’d just never noticed other people with the same color eyes. Maybe it was because she was still under the effects and feeling dazed from being hypnotized. After a while, Morgan managed to convince herself that was the reason for her reaction. But then she felt foolish, imagining something was probably just a coincidence.
Regardless, she couldn’t help but ask Jerry when he returned with her check a bit later.
“Who was that woman that came in earlier?”
“Who?” Jerry asked.
“The one in the Navy sweatshirt.”
“Oh, her? That was Zion, she owns a place down the street,” Jerry commented.
Morgan nodded, not wanting to ask too many questions, and appear too stalkerish.
“What do you think it means?” Jessie asked a couple of days later when they had lunch. Morgan had told her about the encounter with the blue-eyed “Zion.”
Morgan shrugged. “Probably nothing.”
Jessie made a sound in the back of her throat. “Right, that’s why you had to tell me about it.”
“You’re my best friend, who else am I supposed to talk with about this kind of stuff?”
Jessie grinned impishly, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Do you think you were just still floating from the whole Sam and Davis thing?”
Morgan contemplated the question. “I guess that’s possible. I mean, the feeling of being in love was really like a drug,” Morgan smiled sadly. “It was really nice.”
“See?” Jessie gestured with her glass of iced tea. “You need to find a new love interest!”
Morgan rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
“I need to find the will to write again, is what I need,” Morgan huffed.
Her writing not going anywhere was like a constant weight on her, and she couldn’t get rid of it. She’d been hoping that the hypnotherapy sessions would help, but they didn’t seem to be doing anything other than make her feel more depressed about her love life.
“Maybe one leads to the other,” Jessie told her.
Morgan simply sighed.
***
“Where is Rock?” Zion asked Jaims when she came to visit her in the hospital, alone for once.
Jaims had been kept in the hospital an extra couple of days, due to a concussion they wanted to monitor. It had been noticed amongst her friends that Raquel had seemingly never appeared to visit.
“Right about now,” Jaims said, glancing at the clock on the wall, “she is entering rehab.”
Zion’s eyes went wide. “Woah,” was all she uttered. She then canted her head. “How and when did that happen?”
“She came to see me,” Jaims told her. “We talked and I told her that she needed to go into rehab.”
“Okay…” Zion nodded, knowing that Jaims wasn’t giving her all the details.
“Trust me, she’s going,” Jaims said. “I told her she wasn’t welcome back to our apartment until she was clean.”
Zion nodded, still looking shocked. “And she agreed?”
“Yep.”
Zion scratched her eyebrow, a sign that she wanted to ask more questions, but was forcing herself not to do so.
Jaims grinned, thinking she was likely driving Zion crazy, but not wanting to talk about what happened to compel Raquel to go to rehabilitation.
Later that night, Jaims’s cell phone rang; she knew without looking that it was Raquel.
“Hey,” she answered.
“Rehab sucks,” Raquel replied.
Jaims grinned to herself. “You thought it was gonna be fun?”
“I figured there would at least be caffeine.”
“No caffeine?” Jaims grimaced. “That’s gotta be against the Geneva Convention.”
“Right?” Raquel said. Jaims could hear the humor in her voice. “Still in the hospital?”
“Yeah,” Jaims replied, “no caffeine here either.”
“We should stage a rebellion,” Raquel mused.
“Indeed,” Jaims agreed. They were both silent for a long moment. “You okay?” Jaims asked gently.
“Yeah…” Raquel sighed, “withdrawals will be starting up soon.”
“You’re strong enough to do this, Rock,” Jaims assured.
Raquel blew her breath out. “You better be right.”
“I always am.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call ya when the siege is over.”
Jaims drew in a deep breath, wincing at her end, because she knew that withdrawals were likely to be brutal, and she knew she couldn’t do anything to help. “Just take good care.”
“Got it.”
“You do,” Jaims told her. “You have got this, Rock. I’m here if you need me.”
Raquel smiled sadly at Jaims’s words, thinking she was lucky to have a friend that put up with everything that she put through Jaims through, and still, despite it all, was willing to be her friend. “Thank you.”
“Thank me after rehab,” Jaims joked.
“I will,” Raquel answered, her tone serious.