Tsunami Across My Heart Part 1

Tsunami Across My Heart.

By Marissa Elizabeth Stone.

Chapter 1.

You never know where the smallest action, the most subtle overture, is going to take you. You casually pick up an ancient round stone, worn smooth for thousands of years. You toss it into the depth of a pool as though this relic is brand new. Its existence seemingly ends with its silent fall beneath the water.

While its ripples radiate gently in perfect circles, your sense of permanence evaporates with the disappearance of the evidence of your act. Yet the act remains, its effect is there. Even if you never know how far that stone fell or where it finally rested, the circles still radiate.

You may unexpectedly discover the imprint of those actions left upon your heart, your mind and your soul, as they emerge over and over again. How many small things do we do in single days that have similar consequence? Yet, it is the nature of life to blithely move forward without the expectation that someone or something will have the ability to stun you with their essence for the rest of your life.

He was like that for me.

When I first noticed Eric getting out of the cab, I thought he was exquisite. Tall, lean, and athletic, his shoulders p.r.o.nounced and strong, his chest made the shape of a simple "V". His narrow hips and long legs carried him majestically in an easy sway across the drive. Most everything about him suggested an angle and a rhythm; a simple elegant style, but without being effeminate. I liked his thick, dark brown hair. It was curly but cut close enough not to cascade. My fingers longed to run through it. Mischievous brown eyes and a winning smile knowingly slayed every woman around him, his lips needed to be slowly traced by the edge of my finger. He looked just the way I thought a man ought to look with his handsome face, chin strong and jaw square.

His voice was clear, unpretentious, strong, not too deep, and held a quick and easy laugh that enchanted me. Back then, he was very confident. Of course he knew the strength of his draw, but he maintained enough of his modesty to avoid vanity and conceit.

He was captivating in the way he would banter so easily, catching on a phrase or a concept, and then bringing it back into the conversation once again. A slightly ironic and witty style, I found myself laughing with him all the time. He seduced me with the way he was so engaged and would ask questions about me, what mattered to me, but then he would delve even deeper into why something mattered or how I had formed my opinions and ideas. He was interesting and interested, and all the while smiling and looking into my eyes, seeing me, all of me, and the connection I felt was simply pure. How could I help but fall in love with him?

Now, seventeen years later he looks almost exactly the same, with the exception of subtle lines around his eyes, and a slight softening about his jaw line, everything else is immune to the sands of time. The things that have changed about him have to do with his heart, his soul and his spirit and the way he looks back on his life in the same way that I do with wonder, awe and sometimes regret. So many things for both of us turned out differently than the way we antic.i.p.ated they would or the way we had planned, despite all the things we both did to make up for the ways in which fate had seemingly cheated us out of what we were meant to have.

Chapter 2.

At that time in my life I was twenty-seven years old, almost six feet tall with very blonde hair and blue eyes, a pretty face reminiscent of some unknown Scandinavian ancestor, a body that was thin but still shapely and proportionate. I was healthy and reasonably happy with my achievements enjoying a wonderful career managing the use of state of the art technology.

While I was focused on the positive, my private sadness was that I was recovering from the most significant heartbreak of my life, and Eric was the first man that I felt a genuine attraction towards in three months.

David had been the love of my life, and we'd been together for all of the previous year. I had thought that it was inevitable that he would become my husband. He had declared "I won't tell you I love you until I'm sure I want to marry you." and just three months before on our second New Years together he had said "I love you." to me for the first time.

My heart burst I was so happy to hear those words from him. I had been telling him that I loved him to his "Thank you." or "I adore you." since we had been lying upon the talc white beach in Playa del Carmen, Mexico nine months before, and I felt a flood of relief that he had finally admitted to loving me the way I loved him.

Instead of a marriage proposal, what he delivered a few short days later was the heartache that his family would not accept me because I had not been born and raised Jewish, they would not accept my planned conversion, and that he had to choose to end our love affair or be disinherited and disowned. Apparently he had been embroiled in the argument of a lifetime with his mother since announcing he'd found the woman he wanted to marry, and he had lost the battle. Her trump was to deny him support or tuition and he was a spoiled young man who had never stood a single day on his own two feet.

I didn't want to create a future of being ostracized and shut out. I'd already lived this reality with my own family, and I knew it was too painful. He offered to maintain our love affair but keep it a secret. Deserving better, I'd declined to see him behind their backs. I was heartbroken beyond measure, but deeply offended at the same time. I tried to convince myself that if he were truly worthy of my love, he would measure up to the task of being a man, and if he were not that letting go of him was the best thing that I could possibly do for myself.

Yet he had called me daily for the last three months crying, not having the strength or courage to a.s.sert his love for me to his family, even though in a moment of desperation I'd offered to pay for the rest of his private law school education personally if they actually followed through and cut him off. Part of me loved him forever; part of me hated realizing that he was so weak, weaker than I was.

My love for David had been so strong, my sense of conviction equal to it, that I never would have tolerated this kind of interference from any person in my life. I was devastated he wouldn't fight for me, for us. I lost respect for him even if I didn't want to say it out loud, or admit it to myself, though I tried to understand that he needed them especially after the death of his sister three years before. Determined, despite my disappointment and heartache, I moved on.

I prayed for relief, for true love, for comfort, for Divine will.

Chapter 3.

The day I first saw Eric was a beautiful spring day and the sun was finally hot again. Work had been long and hard, but rewarding. A tall handsome stranger, he was now engaged in conversation at the same time I greeted my friends and found my seat as the meeting came to order.

I sat through the hour-long meeting trying to ignore that he was sitting right behind me. I'd steal a shy glimpse of him every now and then. When he spoke he mentioned he was in the city on business from Santa Barbara. Well, I thought to myself, "There's an interesting opportunity to say, 'h.e.l.lo!' to welcome him to the glory of the South!" which, of course, was me!

So at the close of business I did just that.

"h.e.l.lo." I said, "Welcome to Atlanta."

His eyes met mine and he smiled warmly, "Why thank you for welcoming me, how very Southern of you."

Inside I swooned. He was attracted too, I could feel it. I felt a certain rush of adrenaline and my heart beat a little more insistently.

"Hospitality is a specialty of we Southerners, you know. They don't make them any sweeter than they do here. My name is Marissa Elizabeth. Marissa Elizabeth Stone, how do you do?" I held out my hand, and he took it into his, gently squeezing it.

"My name is Eric Ashley. Eric Ashley Davis." I knew he was mocking the way we Southerners have long complicated names and an odd formality about us besides. But his smile and the gleam in his eye let me know he wasn't being ugly about it, just funny and flirtatious.

We talked for a time, while the sun set in the window behind him. It was spectacular, huge and round with a golden radiance. The sky was brilliant and orange as it set; eventually a quiet glow was all that remained.

"I was hoping to find a beautiful dinner companion this evening. Would you like to accompany me to dinner?" he asked as the last sliver of sunlight fell beyond the horizon behind him, and suddenly the clubhouse was cloaked in darkness, and the sky was black.

Would I like to go to dinner? With him? Of course I'd like to go to dinner!!

"I could do that. How about if I play Amba.s.sador and show you around the city afterwards? I'll drive."

"That would be great! Let's go!" he said as he slid his arm under mine and led me toward the front door.

"Tell me, where would you like to go?"

We had a nice meal at a place I can't even recall the name of, and I don't believe they are in business any longer -- it was in a train car and must have been somewhere in the area off of Peachtree Road near Ansley Mall. After dinner we drove all around Atlanta. I showed him Buckhead, Midtown where I worked in Midtown and Downtown too. I showed him Emory University, and we drove through the Jewish Community. I kept telling him all about what I was learning in my conversion courses and after I'd made reference to it six different times he finally said, "Yeah? I know all about that, I'm Jewish too."

"Oh!!!" I responded and blushed a little at my informing the previously, and very well informed, but I was really pleased to discover we shared this religious perspective in common. We'd had a fun evening getting to know one another, told each other our life stories and talked easily and endlessly.

For the second time that evening, I drove towards the sky rise I lived in just east of Emory University and South of Toco Hills. I should have offered to take him back to his hotel in Buckhead, but it wasn't really that late yet, and he wasn't in any hurry to go. Besides, I wasn't in much of a mood to behave. I lived for the moment because he was going to leave in six short days and I didn't want to regret not seizing the moment and thinking about what might have been, if only I'd made an overture.

"Would you like to see the view from my place? My balcony faces the city from the twenty-first floor; it's an amazing view, especially on a night like tonight."

Somehow I managed not to reveal my nervousness. I did play it very cool in those days.

He looked over at me while I was driving, the pa.s.sing lights illuminating his handsome face. A gentle, knowing smile spread across his face as he slowly turned a little towards me and leaned his back against the pa.s.senger door, "Sure. I'd love to see the city from your place."

"Good. I was hoping you'd answer before I had to pa.s.s and then turn around again." I smiled back at him, my eyes dancing with delight, and turned left into the circular drive of the tower.

Chapter 4.

I smoothly turned into the drive, parked and lead him through the lobby by the hand to the elevator to share the magnificent view of the city I loved. It was a long ride up and we made light conversation.

"It's a great place." He said.

"Oh it is and you wouldn't believe it, but the rent is only $550 a month." The nervousness I now feel in the company of men did not exist. I was completely at home with him.

"No way! In Cali, this place would cost a fortune." he said. The elevator door slid open onto a modest hallway with door after door looking the same. We turned right, and I slid the key into the second door.

In those days, my place was always clean, and when the door swung open, Eric saw a perfectly appointed room with new furniture. Everything was white, the carpet, the couch, the love seat, the rugs were white and pastel geometric shapes. What wasn't white was gla.s.s. Bright, sensuous, Georgia O'Keefe floral prints of poppies and iris' burst across the room, an Egyptian papyrus print parading hieroglyphs and foreign G.o.ds adorned the walls. My own sculpture and pottery cast shadows to the floor from atop their pedestals and the light behind the sliding gla.s.s door.

We crossed the room and he said, "Wow. That really is a gorgeous view. That's awesome!" he smiled as I slid the door open and he pa.s.sed through the opening to the balcony. The sound of the city, the wind and the cool spring breeze floated across my balcony. Wide and secure, it perfectly framed the downtown skyline glistening nearby on the horizon capturing the glimmer of every star in the sky. He stood facing the city taking it all in and I stepped beside him letting him enjoy the view.

"I love this city." I finally sighed, and Eric slid behind me, wrapped his arms around me and we enjoyed the moment and the view. I loved that place. I loved my life, and I think it probably showed. His arms were strong and his body was warm against my back and I could feel his tender breath against my hair and neck.

Beyond all his beauty, his being Jewish like I hoped to find, successful, smart, witty, and practically perfect in his ability to banter and entertain, he had a way of making me comfortable and it was just easy to be with Eric. It didn't feel like it had been a few hours together, it felt like lifetimes.

"It's getting a little chilly out here. Do you want to go inside and get something to drink?" I finally asked.

"Sure" he said as he released me, and followed me to the tiny little kitchen to grab a few Coca-Colas. We sat on the couch, and after a few sips, set our drinks down on the gla.s.s coffee table and he slid my hand into his and drew me a little closer to him.

I remember the lights of the city were beautiful and the sky was crystal clear. The effect was better with the lights dimmed in the living room overlooking the view, so as we inched closer together both the ambiance and the temperatures between us were warm. Eventually Eric moved towards me, placed his hand against my cheek, leaned into me as he pulled me towards him and kissed me, properly, as we say in the South. In a way that first kiss just never ended because I didn't pull away and neither did he. We sank lower and lower onto the couch and I was trying very hard to be a good girl under the pressure of his kiss, the warmth of his embrace and the hard realities of the attraction he obviously had for me. Eventually we took a breath and laughed at the strength of the attraction.

"You are so incredibly handsome. I love the way you kiss me. I can hardly keep my hands off of you" I purred.

"Oh d.a.m.n it, I hate it when that happens" he said as he smiled into my eyes. "It's getting late. I'd say I should go but I don't want to leave you."

"Well, do you think if we moved into the bedroom we could promise to behave ourselves?"

"We can promise. We may wish we hadn't promised, but we can promise." He stood up and sighed in frustration and pulled me towards him and I followed him to my bedroom as though we had made the trip from the couch to my bed a thousand times before.

Somehow we managed to control ourselves through the night despite moving to the more comfortable bedroom. There was little sleep that night and my urge to hold him captive and ravage him was on overdrive and has been any time I've been in his company since.

Chapter 5.

I liked waking next to him in the morning, and the flirtation began again in earnest as soon as we opened our eyes. His kisses were sweet. I had no regrets about bringing him home with me. We gave in to the day and left my place late in the morning.

During breakfast if I wasn't touching his hand, then my foot rested against his under the table. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face and he looked delicious in my sweats and rubber flip flops. We read the morning paper, had our coffee and were unusually comfortable together. Eventually he looked up, and put the paper aside.

"I have a suggestion" he said.

"Ok. Shoot." I took a final sip of my lukewarm coffee, and set it aside.

"Take me back to my hotel and let's make love all afternoon."

I stared at him. I wanted nothing more. Time felt suspended, unimportant and the way he eased my soul, I didn't want to even consider saying no to his invitation. The sun heated my face and my eyes sparkled back at him with mischief when I said, "We better go to the pharmacy and buy some kind of protection for ourselves."

He smiled. "Yeah, we best do that right away" and he stood up and came around to my side of the table to pull out my chair, "Time's a wasting, let's get out of here." He held my hand and pulled me eagerly to the car through the small parking lot, making me laugh and hurry along.

We went in to a pharmacy close to his hotel, and we spent an inordinate amount of time picking out what kind of condoms to get. I was not accustomed to taking care of this detail myself, as I considered it a manly thing to do, and not the responsibility of a lady. The whole time he teased me about both my flush and my blush. I couldn't hide my desire for him, but it embarra.s.sed me to show it so much.

"Here we have the multi-colored new and improved day-glo condoms if you like these my Dear. Or if you prefer we have the ribbed... and oh look, these are little spermicidal maniacs! Would you prefer the Trojan brand or perhaps one of these other brands? Where are those French ticklers??? Whatever are you blus.h.i.+ng about?" he laughed as he finally stopped to take a breath.

"You're killing me here... come on let's go you silly man" the red in my face refusing to subside and I could not quit smiling at him. We took our supply to the counter, holding hands and smiling at one another in antic.i.p.ation. The clerk said,

"I hope you're going to have a nice day." To which I blushed profusely and Eric started tossing random items onto the counter to detract from the purpose of our visit. There went some gum, a Hotwheel, a couple of Horoscope Scrolls, and two candy bars. He was funny and eased my embarra.s.sment.

"Oh we're just having a rather innocent afternoon..." he smiled devilishly and the clerk laughed as I blushed even harder than before.

In the car, we held hands tenderly. Once we got to his room, we eagerly peeled one another's clothes off, but stood in the darkened room beside the huge bed naked, and trembling at one another's touch. He was Divine inspiration standing there in all his glory. His muscles, smooth, sinewy, well defined, he felt strong and oh so s.e.xy. His arms pulled me to him and my fingers traveled down his biceps, and slid under his arms and I pressed my naked body against him. He deftly pulled me into the bed and the sheets were ice cold, but the blankets heavy and the heat between us quickly warmed the bed. We spent the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing, touching and building one another up and then letting the excitement rest again. His perfection extended to how he made me feel as a woman, and when he finally slid inside of me it was like a hand to a glove, the perfect fit, and I never wanted that day to end. I never regretted asking him to stay the night, or our being together and becoming lovers.

The next morning he checked out of his hotel and came back to stay with me. What was the point of his keeping the room when we only wanted to be together?

Thursday was almost a week that we'd hardly been apart and he was leaving the next morning. I had scarcely thought of David in days, and didn't answer the phone if I heard his voice on the answering machine. No matter the intensity of the previous year, he'd made his choice, and I needed to move on.

"I'm going to miss you terribly Eric." I said from the bed watching him get dressed his last morning with me. After only a few days it seemed like a natural every day event to have him in my life. I wanted to cry but hid it. "I wish you lived here, with me."

"I want you to come and see me. Can you come to California? I have two more weeks of business trips, but I'm planning to go to a Rugby Tournament at the end of April. Can you make it then? We'll drive up Highway 1 along the coast and stop in Carmel and Monterey. It will be beautiful. Just like you."

"I can't think of any place I'd rather be. Yes, I'll come to see you."