Free Clouds In My Coffee by Andrea Smith Page B

serious about his music.
    The stereo system in his room is huge; the Bose speakers practically go halfway to the ceiling. His Marantz stereo receiver, when cranked halfway up, rattles the windows. He’s got both a turntable for vinyl and reel-to-reel for his custom recordings.
    The ceiling of his room is black and he has painted geometric shapes on it that you can’t see unless his black light is on at which time, they light up like neon signs! The shag carpet is a deep red, his furniture is all black and the walls are stark white. His room simply has a nice groove to it and I’m comfortable being in there with him. He keeps it nice and orderly.
    “Hey,” I say softly, sitting down on the bed where he’s asleep on his stomach, arms wrapped around a pillow, his hair a thick mass of tangles. “Merry Christmas.”
    He’s got no shirt on, just a pair of sweats. I marvel at how well-developed his muscles are for being a non-jock. He claims it’s because of drumming, plus hauling the band’s instruments in and out of clubs that keeps him in shape.
    He opens an eye, looking up at me. “Hey.”
    “Do you want me to go away?” I ask. “We can do Christmas another time.”
    “No,” he replies, pulling himself up. “It’s good. Let me grab a shower. Would you mind making some coffee, babe?”
    “No sweat,” I reply. “Coming right up.”
    Thirty minutes later, Erik and I sip coffee silently. “I see you got your presents wrapped,” I comment, looking over at the lit tree with an array of gifts underneath.
    “Yeah. I couldn’t sleep like, at all . Figured I might as well put my insomnia to good use.”
    He gets up from the table and goes over to the tree. Bending down, he picks up a small wrapped package. “I want you to open this one first,” he says, coming back to the kitchen and handing it to me.
    I tear the paper off, knowing that it’s jewelry in the box and wondering if he’s replaced the silver friendship ring he tossed away several months back. I open the black velvet box and I can feel my eyes widen and my jaw drop.
    “Oh, Erik!” I breathe, pulling the silver ring from the slot. It’s a silver ring alright, but nothing like the friendship ring. This ring has two silver hearts intertwined together and our initials appear on each heart. It’s gorgeous!
    I slip it onto my ring finger. It fits perfectly. “I love it,” I breathe, holding it out in front of me to admire. “Thank you so much.”
    “I love you, Cece,” he says quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you ever...you know, did anything like what Angie did.”
    “Oh, Erik,” I say, looking at him closely. “Why would I ever do that?”
    He shrugs, looking down at his fingers that are wrapped around his coffee mug. “I just wonder if she did what she did because of...me,” he continues. “I mean, we never talked of love or anything. It wasn’t that deep but, still, she wasn’t happy when I broke things off. She said she was sick of being the one whose heart got broken.”
    I don’t know what to say to him because I have no clue as to how Angie felt about him. Or how much pain she still felt over what Marshall had done to her; pain that she tried to numb with Quaaludes.
    Erik gets up and puts his coffee mug in the sink. He comes over and holds his hand out for me to take it.
    I do and he pulls me to my feet, staring at me intently. “Come on, Cece. I need to love you. I need for us to feel alive and to forget everything else except each other.”
    “But you haven’t opened your presents…” I start to protest.
    “You’re the only thing I’ll ever want or that I’ll ever need.”
    He leads me to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind us.
    Erik makes love to me and, it’s different this time. It’s slower, it’s emotional; and it’s deep and soulful. It’s not only the meshing of our bodies; it’s also the meshing of our hearts and minds. I’ve never felt so connected to him.
    Dear Diary,
    I never