Free Sanctity by S. M. Bowles

began speaking again and somehow I felt
obligated to listen,  “You think you are in love and you think
Michael is in love with you,” her voice sounded spiteful. 
“Michael is more than 3 times your age, if you think about it you
will realize that that is not how love works.  Michael doesn’t
love you,” she paused in emphasis, “at least not the way you think
you love him.  You are just a little distraction for him at
the moment.  He will forget you soon enough,” she said with
tremendous surety.
    “Michael doesn’t love you,” I knew there was
more to what Brenda had said but only that part of the phrase
registered and began repeating over and over again in my
mind.  The sense of wrongness I felt when I first saw Michael
and Brenda together washed over me again.  Suddenly I was not
feeling very well.  I stood up and tried to walk to where my
mother and father were talking with Michael.  The lights
flashed signaling that the intermission was over and they each
turned one by one and came back to the box to take their
seats.  As my mother approached I lunged for her and told her
that I didn’t feel well and that I wanted to go home.
    I saw a fearful look gathering in her eyes
as she studied me and placed her palm on my forehead.  “You’re
burning up.  How long have you been feeling like this
sweetie?  Oh, my, I think we must go,” she looked to my father
for confirmation.  He placed his hand on my forehead and
nodded his agreement, “Yes, yes, I’ll let Mr. Donovan know.”
    My father bent down and quietly told Michael
that we needed to leave.  He hastily ejected himself from his
seat and found me and my mother standing in the hallway near the
stairs.  I had my face turned away, unable to look at him just
then.  I didn’t realize it but my anguish had caused my mind
to barricade itself and I had locked Michael out of my
thoughts.
    “What’s wrong?” His voice was colored with
heartfelt concern.  He looked at my mother then to my
father.
    “Elayna is not feeling well, I think she may
have a fever,” my mother kissed the top of my head and apologized
to Michael.  “Would it be too much trouble to call the car for
us?  We have no way of getting in touch with the driver until
the show is over.”
    “Yes, of course,” he slipped his cell phone
from his coat pocket and made the request for our driver to
return.
    “I’m sorry you are not feeling well Elayna,”
Michael gently caressed my shoulder.
     “Elayna, please talk to me.  Tell
me what’s wrong.  Tell me what I can do to make you feel
better.  Please don’t go,” I could still hear his voice in my
head though I refused to let him hear mine.
    I ignored his plea and waited with my mother
while my father gathered our coats and other belongings.  He
helped me into mine first and then eased my mom into hers. 
Michael was dumbfounded and could only watch as we prepared to
leave.
    My dad shook his hand and thanked him for
everything.  Brenda appeared in the doorway, “Are you
leaving?”
    “Oh, yes, sorry, Elayna is not feeling
well.  It was lovely to meet you,” my father said. 
    Michael turned to Brenda as though he had
momentarily forgotten she was there.  I saw a look of
understanding cross his face as he puzzled out what must have
driven our hurried departure. 
    “We’ll walk you out,” he said. 
“There’s not much sense in staying for the show if you can’t be
here to enjoy it with us.”
    Brenda was visibly dismayed by having the
night conclude so abruptly.  Michael did not look as though he
could be dissuaded, though, and she held all of her protests.
    Michael snatched her jacket and tucked it
around her shoulders.  He slid into his as well and motioned
us all toward the lobby.  I could feel him calling to me,
“Elayna?”  Every few moments he would try again,
“Elayna?”  It hurt to ignore him but every time I heard him
say my name it was echoed by Brenda’s voice telling me “He