Page 52 of Painting Her Fate

Sweet Goddess of mine

My utmost divine.

No crossed-out words, no ripped-out pages balled up in the corner. No time necessary to think about it; only a rhythmic flow that came easily in the span of a few minutes. It’s played in my head, adding a new stanza for every smile that lights her eyes, or novelty I find she possesses.

For it being spur of the moment, it’s not half bad.

No editing- this was a spill from deep down- keep it real, Zander.

Let’s hope she can read my chicken scratch- then again, maybe that would be such a bad thing.

I tuck it in next to her bedside lamp, praying this will not be the thing that has her running back to London.

The smell of bacon, something sweet, and rich coffee hits my senses as soon as I open the door, my stomach growling. I round the corner to find Lili with her back to me, a spatula in hand as she sings under her breath.

Tom Petty’sFree Fallin’plays through the speaker on the counter, but I can’t focus on the lyrics, their drowned out by Lili’s tempting body swaying to the beat. This alone justifies the note I left her.

She turns around, a plate of French toast in one hand, bacon and sausage links in the other. A woman after my own heart- or stomach. Yeah, no talk of stealing hearts. Yet.

Lili’s smile is cheery, “you’re right on time, let’s dig in.” She set the plates down at the breakfast counter, the classic rock song now switching toIrisby Goo Goo Dolls, an amazing local band. She side-eyes me before bringing over two cups of coffee.

Is music to her as poetry is to me?

Who am I kidding? I’m reading way too far into this. It’s just a song.Right. Says the person who used to write songs.

We find our seats and dig right in, showing just how ravenous we are.God damn. I forgot how good locally tapped syrup tastes.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a meal like this.”

“I looovvve eggy bread.” She hoots, “My Gran made it for me every Saturday growing up, it was a ritual of sorts.” With two pieces of toast on her plate, she snags a link of sausage and the rest of the bacon. I love a girl who isn’t bashful about what she eats; this girl has it in spades.

All these women today with their image issues and diets; just be yourself. Screw the men who want a stick figure girl- I want a woman. They have curves, stretch marks, love handles, and most importantly-sass.

My thoughts drift for whatever stupid reason to my ex, Rebecca. She was one of those health nuts and would’ve never made this for me.

What the hell, man? It’s time you get over her. She left you. Move the fuck on. It’s been three years and not so much as a peep. She’s long gone.

Maybe Lili can be the one to help me do just that. Move on.Who am I kidding? I’ll shut down and push her away.

We easily fell into casual conversation over what we wanted to be when we grew up; Lili mentioned she wanted to become a musician or a music teacher like her Gran, which got us on the topic of the many instruments she can play; guitar and cello being her favorites. With this girl, I feel the sky is not her limit; she could reach beyond galaxies far and wide if she desired.

As for me, my heart, mind, and soul belonged to serving my country. My destiny, so I thought. Being the first-born son, raised in a three generation Navy family, I felt it was my duty to follow in the footsteps of my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. Funny how life throws you a fucking curveball. In my case, the curveball is on fire, and I’m doused in gasoline. Poof. Up in flames.

“What are your plans for today? Can I take you to see your dad?” I dry the last dish and reach above her to set it on the shelf.

Side by side as we did dishes together, it’s natural- I find I’m rather enjoying it, the prospect to be with her has me addicted.Am I terrible for wanting her to myself today?I know, I’ve got it bad.

Lili sets the rag down, leans a hip against the counter, and crosses her arms.

Is she lifting her breasts like that on purpose? Fuck, they are so perfect in that bra, although they’d be better suited in my hands, or my mouth- shit- she caught me ogling.

My gaze darts from her chest to her smirking stare, then her features sober.

“As much as I’d like to see dad, the hospital is not in the cards for me today. I talked with him for a bit this morning, he’s in good spirits and has friends stopping by.” She shrugs and heaves a worn-down sigh, “I don’t know,

I might stay here, tinker around my flat, maybe paint.” Her eyes meet mine, “what about you? Any plans?”

Remembering just how much of a struggle she had before entering the hospital, it made me want to pull her close and tell her everything will be okay.

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