Strawberry Fields Forever

Matt spent the night tossing and turning. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep, not after what happened. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on his thoughts, but they were running wild in his head. The kiss had been absolutely mind-blowing.

A tingling sensation rushed through him as he remembered every detail about sleeping with her, how his fingers had traced her skin, how she tasted when his face was buried between her thighs.

Still, he couldn’t describe what he felt afterwards. It wasn’t that he felt like he was betraying his wife, not at all. She would have wanted him to be happy. It was much more the guilty conscience of taking her virginity. At 34, he didn’t think he was ever going to get to pop a cherry again, those days were over.

Undoubtedly, he was falling for her with an astounding pace. It was beautiful, yet tragic to think about how she was going to remember her first time. An almost-stranger, a father of two, a man who’d slept with so many he lost count. A couch. Nothing special. Was that what she deserved? No, Matt decided. It wasn't. She deserved so much more. Why couldn't I just... wait, at least? Or decline, that would have been the best, he thought, but he came to no conclusion.

He sighed deeply, thinking about how he just left her there when he could have stayed, when he could have woken her up an hour later and repeated his actions, just like he wanted to. But he wouldn’t. He was torn - one part wanted to be that close again, and the other one warned him that it was wrong. It was a mistake, but it happened. So now, what?

Certain he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep on his own, either, he decided to get up and write some lyrics. His alarm clock displayed 3.13 am in broad letters. When he passed the living room, he suddenly noticed the emptiness in his head. How would he write lyrics, if there were none to be written, none that wanted to come out?

With a sigh, he decided to do some driving instead, fishing the keys to his Chevelle out of the little bowl River made. He loved to drive when he was confused, so naturally he hoped for it to work this time, too. But driving had never disappointed him.

He steered the car through the dark and empty streets, not thinking about anything in particular. The only cars that ever crossed his path were cabs, obviously bringing home the richer part of Huntington’s population from partying somewhere in LA. He enjoyed the wind on his face. It was comforting, somehow. And then it struck him. Matt was in love. He knew he wasn’t going to run from her, simply because he couldn’t even if he tried.

-

A few hours later, Matt woke up with a pounding head. For a second, he closed his eyes again. The light was blinding. He was sitting at his desk in the cellar in a very unnatural position, his head on the wooden platter. He didn’t remember going downstairs. He stared at a crumpled piece of paper that was in his cramped up hands. In a barely readable handwriting he’d written down some lyrics.
It took him a moment to make out the words.

“I found my heart for the first time and I awakened in me
I left myself to navigate and I felt control

Who is the crowd that peers through the cage
As we perform here upon the stage?
Tell me a lie in a beautiful way
I believe in answers but not today”


He exhaled sharply. Tell me a lie, he thought. Somehow, his sleep-deprived self found some accurate words to describe his situation. Yes, he wanted to be lied to. He wanted nothing more than for her to tell him they would make it, that they would get to be together and forever. Desperately, he needed her to be the one. She made him feel alive, like he awakened in himself.

At the same time, he knew she couldn’t be. Of course he wanted answers, but he knew he wasn’t ready to hear them yet, at least not today.

People were going to judge them together. It would feel like performing, and the world was going to be their stage. Matt took a sip from his water, remembering the drive through the nightly streets. He had that twitching feeling behind his left eye, which usually signaled he was about to write down something. With a jerking motion, took the pencil back into his hand.

A nightly drive, he thought. I was hoping it will calm me down as always. I can’t keep running from her. I can’t fight these feelings. His fingers moved the pencil effortlessly as he wrote his lyrics down.

“Hope my wheels don’t abandon me now
Seeing that I’m out here alone
I’m running out of fight”

And then, he thought, I enjoyed the wind on my face. In fact, it reminded him to go back to her, to make an effort for her. He was going to be alright. He’d been through worse than the possible heartbreak.

“And the wind speaks a comforting voice
Guiding me into her arms
I know that I’m alright”

He stared at the lyrics he’d just written down, one of many collages of words in the last few weeks. But finally, he started to feel like he was up to something, that those lyrics could actually be used. He was interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Come on in,” he said. His heart made a sudden jump at the thought of seeing her again. Last night he simply carried her into her bed, hoping she wouldn’t wake up. “Hi Matt,” she said simply. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw her standing there, wearing his flannel from the night before. Her hair was carelessly up in a messy bun, but he still thought she was the most beautiful woman.

She had a tray in her hands, bringing him coffee and his favorite pancakes.

“Good morning pretty girl,” he replied, making her blush. “You didn’t have to,” he added, motioning toward the tray.
“It’s alright. Kids are at kindergarten. When are we gonna go to that cabin?” He shot her a smile. “I think I’m finally up to something,” he said, “I wanna go as soon as they get back. Now I think we should pack.”

“Guiding me into her arms,” he thought, those particular words he’d just written down on his paper and meant it. Then why couldn’t he act on it? She was about two feet away. He could stand up, make one step and just kiss her, just to show her he didn’t regret the prior night. Matt took a deep breath. He could do it. Just one step.

He felt like a robot. His limbs seemed not to belong to his body, but at least they obeyed to his commands. Suddenly, he was very close. Her eyes, those wonderful pools of green he’d noticed right when he first met her at the strawberry fields, they finally met his. Involuntarily, his mouth formed a grin.

“Something wrong, Mr. Dimples?” Amelie cooed as she placed her hands against his chest, creating a new physical closeness.
“Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry I didn’t stay last night. I, uhm, really... liked it. But I couldn’t sleep and…”
“It’s alright,” she said, interrupting him. “I didn’t expect you to.” She smiled goofily.
“Good, I was really…” he said, but was yet again cut off when she planted a soft kiss on his lips.

He inhaled sharply from the pleasant surprise. But as quickly as it came, the moment was over and she left him yearning for more.

“Matt you stupid fucker, where you at?” Suddenly, he heard a way too familiar voice. God damn, not now! He threw Amelie an uncertain look, knowing Brian would throw a tantrum if he saw her here. If he told her to hide, she'd probably be mad. And Brian would find him eventually.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. WRONG TIME BRIAN!

His mind raced, but there was no way out. Before he could do anything to conceal what he was doing, his brother-in-law stood right in the door.

“Ah man, why are you not answering? Been searching through your house like some fucking retard,” he chuckled.
And then he spotted Amelie, wearing Matt’s flannel. Hickey included. Matt could practically see the anger in Brian’s eyes, and how his mind raced a mile a minute. Much to his surprise, Brian threw him a giant grin. Was he alright with it all of a sudden? Matt didn’t understand.

“Shadows got fucking laid,” Brian exclaimed with a false giddiness, “about time. Told you you’d get to pop that cherry. Man, now I owe you a hundred bucks, I wish I’d never agreed to that stupid bet.” Bet? What fucking bet? Oh... oh no...

His words only fully sunk in when Brian started looking through his briefcase. There was no bet, just a very good attempt of making Amelie mad at him. He could only imagine what she thought of him now.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Notes

I'm BACK BITCHES! I sure hope y'all missed me! <3

And guess what: It was so boring on the plane that I started a new story. Yup, you heard right: A brand new seventhtrumpet story! I have almost 20 chapters ready just for you! Might be publishing some today, so STAY TUNED!

Thanks for your encouraging words :')