One thing I never forget is scent. It's probably my strongest sense. One of my earliest memories, for example, is saturated by the perfume of dill and tomato soup. It was, and still is, my favorite. My grandmother used to make it for me when I'd visit her farm. I would climb the hill to her house with my uncertain steps, only to find that my bowl would already be cooling on the window sill. I remember the steam coming off the liquid, fogging up the glass. The smell and taste of that soup remains with me even today. The first time I met Frank...well, I'll never forget what he smelled like.
It was storming outside and I had just finished a gig. I was relaxing a bit in the dressing room when my tour manager knocked lightly on the door.
"Hey...there's a guy here to see you. He says you're expecting him."
I sat up. "Oh, okay. Hold on, let me put on a fresh top."
There were no secrets between myself and Jason. We had dated a long time ago, before he became my tour manager. Oddly enough, we were able to remain friends. I wasn't always good at post-break up public relations, but with Jason it had been easy. He was an Aquarian like myself and we knew where we stood.
I pulled a t-shirt over my head, adjusted my bra, and put on my sneakers. Nodding to Jason to let the guest in, I put myself in the middle of the room and waited. Unhurriedly, a dark-haired, shorter man walked in. I have to admit, at first glance he took my breath away. I would have never betrayed myself, but I could feel my heart flutter just a little bit. He stuck out his hand. "Hey, I'm Frank. Jason told me to come back and talk to you about the opening."
I shook his hand firmly and noticed the tattoos. They were more powerful in person. A hot knot formed in my core. I had a strong desire to see them all, discover their meaning.
"Sorry I'm wet," he said with a hint of shyness. (You are not the only one, I thought). "It's pouring out and I forgot to grab an umbrella."
His dark hair dripped onto his black leather jacket and one single droplet rolled down his cheek. I watched it fall from the end of his bangs, which masterfully hung over the side of his face. The piercing on his lip caught my attention and I couldn't release my stare. He was so much my type that it made my heart swell.
"Let me get you a towel, Frank, and... please sit down." I gestured behind me and he wandered over to the couch. Once I handed the towel over to him, I sat down in front of him on a lounge chair, crossing my legs under me.
His gaze was fixed on mine the entire time, the towel bunched up in his inked hands. Faded green eyes like points of dying neon light burned into me. "Jesus he's going to be trouble," I thought.
I cleared my throat. "So which band did you play for again?" I asked playfully. He grinned and I drew in a sudden breath. When he smiled he became even more beautiful, and I didn't think that would be possible.
"Um, the most famous is MyChem, I guess." he replied. He was sizing me up. He looked at my ankle. I was sure he wasn't falling for it. He didn't believe my inquiry. How could I not know who he was?! I had MCR tattooed on my damn leg!
"I'm kidding, Frank. Of course I know who you are and with whom you played. I am a huge fan. In fact I was very impressed with that body of work and that's why I wanted to talk to you." He smiled back and dropped his shoulders. I was making him feel at ease, and I would discover only later that that was no easy task.
We talked shop, and by the end of the meeting, he had become my guest guitarist and I, well, had fallen for him. But it would be a while yet before HE realized it.
We stood up and shook hands, and I noticed how warm it was. I wanted to hug him so badly that I pulled him to me with a playful "Come here," and that's when the scent hit me. He smelled like the sky. It was wet and pure and fresh. Like he was a somber, dark angel who had just descended to earth, bringing the lingering smell of heaven with him.
When the embrace broke, after what was, on my part, an inappropriate length of time squeezing, I realized I was just a hair taller than him. His not dominating me in height somehow made me feel even more sure that I wanted to be around him. Frank gave me a sense of comfort.
Months passed since that first meeting. I continued my tour and he played with me at about 50% of my shows. We were able to spend a lot of time together due to practice and show scheduling, which didn't always allow him to return home. I had a great relationship with my other band members but events saw myself and Frank spending more and more time together. We had everything in common and we understood one another, almost like two people who had grown up in the same house would. Except, thank the stars, we were not related. Thoughts like the ones I was having about Frank were definitely not "brotherly." I was getting myself into something that would soon become more than I could handle emotionally.
He was difficult to read at times, but a sadness pervaded our souls and that was the silver thread that united us. I forgave him when he was curt, and I adored it when he was thoughtful. There were too many long nights of hushed whispers on the bus. Frank had taken the bunk above mine and would often sneak down to cuddle with me when all the others had fallen asleep. We were the perfect size, fitting together like two halves of a cut fruit. A bizarre, exotic fruit.
The late-night phone calls when he was away became something I craved and expected. At the end, it took a toll on my life. I hadn't even kissed Frank yet, but I was completely gone. I ended up leaving the man I was seeing because it just wasn't fair for him to be with me. I wasn't invested anymore and all I could think about was Frank. 24 hours a day, every day. Frank was everywhere, he had permeated my being.
All the time I spent with him was like oxygen to me. I felt alive around him, and we enjoyed each other's company. His dorky laugh made me grin, and our odd senses of humor complemented each other. It was tortuous for me not to pursue him. I suppose I didn't want to ruin the relationship. This was the situation we were living until that fateful night when it all changed.
Another town, another gig, another storm.
