I have been sitting here for two hours now, pouring April’s favorite white wine down my throat, letting it drown me to the point of numbness. I am alone in this little house by the beach, and I shiver with the chill of winter although it is actually late July. She has only been gone three days and already the color and song fade out of my world. My muse, my sunshine, my eccentric little piece of heaven, snatched away to God knows where…gone.
April’s picture sports an impish grin from across the room, a look of pure and simple joy in her eyes. Her hair is dark and wavy, whipping this way and that in the wind. Her blue eyes are barely visible, as they squeeze shut when her round cherub cheeks smile so hard. Everything about her has always been willowy and childlike, even a bit fragile, but not that smile and definitely not that laugh. I love…loved the way she would throw her head back and let out the most unladylike laugh at any moment, uncaring at how inappropriate her timing might be. April is the one woman I have ever known to take every bit of happiness life can offer. She never whined, rarely complained, and I think I have seen her cry maybe once.
Where is she? That’s the thought that keeps running through my head. The bed has been empty and after a week the scent of her hair has almost left the pillow. I finally caved and called the police three days ago, she did not leave of her own accord. She would not, and I saw some men watching her a couple of weeks back. Everything she owns is here, all her clothes with their soft fabrics and delicate patterns, her perfume, brush, even her poetry, scribbled down on napkins and old phone bills. Oh, my love, where could you be?
I remember the first time we met. It was a sunny spring day, a bit cool still in late March. I had just gotten done with a big case, lost it actually. I could feel my world crashing down around me, and I knew for sure my spellbinding legal career was coming to a screeching halt. I left the courthouse and drove around aimlessly, until I wound up parking and making my way down to the beach.
Now, if you know southern California, you understand that I had to make my way through a jumble of tourists, families, and those loathed wannabe Barbie and Ken doll high school and college kids who have nothing better to do then meander up and down the boardwalk. And here I was in my expensive suit and conservative haircut, sensible shoes and minimal makeup. Well, I thought with a chuckle, at least I fit that ridiculous dyke stereotype everyone keeps expecting from me.
Anyway, I ordered a cup of coffee and sat down to people watch, hoping to get my mind off my impending career doom. I zoned out, dazed by the unexpected events of the day. It wasn’t until I heard her voice that I realized tears had been streaming down my face for some time.
“Ummm…Miss? Excuse me?” I turned to see the most beautiful girl I have ever seen up close. She wore a pink floral dress with spaghetti straps under a white pullover and no shoes. Her hair looked healthy but unkempt, a soft mane around her round face and bright eyes. She was short, maybe 5’4, with a tiny waist and…okay I looked, firm, well rounded breasts. She held a notebook that looked like it had been totally soaked in water at some point.
And, as I was soon to find out, she was direct. “You are so sad, I can’t help but talk to you.” Her look of distress was so sincere the tears just escaped more quickly from my eyes.
I was about to throw out some stupid excuse, use the “allergies this time of year” bullshit line or some other nonsense, but something in her manner made me be so shockingly honest, I cannot believe it to this day.
I simply told her “I lost the case.”