The Story Slice: Part 6: Heather So Long

This is the continuation of a story that began here:

Part 1: Maureen (1)

Part 2: Maureen (2)

Part 3: The Takeoff

Part 4: Colleen

Part 5: Alex

by Brian Hughes

Cahil was listening to Barry’s Manilow’s “Somewhere Down The Road” on his iPod in the hotel café – staring at internet pictures of Heather and her man, at least fifteen years her senior, from her MySpace “Mexico Vacation” album, feeling bad for himself, clutching his blackberry, her speed dial number at the ready. He knew Alex was right, that he should just forget here, for whereas Alex and Maureen and Colleen where just libido fantasies, Heather was more. Dangerous. Forget it, he told himself over and over. Work on the Brenda Burgundy piece, you have her interview tonight … it could be a career defining piece for you, over and over he was telling himself, but he pressed the button just the same. She answered:
“Cahil! How are you?”
“Did I catch you at a bad time? I can call back.”
“No, no … what’s going on? What brings you out to Los Angeles?”
Cahill filled her in on his career and how it was moving along steadily. He didn’t mention his engagement, nor his wedding.
“I have to be honest with you … Colleen said you had come to town and I was hoping you’d call because … I don’t know … I feel we should talk and catch up.”
“Really … well, great! Are you available for coffee this afternoon?”
“This afternoon … let me look at my schedule …”
Why did she want to speak with him? What did she have to tell him?
“No … I think I’m good … yeah,” she laughed, “I think that would be great! Yeah … yes! Let’s hook up.”
“Cool! Awesome.”
“Do you want to meet at the Coffee Bean where we last had java?”
“Sure! Perfect!”
There was a silence. Heather actually sighed.
“I’m glad you called Cahil. So glad you called.”
“I’m glad I called as well. So, I’ll see you at three?”
“Yes … perfect.”

It became nothing but positive love songs on the way back into the valley: “Love Lift Us Up (Where We Belong),” “I Just Fell In Love Again” by Anne Murray, “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head,” and “You’re My First, The Last, My Everything” by the grand daddy of soulful love, Barry White; And Cahil was singing too … oh, he certainly was. Fuck Brenda Burgundy and her cocaine and her entourage and her problems. Fuck her, fuck everything, Cahil thought as he stopped at a roadside shop to pick up a basket full of lavender products – Heather’s favorite aroma.

Cahil’s left leg went up and down as he sat at a window seat, basket on the table, customers ordering coffee, unaware of the movie-like moment happening in his life. When he gazed upon Heather getting out of her vehicle in the large mall parking lot, reaching for her purse in the back seat, it was like a gleig light shone only on her and blocked out the entire shopping madness of Ventura Boulevard. His heart began to race. He at once felt an anchor of sadness, that this would never work, and a joy that brought tears to his eyes. He looked up and around and across to let air into them. He could not believe the eruption of emotions in the first split moment of seeing her; after the years of wondering what this moment would be like, it had finally arrived.
Heather’s shoulder went up in unison as she made eye contact with Cahil, and the shoulders lifted her face into a warm smile as she walked over and they embraced.
“I am dumb struck as to how amazing you look,” Cahil said
“Oh … not really …”
“Yes really! What have you done? Your waist is the smallest I’ve ever seen it!”
“I go to the gym a lot and lay off the carbs.”
“Remember all the diets we’d try, all the new ones that would land on the best seller list?”
“Oh, yeah … we’d compare notes.”
“Yup.”
“And the music we’d play in the stock room.”
“It was all Britney and Christina for me back then.”
“And I’d play you some brooding songwriter, like Neil Young or Bob Dylan.”
“And The Doors.”
“Naturally, The Doors.”
Heather wanted green tea. She reached for her Manga designed, Velcro wallet, but Cahil wasn’t having it. Everything was on him today.
“What is this basket,” she beamed.
“It’s for you. It’s all for you. You still love lavender, right?”
“Yes, yes, of course … but you shouldn’t have.”
“There’s so much I want to talk about, I don’t know where to begin.”
Heather smiled, and when she smiled, her small oval lips crept up her mouth and exposed her dimples. She looked down for a moment and took in a deep breath.
“Why don’t you begin with why you came out here?”
Cahil chuckled and looked out the window. It was an open invitation to jump in and cut to the chase. Why had she smiled when she said that? She knew, didn’t she, Cahil thought, she knew he had come out west in the hopes that she would dissolve everything and take him in her arms.
“Well, I came out here because I was given a tremendous opportunity to interview the hotter than hot R&B singer, Brenda Burgundy.”
“Really?” she asked.
“No, that’s not the reason. I should get us some tea. What kind do you want again?”
“Breakfast.’
“I can’t tell you how great it is to see you in person again, in person and not in pictures.”
“It’s great to see you too, Cahil.”
Cahil bought the teas and sat back down, staring at the table before them.
“Is there anything wrong,” Heather asked.
“No, no, of course not, not at all. I couldn’t be happier. Heather, listen, I want to catch up and talk and all, but I have to say what’s on my mind…”
“Okay,” Heather said with trepidation.
“Okay … wow … I don’t think I’ll be this nervous when I speak with Brenda Burgundy, hahahaha ….okay … here goes … Heather, I, I love you very much, I, I, have been just stuck, I, I have been unable to think of anyone but you since I came back to New York and I look at your pictures on MySpace and on Flickr and on Facebook, and I can’t shake your image, and, and I don’t dare talk to you, or instant message you, because I know it will lead me down the wrong path…”
Heather had her hand over her mouth, tears swelled in her eyes.
“I don’t know, Heather, its been a problem with me my whole life, I’ve let great women slip through my fingers, and I guess, before I enter the next important stage of my life, I had to come out here and see you one last time to tell you how I feel, how I will never forget you, never forget seeing you enter the stockroom that time we met. I never told you how I felt in person and its been knowing away at me like a chancre. When I see you with guys in your pictures, my heart hurts, I don’t know what to do. Am I supposed to un-Facebook you, un-friend you? Of course not, how would that look?
“Don’t say anymore, Cahil, you don’t need to say anymore,” Heather said with a laugh. “This is amazing, AMAZING, how life works …”
“What?” asked Cahil.
“Well … I haven’t forgotten you either. Every time I see images of New York City, or movies shot in Manhattan, my heart longs for you. I always thought that I would never see you again and that the brief time we shared together would be a just a pleasant memory.”
Cahil’s eyes had begun to tear as well. “Can I hug you, Heather?” Cahil felt her ample breasts press against him. “It’s so wonderful holding you close like this.”
Heather removed a tear from her cheek and nodded enthusiastically. “I think I love you Cahil, I really think I love you.”

The cell phone had a message on it. Cahil stared at the lavender basket in front of him. How could he have missed a phone call, not possible. As far as he could tell, the reception was just fine. It was Heather:
“Hey Cahil, I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make it, something just came up at the last minute and I have to take my nephew somewhere. How long are you in town for? Let me know – it would be great to catch up. Hope you’re well. Later.”
Cahil stared blankly at the empty seat in front of him, a seat made warm by Heather the last time they had a cup of coffee together. It would remain cold. Cahil drained the last of his coffee and walked out of the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf – leaving the lavender basket behind him.


The Brenda Burgundy interview went well enough, all except for the burn marks left in Cahil’s flesh. Brenda took great, sadistic pleasure in putting cigarettes out on Cahil’s exposed skin. And when he returned to his palatial New York City apartment, a three bedroom bought solely by his wife Janeen, Cahil couldn’t help but think that he deserved the burn marks and much, much more. Having failed in his attempted debauchery of nailing three girls from his “bookstore job” past, Cahil had nothing more to come home to than a devoted wife, who – not only draped a welcome banner across the apartment door, but had cooked his favorite dinner and purchased the scented candles he so thoroughly enjoyed from Bed, Bath and Beyond. It was more than Cahil deserved and he knew it, as he clutched Janeen in his arms and kissed her profusely.
“Let me see your burn marks,” Janeen implored.
“They’re nothing really to look at.” Cahil tossed off.
“We’re going to sue that bitch!” Janeen said as she inspected Cahil’s arms. “Terrible. Terrible. She can’t get away with doing that to my fiancé. I’ll rip her vocal cords out and feed them to her.”
“Now, now …”
“I mean it!”
“I know, I know … say, are we going to look at more reception possibilities tomorrow.”
Janeen softened and smiled as she and Cahil pressed their foreheads together.
“You bet we are, hon.”
“I can’t wait. I love you.”
“I love you to.”
Cahil and Janeen kissed long and warm, embracing each other completely.
Cahil was glad to be back, back to the steel and girders and realness that sustained him, gave him strength and kept his wavering mind focused. The daydreams were dead. For the longest time, the girls and the regrets lived in his fantasies. Now with microscopic precision, they had been dealt a stealth and fatal blow. What was left was what he knew would always, in the end, endure.