Michael by Aaron Patterson

just a little for-instance here, but people always just assume if they have talent that automatically means they should be rich and famous. But that’s stupid. There’s all this pressure to do the impossible. I mean, whatever happened to singing a song just because you want to express a feeling, tell a story, enjoy doing something well?” He took a breath. “People just don’t think. They don’t realize what they give up to chase after stupid stuff.”
    “How about you sing me a song right now, then?”
    Michael grimaced.
    “No?” I was enjoying making him squirm.
    “Um…nope. I just love you. Do you believe me?” He looked at me with those eyes and I melted a little.
    “I believe you. I do.” I was overwhelmed by my feelings again. “I mean, I tried so hard to turn my back to you, force myself to stop caring about you, but I just can’t! And I don’t care if…”
    “If what?” he asked.
    “What is it about you?” I said.
    “Airel…”
    “Okay, here it is. I don’t care if…if in the end it doesn’t work out like we planned.”
    We were both quiet then.
    “I mean, I just want to be with you, get to know you more. And if we end up one big fat mess, at least the ride will be fun. You gave up everything you ever knew for me. I mean…that’s true love, isn’t it?” I asked.
    “Sure sounds like it to me.” He looked at me and squeezed my hand. He brought it to his lips and softly kissed me there, making me crazy. “Well,” he said, “Here’s to today.”
    “And living in the now. Right now. Right?”
    “Right,” he said.
    “Deal. Sun Valley up ahead. Wanna stop?”
    “Sure,” I said, looking at the clock on the radio and trying to breathe. “Almost midnight.”
    “I guess we should get a midnight snack or something…but what’s open?”
    “Maybe a convenience store?”
    Michael pulled into a gas station and parked under the lights, shutting the engine off. “Man, that’s nice and quiet,” he said. He looked at me, mischief suddenly in his eyes. He turned back to Kim and shouted at the top of his lungs, “HEY, KIM!”
    She jumped out of her seat, screaming, “Bogo! It’s Bogo! Bo…. Wh—where?”
    Michael just laughed, slapping his thigh as he got out of the car and stretched.
    I shook my head at him. “That’s real funny, funny man.” I turned to Kim. “Sorry, Kim. You can kill him later.”
    She wiped the drool from her mouth and got out, mumbling.

    Airel’s hand felt good. Michael could feel her heartbeat thrumming away through her fingers. He looked over at her as they browsed for plastic-encased foodstuffs—doughnuts, chips, chocolate, trail mix. Her skin was perfect. Smooth and beautiful. She was talking and the way her mouth moved made him want to stare at her and nothing else.
    He looked back to the shelves of junk food.
    The dark voice inside whispered again. He couldn’t tell what it said but it scared him enough just knowing it was there.
    His scar throbbed. He wondered if it would ever heal. Was this his curse? Was he to carry the voice and the scar with him as a payment for his betrayals? He bent his head to stretch his neck, flexing, trying to make the knot between his shoulders go away.
    “You wrote in her Book. They will come for you. This will not go unnoticed.”
    “What are you thinking, Michael?” Airel said.
    The sound of her voice made him melt. How did she have this power over him? He didn’t know exactly what to do with it, but a part of him desperately craved being wanted, needed, loved. He had never been loved before. “I guess I’m trying to figure out whether I want powdered or chocolate. You know, end-of-the-world-type decisions.”
    “Hmm,” Airel said, “I’d say neither.”
    “Neither?”
    “Yeah, moron,” Kim said, walking up to them from the restroom. “Everybody knows she likes the cinnamon ones. Sheesh.” And with that she breezed on by, walking outside.
    “She gets grouchy when she doesn’t sleep,” Airel