| Title: The Wonderwall Diaries Author: Priscilla Entry 11 March 2, 1991 *That Evening* I walked into the dimly lit interior of Don Perone's and up to the stewardess and told her my name. She smiled and told me to follow her to a table. It was an amazingly beautiful place. Very intimate, very warm looking. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Wahlberg called and said he was going to be a couple of minutes late." The young woman said after handing me the menu and gave me her best apologetic-please-don't-be pissed-and-take-it-out-on-me-smile. I smiled back, ordered a Strawberry Daiquiri, and entertained myself by looking out the window with the perfect view of the harbor. My drink arrived a couple of minutes later and I quickly turned my attention on it. That didn’t last long, and I found myself staring down at my wrist watch. He was half an hour late, half a Goddamned hour late and I was starting to get really pissed; finally have the guts to tell your mother-in-law to fuck off pissed. So pissed was I that I started gathering my coat and purse so that I could leave. But just as I stood up, someone tapped me on the shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm late, Jade. Traffic was horrible." My slightly bitchy reply got stuck somewhere between my throat and mouth as I stared up at not Donnie's hazel eyes, but Mark's. ******** I honestly can't tell you how long I stood there staring at him, because to me it seemed like an eternity. How many times had I dreamed of us meeting like this? That out of the blue one day he would walk back into my life and sweep me off my feet as only he can. But those had been fantasies, and now he was standing less than two feet from me. "I-I-gotta go...." I said, sidestepping him as I tried not to draw attention to my hasty exit. I knew he wouldn't let me just walk out, not like this, and so I didn't even flinch when his hand wrapped itself around my forearm. "Can we just sit down and talk?...Please?" He asked in a soft voice. I nodded my head mutely, simultaneously slipping out of his embrace. I sat down again and he sat across from me. I've never experienced so many things at the same time before. Astonishment, anger, curiosity, excitement, those were all the things swirling around in my head. And then his voice broke through the haze and I realized that he was speaking to me. "How have you been, Jade?" He asked, eyes shinny all of a sudden. You know the look. The look tough guys get when they have an overwhelming emotion and they don't know how to deal with it, so they try to keep their face blank. Their eyes always give them away though, because they get all shinny with unshed tears....tears that they would never shed in front of anyone because that would be 'unmanly'. I nearly choked on the wine I was sipping when his words finally sunk in and all of a sudden, I wasn't astonished anymore, but unbelievably pissed off. "You have a lot of nerve to ask me that." I hissed. He swallowed loudly and nodded, but never broke eye contact. He has such soulful eyes, they really were the window to his soul. I saw such need, such anguish, that I had to look away. "You left me, remember?" Ok, that stung. My eyes snapped back to his and this time he looked away. "I'm sorry ok? Just--Just talk to me ok?" "You want me to talk? All right I'll talk. I'll talk about how after my mother dragged me back here kicking and screaming, I found out that you only put in 45 days. I'll talk about how unbelievably ridiculous it is for me to even conceive that you want to know how 'I've been' when you've known I was here all this time and made no move to even t--" "I didn't know." He said softly. "What?" I asked, being stopped in mid-tantrum kind of confuses me a little bit. "I didn't know you were here until Donnie told me last night. And then he told me he was meeting you here, and I practically begged him to let me come in his place." "Why?" I asked looking out the window again, pretending that his answer didn't matter one way or the other but C'mon, who the hell was I trying to kid anyway? Everything he said mattered to me; I was just too stubborn to admit it even to myself. He sort of looked at me confused for a couple of minutes, and then he said, "Because I had to see you. Because we weren't meant to end like we did you know?" I just watched him talk, silently telling him to continue explaining with my eyes. He took the hint quite nicely. "I didn't think you wanted me in your life anymore. I mean, you came back here and rebuilt a life for yourself that I wasn't part of." "You didn't know that Mark." I quietly interfered, shaking my head and causing a few loose golden strands of my hair to fall into my face. Yeah, I was a bottle blond now. "No I didn't, but I figured that was the way you'd want it." "You figured wrong, ok? You know how guilty I felt after I left you? How much I wanted to stay with you? But I couldn't because I was underage and I didn't have a job, I was barely out of high school...... I mean all I had was you and the guys and the love we had for each other and love doesn't exactly pay the bills." "I know. But you and I, we would have made it work just because nobody thought we could." He said smiling. It was genuine and so full of mischief I found myself smiling back. "I know that things can't be like they were, but I wanna try it again, just as friends." I nodded and smiled again. Now I couldn't keep the damn thing off my face. It was contagious and all the bravado I had spent the most part of this conversation trying to build, dissolved into a gooey puddle at my feet leaving me cold and wet and vulnerable. And I didn’t like it. God damn it! I’m a grown woman now and I can’t even control my facial features around this guy. I’ve gotten softer than a marshmallow in less than five minutes... I shook my head to clear it of my erratic, not to mention ridiculous thoughts. When I looked up again, he was watching me. "You....wanna...get outta here?" He asked softly, nodding his head towards the exit of the restaurant. I took the last sip of my wine and nodded. It was raining as I followed him out to his obviously brand-spanking-new Mercedes Benz; trying to look unimpressed with what he has been able to accomplish for himself. He had come a long way from the street hustler I’d known and loved. Without a word he unlocked my door and promptly shut it when I was seated, then came around the back to his side. He turned the ignition and the engine roared; sending little rumbles through my belly. I turned my head to look at him then. His eyes were on the road ahead of us as he turned out of the restaurant parking lot and into traffic. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t analyzing things, I wasn’t reading into anything, I was just enjoying the moment, being near him again. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the seat. It felt like the end of an era and the resurrection of something majestic and beautiful all at the same time. I can’t really explain it, I more felt than saw his eyes on me. I just knew he was looking. I opened my eyes again to stare out at the fat little raindrops landing on my window and I realized something. I wanted...no, I needed this. A nice beginning to us if this is what it was....and suddenly words from a long time ago broke through the mellowed haze in my brain, words written in the tainted innocence of my youth in a journal whose pages were now yellowing: ‘I don’t know where this is taking me, but I’m looking forward to finding out.’ And I was, I really was. The End of Book One (C) Copyright Priscilla Asencio, Book One: The Wonderwall Diaries, Chapters 1-11, February 14, 2003. |