Only on Tuesdays

It was nearly nine o'clock, I figured, as I watched the sun descend behind the trees. "Do you think she's going to show?" I asked the birds that had gathered around me, but none of them knew the answer.

A bird that had perched on my knee leaned in to examine the daisies in my hand. "No, buddy," I said, sticking a cracker in its beak. It bit down, and cracker crumbs rained down over my leg. A few other birds swooped in to claim them. I held the flowers out of the way. "These are for someone else."

For the second time, I heard the soothing sounds of Lorraine's guitar. As dark as it was, Lorraine could not be missed. She was perched on a bench on the other side of the park, her hair falling expertly around her face as she strummed. I waved the birds away, dropping the last of my crackers to the ground. Lorraine watched me approach, still effortlessly creating music. I dropped all but one of my daisies into Lorraine's guitar case and tucked the last one carefully behind her ear. She smiled, her caramel eyes shining, and played the last note of her song.

Picking the bouquet from her case as she placed the guitar in it, Lorraine said, "My, these are lovely."

"I'm glad you like them," I said. "I've spent all day picking the very best ones."

"I ought to get them into a vase right away, but I'm not sure I want to leave just yet."

"It's no problem," I insisted. "I'll walk you."

She smiled. "I'd like that, thank you."

As we walked in silence, the breeze picked up and assailed the exposed skin around Lorraine's dress. She shivered, and I draped my jacket over her shoulders. While she was adjusting it, I took her guitar from her and almost dropped it.

"Damn!" I exclaimed, trying to get a better grip on the handle. "What have you got in here—a dead body?"

"Of course not!" Lorraine shouted. "It'd never fit, unless I broke all its bones beforehand."

I laughed and handed the guitar case back to her. She snatched it quickly and carried it as if it were weightless. "Really, what's in that case?" I asked.

Lorraine opened her mouth as if to speak, and in that instant, a raindrop fell into it. We laughed, but not for long, as it was pouring within seconds.

"Oh, dear," Lorraine exclaimed, sheltering her daisies inside my jacket. "We'd better hurry; come on." All of a sudden, she started running.

Despite the fact that I was not the one carrying a heavy guitar case, I struggled to keep up with her, afraid I might lose her. Luckily, she kept laughing, and her laugh was unmistakable.

After four blocks, she stopped and stood under a hotel's canopy, set down her guitar, and checked to make sure her flowers were okay.

I stepped under the canopy and ran a hand through my hair to push the wet strands out of my eyes. "We should get out of here," I suggested to Lorraine. "Places like this don't like people like me hanging around."

"Actually," Lorraine began, "this is where I'm staying. I didn't want you to know that..." she trailed off.

"That you're from out of town?" I asked.

"I'm not from anywhere," she corrected me. "I'm homeless."

"Why would you think that would matter to me?"

She shrugged. "I guess it doesn't."

"How can you afford to stay in a place like this if you're homeless?" I asked.

"What I can and can't afford varies from day to day," she answered. "I can't stay in one place for very long, so I travel, sleeping on the streets until I can afford a room."

"Well," I said, gesturing to the pouring rain, "you picked the perfect night to stay in a hotel." Studying her, I noticed that Lorraine's eyes reflected the moonlight more beautifully than even the moon could. Somehow she appeared different to me than when I first saw her—more mature and wise—though no less majestic. I watched the way her bottom lip quivered, the cold air chilling her face. She didn't move away as I stepped closer. I wrapped my arms around her small waist and leaned in, as slowly as possible, reading Lorraine's face for anything that might suggest disapproval. I detected none, but at the last second, shifted my kiss onto her cheek instead. "Sleep well," I whispered into her ear.

Then I quickly stalked off, not wanting to know how upset I had made her.

"Wait, Axel!" Hearing her feet splash through the fallen rain, I turned just in time to catch her as she hurled herself at me. I lost my balance and fell into a large puddle, and Lorraine landed on top of me, but she didn't get up. She pressed her lips to mine with such intensity that I forgot everything—where I was, who I was—and only knew her.

It was when she stopped that I remembered. "Sorry," she apologized. "Are you all right?"

"I'm no one," I said, and she frowned. "I'm no one and you're perfect. I should go." I stood up, but the pain in my ankle forced me to my knees.

Lorraine gasped. "What is it?"

"Nothing," I lied. "I twisted it. I'll be fine." Knowing what to expect this time, I gritted my teeth as I got to my feet. I tested my ankle, putting as much weight on it as I could bear. I thought I might have broken it, but I wasn't going to tell Lorraine that. Slowly but surely, I could make it back to the park. "Good night, Lorraine."

"Please," she begged, her voice heavy with desperation. I glanced at her and saw tears welling up in her eyes. I winced as they stung my heart. "Don't go. At least come up and dry off. Wait for the rain to let up a bit. Just a while longer."

Even disregarding my own will, I could argue no longer, for although my arguments were on behalf of Lorraine's own good, nothing in the world would ever be the same until she smiled again.

Without words, I allowed Lorraine to take me up to her hotel room.



All the while I walked through the hotel with Axel at my side, I tried to blame each past, present, and future nanosecond on my compassion, but I knew deep down that something much more powerful had taken over. As reluctant as I was to admit it, I needed Axel more than he needed me.

Leaning my guitar against the wall in my room, it occurred to me that, for the first time in a long time, I was living spontaneously, every minute a mystery. Though I could not dispute that it was a terrible, stupid idea to prolong my exposure to any one person, I feared that I was enjoying it too much to control myself.

"Why don't you take a shower?" I suggested, looking down as I began to feel increasingly, unusually shy. "You smell like... wet hobo."

I heard him laugh, and I smiled, but I could not look up. "That would probably be wise," he agreed.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him slowly enter the bathroom. As soon as the door closed behind him, I exhaled deeply, as though it could make everything go back to normal, and the man in my bathroom could become nothing but an odd hallucination. But I heard the shower turn on, and just like that, my dream of dreams was shattered.

I perched on the edge of my bed and peeled the soggy dress from my body. I allowed the air to dry my skin for a few seconds before remembering that I wasn't alone, then put on some comfortable silk pajamas.

I ambled into the kitchen and caught sight of Axel's bouquet of daisies on the table. I found a vase-like jar, filled it with water, and carefully arranged the daisies into it. As I inspected them, I realized how much lovelier they were than I had originally noticed. Each petal was absolutely flawless in shape and color, not one bent even the slightest out of place, despite the manner in which I had treated them. I pulled the one from behind my ear and added it to the bouquet. Because of its size, it was the most prominent of the flowers. I thought that it was far too beautiful to be picked from the ground and tucked behind my ear. It was very flattering to think that Axel hadn't.

Just as his name crossed my mind, he stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in one of the fuzzy white bathrobes that came with the room.

"These things are even more comfortable than they look," he told me, smiling crookedly.

I laughed and took the wet clothes from his hands. "I'll drape these over the heater so they dry."

I hung Axel's clothes slowly and meticulously over the heater. When I had finished, I stood uncertainly over the perfectly placed clothing, as if trying to postpone some unperceived catastrophe.

It seemed like forever had passed (and I would have known) before I entered the bedroom, but Axel hadn't gone anywhere. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching me with a feeble expression that I couldn't correctly name. As I came to sit next to him, his eyes shifted away. We sat for several seconds in silence, looking at everything and anything but one another.

At some point, I lost all control of my body. It was as if another person had taken over and left me completely helpless. I hadn't realized it until I had taken his hand in mine. At that gesture, our eyes met. We watched something stir inside both of us, something ancient and inescapable. I found myself yearning to say something to him, but I had lost all concept of speech. No words came out of my open mouth, only a small, pitiful moan.

Gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, Axel leaned toward me, ever so gradually, and pressed his lips to mine. He flooded me in passionate kisses as we tumbled into the satin comforter. His hands explored my upper body beneath my blouse, and, one by one, the buttons slid easily out of the grasp of the silky fabric. A small voice in the back of my mind—the voice of reason—implored him to stop, but it was eternally silenced by the greedy screams for more of my body's every cell.