Saved By Your Love

8. Wishing and Waiting

One month later...

Michael's POV

Sheri and I's friendship blossomed like flowers in Spring. We stayed in touch over the phone and I'd call her every night. We often got carried away or caught up in our conversation, and neither of us would realize how late it had gotten. I'd feel bad about keeping her up but she always said that she was glad to talk, that I was worth losing out on sleep for. She made me feel like a human being; she treated me like one and that's all I've ever wanted.

Sheri brightened my days; a friendly voice might have been just what I needed to get over Diana, who still lingered like a fine, slow-burning cigarette nearly at its end, about to become ash remnants. It confused me because I found myself falling for Sheri at the same time. I always wanted to be around her, where it felt safe, like nothing bad could ever happen.

I was, without a doubt, much more talkative with Sheri on the phone. The conversations we had were never boring. Sheri loved to crack jokes and respond to my questions with her sharp tongue and witty sarcasm. I loved listening to her long, rambling stories...she was the ray of sunshine I needed in my life. I found out a lot about her: of her colorful mixed heritage—her mother's side have roots in Kenya and her father, although American, is of German descent. She's lactose intolerant, her birthday is on the tenth of December and a place she'd like to visit more than anywhere in the world is Italy, where many of her favorite plays are set.

We were talking on the phone late one night as usual, the conversation flowed smoothly and naturally like the purest of streams.

"If you could have any career in the world, what would you do?" I asked her.

"Easy. Actress. Put me on stage, put me on screen—I don't care; I just wanna act."

My mind wandered as I thought of the next question. "What's your favorite Shakespeare play?"

She answered almost instantly, "A Midsummer Night's Dream. Never gets old."

"I have a request,"

"Hit me."

"Would you act out a scene for me?"

"Michael, forget a scene; I'll put on a whole damn show for you," she laughed, "I'll even teach you as a bonus."

"What's the catch?"

"Ain't no catch," she innocently said, although her giggles gave her away, "alright, kidding. You gotta teach me how to dance like you."

"I'll teach you how to dance. I'll even dance with you."

"What's the catch?" she challenged, and I pictured her smirk.

"No catch," I replied truthfully, followed by a shifting sound on her line. "What are you doing?" I casually asked.

"Taming raptors," she joked. "Kidding. I'm in bed. Where else would I be a one-thirty in the morning?"

"Oh my God, it's that late?"

"Unless my clock's telling me lies," she yawned, "you busy tomorrow?"

"Oh boy. I might head back to my manager Frank's place after I'm done at the studio."

Or we'd shop for records. I saw Frank almost everyday once the recording went firmly underway. I avoided it for so long, darting back and forth between other projects like Captain EO and working on short films first. Eventually, it all caught up with me and I was walking on a tightrope, with very little time to get everything done by the summer.