Your Pale Blue Eyes
Your Pale Blue Eyes
Song: Linger On Your Pale Blue Eyes, by Lou Reed
Chapter 3
She woke up with the first sunlight. Unsurprisingly, she slept badly, unaccustomed to being with anyone in bed, let alone an unknown man. He was warm, almost hot and he slept soundly, holding her the entire time. Only for a moment, unconscious, she allowed herself to relax, and her arm draped over his torso, holding him close, her face pressed into his broad chest, the hair tickling her cheek softly. She felt in place, untroubled and comfortable. But the sensation did not last long. As soon as awareness entered her mind again, she jerked awake and only dozed off here and there for the remainder of the night.
When the first bird began chirping, she slipped from under him, carefully moving his leg off her legs, and finding her shoes in the dark, she padded out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house. Barefoot, she climbed into her car, started the ignition and drove away. Only later, she remembered that she did not leave him her phone number, but annoyance with herself and the situation took over and she decided that it was for the best that he could not contact her. The warmth of those pale, gold-speckled blue eyes, the amber, suntanned skin and the thick muscles of his shoulders and arms, the dampness of sweat coupled with the scent of earth and alcohol made her want to do things that she’s never thought of doing. Having been raised in a good Christian home, she was programmed to want to marry and have children, build a home with a good man and live in happiness. That scenario certainly did not include some rock singer with long hair, who drank himself into oblivion and probably had a woman in every town.
Once home, she showered and changed, and while still groggy from lack of sleep, she drove to her parents’ to go to church and then help her mother with Sunday dinner. The familiarity of church faces, songs and ritual, the hollering, stomping and juking and jiving brought her peace. She didn’t want to think of Caleb Followill, and for a few hours, she almost forgot about him. Then they were driving back to her parents’ house, all manner of relatives and friends, who came every Sunday to enjoy her mother’s cooking, and sit on the porch and slowly melt into Tennessee heat, all sweat, beer and song.
Uncle Gus gave her a dirty look, but seeing that she was present and not displaying any signs of debauchery such as tattoos and piercings after her evening with the Followills, he didn’t ask her how the night ended. For that, she was grateful.
It was twilight, the sky was purple and silver, and trees swayed heavily in the breeze.
“Gonna rain,” said her cousin Sam.
The humidity was unpleasant, thick and viscous; it made clothes stick to their bodies. She was sitting on the grass, playing dominoes with her cousins, when her father came out of the house and said,
“Pumpkin, call for you.”
Even though she’s been living alone for over seven months, many people still called her at her father’s house.
“Don’t be long!” ordered her Sam.
“I’ll be a moment,” she ran into the house and her father handed her the phone.
“Hello,” said she.
“You are a hard woman to find,” said a soft male voice. She recognised it immediately.
“How did you get this number, Caleb?”
“Well, it’s not impossible in a city this small. You left without saying goodbye.”
“You were sleeping,” she reminded him.
“True that. But you could’ve left a number.”
“I didn’t think you’d remember,”
There was a pause. From the mischievous, humorous tone, his voice morphed into a serious, but lazy drawl and he said,
“No, I remember. Can’t really forget your pale blue eyes.”
“It’s a Lou Reed song,” said she.
He paused again, but then asked, clearly surprised,
“You know Lou Reed?”
“Did you think me a honky-tonk woman? All Kenny Chesney and Trace Adkins?”
“I don’t even know what to think. You keep surprising me. Can I see you?”
“Why?”
Taken aback by the straightforward question, he was at a loss.
“You don’t want to see me?” came a quiet, hurt inquiry.
She felt bad about the abruptness of her tone and said,
“It’s not what I meant. I am just not sure that I am what you’d want, or need.”
“Can I be the judge of that?”
“I suppose.’
“I want to see you right now,” his tone was authoritarian. “Tonight.”
“I am at my Daddy’s. I can’t tonight.”
“I’ll come and pick you up.”
“Not here. I don’t think that my family will approve.”
The desire to see him was too strong for her to deny. Disbelieving her own stupidity the entire time she drove, she at last parked the car and gunned the engine.
The main street was lit up with lights. A country band was playing on an open stage and 50-60 couples two-stepped to the songs, and an impressive crowd was idling near the bars and along the shops and restaurants. The balmy night drove them outside, groups of teenagers, families, children—even at this late hour, and elderly couples. The air smelled of beer, pot, cotton candy, frying oil and cigarettes.
She walked down a gravel path and spotted him easily, sitting on a bench, alone. He was dressed simply, jeans and a white t-shirt and cowboy boots.
He spotted her too, but waited for her to approach. She stopped and he smiled a small, shy, awkward grin, and she saw his funny teeth.
“How’s you?” he asked.
“Not too bad. Yourself?”
“All good now. I like your dress. It fits…well,” he eyes sized her up and stopped on her breasts for longer than they should have. Longer not to indicate his interest. He patted the seat next to him and she sat down.
“So you called me?”
Caleb took her hand and brought it to his nose.
“Your scent stayed with me,” he said. “I like it. It’s like all strawberry and sunshine. You smell like home. Thank you for coming.”
“No problem,” she murmured, distracted by the heat of his thigh that was pressed into her knee. The white t-shirt that he wore stretched over his broad shoulders and she could see the firm ridges of his stomach through the white cotton that stuck to his skin because of the perspiration.
“Here,” he handed her a beer, while wiping the cold condensation of his bottle over his brow. “Hot evening. Gonna rain probably.”
She wiped her own bottle against her chest, realising too late that the sexual gesture made him lean closer to her, the warmth of his body making her tense and hotter yet. He took her under the arm, wrapping his hand around her palm.
“Want to go dance? That band is bad enough,” his lips stretched in a silent laugh.
She laughed along, because the band really was bad—all women, Jack Daniels, heartache and cowboys—but the melodies were pleasant.
“Can we finish this?” she raised her bottle, “and then we can dance.”
“Whatever you want,” he did not release her arm and hand from his hold, but stretched his legs out, making himself comfortable.
They talked for a while, and again he was a contradiction—confident in some ways, he was also quiet and reserved. She could definitely sense that there was a very wild, untamed part of him, but right now, it was buried deep somewhere where he did not want to reach. When he was speaking of something that annoyed him, his lower lips curled down, to the left. When he was thinking about something, or telling a story, he rubbed the corners of his mouth with his middle finger. His gentle, humorous smile obsessed her. His face was reduced to a puddle of happiness and slyness when that smile appeared, and she drunk it in, hardly even noticing what he was saying. And every time he cursed, which was often, he still insisted on excusing his bad language. She didn’t mind his bad language. In fact, she didn’t mind anything at all about him. She was completely unfamiliar with his music, and today didn’t allow the time to go on the internet and search for Kings of Leon, but it was clear to her, even from last night at the bar, that the band enjoyed a level of popularity, which was rather large. However, he did not drop any celebrity names and did not display any celebrity attitude. There was a simplicity and earnestness about him, which made her forget about his profession and his popularity. He spoke with complete, unadulterated honesty, about everything—making sarcastic comments about the passersby, about his brothers, about himself. No one was safe from the sharpness of his tongue, from his wit, and nothing went unnoticed. He told her the story of his bear claw tattoo, admitting to such extreme drunkenness that made him pass out in the tattoo shop, then vomit in a bucket and autograph it as well. The gentlest words went to his brother Nathan. She deduced that the relationship was as close as it was volatile, and that there was acute dependency between the two brothers.
“I want to dance,” he said and lifted her off the bench with one pull of his arm.
“Sweet Jesus, you are quite the dancer!” she shook her head. His arm draped over her shoulders and they walked to the stage. He was casual about everything, but the attraction that she felt for him was instant and overwhelming, and therefore, frightening. Everything from his luminous eyes, to the freckled nose, to the large hands, to the slim torso and the funny little bump on his left ear made her acutely aware of her increasing desire for him. But she played it cool when they entered the mass of dancing people and he wrapped his arm around her, pressing his hips into her belly, and resting his large, warm palm on the small of her back. The song was slow, lingering, and they swayed slowly next to each other, bumping occasionally into other dancing couples.
“It’s a nice place you picked here,” he said, looking into her eyes, his fingers threading through hers. “I remember coming here, when I was a kid, to the skating rink.”
“I used to roller skate here too!” she nodded. “And then we’d go for ice cream.”
“We never stayed in one place for too long, but this I remember well. Had my first girlfriend here. I was maybe 10-11 years old. I used to sing Boys to Men songs to her.”
She laughed.
‘You are quite the romantic! Singing to a girl?”
He huffed and shook his head vigorously.
“You’ll find out soon enough that I am not romantic at all. Leave it to Nate to wine and dine. My idea of a nice date is getting a bucket of KFC and going to a park with a girl. I have no imagination when it comes to the romantic shit.”
She looked up at him and then took a tentative step closer, so her breasts pushed into his chest, and then she murmured,
“Well, this is quite romantic for me.”
For a moment, there was seriousness in his movement, as he embraced her gently, protectively and then lowered his face to hers. She thought that he was going to kiss her, and the memory of last night’s drunk, soft peck, the taste of his lips and the way they fluttered around hers, sent chillbumps across her skin, but he only pressed his forehead to her forehead and said sincerely,
“This is romantic for me too.”
She put her hand on the back of his neck and held him to her face, watching him watch her.
“You are not like the girls that I am used to,” he said.
“What kind of girls?”
“Ahhh, shit, you probably don’t have to hear about them. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.”
He looked up at the black sky, where the moon struggled to penetrate through the thick cover of clouds. A gust of wind swept over them and ruffled her hair. He breathed in deeply and then looked back at her, smiling.
“This is a different world here. I’d like to leave it this way,” he decided and then pushed the mussed lock of her hair off her face and over her shoulder. “Can I get you anything? A burger? Ice cream?”
“Cotton candy,”
“Cotton candy it is.”
He led her by the hand away from the stage, and it seemed to her that there was a moment, when he had held her, when a shadow of desire had passed his face, that he had become scared of something.
“Caleb,” she squeezed his hand and slowed down. He turned and looked at her,
“Yeah?”
A blush spread over her face, but her voice was firm and strong, and she covered his hand with hers and stood there.
“You don’t ever have to be anything with me other than yourself. I…well, I’ll take you the way you are.”
“Don’t say that,” he cut her off, “don’t. You don’t know me.’
“I think I know enough,” she insisted. There was boldness in her posture, in her voice, that he clearly didn’t expect. “I don’t care what you do with your groupies…you got them, don’t you?”
“They are gross. But I’ve had them. I’ve had some crazy times.”
“Fine. You were young, and you went for it, and whatever happened, happened. I really don’t care about your life outside here. But here, in this place, I can definitely have you…if you want me,” and then her shyness returned and her eyes fell to the ground.
“Here,” he handed her a stick wrapped in pink and blue cotton candy. Pinching off the top, he popped it in his mouth and swallowed it. She accepted the cotton candy and tore a piece, offering it to him. He grasped it with his lips from her fingers and she tried to suppress a shiver, when his mouth made contact with her fingertips.
He put his arm around her shoulders and they walked down the main street, in silence at first, feeding each other cotton candy. Then, without looking at her, lower lip curling downward, he said,
“It’s like this…I don’t want to mess up your life. When I am on the road, I am a different person, and when I come back here, it takes me a while to return to normal. You don’t need to be dealing with all my issues. I could be an asshole. In fact, very frequently, I am a big asshole and as you saw yesterday, even my brothers can’t deal with me. I drink. More than I should. But if I don’t drink, I can’t write songs. So I have to drink, and I like it too, but you don’t need to be dealing with my drunk ass every night. Sometimes I think that I am okay, but then I am also a pretty fucked up guy. And there are a lot of women and temptations on the road, and none of it makes me any better.
“So you should run, while you still can,” he chucked, but humorlessly and tensely.
She allowed her arm to slip around him, feeling the firmness of his body against her.
“I don’t want to run. I rather like it here. And I like you as well.”
He glanced at her, and grasped her head, pushing it into his shoulder. It was cool and tinged with the scent and dampness of his sweat.
“But the problem is, I like you too.” He said, “From the get go I liked you, when I saw you at the store. And you’ve been on my mind ever since, and believe me, it doesn’t happen often that I think of a girl for this long. But then when you never came to Eager Beaver and I had absolutely no way of ever reaching you, I thought that maybe it was good, because then I didn’t have the chance to mess with your life. But now you are here, and I don’t want to let you go.”
A fat drop of rain fell on her nose. She swapped it and Caleb laughed.
“Like I said, here it is!”
They stood still for a moment, waiting, heads thrown back. A few more drops fell on the ground and the festivities around them slowed.
“It’s going to hit big,” he whispered, and then, surprising her, he leaned in and softly pressed his lips to her throat. His hand gently held the back of her neck and he kissed her all along the column of her throat, up to her cheek. She stood still, feeling his lips on her skin, and how he paused, pressing his mouth to her pulsating vein, listening for her rapid heartbeat.
“Caleb,”
He pulled away and gave an awkward smile,
“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. It looked too good.”
He grabbed her hand and said,
“Now we run, before we are soaked.”
The rain began in earnest. It was a sudden downpour that covered them, the ground, the tables, the rapidly-closing stalls, the emptying stage, and the stands. Caleb pulled her behind him, as he skillfully navigated around stalls, lamp posts, bushes and flower beds. At once, he pulled her under an awning of some store that was already closed.
“You are soaked through,” he muttered, shaking his head, seeing her dress sticking wetly to her body. She shivered. The cold rain instantly brought her temperature down.
He tsk’ed and then wondered,
“What to do, what to do?”
“What do you want to do?” she asked, “Just wait,”
Gently, but with practiced assurance, he clasped her hands together and held her wrists, slowly bringing her arms above her head. Instinctively, she stepped back and leaned against the wall. Her breasts rose and fell heavily and deep pink colour spread all over her cheeks and neck, as she looked into his darkening blue eyes, no as pale as they usually were. His body towered over hers, as his hips pushed into hers, and she felt his hip bones against her stomach. The beautiful face hovered next to hers, chin brushing against her chin, cheeks sliding over her forehead and hair, until at last the full lower lip passed her mouth and the tongue licked her lips briefly. The simple gesture made her so lightheaded, she buckled against him, but the strength of his body supported her against the wall. Hot breath, still tasting a little of sweet spun sugar of cotton candy, washed over her mouth and he pressed his lips to hers, taking a surely, fiery possession of her mouth with ease and impatience. His large hand squeezed her wrists tighter, while another hand slid against her body, feeling her neck and shoulder and then cupping one of her full generous breasts, before giving it a gentle, exploratory squeeze. Her nipple shot up against his palm, and he fondled her through the wet material of her dress. Her breasts strained against his hand and his chest, crushed by his strength, as his mouth explored hers with a sensual urgency, eager to posses more and more of her with each moment. Her breath came in shallow and quick, as she panted into his lips, kissing him hungrily, unable to get enough of his mouth, with his tongue tasting of cigarettes and beer and sugar. He licked on her, the bristles on his upper lip scratching her tender skin, his breath stalling in her throat as he reached into her and she felt the pressure of his hips and his bulge against her stomach.
A couple running past them laughed and the man threw something inappropriate, while the woman suggested that they “get a room”!
Caleb pulled away and that disarming, shy smile lightened his face and he released her arms, which fell promptly around his neck. He cupped her face in his hand and then kissed her softly, tenderly again, all over her face and on her lips. She stroked the back of his head, smiling and kissing him back, not wanting to be released from his embrace, not wanting to part with his lips, not wanting his hands to let go of her waist and her cheek.
“You are beautiful, girl,” he marveled, as his thumbs brushed her eyelids and his lips touched her ears and cheeks.
“So are you,” she said, smiling.
He chuckled.
“But when you smile like that,” he continued, “you are better than anything else!”
He kissed her again and decided,
“Tomorrow, I am taking you on a proper date. To a nice restaurant. I’ll be wining and dining you,”
“I thought you didn’t believe in wining and dining?” she reminded him.
“You made me change my mind. Now, let me take you to your car. Before I do something stupid…”
She felt the heat emanating from him, and the pressure of his member became more pronounced next to her belly. Insanely, she thought that she wouldn’t even mind him taking her here, right this moment. In public, next to this brick wall. The rough bricks already scraped her arms and elbows, when he pushed a little too hard into her and grasped her hands roughly. But she could feel her bottom moulding against the wall, propped by the force of his hips, as her spine flattened against the cool stones. Her pelvis pushed upwards, meeting his engorged penis through the material of her dress and his jeans. His light blue eyes darkened, and while he talked about escorting her to the car, he didn’t release her from his gripping embrace. She bud her forehead into his neck and then smelled his skin, before pressing her mouth to his rough, bristly skin, shuddering from the sensation of pleasure that rolled over her entire body. Her teeth involuntarily closed on the sensitive spot between his shoulder and neck, and she bit him softly.
“Caleb,” she murmured, but he interrupted and stepped away. She thought that he was upset and looked up at him, her gaze a mixture of anticipation, fright and desire.
“No,” he shook his head. “Not the neck.”
“Sorry, you don’t like it,”
“No,” he interrupted again, “I like it too much. So please stop.”
He kissed her tendely on the lips, extending the kiss until both of them were breathless, placating her successfully. His hands slipped beneath the skirt of her dress and stroked her thigh, sliding under the thin cotton of her underwear and cupping her bottom.
“I take it you havent done this before?” he whispered.
She blushed, but thought that lying would be childish and silly. So she shook her head. He sighed and repeated,
“Never? With no one?”
“Never is never,” she noted. “And with no one.”
A smile touched his lips. It was pleased and happy.
“Got me a virgin, huh,” he chuckled.
“You aint got yourself nothing yet,” she reminded him.
“True that.”
He released her and then stuck his head from under the awning.
“Not too bad. Just drizzling now. I think if we hurry, I’ll get you to your car before the next cloud comes this way.”
She smoothed her dress down, and brought her breathing down to a more acceptable level, before taking his hand and emerging from under the awning. They walked back, watching other couples pop out from stores and from under tree canopies, soaked just like they were.
“So tomorrow?” he repeated, clearly eager for her to agree. “I’ll pick you up.”
“Tomorrow,” she nodded. Her agreement made him visibly happy.
He pulled her head to him and kissed her hair.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he shrugged.
“That ridiculous shirt that you wore last night, yellow, with red roosters…what’s that about?”
“I like that shirt!” he exclaimed defensively. “I perform in it all the time,”
“Perform in that stupid shirt?” she exclaimed. “How could you?”
“You’ve got some smart mouth on you.”
“But why roosters? It’s so weird.”
“It’s because it’s my nickname. Rooster. After Rooster Cogburn,”
“From that John Wayne movie?”
“Yes.”
“Why is that you nickname?”
“Because when I get fucked up, I get fucked up. To complete delirium. And I turn into the biggest fucking asshole that there is. I say horrible things to people. I behave like a prick. I fall over tables. I say things that probably should never be said. I am a nasty drunk. There is a point when I am a happy drunk, I make jokes and everyone enjoys me. But then I cross the line, and it aint pretty no more. And the next morning, I don’t remember any of it, because I am a blackout drinker.
“I warned you, girl. I am not pleasant at all, most of the time. I am the most negative person out there.”
He stopped, his hand squeezing her fingers almost painfully, his own knuckles white with tension.
“Leave, while it’s not too late. Because it will hurt more when you find the real me and leave then. I wouldn’t be so keen on letting you go then.”
She stepped towards him and wrapped her available arm around his neck.
“Stop talking, will you?” she asked.
He laughed.
“The woman has spoken,” he chuckled.
“The woman has spoken. Now, I am not going anywhere. Besides, I have all these opportunities to go to nice restaurants and to ride around in your Lexus. Why would I leave you?”
He was laughing again. The girl before him was real and she didn’t mince her words. With just about anyone else, he might have suspected that they wanted him exactly for those reasons—presitge, money, travel. With her, he didn’t see any ulterior motive. He cupped her face between his palms and kissed her mouth. Then his firm, tanned arms wrapped around her and he rocked her against his body. A concerning thought rushed through her head—what if she will leave him one day? Would he make it? He became so attached to her, so rapidly and deeply, that breaking it off would devastate him, and she couldn’t see it in herself to cause him profound pain.
“So which one is yours?” he nodded towards the parked cars. He pointed to her Honda and clicked the key. The doors opened automatically. He opened it for her, but she didn’t get it, reluctant to part with him. He put his hands on the roof of the car, keeping her between his arms.
“Caleb…”
He tensed, visibly. Perhaps all his warnings finally worked and she had made her decision.
“You are a good man,” she said softly. “And like I promised before, I’ll take you as you are. Because to me, you are very…to me, you are perfect. And in turn, you can have all this,” she made a wide gesture with her hand, running it along her body, “whenever you want it. If you want it. However you want it. Because that’s just how it is. Sometimes, the choice is very simple.”
She swiped her hand over his face and got in the car. He closed the door. She started the engine and pulled away. He stood still, watching her car drive away, not wanting to part with the sight of her pale, blue eyes.
