She glanced at the clock behind me on the wall as she dried her hair with a towel. "I went back to my room, not realizing you'd left." She said and came to me, smiling, confident, like the day I'd first met her. In control. The exercise did that. "Who were you talking to this early?"

            "My dad." I told her, pushing her smoothie glass toward her on the counter. She came close and lifted it. Then she took a swallow and with green froth all over her upper lip, she kissed me.

            "No, you didn't." I growled for good measure, loving her playfulness. She took the glass and sipped again, her blue eyes twinkling.

            "I did."  She said. "And I'll do it again." Then she pushed herself into my side and leaned against me while she sipped. "What did your dad have to say?"

            "Not to break your heart."

            "Were you planning to break my heart?"

            "Not in so many ways."

            She snuggled her shoulder into my chest, and sipped again, not looking at me. She smelled of chlorine. I moved some really tightly curled strands off my t-shirt. I felt a purely physical response developing.

            "But it was in the works?"

            "Tends to happen."

            "What exactly is your dad concerned about?"

            "The church and our differences."

            "I thought you weren't going to talk religion with me, ever."

            "Well, then that would be a deal breaker, wouldn't it? And I'm not ready to break this deal." I fingered her back till I undid her bra beneath the damp t-shirt. She squirmed, and moved away laughing.

            "What time are we due at the studio?"

            "Not till eleven."

            "That's a weird time. Lunch time."

            "Kareem's tied up till then."

            "Well, we could--help Macy in the garden--  she mentioned it last night to me. Or, we could play a game or--- we could go get breakfast in Whitefish, I know a place."

            "That's the one."

            She held up her glass. "Except for this...."     
             "Doesn't matter. We'll split something. A muffin."

            She set the empty glass on the counter. "Okay, you're on."

            It was a good forty minutes till she reemerged from her room, but she was a completely new girl, fresh, shiny clean and long blonde hair straight (versus curly)--- and her slender curves accentuated by a t-shirt skirt, sandals, and a blousy top... gorgeous.

            She drove, and we enjoyed the lovely scenery on the way, while singing the song I'd started them all on. We changed a few words, tried it all out, changed a couple of notes, worked on it eagerly, ready for the studio.

            She parked at a bank across the street and we jay walked over to the little hole in the wall cafe called Loula's that was in a building so old, it had once been a Masonic Lodge at the turn of the century. We had to traverse stairs, into a brick and cement interior, that was jam packed crowded, even for a Wednesday.

            And it was eccentric. Scattered paintings and photos adorned the strangely incomplete walls. The tables were old--fifties like, but not cool or anything, which made them somehow cool. The floor was hardwood, the heater vents above were exposed and painted neon colors, which did not match the other decor, and plants topped the funny glass and wood display case for their pies.

            We took a very small table next to a wall and she ordered rum cake and strawberry raspberry lemonade for us to split. Then excitedly she told me about how this was a special place her mom took all the girls in the family when they turned sixteen-- and sometimes thereafter on special get-together's. It was a secret--- but she wanted me to share it. No other guys were allowed to know.

            Her serious tension was contagious.

            I felt the mixture of her enthusiasm, and my dad's dampening reality vying for attention inside me.

            "Are you excited to go into the studio today?" Aubrey's voice was pragmatic, her eyes interested.

            "To work with your mom and your brother? Yeah."

            "They're easy to work with, believe me."

            "So, you've worked with them?"

            She looked startled. "Well, not in the studio. I don't think I've set foot in a recording studio in years."

            "But on other projects?"

            She was shaking her head. "Like Christmas calendars."

            I laughed and leaned across the little teeny table to hold her hands. I noticed that a few people were staring at us circumspectly, but it was easy to see they'd guessed identity. I was slightly disappointed, and yet, used to it.

            "Have you ever recorded?"

            "Sure... in high school, I helped out on the girl's CD's. Playing keyboards." She looked cute and whimsical, in her gauzy blouse over the sexy lace camisole beneath.

            "By girls, I assume you mean your sister's band?"

            She nodded as our food and drink was brought. She took a sip and then pushed the straw my direction, "Try it, you'll like it."

            "So today will be a new experience for you?"  I did try it, and I did like it. At least we had similar taste in food.

            "I'm not--I mean---" She sputtered just like I thought. She was hoping to avoid this topic and then bag out at the last second.

            I took a bite of the rum cake which was by far the best breakfast pastry I'd ever--ever--eaten. Melted in your mouth. I savored it, closing my eyes for a second. "Gees, that's good Aubrey." She was grinning in satisfaction.

            "I wasn't meaning to actually perform today. I'm not-- I mean-- I would hold you guys back." She said taking her own bite. Her eyes on mine were crystal clear as the sunlight above us hit them.

            "Really? You believe that?" I laughed, setting down my fork, wiping my mouth on the linen napkin.

            She shrugged. "I'm not-- I'm not industry, Rafe. I don't even speak the language."

            "But you had a lot of fun last night?"

            "I did. Like singing camp songs around the campfire in the summer."

            "You think my song's a campfire song?"

            "You should hear our campfires." She admonished and I realized their family might have slightly different campfires than most.

            I started singing again really quietly:

"If I love you today, and you make me your bae, give me your prayer, will you accept all my flaws and love me just the same?"

            She shivered. Literally shivered and narrowed her eyes, going inside somewhere, the music crawling all over her. It was astounding how it affected her so intensely. I could read it in every nerve in her body. I couldn't help singing it again.

            "I wrote it for us, Aubrey."

            She nodded, fingering my palm in shaky reaction.

            She swallowed visibly. "Are you asking me that? You said some other name last night--- Shawty or something."

            "Just a word. Means – baby. " I agreed, looking at her as intensely as I could. I squeezed her fingers.

            She was shaking her head in tiny negating jerks. "Rafe-- give you my prayer?"

            "I want to know. Is that kind of commitment in you? When things get hard, and I know they will, will you run? Will you judge me for life?"

            She looked around. "If I judge for life-- your words-- I won't ever run. Only to you, Rafe, never away. But---"

            I closed my own eyes. "Except what?"

            "I don't think you're really asking me that."

            "It's a song, right?"

            "People say things in songs they can't say otherwise, I know that." She was almost whispering, our food forgotten.

            "What if I meant the way you've run from your career?" I turned the tables on her, but shrugged incidentally congratulating myself for thinking of some other explanation and drawing attention away from myself. I knew she was going to question the line about showing her my flaws--- which I had.

            She was even more startled. "I'm not running from my career."

            "You took an indefinite leave of absence." I pointed out. "Why?"

            "Rafe!" She cried out in pain. I felt instantly sorry. I squeezed her fingers but my heart was pounding a mile a minute, I absolutely couldn't start the day out with a disagreement.

            And the terrible thought hit me--- what if this was how it was going to be? Walking on egg shells the rest of my life so as not to offend Aubrey. I let her fingers go and sat back, crossing my arms over my chest, to eye her speculatively.

            Although, I hesitated before making that judgment--- me and Ben argue all the time--- we have since we were kids. And that didn't mean the end of our relationship.

            Her eyes were hurt, and she had withdrawn from me also, so I leaned forward and tried on a little smile. I wondered if something similar was going through her head as well. Our eye contact was not successful. She was withdrawn—and therefore unaffected.

            I ate the rest of the rum cake when she shook her head at my invitation and she had some lemonade before we called it quits at Loula's.

Author's note:

There really is a Loula's in Whitefish, and it is always packed and the food is amazing.