"Because Michael, I do not love you for who you are and the things you do, but I love you for who I am, when I am with you."

I wasn’t sure if he’d understand what I had meant. But the moment I said it I knew that every word was true. I had fought with him about everything, but I still loved him, even after all these years. I had never even understood myself how, if he had screwed up so many times and made me cry, every time he pushed me from his life, how I could love him?

But, now I knew, I knew it was how I felt every time he was near, it was how I couldn’t even be mad at him or anything when he was looking at me. It was how everything was right with the world when I was in his arms. When I was with him I felt anything was possible, I was just happier. It was hard to explain.

I had expected Michael to react some how, even if he didn’t understand. Every time the word love was involved, something happened. Maybe I had expected him to run, or scream, or just to scare at me, but never in my life would I have expected him to do what he did, cry. Yes real tears fell from his eyes, his shoulders heaved with each sob and the sounds of his breathing echoed off the walls of the small apartment.

I just hugged him to me and he excepted the embrace. He laid his head on my chest while I stroked his hair. I was reminded of all the times he ha comforted me, and all the times he hadn’t. I couldn’t understand how my simple words could have caused such a reaction or maybe I did.

After the life that Michael had had, love was something that seemed…impossible, I guess. The only other people he had ever counted on, Isabel and Max and maybe even Liz and Alex had left. Well, Max hadn’t but I wondered how many times Max told Michael he loved him. Hank had beaten him and told him he was worthless until Michael began to believe it. I guess if you are told everyday you’re a piece of shit, then you are a piece of shit, in you mind. Even if it’s far from the truth. I had left him, after he himself had told me to leave, which probably made him feel worse.. then Liz and Alex left. Even Nasedo left him, and Isabel. He must have felt horrible. No one should feel that way, not even an annoying, rude, distant space boy. No, not even Michael deserved that kind of treatment, especially not Michael.

This is what ran through my mind while I held this man, crying like a frightened boy, in my arms. Finally I worked up the courage to say something. "Michael, it’s ok, I’m here, it’ll be ok."

"Promise me you’ll never leave me," he sobbed, pulling his head up to look at me, like he expected me to say no. Looking into those gorgeous eyes, glistening with tears, how could I?

"I promise, I promise I will never leave your side. I will never leave you alone, not ever."

"You know, Maria," he said, wiping the tears from his cheeks, trying to regain composure. "You were the only person who told me they loved me."

"What about Isabel?" I knew she must have said it, he probably didn’t remember.

"No, she said she needed me, she said she’d be there for me and that she cared for me, but never that she loved me. You, you were the only one. And I love you for that. I cry cause I never thought I’d here you say it again, I thought I had lost you, that no one could love me enough to hold onto it for so long, not the same as I could for them. I love you Maria."

Now it was my turn to cry. But strangely there were no tears. All I wanted to do was smile, smile so wide the whole world could see how happy I was. I guess my eyes had had enough after ten years. I guess it was time for a change."

I looked at him, the smile still filling my face. I saw a smile start to form on his face too, with those perfect lips. Before his smile finished, I leaned in and kissed him, ready for whatever consequences it might bring. I was finally ready for Michael Guerin.

~~~~~~~~

The next morning I awoke in his bed, the spot next to me empty. For a fleeting moment I thought maybe even after all he had said that he couldn’t go through with it. But as I said the moment was fleeting. The aroma of pancakes reached my nostrils drowning out the stupid thought.

I looked at the clock. It read 9:00. "Shit," I muttered but apparently it was louder than I thought cause Michael came running in, holding a spatula.

"What?" he said.

"I’m late," I replied, "I was supposed to be at the funeral parlor, now."

"Well get that little ass of yours moving then," he said, patting me on the behind with the spatula as I ran out of the room looking for my dress.

"Hey," I yelled. "You don’t expect me to eat those pancakes NOW do you?’ Michael just laughed.

I hopped into my dress, grabbed my purse and car keys and ran from the apartment. "I’ll be there in a bit," I heard Michael yell out the door as I stumbled down the hall, trying to put my heels on while I ran. When I got to the funeral parlor, I flipped down the sun visor and looked at my self. I was glowing, not literally, what a time for that to have happened. No I just mean I looked good even with the lack of sleep, the fact that I had taken no shower and put on no makeup. I flipped the visor back up, raked my fingers through my hair, put on some lip gloss, and hurried up the steps.

"Sorry I’m late," I apologized to Mr. Cambridge.

"It’s all right. We allow time for lateness. The viewing doesn’t begin until ten o’clock, but we want the relatives here early to give us their opinion on flowers and stuff."

"I thought that was why I hired you. I don’t care what the flowers look like, I just want to bury my mother." I don’t know why I snapped like that. I had been feeling fine all morning, in fact I had been fine through the whole thing. I guess I finally realized, my mother was dead. I mean I had known, but it was just now that I KNEW. And suddenly I felt tired, weak, and empty, completely empty. "I’m sorry," I said, a well of tears clogging my throat.

"It’s all right, some people just want to be a part of it, some don’t. I should have asked."

"Is there somewhere I can wait until ten?" I asked.

"Yes. Right through these doors." Mr. Cambridge led me through large wooden double doors that opened into a room full of chairs. Some one else was there. "You can wait here with the sheriff until then. We can come and get you."

The sheriff? I opened my mouth to ask it I could go somewhere else, but Mr. Cambridge was already closing the door. Well, at least he didn’t turn around or anything. I was just so happy to have somewhere to collapse.

I still didn’t want to see the sheriff. I didn’t acknowledge him, he didn’t acknowledge me. It was ok. Still I wondered what I would say to him later. Would he think I shouldn’t be here, that I had betrayed my mother by not coming back all these years? I know she talked about it with him. I sat down in the back, knowing I’d have to face up to it sometime, after all he had been my mother’s husband. But now was definitely not the time.

After what seemed like hours I heard the door creak behind me. Expecting it to be the director I turned around and started to get out of my seat. Imaging my surprise when I was staring straight at Michael’s chest and a plate of pancakes instead of the short little man in the tux. I just fell back in my chair.

"How you doing?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

"Well I was feeling pretty crappy, but now you’re here," I saw the sheriff turn around to see what all the commotion was about. But I didn’t care who was in the room, it could have been the queen of England herself and I would have carried on just the same.

"Here’s breakfast. You left in such a hurry." To show my thanks I placed a soft kiss on his lips as I grabbed the plate from his grip. He slipped his head to the side, "What’s he doing here, I mean the sheriff?" he whispered in my ear.

"He WAS my mother’s husband."

"I know, but…" I didn’t want to be reminded, so to shut him up I kissed him again. In the middle of the kiss the director walked in. He cleared his throat trying to catch our attention. "It’s time."

Michael, the sheriff and I rose from our seats in unison. The sheriff followed Mr. Cambridge our of the room, his eyes focused on some point straight ahead. Michael grasped my hand and laced his fingers through mine. "You ready?" he smiled unsurely.

"Ready as I’ll ever be."

***