The Erotic Haunting of Miriam

Miriam surveyed the chaos in her living room with dismay. How was she going to get all of this organized and packaged and wrapped up in to neat little boxes all properly labeled and ready for the movers to load up into their truck and move her into her new home, her new life, her new fresh start on living? It seemed like such the right thing to do at the time. Now that the gruesome task of packing was upon her she was beginning to have second doubts.

With a sigh she sat down on the leather sofa and looked out onto the vista of the city spread out below her. Nine years ago, it was this city that drew her, like a moth to a flame it was impossible for her to resist its call. It was so vibrant so full of life and verve. She fancied she could feel its very pulse, coursing in the payment, beating out a crazed rhythm like a tribal drum. Everything was happening here, everything was wide awake and still dreaming.

However, Miriam felt as though she had lost the dream. In less than a decade, she had become jaded. The rush and scurry was no longer exhilarating but merely tiring; the pulsing had become an endless throb. The cool blues and grays of the city that had captured her imagination had now turned too washed out colors; shiftless and meaningless. The city had become a hunting ground, the tribal beat was a war drum, and she was beginning to feel a lot like the prey.

A knock at the door brought her out of her musing. With out waiting to be invited Loren poked his bleached blond head in.

\"You look like you haven\'t gotten shit done, girl!\" he said with out preamble.

\"And I won\'t if you stand out there in the corridor all day!\" Miriam dryly remarked. \"Come in, come in you can help me pack.\"

\"I don\'t remember volunteering to help,\" he demurred as he came in, making his entrance like an actor stealing a scene. He always had a way of drawing attention to him, he fed on it.

Loren\'s pants clung to his thighs in bright crimson and black swirls that were as cheerful as his infectious grin. A white tuxedo shirt stretch across his broad shoulders, the cuffs undone and open at the neck.

Miriam chucked as she gave him the once over. \"Perhaps you\'re not dressed for packing, but you\'ll still do!\"

\"I am dressed and ready for anything, sister!\" he winked at her. \"You sure you really want to move south?\" he asked. \"I\'ll have to dodge the homophobes to visit you! Seriously, girl, why are you moving down there? You\'re not running from Greg, are you?\"

\"No, well maybe a little, but it\'s more than just Greg, it\'s everything. I don\'t know how to explain it. I just feel different. I feel exhausted, flat, and nothing is new anymore, nothing is fresh.\"

\"Like you\'re all used up on the inside,\" he said with understanding in his voice.

Miriam nodded, and turned to look out at the city again, her green eyes staring out into the distance. Loren came and sat on the couch and slipped his arms around her. She leaned her body back into his, her head resting on his shoulder. It was a friendly embrace, like a brother; Loren was a calm comforting friend who comprehended with out needing words to tell her so.

\"Well, I guess I can understand that,\" he said. \"You can\'t paint if there is nothing left inside you to paint. But why so far?\"

\"You know the old saying \'you can never go home again\'?\" Miriam asked. \"Well I think it\'s all wrong. I think you can go home again. Sometimes you have to go home again, go back to your roots, where you began, to find what motivated you in the first place. When everything else goes wrong, you go back to the beginning and start over.\"

\"Has everything gone wrong for you?\" Loren asked. \"Most people would think you had the world on a string. Your work is in every gallery from here to Paris, your nudes have taken the art world by storm and everyone wants you. You do what you love for a living, how many people can claim that?\"

\"Everything will go wrong if I can not paint again,\" she said softly.

\"You\'ll paint again. You couldn\'t stop even if you wanted to, it\'s who you are; if you did my gallery would go under. You wouldn\'t want that to happen, now would you?\"

Miriam laughed at his lighthearted tease, \"Always thinking about your self, Lor, I should have known. And here I thought you came over to cheer me up! All you really wanted was to make sure I didn\'t skip out on you with out promising you first choice of any new work I may paint!\"

Loren\'s eyes twinkled, \"I knew I could get a smile out of you some how!\" he teased.

Miriam\'s gaze softened, and she said, \"Thanks Loren, I really did need a smile.\" Then returning his embrace said, \"Oh I am so going to miss you. Of all the people you are the one I\'m gong to miss the most.\"

He planted a kiss on the top of her red curls, \"I know honey, and don\'t worry. I\'ll come visit you often. So much that you\'ll wonder how are you going to get rid of me? Now let\'s gets busy. \"

Given him one more playful squeeze Miriam and Loren began the momentous task of packing. Though Miriam was sad to be leaving her beloved city her mind often drifted off back to the south and she wondered how the remolding on her new house was going. It was in such a ramshackle condition when she saw it first that she felt it would take the workers forever to bring it up to its former glory. But she had talked to the Contractor just last week and he said it was already livable again and should be done in a few more weeks.