Chapter 5 - Who Thinks to Ask “How Old is Love”?

Mike stared at the car. There was definitely something missing. He had his keys, he had his guitar…what else did he need? This wasn’t going to be just another drive, he could tell that much, but what would make it really special?

He ended up heading to Georgia’s house with a full picnic basket nestled in the backseat next to the guitar. He only hoped that Georgia would take to the idea.

Georgia was the one who answered the door when Mike knocked.

“Good morning, Michael,” she smiled.

“Hi, Georgia,” Mike replied a little nervously, “Ready to go?”

Georgia nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

They drove out of the town and past countless farms and acres of tall, green plants. Mike kept glancing sideways at Georgia, who was watching the scenery go by with a half-smile on her face. She seemed to be lost in her own world, and Mike didn’t attempt to make conversation because of that. He knew all about creativity and how inspirations played out in his own mind, and he definitely didn’t want to interrupt that in somebody else.

He finally stopped the car near a wide, deserted field dotted with wild flowers and reached in the backseat for the picnic basket. Georgia looked away from the window and watched him for a minute.

“I thought we’d have some lunch,” Mike explained lamely, getting out of the car and walking around to open Georgia’s door for her.

She got out and looked up at him. “There’s another reason we’re here,” she stated.

“Do you ever stop doin’ that?” Mike asked, setting the basket down and spreading a tablecloth on the ground to set the picnic out on.

“No,” Georgia replied, sitting down, “Because it’s true, isn’t it?”

Mike looked up from the basket. There was no reason to lie. “Yeah.”

Silence again. That seemed to be the prominent thing when the two of them were together, Mike thought as he finished unpacking the food. Yet more seemed to go on in it than just the avoidance of conversation. Even when she wasn’t speaking, Georgia’s eyes were always moving, looking around, taking things in. After a while, Mike felt like his soul was being searched.

“Michael?” Georgia addressed him suddenly.

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to you about something?” The question was so sincere that Mike agreed instantly.

“All right,” he said, handing her a bag of rolls and opening various packets of lunchmeat, “What about?”

“I’ve been thinking about what I said last night,” Georgia began, setting the rolls aside, “And…well, I think you’d understand.”

“Understand what?” Mike wasn’t sure how to prepare himself for the conversation, because he had no idea what to expect.

“Michael, I hate living in this town,” Georgia repeated the previous night’s sentiment, “I can’t stand it. I’m shut into a stereotype. Everyone treats me like my father’s daughter. I love Daddy, I do, but somehow that makes me seem fragile. People treat me like I’m going to break if they do one wrong thing. In their eyes, I’m a daddy’s girl.

“And then there are my looks! Sometimes I just can’t stand being pretty. It’s all people see. If I’m not the fragile little girl, I’m the pretty face, and that’s it. Don’t think I don’t know what Nolan told you about me. He’s just another one of them, another one who looks at what I am on the outside and doesn’t bother to get to know me. Sometimes I just…I just want to disappear…” Georgia trailed off, biting her lip and looking away.

Mike couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Here was this girl who had seemed to be content to live inside her own head and to look into other people’s thoughts, saying that nobody really knew her. What’s more, Mike could understand exactly where she was coming from. Ever since the Monkees had become famous, he had felt like all anybody looked at was the smiling face on the TV and the witty humor, never the people behind it. It was a very claustrophobic lifestyle.

“I…I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

“Don’t be,” Georgia shook her head, “Please, don’t be. Because you’re different, Michael. You can see.” She turned her deep gaze back to him. “You look at me and see more than my face, I know you do. I can feel it. I wish I could tell you how good it feels.”

“I think,” Mike said hoarsely, realizing his throat had gone dry, “I think I already know.” And for the first time, he met Georgia’s gaze. He looked deep into those eyes of hers and saw all the longing and the terrible loneliness that he knew must be buried in his own eyes. Before he knew what was happening, he was leaning forward. Georgia met him halfway, and the kiss they shared at that moment broke through everything bitter and wrong. For that one moment in time, each of them had someone to connect with, each had someone who truly understood.

When it ended, Mike sat back, breathless.

“You were right,” he said to Georgia, “There was another reason for me bringin’ you here.”

“And?” Georgia prompted, a wide smile lighting up her face.

“God, how do I say this?” Mike ran a hand through his hair and glanced up at the sky before looking back at Georgia, “I think I love you, Georgia.”

She continued to smile. “You know what, Michael?”

“What?”

“I think I already knew that.”

That night at the window seat, wordless music came. It streamed out of the guitar from the farthest reaches of Mike’s mind, reflecting every facet of the emotions that were filling his heart. How had it taken him so long to realize that what he was feeling was love? He had suspected it, but now that he knew…it was better than anything he ever could have imagined, anything he’d ever experienced before.

They’d spent the afternoon eating and holding hands, laying in the grass and looking up at the clouds, and sharing music. And all the time there was that connection, the connection that deepened and intensified when they kissed, the connection that ran through Mike’s heart like a blazing red sunset. Out of that came more music, never seeming to need lyrics to make it convey the right message. This was true music; this was really something special.

Mike awoke the next morning still sitting in the window seat. The morning light streamed in, warming him. He wasn’t sure how late he’d sat up playing, but judging by where the sun was in the sky, he had slept quite a bit into the morning. Getting up, he tried to make some sort of plan for the day, his last day before returning to the chaos, but he couldn’t think of anything that seemed right. So he just went downstairs and pulled some food out of the refrigerator, making a sort of breakfast out of whatever sounded good. There was a knock at the door as he was finishing.

“Mike! Open up, man!” It was Nolan.

“It’s not locked,” Mike called, “Come on in.”

Nolan practically bounced in and sprawled in the nearest chair. “So, talk to me!” he exclaimed, “What happened yesterday? Where’d you take her?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Nothin’ escapes you at all, does it?” he asked. Nolan shook his head, his grin wider than usual. With a sigh, Mike saw that he was going to have to say something about his time with Georgia, so he told Nolan a truncated version of the previous day, basically saying that he’d taken Georgia out for a picnic and that they’d enjoyed themselves.

“Man, a picnic?” Nolan shook his head, “How did you ever pull that one off? Did she tell you her folks are out of town?” He asked the questions so fast that Mike didn’t have time to answer in between.

“I told ya, we had a good time,” was his reply when Nolan finished, “And no, she didn’t. You think that makes a difference?”

“Do you?” Nolan answered with another question, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Maybe,” Mike remained vague on purpose, although he was thinking that the absence of Georgia’s parents might have helped the girl to open up more, “What’s up with her mother, anyway? I’ve never seen her around.”

Nolan shrugged. “I have no idea,” he admitted, “I saw her once, though. She’s as gorgeous as Georgia is, and she hardly ever gets out. Beats me as to why.”

This time, Mike remained silent. He was almost sure he could guess the reason why Georgia’s mother kept to herself.

“But back to this picnic thing,” Nolan changed the subject back smoothly, crossing his legs and giving Mike a critical look, “You look happy.”

“That’s an understatement,” Mike found himself nearly mirroring Nolan’s grin.

Nolan seemed to get the message, but instead of his normal thigh-slapping, hearty reaction, he looked incredulous. The grin vanished and his eyes widened.

“Man, you? I can see walking her home, but…what happened to Mr. ‘I can’t possibly go for her, she’s only seventeen’?” he demanded, sitting forward impatiently.

“Who cares?” Mike spread his arms and let out a short laugh, “Who cares, man? What’s age when it comes to love?”

Nolan still seemed unsure. Mike knew he wasn’t telling the younger man the whole story: how well he and Georgia connected and how deeply in love he really was with her, or that she seemed to feel the same way although she hadn’t said so. But he knew what he was saying was true. The connection, the love that he and Georgia shared went past their age, and now it somehow seemed foolish to Mike that he’d spent so much time looking at a number and not at the person Georgia really was.

“Well…I’m happy for you,” Nolan said finally, breaking into Mike’s thoughts.

“Thanks,” Mike nodded.

Nolan stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to cleaning,” he sighed, “I guess I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll come around in the morning to say goodbye,” Mike promised, getting up as well and walking out with Nolan out to the porch.

Nolan’s grin returned. “Yeah. See you.”

Mike stood and watched Nolan’s retreating back, his mind a million miles away.

Continued