Chapter 11:

Sheena and Munky stayed together, and they made it through the remainder of that year. KoRn was as popular as ever; Rolling Stone and the at first doubtful magazine Spin predicted that this young band would be the next Metallica. Sheena—in her writing—branched out to other areas such as science fiction and romance, even—after moving into Munky’s house. She sold her apartment over the net immediately after that fateful talk. He still loved her, obviously, still wanted to be with her as if there were no tomorrow. She had been young; she’d made a mistake. Her and Jon both.

Sheena had been wrong to lie, but what had been done couldn’t be undone.

Christmas was rolling around finally, and on the last Christmas Eve of the millenium Munky and Sheena cuddled together under the covers. The warm Californian nights were no object; Munky knew that it was worth the extra $200 a month to put his air conditioner on at full blast so he could sleep in her arms without sweating bullets. No money could put a finger on what he felt for her. "I can’t wait until tomorrow. I got you something I think you’ll really like."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I did, too," he said. His dreadlocks lay against the pillow as she leaned over him lovingly. She climbed onto him. They continued to talk as she rubbed him comfortably. After climbing onto him, he sighed, and no longer had to guide her as she moved. She knew his body as well as she knew her own. He sat up to embrace her, and tilted his head back. She planted feather-light kisses on the bulge in his throat. He hadn’t had a hickey in almost three months; she decided on a whim to give him one. When she told him what she planned, he laughed. Then moaned as her tongue sucked on the tender spot on his neck.

"We’re going to see your mom tomorrow, right?" she asked softly. Watched his face as he closed his eyes underneath her and smiled. He’d grown a lot since she’d first met him. Sex was just as good; he just knew how to handle it now. He’d spent all those years looking for the person who could do him right the first time, not realizing that it took repetition and practice

(and love)

to get the comfortable sensation that he wanted. That he’d yearned for. She bit her lip as he moved underneath her. After, she snuggled with him again, wrapped her arms around him. She felt herself lulled into sleep; knew that he was tired, too. She looked past his bare chest and out the window, where in New Jersey she knew there’d be snow on the ground. Snowflakes flowing past that window ever so softly, floating toward the ground with the grace of a figure skater…

"Jim?"

He rolled over to face her. Opened his sagging eyes. "Yeah," he asked after a yawn. His leg moved against hers. She buried herself in his arms. Murmuring softly against his tan neck, she said, "Did you ever think of us having kids? Like, if we did?"

He nodded against her. "Yeah. All the time."

At this, Sheena smiled and turned up to face him. He was so large and gentle compared to her, like the big, friendly giant. The metaphor made her smile.

"You know what I would do if we had a little boy?" she asked softly. She fingered one of his dreadlocks. "I would put him in khakis and white shirts and give him dreadlocks just like yours." They laughed together. Sheena rolled the silver capsule in her mouth out so that he could see it. She’d gotten it done a week after she’d moved in with him, after so many years of wanting to do it. For the first couple of days it was hard because they couldn’t kiss for fear of infection, but after that it had been great for them both. Munky got his done a month ago, the only body piercing he sported.

Sheena had had no objections.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, as usual, and in the morning Sheena woke up to a nice breakfast of fruit salad waiting for her by her bed. She took the silver fork by the bowl and ate it as she descended the stairs. Munky was watching women’s tennis but stopped when she walked into the room and settled down beside him. They looked at their tree. It was large and wonderfully decorated, with white trimming. Sheena remembered how Munky had put an ornament through the hole in his tongue, and her horror as she walked into the room to see a huge ball hanging from his mouth. Of course he couldn’t talk, and only laughed at Sheena’s insistence to take it out.

"Fell fen foo fack fit fout," he told her as he hung an ornament in the tree’s branches. His tongue hung comically out of his mouth.

"What?"

He motioned to her, and told her by pointing to his mouth.

"No way! I’ll hurt you," she’d said, appalled, and told him it wasn’t funny when he burst out in a muffled laugh. He finally removed it; asked for a kiss. She refused him until later that night. He’d pointed up. There had been a wreath of mistletoe over them. "You can’t refuse me now."

"You’re so bad," she flirted, even as she wrapped her arms around him...

On Christmas morning they exchanged presents. Sheena got Munky a new art table and a foot pedal that he’d been eyeing for his guitar effects. Her present was the latest design in laptop computers. From there on they exchanged a myriad of smaller presents. Jewelry. A new chain for Munky’s cross. Necessities. Socks. Underwear (Oh, how they laughed when he opened a thong with a smiley face on it). Chocolate.

"Thank you for everything," she said. She slightly dimped his nose with her finger.

They prepared to leave for his mother’s house by showering and getting out of their pajamas. It was a pleasant three-hour drive to his mother’s house, during which he listened to the new Mr. Bungle album Sheena had gotten him. It was a wave of nostalgia for Sheena as they turned onto the streets of Bako. Nothing had changed. All the buildings were exactly how she’d remembered them. The same dirt road where her father had pulled onto that night was still there. Munky read her face as they entered the center, and as he drove past the road calmly. "What’s wrong?"

She looked vacant suddenly. She did sometimes, whenever she thought about her childhood. Munky could read her blank face by now and knew exactly what was behind it. Which was why a single look made him squeal to a stop and pull over. She continued to gaze vacantly out the window. His hands tightened on the wheel. He turned the CD player off as she began to speak slowly. "That’s where he took me that day," was all she said. She couldn’t hide it from him. Didn’t want to. She’d hid so much for so long. "That’s where he took me."

Munky bit his lip; frolicked his tongue earring in his mouth angrily in order to avoid words. He hated her father. The bastard had ruined his loved one’s life, had tormented her so that in later years she needed medication to feel intense feelings. Like an ice pack, he’d numbed her inconsolably. Even though Munky tried to, he knew he could never relieve her of her pain, which was in deep crevices of her heart even he had not yet touched.

"You mean, he took you out there and raped you?"

"Yeah," she said. Suddenly, she cleared her throat and sat up. This was Christmas day. She was determined not to get down. She saw the longing in Munky’s eyes, the longing to set right all that her father had done wrong. With cold fingers she embraced the large fist on his thigh. When she began to rub the hand he softened. Sighed and turned his head out the window, nodding. A snowflake flitted right past the passenger window, then another plastered itself against the tilted plane. It melted almost instantly, but another came, and another, until the sky filled with tiny white flakes.

It was the first time either of them had ever seen it snow in Bako.

"Wow, look, Jimmy," she said, as they both watched in silence. Munky brought a smile to his lips and kissed her gently before turning on his ignition. His thoughts on that road, he pulled back onto the road.

"Mama!" Munky said. His mother’s face lit up like a spring afternoon as his long arms wrapped around her tall, thin body. Speaking in rapid Spanish, he introduced Sheena to her. Sheena smiled at his mother’s beauty, thought that he got his good looks from his mother. They had the same brown twinkling eyes. It was great to meet her. She had a funny little accent that was difficult for Sheena to understand.

Munky had only brought two girls home in his entire life. He enjoyed watching this.

"Who you is?" she asked in her tight-mouthed English. "What is you name?"

"Sheena, nice to meet you," she said as she took her young strong hand in his mother’s old, slightly wrinkled one. Her mother had a face of torment, one that, even when she smiled, revealed many grievances.

"Nice to meet you, too." Since she couldn’t think of anything else, she turned to her son and told him in Spanish that dinner would be ready in twenty minutes, and that they were welcome to sit down and have refreshments. She shuffled out of the room.

"Krista!" Munky ejaculated suddenly, and embraced the young woman—a striking resemblance to his mother—that sat on the couch. She introduced them—Krista was Munky’s sister. She was older than Munky, almost thirty, Sheena decided after a minute. She had a business suit on. When they began to talk, Sheena found out that Krista was a lawyer for gay rights. She spoke extremely eloquently in both English and Spanish. Sheena enjoyed it when they talked together in their native language. It was so fast, and it flew from their mouths in a river of deep-throated sounds. She remembered the first night that her and Munky had talked all night, how he had held her in his large arms and whispered to her sweet nothings.

She’d never forget that night.

Krista had been skeptical of Sheena at first—Munky was quite the ladies’ man (for lack of a better term)—but when she saw how his eyes swam when he wrapped his arms around her, how happy he looked, she changed her mind. Krista remembered last Christmas. He’d been so depressed, his eyes sagging and his lips blue from poor blood circulation. He’d been in Europe for three years; had spent half a year in a French hospital fighting off a bad case of Respiratory Meningitis. He’d recovered enough to leave the hospital and return home just in time for Christmas.

Oh, had they all cried. He looked better now. Despite Sheena’s obvious beauty, Krista found that she was also incredibly nice, that she glowed with the aura of someone who had learned a lot about life in a short time. Krista glowed with the same resilience, although she didn’t know it, and after Munky had gone to the kitchen to steal snippets of the meal under his mother’s nose, they continued to talk.

"What do you do for a living?" Krista asked, her champagne bottle cocked comfortably in the nape of her palm.

"I’m an author." She loved telling people that. She enjoyed watching their eyes tried to hide the disbelief, and fail miserably.

"Really? What have you written?"

Sheena told Krista her writer’s name, and quickly listed off the books that she had published—about six now. Krista burst out laughing when she was done. She told Sheena that she had the latest book in the car, that she had all the other books at home. Sheena smiled wanly; welcomed Munky back as he sat next to her.

"Want you some wine, Jim?" her mother asked. She came with a glass of wine. She knew that Munky loved it. He hadn’t gotten some for himself, so she figured he must have forgotten. Without looking at Sheena, he waved it away. "No, I don’t drink anymore." He took Sheena’s hand and played with it. He smiled at her, and she returned it with a wan look of approval. He had had problems with alcohol; had gotten alcohol poisoning on the last tour. When he’d realized how much he’d hurt Sheena—he’d come home drunk after four months of being away—he decided that he should go sober. Together—Sheena waiting until he was ready—they chucked all of the alcohol in their house into the trash. A strange satisfaction washed through him as his mother grinned.

"Ah, good." She remembered her son stealing her liquor, sneaking out of the house. He had changed for the better. She expected him to. He was older now; he had to start taking responsibility. By the looks of Sheena, he was trying to settle down, to find someone who cared about him. He hadn’t had many serious girlfriends in high school. He couldn’t keep one. He was on an endless pursuit to get over Renee, someone who he’d loved more than he realized at first.

When dinner was ready, Krista opened the door that led to the basement and said something unintelligible in Spanish. A minute later, as Sheena sat down at the table, pounding little footsteps resonated up the stairs. She got up and went to look at what was going on. She entered the room just in time to see them jump into Munky’s long arms. He scooped both of the children up as they clung to him. Krista watched with mild amusement; so did Sheena.

"Uncle Jimmy! ‘Miss you," the little girl said, her large chocolate eyes resting comfortably in front of her long, tied back hair. She had on a little pink dress. She was a smaller version of Krista. The little boy reminded Sheena so much of Munky that she grinned. He had short black hair, with tan khakis and a white T-shirt. He was older than the little girl, about four. She remarked to herself how great he was with children as he put them down. His legs buckled in half as he bent down to talk to them, face to face. They couldn’t stop hugging him.

"They love Jimmy," Krista explained as he picked the little girl up and led the little boy to the kitchen table. Sheena had never seen Munky like this; he loved kids, obviously. That was a good thing. A very good thing.

During the meal many interesting things transpired. Krista told an extremely funny joke, and when Munky burst out laughing his mother’s spoon dropped from her mouth and clattered onto her plate. She asked him a question in tight-mouthed Spanish. He cast a cautious glance to Sheena. He turned to his mother and as Sheena watched he showed his mother his silver tongue-earring. Krista and her mother were somewhat shocked. Sheena laughed. They hadn’t noticed it before? She thought about revealing hers, but decided against it. Her mother was white as a ghost until he convinced her that it hadn’t hurt at all. She said the longest sentence that Sheena ever heard from her in English. "I don’t know about you kids these days. You do some crazy things."

"I know."

"How—how do you kiss him with that?" Krista wondered aloud, directly at Sheena. She shrugged; rolled the earring in her own mouth and grinded it against the top as Munky watched in interest. She said calmly, "We figure it out. You don’t really notice it…We have gotten stuck though, once." Munky eyes twinkled at the memory.

When her mother left the room, and it was just Munky, Sheena, and Krista, she showed her the earring. "So it really doesn’t hurt?"

"Nope. I like it," Munky said lightly. Krista laughed at him, said she figured he would.

"I should get it done, then. I need to find another man. Get me a tongue earring and I bet I’ll have one in a day." Krista concluded with that and left with her dish. It clattered into the sink as they laughed. Back at the house—where two inches of snow had fallen earlier, but had melted—he opened the door for Sheena. Munky thought about how homey the house was now that Sheena lived with him. He wanted to live with her forever.

"What a day," she said, exhausted. She collapsed onto the couch. Nervously, Munky settled down beside her. His narrow chest shook as his heart thumped. Normally, he would have cuddled her, but in his anxiety, he only sat beside her. After a minute of silence, she asked him what was wrong. Did he suspect what she had wanted to tell him for the past week? Did he?

"Sheena, we need to talk." He took her small hand in his large fist.

"About what?"

As he played with her fingers, he said softly, "About us."

Silence.

"I want to be with you," he said as he slowly bent his front knee into a kneel before her. He suddenly felt exposed, naked, as if she had stripped him and ripped his heart from his pumping chest. Her eyes glassed over. He still had her hand—which now hung limply in his palm. "I want to love you forever. For the past seven months I’ve been living with you, and I have come to truly know you as I’d always wanted to know someone. We taught each other to love again. We’ve been through rough times as well as good, and we’ve made it out even stronger. When I hold you in my arms, I feel so content, as if nothing could ever be better than this…" his words collapsed within themselves as his voice shook. He swallowed; looked into her eyes. Knew the answer before he even asked the question. "Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life with you?"

Her face was pure joy as she sat, paralyzed. When she said happily that yes, she would, he reached with shaking hands into his pocket, and pulled out a ring. A soft shiver of overwhelming joy coursed through him as he placed it on her.

"Jimmy," she whispered. Crying, they kissed. He let out a whoop of relief; laughed giddily. He settled down beside her on the couch, and this time he let her bury herself in his arms. "Yes, yes, I will," she said over and over again. When each had calmed down, his lips coaxed hers open. She extended her arms as she lay down on the couch. He settled on top of her. He rested his head in the nape of her neck.

"Can I tell you something, too?" she asked as she played with his dreadlocks. His muffled "Yeah" floated from beneath the soft wave of brown hair he’d buried his head in.

"Remember when we talked about having kids?"

His body stiffened in response. Immediately. His face flew from her, to meet her gaze. He read her thoughts. Oh, God, could he read her thoughts. A large thumb rested on her lip. This time the tears slid unchecked.

"I think I’m pregnant."

Silence. "How do you know?"

"I’m two weeks late."

"Oh my God." He got off of her immediately. She was suddenly so much more fragile. He was convinced that he could break her now. A baby? They might be having a little baby? "That’s so—" his head shook crazily. "But weren’t you taking birth control?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But sometimes it doesn’t work." Pause. His face was decidedly cold, she thought. "Are you mad at me?"

"Nononono," he said quickly, and planted kisses all over her face, mystified. The joy danced behind his eyes, threatened to drive him into hysteria. The baby! He might be having a baby! They were going to have a baby.

He would be a father.

Rejoicing, he carried her up the stairs and into their bed. He amused her as he made sure that she wasn’t cold, that she was okay. That he wasn’t hurting her as he tentatively lay beside her. He refused to wrap his arms around her; he didn’t want to hurt her at all…or the baby, who would now be the size of the period at the end of this sentence. She told him that she was fine; he gently cradled her after she told him that he was being a bit too gentle yet. The baby wasn’t even visible, if there was one. She reminded him that there was no guarantee.

"I know," he said. He let out a satisfied sigh. This day had been great. Father or no, he was going to spend the rest of his life with Sheena. They had plenty of time to work on starting a family. She wanted to sleep with him, but he wouldn’t let her. Who knew what it would do to the baby—if they had one—at this early stage? She insisted it wouldn’t do anything, but he didn’t believe her. They kissed instead, and went to bed.

Five days later, Sheena was really starting to think she was pregnant. She swore she was putting a little bit more cereal in her cereal bowl in the morning. Could swear she felt somewhat nauseous sometimes. She told Munky that night as they sat in front of the television eating dinner together that she probably was. He had been overjoyed. After discussing names in bed, she’d excused herself to go to the bathroom. The red stickiness that she saw on the flat of her underwear brought more tears than when years ago there had been none for two months, and she’d been forced to face the inevitable.

No baby. Munky and Sheena decided that they should take one thing at a time: they should get married before they have a baby. Sheena went to the doctor and renewed the birth control prescription. The prescription she’d invalidated the day after Christmas.

It was not long before Munky left for the world tour they planned for 2000, and Sheena stayed home; she had to end her contract with her book label as soon as possible; she felt that they were restricting her. So she wrote a book during that time, a book of loss and triumph. She communicated the feelings that she so genuinely felt during Munky’s absence, and the book was her best one yet.

Meanwhile, Munky toured the world, writing to her frequently when the exchange rate was too far above the tour budget to call. KoRn was losing heat in the European countries…that quickly changed as they retook London by storm and headed even to China, where Munky saw his cartoon in Anime made by a little girl, holding it up at their concert. He thought of Sheena often, and whenever he heard her voice over the crackly phone he only longed for her more and more…

Sheena had finished her story. Saved it. Clambered up to their room and collapsed in her bed, exhausted. She glanced at the clock: 2:45 in the morning. It wasn’t unusual for her to be up all hours of the night when she got inspiration. She had been finishing up her salad when inspiration struck her. By the time she remembered her food, it had been a warm mess, the bleu cheese as stale as her thoughts lately.

As she snuggled under the covers her stomach grumbled. She told it to shut up; closed her eyes tightly. She hadn’t been eating; it was hard to ever since she’d been consumed by her loneliness. It was the worst at night, when she had to lay alone in their bed. It was bad when it was cold—she was so used to feeling his body heat mingling with hers into toasty warmth that now she was freezing. His arms around her; his soft naked skin against hers…

She never told him, but many a night she stayed awake, listening to him breathe. She could almost see his peaceful face as she stared into the darkness. The face that was so often contorted with fatigue was so peaceful at night, when nothing bothered him. She had savored those moments, held them close. She thought about his hands, how soft they were, how gracefully they ran up her body. And when she felt his chest sink into hers as he laid on top of her…

Her loneliness lulled her to sleep, as wonderfully warm as his embrace in a sorrow like hers…

RING!

She catapulted from her bed. Snatched the receiver from its hook. "Hello?"

"Sheena." His voice sounded wistful and fargone. So far away.

As she spoke she was aware that he was a thousand miles away, in a land with only this thin phone cord to connect them. It had been only two months, but she could do this no longer. As soon as he’d left had she realized what a true impact he had on her life. The house—like their bed—was so large and lonely without him that she almost collapsed in self-pity. His voice was deep and low, grumbling. It reminded her of how manly he was.

"Jimmy, I miss you."

"Only two days, baby, only two days," he convinced, telling himself this as much as he was telling her. She bit back a tear and straightened. She wouldn’t start crying, because then he would too, and the days would be so much longer. They talked for a while about nothing, until eventually each of them fell silent. In the dark they merely listened to each other breathe. Just like she always had. She could hear—even though it was so far away—the deep sigh that cut through him like a knife. There were voices in the background, urging him on. She heard the loud cheer of fans, and a sudden drum roll. She realized why his voice sounded so low; it was hard to talk with his leather mask on.

"I have to go. Just one more show and I’ll be in your arms."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you, too. So much," she said. The mouth of the phone offered her no solace as she gazed at it in tears. She fell into a troubled and unfruitful sleep, gripping the pillows as she would her lover in a matter of days.

Munky hopped into the taxi that was to shuffle him from the airport to his home. Sheena was almost ready to get him, but her car broke down on the interstate. There was no one to bring her, and so he knew she waited at home patiently for him. He leaped into the car, the smell of a smoker’s vomit stinking up the seats. A cloud of dust billowed subtly as he sat. The driver eyed him. Mr. Rodgers was an old, graying man in his thirties. He lit a cigarette, kindly offered Munky one. Sniffed indignantly when he said no. Munky had an unusually light traveling load, which surprised the taxi driver.

Munky’s head swirled from the long plane rides with the squeamish children. He knew Jon and the rest were at home right then…they had split up in Japan, and Munky had offered to take a flight alone…hoping that it would make it there sooner than the rest of them. It would have, if it hadn’t broken down. There had been a ten-hour delay, during which Munky worked on a crossword puzzle packet he’d started in Nepal.

When the taxi driver asked him where to, it took him a second to translate. They’d spent a month in Spain. Munky had shuffled around with David, Fieldy, Head, and Jon, Munky struggling to discern the European accent of the dialect. He had become afraid that he might have picked it up, but when he talked to his mother she assured him he spoke the same Mexican Spanish. A million languages jumbled in his head from all the Asian countries he had visited. A haze was settling in; he felt as if he were going to pass out from the lucid stink inside the vehicle. He just wanted to get home, dammit.

"Where to, sir? I ain’t got all day," the driver insisted. Munky couldn’t have returned the driver’s glare from the backseat if he’d wanted to. The traffic in the airport was piling up. He was reminded again before he answered.

"Huntington Beach. On the west side. Grove Hills." Munky tilted his head against the dirty pane; watched as the scenery flew past him slower and then faster. He must have dozed off, because when he awoke it was because he was entering the development he lived in. His grip tightened on his suitcases…Sheena! She was in the driveway, waiting for him. He leaped out of the taxi, and threw a hundred-dollar bill into the driver’s window.

For the next three days it was just him and Sheena. The house was suddenly as comfy and warm as they’d remembered it being. Sheena remembered why she loved him as he lay with her in their bed. And as she kissed his face when he came to her, so openly, so passionately after those long months of abstinence. She only listened to him breathe as he snuggled with her and fell asleep every night. The soft heaving of his broad chest. The wonderful snoozing sensation that ran through her spine as he woke up, as his eyes flittered and smiled. Knowingly.

Her mouth opened to speak, but the words collapsed within themselves. A dying passion that had burned within her for months threatened to catch aflame. As time passed the need grew stronger and stronger until it was as unbearable as her other burdens in life. She didn’t know if Munky was strong enough to handle this, but she needed him to be. She couldn’t keep on living in a dream world. Sometimes how close she was to Munky scared her, make her wake up crying in the middle of the night.

As Jon had found out so long ago, good things only come to an end. Nothing lasts forever, not even Sheena and Munky. One night when he came home, his arms spread out to her to accept her, she pushed away. His hurt ran cold and deep, as sharp as a knife and as sour as vomit. He recoiled as if he’d been bitten when she turned away.

"What’s wrong?’

Tears in her eyes, she merely tapped a finger on the table. She thought about her engagement ring as she spoke. She realized that they hadn’t made many plans; he was stalling. She didn’t know why, but he was. It angered her. If he loved her so much, why didn’t he want to make vows with her? She told him that she had called an agency the other day. She’d found some useful information she couldn’t ignore. Sternly, she continued. "Munky, I know I have a life with you…a life I really like. But I can’t pretend anymore."

"Can’t pretend what?" he said. His hurt showed through; Sheena didn’t have to look into his eyes to know the turmoil stirring behind them.

"I can’t pretend. I love you, Jimmy. I really do. But I want to go home."