Fallen, chapter 5

Giving her hair an extra brush, Isis smiled at her reflection once more before she grabbed Mike's present and left her apartment. The outside breeze gently whipped against her face, reddening her already rosy cheeks. The Stimulant was only a short walk away from Isis' place, but she couldn't help but feel that it was much too long. Especially tonight: the night of all nights.

When Isis reached the coffee shop a closed sign hung in the window, but she walked in anyway. She'd requested Mike to close early on his birthday. He'd grumbled about it and complained about his customers, but she insisted. Isis smiled; Mike always made her smile.

Taking a seat the counter, she rang the bell and waited for her best friend to come out and grumble and make a fuss. She was not disappointed; less than a minute later, Mike huffed up to the cash register and threw Isis a look.

"What?" she asked, innocently cocking an eyebrow.

"Nothing," he replied, returning the look, "I was just wondering how many times I have to ask you not to just walk in."

"Hey, this is a special case! I asked you to keep your door unlocked for your birthday surprise. And besides, it doesn't matter how many times you ask me not to just walk in. I'll do it anyway," Isis smirked.

"True," Mike admitted, "Now, I hear talk of a birthday surprise." He held out his hands to receive his present. Isis did not disappoint. Leaning next to her stool, she lifted a large metal case and dumped it into his arms.

"Happy Birthday!" she squealed, receiving no response from Mike other than a wide-eyed look and a gasp. "Well, go on. Open it."

Mike managed to snap out of his guitar-case-induced trance and opened it with another gasp. "Isis," he asked, breathless and faint, "How many people did you steal from to buy me this? Or did you just smuggle it directly out of the store?" His eyes fell on La Musicale's emblem on the side of the guitar. "Isis?" he asked again, "Tell me that you actually paid for this... this beautiful... beautiful... " he trailed off, lost for words.

"I paid for it Mike," she giggled, "That's why I'm broke and why I've been broke for the last five months. And you will not believe what happened the other night at the—"

"I don't believe what's happening right now," he cut her off in the same faint tone of voice. Isis giggled again.

"There's something about you that just makes me laugh," she whacked him playfully on the side of the head.

"Is it because I'm smart and handsome and perfect?" he grinned, still petting and eyeing his birthday present.

"It's because your face is funny!" she squealed and they both collapsed into laughs at their old inside joke. Isis straightened up and continued her story, "Anyway, at the theater a few nights ago--"

"When you needed a ride and free coffee from me?"

"Yes, now stop interrupting me; it's rude! Now, that night, these three really weird people came to the theater and--"

"It turned out that you were long lost relatives?" Mike joked. Isis glared at him and turned away with her arms crossed, not speaking. "Oh come on, Ice. I was kidding. I'm sorry. Come on, finish your story," he pleaded with her. When she didn't respond, he grabbed her by the shoulders and said, "I won't interrupt this time, I swear!" After some more thought, he whispered in her ear, "I won't ever charge you for coffee again... "

This caught her attention. She whipped around and looked him in the eye. "You promise?"

"Yes," he sighed wearily, raising his right hand in the air, "I, Mike Pritchard, promise to give Isis Farrell free coffee for the rest of her life. Happy?"

Isis cocked her head to one side and considered the situation. "What about donuts?" she asked. Mike glared at her.

"Don't push it," he grumbled, "Just get on with the story."

Isis rolled her eyes and continued, "So, these three really weird people came to the theater and one of them, who actually looked pretty cute, came up to me and started babbling to me about a refund or something, but I didn't understand a word he said. So his friend just kind of pulled him away before he hurt himself and asked me to write down their names for the next show," Isis stopped to take a breath. Before she could go on, Mike wondered aloud where this was going. She ignored him and went on, "And the guy that talked to me, the normal one, went back with his friend and this woman who turned out to be his wife—they are a totally cute couple, by the way—and they were laughing and making fun of the cute guy who babbled at me. And you will never, ever believe this: I looked down at the clipboard and realized that Frank Wright babbled at me! Frank Wright!"

Mike looked at her quizzically, "How do you know the other guy wasn't Frank Wright?"

Isis rolled her eyes again, "Because, Mike, the normal guy told me he was Billie Joe Armstrong! So obviously, the babbler was Frank Wright!" she gushed as a dreamy look glazed over her.

"And that's all you wanted to tell me? That the owner of the music store we would both die to live in got drunk one night and babbled at you?"

"No! Of course that wasn't it! I mean, it was part of it, but it wasn't all! Anyway," Isis began to recount her other encounter with Frank while Mike listened patiently, well, sort of. "He was so nervous around me," she finished. "Do you think he's this nervous around his customers all the time? I mean, geez, how could he have built a musical empire if he was a nervous maniac?"

"Ice," Mike said coolly, "Did you ever consider that maybe he likes you? I mean he saw you twice now. Mr. Wright thinks that you're a hot babe," Mike started to dance around stupidly until Isis tripped him.

"He asked me to call him Frank. That is so cool. I get to call our idol by his first name! And you know what? When I went to pick up the guitar, he asked if he could call me Isis!"

"Whoa! Hold the phone there. Frank Wright was there when you got my guitar for me! This baby touched his hands!" Mike jumped up and held Isis' hands, "Icy, I love you," he all but yelled. She blushed and pulled her hands out to ruffle his blonde fuzz.

"You'd better," she smirked, "Especially after all the money I blew on that guitar of yours."

"Trust me Isis," he replied, "There is nothing in the world that could tell you how much you rock for getting me this. It's perfect. I mean, don't you think the 'free coffee forever' kind of gives it away?"

"You're right!" she tossed her head up defiantly and perched herself onto her best friend's lap. "You have finally realized that I deserve free coffee from you, which means that you truly love and appreciate your present!" she declared.

"Indeed I do," Mike said, attempting to push her off his lap, "Speaking of love, let's get back to your tryst with Mr. Musicale," he grinned slyly.

Isis groaned, "It's not a tryst; there's nothing there! He never even asked me out!"

"But he obviously wants to. It all points that way. The babbling, the nervousness, the first name basis; he likes you Icy and you know it!"

"Okay, so he 'likes' me. But even if he does, it's not like I like him back. I mean, he's cute and he's amazing and he's my idol and he is probably one of the coolest men alive, but I wouldn't go out with him."

"Who are you kidding? You haven't gone out with anyone in a year! I bet you're dying to get in on something," Mike raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Pervert. It's none of your business even if I haven't gone out with anyone for a million years! Besides, you know I wouldn't 'get in on' anything until I know I can. Unless you'd like to come to church with me next Sunday and argue with the priest," Isis retorted back. Mike shuddered; arguing with clergy was a scary, scary experience. Mike finally pushed her off and her long red hair slid down and tickled his shoulders.

"So tell me," he asked softly, "Why haven't you gone out with anyone for so long?"
Isis picked herself up before answering, "I don't really know. I guess I haven't really found anyone, you know? I mean, I want someone whom I know will be with me forever, and if not forever, then for a really long time. I want someone special and perfect and just for me."

Mike raised both his eyebrows. "So what about Frank Wright? You sound like a high school girl with a crush when you talk about him. He sounds pretty special; he sounds perfect for you. Just go for it."

"Maybe I don't want to just go for it!" she lashed out all of a sudden, "I mean, haven't you considered the possibility that there just might be something more important to me than dating or finding a guy? Honestly, Mike! You know, maybe I have some qualifications in mind that no one seems to meet."

"Calm down, just calm down," he crooned, smoothing her hair over. It always relaxed her, especially when Mike did it. "I mean, what kind of qualifications are these, anyway?" he asked.

"Drop it," she mumbled, pulling away from him.

"No, let's not drop it. Something's up and we're going to get through it. What are your qualifications for 'Isis' Perfect Man'?

"I don't think you'd really get it."

"And why not?"

"You're in a totally different age group," Isis provided a ludicrous reason without missing a beat, "I'm twenty-six and you're thirty."

"That's not a totally different age group. Don't be stupid; you only graduated like, two years after me."

"Only because you had to take an extra year for of the coffee shop!"

"Isis," Mike whined, "Quit stalling because I can help you if you just tell me what you want out of a guy." Isis started to protest when he added, "Now."

"Well, I'm not too sure. He'd have to be someone I've known for a while and I'd have to know he cares about me," her face began to light up as she spoke, "We'd have the same interests. I'd know how to make him happy and he'd know how to make me happy. And we'd understand each other perfectly," her smile grew sweeter and wider with every sentence.

Mike smiled right back at her. "That's good enough! We can find him as easy as that," he snapped his fingers for emphasis. Isis grimaced and turned away. "Oh, Ice, what's wrong now?"

"Nothing. It's just... I mean... I think I already found him. A long time ago. But I don't know if he feels the same way. Or if he ever will."

"He'd have to be crazy not to! Tell him the next time he comes your way!"

Isis took a deep breath. "Mike... I... " she trailed off. "Mike," she began again, "You're him. You're my special, wonderful guy. You are smart, handsome and perfect and that is why you always make me laugh. You're why I haven't had a date in a year," her voice became quieter with every word. Mike said nothing; he just stared at her intently. She continued, "Don't run away because this isn't spur of the moment. I felt something inside my soul the moment I met you, all those years ago. I love you Mike, and I've always loved you."

"Isis, get a hold of your self," Mike whispered into the air, "You don't love me. I'm not special or perfect and I'm not right for you."

"I have a hold of myself, Michael. And you have a hold on me, too. Just look inside yourself and think for a moment. See if you don't feel the same way." She moved forward and kissed him on the lips with every fiber of her being. "See if that didn't mean anything to you." she breathed. Silence. Isis waited for a reply, a return of emotion, but none came.

Mike just stood there, breathing deeply, as though he was trying to calm himself. He didn't move and he didn't speak and she knew right then and there, that he didn't feel either. He didn't want her or need her the way she wanted and needed him. Slowly, Isis backed towards the door and when she reached it, she ran out as fast as her legs would carry her.

The night wind whipped against her body, but all she wanted to do was to get as far as possible away from Mike and her fallen love.