LoveandLogic
Refugee
Yes, yes, I know it's been awhile. But here it is. Leave me some 
? 
Chapter Four
It was a perfect summer Dublin night, the stars twinkling like fireflies amongst an ebony blanket of sky, the wind steady, warm, flowing over our bodies like the gentle caress of water. She sat next to me; quiet, transfixed on the constellations, stealing a glance here and there towards me out of the corner of her eyes, blushing fiercely when I would smile back, unafraid to show her what my attention was focused upon.
I’ve only known her for a few days on: Raven Dalton, American Born Tattoo Artist, pale skinned with hair that harmonized her name. My friends have told me that I’ve always been good at reading people--putting myself in their place, almost as if I could trip inside their heads. Never did I believe them until a few years, after being on stage before thousands for the first time. I would watch the people in the front row, analyzing their body language to see if they thought I was either total shit or a wonderful front man. Sometimes it was the first, often than enough it was the latter.
And, using on Raven the same ability that I use on my audience, I took in the breaths that escaped her plump lips like they were my own. She was stiff, perhaps a little unnerving, her back straight and fingers drumming madly on her bent knees. Matter of the fact is--she portrayed the same jittery reaction that I had witnessed from my female fans upon meeting me for the first time: intimidated. There is no other word to describe it.
However, if she was intimated, Raven didn’t make it too apparent. After all, it was our first date and first dates, no matter your station, are always a bit nerve-wracking. Even me, Bono, lead singer of U2, had nothing witty to say for once. Surly she didn’t want to hear about my tours or party nights. She wasn’t a groupie or your average, every day sleaze. It took me ten times, not kidding, TEN times to get her to agree on one lousy date.
Oddly enough, she didn’t want to go out for dinner or a movie like other women. She said she’d rather be here, underneath the stars in an abandon pasture on top an old blanket, sharing a case of beer and soaking in the silence of the countryside. Already she was amazing me, my mind, body and soul craving for her elegant, small artistic hands.
Swigging from the neck of the bottle of beer, Raven set down the glass, turning to me for the first time tonight. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” I answered, uncapping my first beer.
“Why…why did you ask me out?”
Meeting her brown, starlit eyes, I mumbled, lumbering on my words. “What do you mean?”
“How much clearer can I make it?” She giggled and sat Indian style across from me, looking straightforward into my eyes, her words serious and contemplating. “Let’s be logical here, Bono. You and I are two completely different people.”
I crossed my arms. “How so?”
“Well, for starters, I’m a tattoo artist.”
“And?”
“And…well, you’re…Irish. Not too many Irishmen take a liking to us tattooed women. It’s…” She struggled. “It’s sinful, I suppose. I spend my days making people bleed and ruin their ’temple’ so to speak. You haven’t seen the way people look at me, Bono. Like I walked out of the pits of Hell.”
Wanting to laugh, I retained, not wanting to damper her personal humiliation. “You know, being a rock star is sinful as well.”
“But you’re worshipped. Your type of profession is accepted.”
“Not always. Especially when you throw politics into the music, Irish politics for that matter. I’m not as loved here as I am, in say, the states. Rock and Roll is meant for the British, not the Irish. And it pisses off a lot of people because of the fact that I’m Irish. The bottom line is, I don’t care how people look at you. All I care about is how I look at you.”
Her lips twitched in the corners before growing into a shy, wide smile. “And…how do you see me, Bono?”
Taking the beer out of her hand, I set it to the side and raised a hand, slowly, to touch her face. We both faltered and I found myself somewhat troubled to near closer. At this point, she was hard to breakdown, difficult to formulize. Her eyes said, “Yes, touch me.” Her body, on the other hand, screamed, “Please, please don’t do this.”
So I didn’t.
Instead, I answered her question. “I think you’re a mystery that I’m anxiously wanting to solve. We’re not that different, Raven. You’re an artist and…so am I, just of a different form. We’re always going to be outcasts, no matter what, because of our professions. But that shouldn’t stop us from being who we are. And, right now, in this very moment, the only person I want to be is the man next to you.”
She smiled once again. “You don’t find me odd?”
“No,” I said honestly. “Do you find me odd?”
Shrugging, she smirked. “Not odd, just different.”
Nodding, I wasn’t sure if I should have taken that as a compliment or as an insult. Ignoring my thoughts and giving my full attention back to those honey iris’s, Raven leaned in, unexpected, the oxygen ripping out of my chest. She was so close. So very close. Her scent dizzied my senses, sending a wave of shivers throughout every coursing vein.
Narrowing her eyes, she whispered into the dark. “You can kiss me now.”
“Rave, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Bono told his wife as calmly as he could, despite the fact that she was driving him off the wall.
“It needs to be talked about!”
“It’s been three months, Rave! I thought we had this sorted out?”
She sighed, sinking into the bed and resting her hands on her lap limply. He was right, of course. It had been three--almost four--months since the Aislinn confrontment. Since that night, Bono and Raven went back to normal to say the least. She took the rest of that week off, as promised, and spent every waking and non-waking moment with her husband. Back again were the old conversations and the dining at favorite restaurants. They sang, painted and cooked together like they did when they first married. Even the lovemaking wasn’t all that bad, though it wasn’t as great as it once was.
Ireland was snowcapped, freezing and grey. Raven liked to blame their problems on the weather, even if that were far from the truth. As if it were bad enough that Bono was having problems with his wife, he was now having tribulations with Edge as well. Of course couples tell each other everything, but Edge should have known better than to tell Aislinn about the hotel parties in America. Aislinn despised Raven, always have, always will. Leave it to her to turn something innocent into something disrespectful and disgusting. Aside from the touchy faze in his marriage, Bono adored Raven. He adored the way her black and grey rose tattoos decorated her shoulders, two on one and two on the other, to represent the four members of the band.
“My brothers,” She always calls them.
After knowing, living and sharing personal moments with Larry, Adam, Edge and Bono, she had discovered what it meant to be close to other’s outside of her personal family. They took care of her, took her places, showed her new things and she did the same for them in return. They were a close knit group that celebrated birthdays and holidays, even if they weren’t blood. Aside from Dan, the four members of U2 was all that Raven really had left.
“So what made you come to Ireland?” Asked Bono, lighting a cigarette before handing me his pack.
Laying side by side on the roof of his car, I followed suit and exhaled the stale smoke while the lights of passing cars lit up his face. Tonight was our third date and differed enormously from the first. Now there was no more uncomfortable silences or smart remarks. Now we were merely a man and a woman, asking one another the basic questions of life to better understand the person that lurked behind the artistic masks. Masks of strangeness, fame and sins.
I liked that he didn’t mind the tattoos. If anything, I enjoyed the way he used the tips of his fingers to maze over the random flowers on my forearms, just as he was doing now-- his touch so intoxicating and light, like butterflies fluttering along my skin.
Gathering my composure, I answered, my voice faraway as if we were in a lucid dream, “Well, my brother is seven years older than me and he’s been into the whole tattoo thing since he was sixteen. He got a job with a man by the name of Brad Peters when Dan was eighteen. Brad moved to Ireland because his mother lived here and she was ill. Dan followed, not wanting to work for anyone but Brad.”
“Is Brad the block with the blond hair?” He asked.
“Yes, with the huge scorpion tattoo on his neck. Brad’s mother died and from there, Brad opened up Dublin Ink with Dan. When I turned twenty, Dan showed Brad some of my work and they wanted me to join their company. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“What about your parents? Are they in the States?”
“I never knew my Dad and our mother passed away two months ago.”
Bono went silent yet didn’t stop outlining the tiger lily on my arm. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I lost me mum at a young age. Was just me old man and me older brother for years.”
“I’m sorry, Bono. It’s not an easy thing, I know.”
Nodding, he propped his elbow on the car, resting his cheek in his palm. “See,” He whispered, locking his gaze to mine. “Told you we weren’t so different.”
“I’m sorry,” Raven caved, taking Bono into her arms, holding him to her chest. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“No, I understand why you’re upset, love. But don’t listen to her.”
“It’s just…you and Edge haven’t even went out anywhere together for three months and it’s all because I couldn’t control my temper.”
Bono shot up instantly, his face twisted with irritation. “Don’t, Raven. Baby, it’s not your fault. Believe me. She’s been cold towards you since you first met. It’s about time someone put her in her place. That’s what I love about you, you’re strong.”
Sighing, Raven smiled weakly, placing a fragile kiss on Bono’s lips, tasting the nicotine and mint, a mixture that she fell in love with over and over. Even now, through the obvious haze of their partnership, she still couldn’t get enough of his kisses.
“I love you, Raven.” He told her strongly, his face burning with compassion.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. You better leave before it gets dark. I don’t like the idea of you driving in the first place and it’s even worse when there’s two feet of snow on the ground.”
“Oh, ha-ha, so funny, Rave! There’s nothing wrong with my driving!” He pushed her playfully and she muffled a chuckle in response. “I’ll be back before dark.”
“Ok, tell Adam I said hi.”
“Will do, love.”
Once Bono was out the door, Raven took a quick shower before going downstairs to start dinner. She peeled the potatoes, cut them and placed them in the boiling water before fixing the fish with herbs and spices. From time to time she would check the clock, marking the minutes that Bono had been away. The sun was sinking over the horizon and poured in through the kitchen window.
Just as she was heading back from the wine cellar, a door slammed loudly against the frame of the house, shaking the floors like a miniature earthquake. Raven gasped, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.
“Bono?” She half-yelled, clutching the wine bottle to her chest.
Creeping towards the living room, Raven’s eyebrows scrunched at the sound of banging on the walls and floor.
Great, she thought, Bono has come home drunk and is throwing a tantrum…
Expecting a raging Bono, Raven announced into the room, shock setting in at once. Bono was not the one making racket. Instead a very distraught Edge stormed about the room, picking up books, magazines and random objects and thrashing them at the walls. Pages flew about the room in a twister, twirling and falling at the floor. Edge yelled at random, his face red and raged.
“Edge!” Raven hurried towards the guitarist, dropping the wine bottle and it rolled beneath the end table. “Edge!” She begged again, catching his flying arms. “Edge, sweetie, what’s the matter? Edge, calm down, please!”
She found it difficult to put his actions to a halt, his strength out powering her shaking, frightened body. For what seemed like hours, Edge and Raven went around in circles. Whenever she went to calm him, he jerked away, his arms swerving wildly, his fists almost accidentally knocking her over on more than one occasion. She dodged pitched possessions, unable to detect what was being destroyed, the room too trashed to determine what was broken and what was not.
“EDGE!”
With all her might, Raven flexed and rammed herself into Edge’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, falling to the floor with a loud thump.
“EDGE! LISTEN TO ME! CALM DOWN!”
Quickly she straddled his waist, pinning his arms down with her knees. He kicked his legs, trying to knock Raven over. Eventually she fell sideways, landing harshly on her side. Before she could prevent it, Edge was back to his feet, pacing back and forth, his large steps stomping over the skew of broken picture frames, cassettes, movies and interior decorations.
In a flash, Raven came up behind Edge, grabbing him around the waist. “Edge, talk to me. Please talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Edge froze and so very slowly turned to look at Raven’s concerned face. Whether it was his state of mind or out of secret attraction, he balled his fists and, much to Raven’s unexpected surprise, pushed Raven into the nearby wall. Fear set in and Raven squeezed her eyes shut, prepping for either a physical blow or an outburst.
Neither came.
Alternatively, she could feel Edge’s hands gripping her neck on either side, his fingers digging into her skin not in anger but in…want? Only then did she take notice to the strong scent of alcohol and nicotine that emerged from Edge’s wrinkled clothes. At this moment she realized his quivering body and sharp intakes of air. And, in this space and time, she was aware of his lips on hers.
It wasn’t a forceful kiss. Nor was it willing. It was just…a kiss.
At first.
Paralyzed, Raven’s eyes shot wide open, her startled mind shutting down, leaving her with no knowledge on how to react to her best friend’s actions. His lips moved against hers, the tip of his tongue slithering along her closed mouth, aching for an entrance in which she did not provide. It had been almost six years since another man had kissed her. Sure, she’s thought about what it would feel like to have another man’s lips pressed against hers. That’s normal after being in a long relationship. But she would never, ever do something so hurtful and disrespectful towards Bono. They had a marriage…a friendship, a bond that no one could ever come between.
Not even Edge. Raven loved Edge. She would do anything for him. Anything in the world…besides this. His head wasn’t right, she reminded herself over and over. Did he even know what he was doing or who he was doing it to? Probably not, she decided. She had to put an end to it before they both regretted it.
Forcing her head to the side, she grimaced softly. “Edge…”
Fluttering his lids, Edge looked as though he just came out of a hypnotized trance. Raven and Edge met eye to eye, both speechless and confused. Raven let out a held breath, relieved at the possibility that, in spite of the kiss, Edge was finally calm and…
“Shit,” Edge hissed, tugging at his hair. “Shit! SHIT!”
“Edge, it’s ok!” Raven assured, grabbing his shoulders. “Edge, really, it’s alright.”
“FUCK!”
Like a bomb exploding, Edge was twice as enraged. Raven panicked when Edge toppled over her settee, the cushions tumbling onto the floor. Backing up and away from Edge, she could only watch as her living room became a war zone, incapable of handling the situation.
From all the yelling and falling objects, Raven didn’t hear the other three men enter the house.
“What the hell?” Bono bellowed from behind Raven, causing her to turn around sharply.
Relief settled. “Thank God you’re here!”
“What’s going on?” Larry asked and gestured towards Edge who, obviously, didn’t either care or notice his three mates arrival.
“I don’t know!” Raven cried. “He just came into the house and started throwing shit! He won’t say anything! I tried calming him down but…you see how far that got me.”
“We have to stop him!” Bono informed.
“No, don’t.” Raven put a hand on Bono’s arm. “Let him…”
“He’s breaking our stuff!”
“Possessions are replaceable. Edge is not.”
Larry chimed in, “Ray, I see your side but look at this place! There’s holes in the walls and Edge is bleeding! He’s going to hurt himself if we don’t stop it.”
Raven exhaled sadly. “…fine.”
Bono was the first to intervene, ducking just in time from a flying lamp. Adam pulled Raven to the side instinctively, if not, it would have crashed right into her head. The lamp hit the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces of porcelain.
“EDGE!” Bono demanded, grabbing his friend from behind. “EDGE! Stop! Stop it, Edge!”
An elbow sunk into Bono’s stomach, causing him to kneel down, clutching where Edge had struck. Larry and Adam immediately intruded and Bono stood upright. Larry and Adam each grabbed hold of Edge’s forearms and tried to throw them behind his back so that he couldn’t lash out. It was no use, it was as though Edge was made of steel. Bono was at Edge’s middle again, holding him place, the four men swaying back and forth, each man fighting for different direction.
“WE NEED YOU RAVE!” Bono instructed and, at once, Raven joined in, placing herself in front of him, resting her hands on both sides of Edge’s tear stained face.
Being this close to him, she could still feel his lips on hers, taste his unfamiliar flavor on her taste buds. Any other time, she would pushed him away, scorning him for his immature reactions. Nonetheless, due to the difficulties, she couldn’t feel anything towards him but pity and empathy. Edge normally was calm, very zen and collected. For him to pulse with such frustration and physical antagonism was rare and not to mention heartbreaking.
“Edge, please calm down.” She encouraged. “Edge, look at me. LOOK AT ME, EDGE! What’s wrong, honey? What happened?”
Raven’s expression was painted with colors of concern, worry, grief and care. Even after what he did to her, kissing her without permission, here she was, staying strong for him and more than willing to comfort. His knees buckled and he went limp to the ground, taking his four friends down with him.
Edge fell into Bono’s lap, his face buried into the crook of Raven’s neck while Adam and Larry rubbed his back soothingly. Tears escaped his eyes like a broken dam, soaking Raven’s skin to the bone.
Stroking his hair, she held him close.
“Shhh, it’s ok, Edge.” She cooed. “Please tell us what’s wrong, Edge. We’re so worried about you.”
Mustering up oxygen, Edge sobbed against Raven. “She…she…le-le…she…lef…”
“Breathe, sweetheart. Who’s ‘she?’ Aislinn?”
He nodded.
“Aislinn what, Edge?”
“…she…left…”
Raven gazed up at Adam, Larry and Bono with sorrow, each man returning her similar guise. Now it was clear. All of it. Edge’s temper. The smell of alcohol, sweat and blood heavy in the air. Now it all made sense.
“Aislinn left you?” Bono finished carefully and softly in Edge’s ear.
“Y-y-yes…”
Raven’s heart sunk into the depths of her stomach. In comparison to earlier dramatization, the room was now deathly still, the air so thick that one could have suffocated from it. No one knew what to say. And no one knew what to do. All they could do was huddle together around the broken man and try to pick up the pieces.
---
Later that night, Edge finally passed out in the art room and Larry, Bono and Adam set to work on cleaning the mess their best mate had accomplished. Raven was on the verge to tears, Bono in a rage and Larry and Adam speechless. Raven had to admit it hurt to throw away torn wedding photo’s, original, handwritten poems Bono had wrote for Raven. In a large bag they pitched paintings Raven had done by hand, the dried flower bouquet Raven held down the aisle. Even some home movies were destroyed. It was like their life, their relationship…their marriage was being stuffed into a large bag to be forgotten. And, though she didn’t say it out loud, Raven couldn’t help but to feel that their marriage would soon be in that bag as well.
“Raven,” Bono whispered, taking her hand. “Sweetheart, are you ok? You’re crying, love.”
She sniffed. “Am I? …wow, I guess…I guess I’m still in shock. You know, over Edge.”
She was lying to him, Bono knew, but he would let it go. Now was not the time to be talking about broken marriages when they had a drunk, passed out guitarist in the other room. Seeing Edge like that had scared him a bit. What if Raven left him? Would he react in the same way? And while drying the tears off his wife’s glorious, alabaster face, Bono felt the same sort of pain his best mate was experiencing. Sometimes when Raven looked at him it was as though she wished to see someone else.
Did he look at her like that?
“I’m…going to go check on him real quick.” Raven said, kissing her husband.
Bono nodded and went back to cleaning the mess of broken glass and plastic. Meanwhile, Raven entered the studio, the door squeaking slightly when she opened it, peaking her head in at a very sleepy Edge. There was a lamp above his head lit and it shone down on his face, eliminating his angular features: his sharp jaw line and Greek nose.
Raven walked over quietly to the light source. She paused, wrapping her arms around herself while staring down at Edge. He was at peace now, asleep and worry free. The morning, however, would be a whole other story. Would he remember anything? The tantrum? The anger? …the kiss?
“Edge,” She whispered to sleeping form, kneeling down and covering him up with the knit blanket, tucking the fabric under his chin. She sat down next to him, caressing his hair, her welled up tears now free falling. “I know how you feel, Edge. The rage…all the built up sorrow. Did you know that Bono and I were having troubles, Edge? It hurts. It hurts to know that the person you love doesn’t love you as much as they used to. And it hurts even more to know that…sometimes you just don’t care. Sometimes you just feel like giving up. Trust me, Edge, I know. And you’re not alone.”
? Chapter Four
It was a perfect summer Dublin night, the stars twinkling like fireflies amongst an ebony blanket of sky, the wind steady, warm, flowing over our bodies like the gentle caress of water. She sat next to me; quiet, transfixed on the constellations, stealing a glance here and there towards me out of the corner of her eyes, blushing fiercely when I would smile back, unafraid to show her what my attention was focused upon.
I’ve only known her for a few days on: Raven Dalton, American Born Tattoo Artist, pale skinned with hair that harmonized her name. My friends have told me that I’ve always been good at reading people--putting myself in their place, almost as if I could trip inside their heads. Never did I believe them until a few years, after being on stage before thousands for the first time. I would watch the people in the front row, analyzing their body language to see if they thought I was either total shit or a wonderful front man. Sometimes it was the first, often than enough it was the latter.
And, using on Raven the same ability that I use on my audience, I took in the breaths that escaped her plump lips like they were my own. She was stiff, perhaps a little unnerving, her back straight and fingers drumming madly on her bent knees. Matter of the fact is--she portrayed the same jittery reaction that I had witnessed from my female fans upon meeting me for the first time: intimidated. There is no other word to describe it.
However, if she was intimated, Raven didn’t make it too apparent. After all, it was our first date and first dates, no matter your station, are always a bit nerve-wracking. Even me, Bono, lead singer of U2, had nothing witty to say for once. Surly she didn’t want to hear about my tours or party nights. She wasn’t a groupie or your average, every day sleaze. It took me ten times, not kidding, TEN times to get her to agree on one lousy date.
Oddly enough, she didn’t want to go out for dinner or a movie like other women. She said she’d rather be here, underneath the stars in an abandon pasture on top an old blanket, sharing a case of beer and soaking in the silence of the countryside. Already she was amazing me, my mind, body and soul craving for her elegant, small artistic hands.
Swigging from the neck of the bottle of beer, Raven set down the glass, turning to me for the first time tonight. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” I answered, uncapping my first beer.
“Why…why did you ask me out?”
Meeting her brown, starlit eyes, I mumbled, lumbering on my words. “What do you mean?”
“How much clearer can I make it?” She giggled and sat Indian style across from me, looking straightforward into my eyes, her words serious and contemplating. “Let’s be logical here, Bono. You and I are two completely different people.”
I crossed my arms. “How so?”
“Well, for starters, I’m a tattoo artist.”
“And?”
“And…well, you’re…Irish. Not too many Irishmen take a liking to us tattooed women. It’s…” She struggled. “It’s sinful, I suppose. I spend my days making people bleed and ruin their ’temple’ so to speak. You haven’t seen the way people look at me, Bono. Like I walked out of the pits of Hell.”
Wanting to laugh, I retained, not wanting to damper her personal humiliation. “You know, being a rock star is sinful as well.”
“But you’re worshipped. Your type of profession is accepted.”
“Not always. Especially when you throw politics into the music, Irish politics for that matter. I’m not as loved here as I am, in say, the states. Rock and Roll is meant for the British, not the Irish. And it pisses off a lot of people because of the fact that I’m Irish. The bottom line is, I don’t care how people look at you. All I care about is how I look at you.”
Her lips twitched in the corners before growing into a shy, wide smile. “And…how do you see me, Bono?”
Taking the beer out of her hand, I set it to the side and raised a hand, slowly, to touch her face. We both faltered and I found myself somewhat troubled to near closer. At this point, she was hard to breakdown, difficult to formulize. Her eyes said, “Yes, touch me.” Her body, on the other hand, screamed, “Please, please don’t do this.”
So I didn’t.
Instead, I answered her question. “I think you’re a mystery that I’m anxiously wanting to solve. We’re not that different, Raven. You’re an artist and…so am I, just of a different form. We’re always going to be outcasts, no matter what, because of our professions. But that shouldn’t stop us from being who we are. And, right now, in this very moment, the only person I want to be is the man next to you.”
She smiled once again. “You don’t find me odd?”
“No,” I said honestly. “Do you find me odd?”
Shrugging, she smirked. “Not odd, just different.”
Nodding, I wasn’t sure if I should have taken that as a compliment or as an insult. Ignoring my thoughts and giving my full attention back to those honey iris’s, Raven leaned in, unexpected, the oxygen ripping out of my chest. She was so close. So very close. Her scent dizzied my senses, sending a wave of shivers throughout every coursing vein.
Narrowing her eyes, she whispered into the dark. “You can kiss me now.”
“Rave, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Bono told his wife as calmly as he could, despite the fact that she was driving him off the wall.
“It needs to be talked about!”
“It’s been three months, Rave! I thought we had this sorted out?”
She sighed, sinking into the bed and resting her hands on her lap limply. He was right, of course. It had been three--almost four--months since the Aislinn confrontment. Since that night, Bono and Raven went back to normal to say the least. She took the rest of that week off, as promised, and spent every waking and non-waking moment with her husband. Back again were the old conversations and the dining at favorite restaurants. They sang, painted and cooked together like they did when they first married. Even the lovemaking wasn’t all that bad, though it wasn’t as great as it once was.
Ireland was snowcapped, freezing and grey. Raven liked to blame their problems on the weather, even if that were far from the truth. As if it were bad enough that Bono was having problems with his wife, he was now having tribulations with Edge as well. Of course couples tell each other everything, but Edge should have known better than to tell Aislinn about the hotel parties in America. Aislinn despised Raven, always have, always will. Leave it to her to turn something innocent into something disrespectful and disgusting. Aside from the touchy faze in his marriage, Bono adored Raven. He adored the way her black and grey rose tattoos decorated her shoulders, two on one and two on the other, to represent the four members of the band.
“My brothers,” She always calls them.
After knowing, living and sharing personal moments with Larry, Adam, Edge and Bono, she had discovered what it meant to be close to other’s outside of her personal family. They took care of her, took her places, showed her new things and she did the same for them in return. They were a close knit group that celebrated birthdays and holidays, even if they weren’t blood. Aside from Dan, the four members of U2 was all that Raven really had left.
“So what made you come to Ireland?” Asked Bono, lighting a cigarette before handing me his pack.
Laying side by side on the roof of his car, I followed suit and exhaled the stale smoke while the lights of passing cars lit up his face. Tonight was our third date and differed enormously from the first. Now there was no more uncomfortable silences or smart remarks. Now we were merely a man and a woman, asking one another the basic questions of life to better understand the person that lurked behind the artistic masks. Masks of strangeness, fame and sins.
I liked that he didn’t mind the tattoos. If anything, I enjoyed the way he used the tips of his fingers to maze over the random flowers on my forearms, just as he was doing now-- his touch so intoxicating and light, like butterflies fluttering along my skin.
Gathering my composure, I answered, my voice faraway as if we were in a lucid dream, “Well, my brother is seven years older than me and he’s been into the whole tattoo thing since he was sixteen. He got a job with a man by the name of Brad Peters when Dan was eighteen. Brad moved to Ireland because his mother lived here and she was ill. Dan followed, not wanting to work for anyone but Brad.”
“Is Brad the block with the blond hair?” He asked.
“Yes, with the huge scorpion tattoo on his neck. Brad’s mother died and from there, Brad opened up Dublin Ink with Dan. When I turned twenty, Dan showed Brad some of my work and they wanted me to join their company. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“What about your parents? Are they in the States?”
“I never knew my Dad and our mother passed away two months ago.”
Bono went silent yet didn’t stop outlining the tiger lily on my arm. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I lost me mum at a young age. Was just me old man and me older brother for years.”
“I’m sorry, Bono. It’s not an easy thing, I know.”
Nodding, he propped his elbow on the car, resting his cheek in his palm. “See,” He whispered, locking his gaze to mine. “Told you we weren’t so different.”
“I’m sorry,” Raven caved, taking Bono into her arms, holding him to her chest. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“No, I understand why you’re upset, love. But don’t listen to her.”
“It’s just…you and Edge haven’t even went out anywhere together for three months and it’s all because I couldn’t control my temper.”
Bono shot up instantly, his face twisted with irritation. “Don’t, Raven. Baby, it’s not your fault. Believe me. She’s been cold towards you since you first met. It’s about time someone put her in her place. That’s what I love about you, you’re strong.”
Sighing, Raven smiled weakly, placing a fragile kiss on Bono’s lips, tasting the nicotine and mint, a mixture that she fell in love with over and over. Even now, through the obvious haze of their partnership, she still couldn’t get enough of his kisses.
“I love you, Raven.” He told her strongly, his face burning with compassion.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. You better leave before it gets dark. I don’t like the idea of you driving in the first place and it’s even worse when there’s two feet of snow on the ground.”
“Oh, ha-ha, so funny, Rave! There’s nothing wrong with my driving!” He pushed her playfully and she muffled a chuckle in response. “I’ll be back before dark.”
“Ok, tell Adam I said hi.”
“Will do, love.”
Once Bono was out the door, Raven took a quick shower before going downstairs to start dinner. She peeled the potatoes, cut them and placed them in the boiling water before fixing the fish with herbs and spices. From time to time she would check the clock, marking the minutes that Bono had been away. The sun was sinking over the horizon and poured in through the kitchen window.
Just as she was heading back from the wine cellar, a door slammed loudly against the frame of the house, shaking the floors like a miniature earthquake. Raven gasped, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.
“Bono?” She half-yelled, clutching the wine bottle to her chest.
Creeping towards the living room, Raven’s eyebrows scrunched at the sound of banging on the walls and floor.
Great, she thought, Bono has come home drunk and is throwing a tantrum…
Expecting a raging Bono, Raven announced into the room, shock setting in at once. Bono was not the one making racket. Instead a very distraught Edge stormed about the room, picking up books, magazines and random objects and thrashing them at the walls. Pages flew about the room in a twister, twirling and falling at the floor. Edge yelled at random, his face red and raged.
“Edge!” Raven hurried towards the guitarist, dropping the wine bottle and it rolled beneath the end table. “Edge!” She begged again, catching his flying arms. “Edge, sweetie, what’s the matter? Edge, calm down, please!”
She found it difficult to put his actions to a halt, his strength out powering her shaking, frightened body. For what seemed like hours, Edge and Raven went around in circles. Whenever she went to calm him, he jerked away, his arms swerving wildly, his fists almost accidentally knocking her over on more than one occasion. She dodged pitched possessions, unable to detect what was being destroyed, the room too trashed to determine what was broken and what was not.
“EDGE!”
With all her might, Raven flexed and rammed herself into Edge’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, falling to the floor with a loud thump.
“EDGE! LISTEN TO ME! CALM DOWN!”
Quickly she straddled his waist, pinning his arms down with her knees. He kicked his legs, trying to knock Raven over. Eventually she fell sideways, landing harshly on her side. Before she could prevent it, Edge was back to his feet, pacing back and forth, his large steps stomping over the skew of broken picture frames, cassettes, movies and interior decorations.
In a flash, Raven came up behind Edge, grabbing him around the waist. “Edge, talk to me. Please talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Edge froze and so very slowly turned to look at Raven’s concerned face. Whether it was his state of mind or out of secret attraction, he balled his fists and, much to Raven’s unexpected surprise, pushed Raven into the nearby wall. Fear set in and Raven squeezed her eyes shut, prepping for either a physical blow or an outburst.
Neither came.
Alternatively, she could feel Edge’s hands gripping her neck on either side, his fingers digging into her skin not in anger but in…want? Only then did she take notice to the strong scent of alcohol and nicotine that emerged from Edge’s wrinkled clothes. At this moment she realized his quivering body and sharp intakes of air. And, in this space and time, she was aware of his lips on hers.
It wasn’t a forceful kiss. Nor was it willing. It was just…a kiss.
At first.
Paralyzed, Raven’s eyes shot wide open, her startled mind shutting down, leaving her with no knowledge on how to react to her best friend’s actions. His lips moved against hers, the tip of his tongue slithering along her closed mouth, aching for an entrance in which she did not provide. It had been almost six years since another man had kissed her. Sure, she’s thought about what it would feel like to have another man’s lips pressed against hers. That’s normal after being in a long relationship. But she would never, ever do something so hurtful and disrespectful towards Bono. They had a marriage…a friendship, a bond that no one could ever come between.
Not even Edge. Raven loved Edge. She would do anything for him. Anything in the world…besides this. His head wasn’t right, she reminded herself over and over. Did he even know what he was doing or who he was doing it to? Probably not, she decided. She had to put an end to it before they both regretted it.
Forcing her head to the side, she grimaced softly. “Edge…”
Fluttering his lids, Edge looked as though he just came out of a hypnotized trance. Raven and Edge met eye to eye, both speechless and confused. Raven let out a held breath, relieved at the possibility that, in spite of the kiss, Edge was finally calm and…
“Shit,” Edge hissed, tugging at his hair. “Shit! SHIT!”
“Edge, it’s ok!” Raven assured, grabbing his shoulders. “Edge, really, it’s alright.”
“FUCK!”
Like a bomb exploding, Edge was twice as enraged. Raven panicked when Edge toppled over her settee, the cushions tumbling onto the floor. Backing up and away from Edge, she could only watch as her living room became a war zone, incapable of handling the situation.
From all the yelling and falling objects, Raven didn’t hear the other three men enter the house.
“What the hell?” Bono bellowed from behind Raven, causing her to turn around sharply.
Relief settled. “Thank God you’re here!”
“What’s going on?” Larry asked and gestured towards Edge who, obviously, didn’t either care or notice his three mates arrival.
“I don’t know!” Raven cried. “He just came into the house and started throwing shit! He won’t say anything! I tried calming him down but…you see how far that got me.”
“We have to stop him!” Bono informed.
“No, don’t.” Raven put a hand on Bono’s arm. “Let him…”
“He’s breaking our stuff!”
“Possessions are replaceable. Edge is not.”
Larry chimed in, “Ray, I see your side but look at this place! There’s holes in the walls and Edge is bleeding! He’s going to hurt himself if we don’t stop it.”
Raven exhaled sadly. “…fine.”
Bono was the first to intervene, ducking just in time from a flying lamp. Adam pulled Raven to the side instinctively, if not, it would have crashed right into her head. The lamp hit the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces of porcelain.
“EDGE!” Bono demanded, grabbing his friend from behind. “EDGE! Stop! Stop it, Edge!”
An elbow sunk into Bono’s stomach, causing him to kneel down, clutching where Edge had struck. Larry and Adam immediately intruded and Bono stood upright. Larry and Adam each grabbed hold of Edge’s forearms and tried to throw them behind his back so that he couldn’t lash out. It was no use, it was as though Edge was made of steel. Bono was at Edge’s middle again, holding him place, the four men swaying back and forth, each man fighting for different direction.
“WE NEED YOU RAVE!” Bono instructed and, at once, Raven joined in, placing herself in front of him, resting her hands on both sides of Edge’s tear stained face.
Being this close to him, she could still feel his lips on hers, taste his unfamiliar flavor on her taste buds. Any other time, she would pushed him away, scorning him for his immature reactions. Nonetheless, due to the difficulties, she couldn’t feel anything towards him but pity and empathy. Edge normally was calm, very zen and collected. For him to pulse with such frustration and physical antagonism was rare and not to mention heartbreaking.
“Edge, please calm down.” She encouraged. “Edge, look at me. LOOK AT ME, EDGE! What’s wrong, honey? What happened?”
Raven’s expression was painted with colors of concern, worry, grief and care. Even after what he did to her, kissing her without permission, here she was, staying strong for him and more than willing to comfort. His knees buckled and he went limp to the ground, taking his four friends down with him.
Edge fell into Bono’s lap, his face buried into the crook of Raven’s neck while Adam and Larry rubbed his back soothingly. Tears escaped his eyes like a broken dam, soaking Raven’s skin to the bone.
Stroking his hair, she held him close.
“Shhh, it’s ok, Edge.” She cooed. “Please tell us what’s wrong, Edge. We’re so worried about you.”
Mustering up oxygen, Edge sobbed against Raven. “She…she…le-le…she…lef…”
“Breathe, sweetheart. Who’s ‘she?’ Aislinn?”
He nodded.
“Aislinn what, Edge?”
“…she…left…”
Raven gazed up at Adam, Larry and Bono with sorrow, each man returning her similar guise. Now it was clear. All of it. Edge’s temper. The smell of alcohol, sweat and blood heavy in the air. Now it all made sense.
“Aislinn left you?” Bono finished carefully and softly in Edge’s ear.
“Y-y-yes…”
Raven’s heart sunk into the depths of her stomach. In comparison to earlier dramatization, the room was now deathly still, the air so thick that one could have suffocated from it. No one knew what to say. And no one knew what to do. All they could do was huddle together around the broken man and try to pick up the pieces.
---
Later that night, Edge finally passed out in the art room and Larry, Bono and Adam set to work on cleaning the mess their best mate had accomplished. Raven was on the verge to tears, Bono in a rage and Larry and Adam speechless. Raven had to admit it hurt to throw away torn wedding photo’s, original, handwritten poems Bono had wrote for Raven. In a large bag they pitched paintings Raven had done by hand, the dried flower bouquet Raven held down the aisle. Even some home movies were destroyed. It was like their life, their relationship…their marriage was being stuffed into a large bag to be forgotten. And, though she didn’t say it out loud, Raven couldn’t help but to feel that their marriage would soon be in that bag as well.
“Raven,” Bono whispered, taking her hand. “Sweetheart, are you ok? You’re crying, love.”
She sniffed. “Am I? …wow, I guess…I guess I’m still in shock. You know, over Edge.”
She was lying to him, Bono knew, but he would let it go. Now was not the time to be talking about broken marriages when they had a drunk, passed out guitarist in the other room. Seeing Edge like that had scared him a bit. What if Raven left him? Would he react in the same way? And while drying the tears off his wife’s glorious, alabaster face, Bono felt the same sort of pain his best mate was experiencing. Sometimes when Raven looked at him it was as though she wished to see someone else.
Did he look at her like that?
“I’m…going to go check on him real quick.” Raven said, kissing her husband.
Bono nodded and went back to cleaning the mess of broken glass and plastic. Meanwhile, Raven entered the studio, the door squeaking slightly when she opened it, peaking her head in at a very sleepy Edge. There was a lamp above his head lit and it shone down on his face, eliminating his angular features: his sharp jaw line and Greek nose.
Raven walked over quietly to the light source. She paused, wrapping her arms around herself while staring down at Edge. He was at peace now, asleep and worry free. The morning, however, would be a whole other story. Would he remember anything? The tantrum? The anger? …the kiss?
“Edge,” She whispered to sleeping form, kneeling down and covering him up with the knit blanket, tucking the fabric under his chin. She sat down next to him, caressing his hair, her welled up tears now free falling. “I know how you feel, Edge. The rage…all the built up sorrow. Did you know that Bono and I were having troubles, Edge? It hurts. It hurts to know that the person you love doesn’t love you as much as they used to. And it hurts even more to know that…sometimes you just don’t care. Sometimes you just feel like giving up. Trust me, Edge, I know. And you’re not alone.”
I'm gonna read it.. 
I also feel so sorry for Raven & Bono.. You capture the emotions so good. wowowow
that was intense!
great story, you're very talented, LL! (but I think you're just working hard to be a very good writer.
