Starting Line - Day 5
“Hey Mister. Sorry to bother you, but can you move your car? I can’t get out with your car sitting there.”
I hadn’t noticed the burly old man come from the back of the house up to my car.
“What?” was all I can get out.
“Your car, Mister. Can you pull your car out so I can get out?”
“Ahhh, I live here. Who are you anyway?”
“John. John the washer repair guy. Guess I should have parked on the street, but some of the neighborhoods around here don’t like that, so I pulled around back. The Misses said it was okay since you weren’t going to be back from work until later today.”
“So you two weren’t …… Oh, never mind. Yeah, sure, I’ll back up. Just give me a sec.”
It probably only took a couple of minutes for me to pull out, for John to leave, and for me to pull back in, but it seemed like forever. My whole body was weak, feeling as if I had bungee jumped off a bridge using super bungees that made every loop bigger than the last.
Finally, I pulled into the garage and got out without even a thought about the flowers which waited so patiently on the passenger seat.
I rushed inside, to find Mary sweeping away dirt that had been dislodged by the washer repairman.
“David?” she said in a surprised, but controlled voice.
I didn’t stop to say anything. I just scooped her up in my arms, just like the last scene in so many old movies, and planted my lips on hers. At first, she tried to give me the usual peck and pull away, but my arms were not having any of that. I kept her pulled close, and kept my lips upon hers.
Finally, she let herself relax and returned my kiss. I don’t know when the one kiss transformed into many kisses. I don’t know when my arms changed from restraints into foragers, desperately searching her entire body. I don’t know how we made it to the bedroom, or even how long we were there. What I do know is that I once again recognized exactly how much I truly loved Mary. And how much she loved me.
As I laid in our bed with Mary snuggled up tightly to my side, I remembered the flowers.
“Oh shoot.”
“What Davey?”
“I’ll be right back.”
It only took a minute to dash out to the garage and back. My hurry was mainly fueled by my desire to return to her side (and hoping she didn’t get up and get dressed while I was gone), and partly driven by my nakedness.
When I returned, Mary was still in bed, still snuggled down in the sheets.
“For me?”
“For you and only you.”
“Dave, I almost hate to ask this. I sure don’t want to ruin what just happened. But I have to know.”
I climbed back into bed and slid my arm underneath Mary. I pretty much knew what she was going to ask.
“David, is there any reason I should be suspicious of this sudden change of behavior?”
Yep, I was right.
Do I tell her she has every right to be suspicious? Do I tell of her of my attraction to Jane and the lunch today? Do I tell her about Bob and starting lines and Grandpa?
“Mary, I have been a real jerk for the last years. I have allowed calluses to grow over my deep love of you. I have built walls and shelters and hell, whole towns that have separated us.
“When we were first married, you were everything to me, Mary. And you still are. I just lost sight of that.”
I paused to kiss her on the forehead and look into her eyes.
“I won’t lose sight of that ever again.”
Mary’s eyes clouded up and I thought she was going to cry. Instead, she reached up and pulled me even closer to her. We spent the rest of the afternoon and deep into the night laying in bed, returning to the start line. We had spent twelve years running away from the start line. It only took one afternoon to return back to it.
Just before we nodded off for the night, Mary rose up on her elbow and said, “What was that old phrase your Grandpa use to say all the time? Something like ‘everybody looks good at the starting line’? That was it, wasn’t it?”
I was shocked. Had she been reading my mind all along?
“That was it exactly, Mary.”
She bent down for one last, long kiss.
“Let’s not leave the starting line this time, Davey. I like it right here.”
So do I. Boy oh boy, so do I.
-- the end or is it just the start?--
I hadn’t noticed the burly old man come from the back of the house up to my car.
“What?” was all I can get out.
“Your car, Mister. Can you pull your car out so I can get out?”
“Ahhh, I live here. Who are you anyway?”
“John. John the washer repair guy. Guess I should have parked on the street, but some of the neighborhoods around here don’t like that, so I pulled around back. The Misses said it was okay since you weren’t going to be back from work until later today.”
“So you two weren’t …… Oh, never mind. Yeah, sure, I’ll back up. Just give me a sec.”
It probably only took a couple of minutes for me to pull out, for John to leave, and for me to pull back in, but it seemed like forever. My whole body was weak, feeling as if I had bungee jumped off a bridge using super bungees that made every loop bigger than the last.
Finally, I pulled into the garage and got out without even a thought about the flowers which waited so patiently on the passenger seat.
I rushed inside, to find Mary sweeping away dirt that had been dislodged by the washer repairman.
“David?” she said in a surprised, but controlled voice.
I didn’t stop to say anything. I just scooped her up in my arms, just like the last scene in so many old movies, and planted my lips on hers. At first, she tried to give me the usual peck and pull away, but my arms were not having any of that. I kept her pulled close, and kept my lips upon hers.
Finally, she let herself relax and returned my kiss. I don’t know when the one kiss transformed into many kisses. I don’t know when my arms changed from restraints into foragers, desperately searching her entire body. I don’t know how we made it to the bedroom, or even how long we were there. What I do know is that I once again recognized exactly how much I truly loved Mary. And how much she loved me.
As I laid in our bed with Mary snuggled up tightly to my side, I remembered the flowers.
“Oh shoot.”
“What Davey?”
“I’ll be right back.”
It only took a minute to dash out to the garage and back. My hurry was mainly fueled by my desire to return to her side (and hoping she didn’t get up and get dressed while I was gone), and partly driven by my nakedness.
When I returned, Mary was still in bed, still snuggled down in the sheets.
“For me?”
“For you and only you.”
“Dave, I almost hate to ask this. I sure don’t want to ruin what just happened. But I have to know.”
I climbed back into bed and slid my arm underneath Mary. I pretty much knew what she was going to ask.
“David, is there any reason I should be suspicious of this sudden change of behavior?”
Yep, I was right.
Do I tell her she has every right to be suspicious? Do I tell of her of my attraction to Jane and the lunch today? Do I tell her about Bob and starting lines and Grandpa?
“Mary, I have been a real jerk for the last years. I have allowed calluses to grow over my deep love of you. I have built walls and shelters and hell, whole towns that have separated us.
“When we were first married, you were everything to me, Mary. And you still are. I just lost sight of that.”
I paused to kiss her on the forehead and look into her eyes.
“I won’t lose sight of that ever again.”
Mary’s eyes clouded up and I thought she was going to cry. Instead, she reached up and pulled me even closer to her. We spent the rest of the afternoon and deep into the night laying in bed, returning to the start line. We had spent twelve years running away from the start line. It only took one afternoon to return back to it.
Just before we nodded off for the night, Mary rose up on her elbow and said, “What was that old phrase your Grandpa use to say all the time? Something like ‘everybody looks good at the starting line’? That was it, wasn’t it?”
I was shocked. Had she been reading my mind all along?
“That was it exactly, Mary.”
She bent down for one last, long kiss.
“Let’s not leave the starting line this time, Davey. I like it right here.”
So do I. Boy oh boy, so do I.
-- the end or is it just the start?--
posted by Jimmie C. | 10:11 AM
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