Page 69 of The Homemaker
And then there were times when our bodies searched for each other.
When we walked around the lake, she didn’t just hold my hand, she hugged my arm. During a meal, she’d say something funny or cute while stretching her leg until her foot rested on mine. Then I rested my other foot on hers, stacking them like we couldn’t stop touching each other.
“Whatever it is, I can take it,” I said, with her naked body draped over mine as we came down from our high.
“Another orgasm?” she asked in a groggy voice, turning her head a fraction to kiss my chest. “I’m pretty tired. Wake me in a couple of hours.”
The same humor that attracted me to her, the playfulone-liners, no longer brought me joy. Every quip felt like a kick in the gut meant to keep me at a safe distance.
The next morning, the day before she had to leave, I brought her breakfast in bed.
“This is risky,” she said, stretching her body in one direction and then the other before sitting up against the headboard and pulling my T-shirt over her naked body.
“Why is that?” I asked, setting the tray in front of her.
“Because I don’t know if you can cook.”
“Am I still in danger of falling off a pedestal? A hundred orgasms later … really?”
“A hundred?” She giggled while taking a bite of the toast with apricot jam.
“My face has spent so much time between your gorgeous legs, your pussy could charge me rent.”
She blushed while slowly chewing. “This jam is amazing.”
“It’s from the farmer’s market. We should go today since you leave tomorrow,” I said without allowing anguish to seep into my tone.
“We should go on a date tonight.”
“A date?” I reclined on the bed, resting my head on her legs.
Alice grinned. “Something amazing.”
“Like bowling?”
She giggled, pressing her fingers to her lips while she swallowed. “So close, Murph. You were just so close. Then with one word, you tumbled from the pedestal.”
“Bowling? You don’t like bowling?” I propped myself up onto my elbow.
“Why do you look so excited over the idea of me not liking it?”
“Because if you don’t like it, that means you’re not good at it. We’re going bowling. Fuck the pedestal.”
“Perhaps I’msogood that it feels too easy and therefore boring.Orit feels like the most unoriginal date ever.”
I shook my head. “No way. Dinner and a movie is the most unoriginal and boring date ever. Bowling is a solid choice. And if we’re lucky, we’ll arrive and get a warm pair of shoes that someone just returned.”
She laughed. “I can’t believe you’re single. Nothing sweeps a girl off her feet quite like warm bowling shoes. And I want to dress up for our date.”
“Bowling shoes go great with a suit.” I was so fucking scared our time was coming to an end, and so I took mental pictures of every smile and hoped my mind would remember the sound of her laughter.
“What’s that look?” she asked before sipping coffee.
“Have you been swept off your feet before?”
She swallowed and returned a less-than-convincing smile. “Before what? Warm bowling shoes? Sex in front of your neighbor?”
“Before me,” I said.
