Page 99 of The Leaves In Autumn
“It wasn’t me I was sure of. It was us.”
She chuckles, and it confirms my statement. We know ourselves. She rolls over and faces me.
“I guess you were right. Something’s seriously wrong with us. They’re going to have to separate us.”
“Who are they?”
“The Passion Police.”
“They have no jurisdiction on this block. Besides, you’re doing itforthem.”
There is no comeback or smart remark. I change the subject.
“Let’s go have another feast. The dress code is pajamas. Or if you’d rather come as you are, that works too.”
She runs a hand through my hair. “You always have the best ideas. I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” she says, putting two feet on the floor and shaking her hair out. “First I have to face the mirror and get this under control.”
As I roll out of bed, there is one last request. “Please don’t control anything about you.”
She laughs and walks to the door, naked as the day she was born. Love the view. She knows I watch, and just for my entertainment, walks like she has been rode hard. Which she has. I laugh at how fucking fun she is. I get a final wiggle of her fine ass as she disappears down the hall.
For a minute I stay tangled in the sheets. My hand reaches for the warmth of her side. Even that lingering effect, says it. No one else will do.
That’s enough. I get up and take the blue pajama bottoms from the drawers. Before closing it, I reach for the lacy panties and stuff them inside. My favorite old friend, the roomy, hooded sweatshirt from college, slips on like it knows the way. A quick look in the mirror and I head down the hall for the kitchen. Is it a little cold? I bump up the heat.
Bare feet are cool against the dark wood floors. Lights on. Love this spot in the house. It reminds me of Teddy’s younger years, when his friends would be around the big island. Now it’s barely used. When was the last time I even sat there? Ha. I have lived mostly in two rooms for the last five years. The living room and the bedroom. That’s pathetic, and disrespectful to the home. This beautiful space needs people who know its worth. I walk to the tall windows and look out at the yard. Exterior lights illuminate the quiet night. All edible signs of our feast are gone. Good job, Teddy. Tomorrow I’ll take the rest away.
Music. I bring it up on the pad on the wall. A few taps, and the familiar and meaningful music begins. I want to throw everything I can think of in the mix. Footsteps pad down the hall.
“I love it! We need a little Montana.”
“I’ll never hear their music again without thinking of that night.”
Dove’s latest album starts with an easy happy mood. As Barbra walks in, I take her in my arms and dance around the kitchen. Like the satiny white pajamas. They are a little too big, but not so much that I can’t make out what’s underneath. Her breasts press against me. Feels right, dancing at three in the morning, singing the words we know, in pajamas and bare feet.
“I would cross the torrid desert,” I croon.
“If you were on the other side,” she adds in song.
The words settle for both of us, and we come closer to make them go away. I don’t want her to look in my eyes right now. Don’t want the spell broken before it must be.
“What’s for breakfast?”
I let go, and she climbs on a tall barstool. Although the song continues, I turn down the sound and open my usually mostly empty refrigerator. I hardly recognize the bounty it holds now. Beside Teddy being home, it is filled with the Italian delicacies.
“The only thing we are out of is the bread we had.”
“Really? Oh man.”
“You ate it all.”
“That’s what she said.”
The laughing breaks the awkwardness we accidentally made happen.
“Bring it all out. I’m huuuuungry. Give me one of those pieces of salami.”
“Are you saying your safe word?”
