Page 109 of The Leaves In Autumn
The cell sounds. Mom. I let it go to voicemail and turn down the sound. I can’t have any interruptions in my unraveling.
Barbra’s street. I make the turn, probably for the last time. After tomorrow this setting will survive only in our memories. Someone else will be living here and it will become a new home, shaped by them. My stomach twists with the thought. Images of all the fun times we had here will feed my happiness. I will be an old man, thinking about the time she stood on a table, in costume, and danced for me. Or all the nights we ate in front of the television, watchingLawandOrder, or critiquing what a celebrity was wearing to an award show.
Pulling into the driveway, I half expect her to come dancing out. It doesn’t happen. I park and consider taking out my duffle. No. Don’t do that in case this is just a short stay to say goodbye. But why would we disregard the fact this is it. There is only one more night to be together. Why would it be squandered?
I get out, climb the steps and knock softly on the door. Footsteps. It swings open and what I am about to be without stands in front of me. Behind her is an empty room, except for the couch, one table, and a lamp. It is missing the spirit she brought to it too. Even though she is still here.
“I ordered pizza. That good?”
“Yeah. Your favorite or mine?”
“Yours.”
That is a first. Why does it make me sad? Walking in, I pretend not to want to take her in my arms.
“Come here,” she says, grabbing my wrist and bringing me close.
A sigh escapes. Didn’t know I was holding my breath. We hold each other close. It is not sexual, but loving and meaningful. I try to take in the moment, so when she is gone, I can remember how it feels. I lean into her ear.
“I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”
That says it all. At least all I am willing to reveal. It’s genuine and deeply felt. More than she will ever know.
“Me too, Aargon. Nothing will be the same without you there to play with me.”
I look into her eyes with a question on my face.
“Not in a sexual way. I mean how we are so good at having fun with each other.”
We part.
“We are good at it. Who am I going to play with now?”
Shit. I didn’t mean it that way. But I think she knows.
“You’re going to have to conduct a search. LikeAmerica’sGotTalentdoes. Interview prospective contestants.”
I sit on the couch, and she joins me.
“No. I don’t think that will work for me.”
“No?”
“Uh uh.”
She takes my denial in and searches for another topic. Luckily, the doorbell rings.
“Pizza’s here.”
The announcement gets me up and away from the uncomfortable moment. Then she says the one thing I have been wondering about.
“Where’s your duffle? You’re spending the night, right?”
Thank fucking Buddha and Jesus for huge favors.
“Oh yeah, I forgot to grab it. Be back in a minute.”
I won’t give her any time to reconsider. I head for the door.
