A Forty Year Kiss

35

There were mornings now when he woke up to find the bed empty. But this did not fill him with fear or uncertainty. He knew where she was, and the thought of her absence from the bed was not a sad sensation but simply the knowledge that she was happy. So happy that she would wake before dawn to begin chores that were hardly work for her at all.

He would rise contentedly. Visit the bathroom. Then downstairs. Sometimes Blueberry stood by the door, looking for her. Other times the dog remained sacked out on the floor, legs moving with unknowable dog dreams.

The coffee was always made, and he would stand at the kitchen window and look for her through the window, out there in the new sunlight of the day. Out there in the pasture. Sometimes leading the horse, reins in hand. Other times sitting on top of the new Western saddle she’d bought. She spent almost as much time with Shelby as she did with him. She was even trying to convince him to buy another horse. His horse.

That’s the thing about horses, he said, one horse leads to another horse. Soon you’ve got a whole stable full.

I’m not sure I understand what the problem is, she said playfully.

Hayburners is what my dad used to call them, Charlie said wryly.

He gave her space. Time too. Time, it seemed to him, to play. To do the things she had dreamed of doing for over four decades. Maybe her entire life. Her hand on the horse, whispering to Shelby, or pushing the creature into a gallop just after dawn, as the sun began to burn through the fog just like a welding torch.

And then her face, shiny with sweat when she returned to the house. Smelling of leather. Of horse sweat. Her own sweat. Hay. Dewy grass. Fresh summer air. Wrapping her arms around him. Kissing his lips, the sweat there, just above her upper lip. He loved that best of all.

A few weeks later, they drove slowly south down the Wisconsin Great River Road—the Mississippi River to their right, like the grandest handrail. They stopped in small towns. They took little hikes. In Prairie du Chien, they crossed the river, America’s vena cava, and entered Iowa near Marquette.

I didn’t know Iowa was so beautiful, she said.

Hills and bluffs and coulees and hollows. Oak forests. Hilltop vistas of cornfields riding ridgelines. Little farms. Sandstone buildings. Rivers and creeks. The world moving at a slower pace.

Honestly, Vivian said, this is so gorgeous.

Well, thanks for agreeing to come with me, Charlie said. I can understand how this might feel awkward for you, but…it’s important to me that you meet my friends. That you meet Mona.

Decorah looked like the set of a Jimmy Stewart movie. A quaint downtown. A beautiful college campus. Little boutiques and stores. They pulled to a stop beneath mature oak trees whose canopy stretched over the street, and in front of a perfectly refurbished Victorian, its pristine paint job like that of a dark blue dollhouse, all accented in white and burgundy and pale blue. From the wraparound porch, he saw his friends rise out of two rocking chairs, Mona moving quickly, then returning to Nathaniel’s side to steady him. Now they came down the steps towards him and Vivian, and they were holding hands.

Welcome, Mona said, taking Vivian’s hands in hers, and congratulations. Come inside.

***

They sat on that porch all evening, not a bottle of alcohol in sight. Mona asked about their wedding plans. Charlie asked about Nathaniel’s health. Vivian asked Mona about her retirement. They talked about Melissa, Jessie, Ainsley, and Addison. They talked about Shelby and Blueberry. Nathaniel said he was hungry for dinner, and they moved inside to eat a fresh green salad topped with a thick salmon fillet all drizzled with a soy sauce and maple syrup reduction.

Do you miss it? Mona asked Charlie. The drinking?

He took a sip of water and then nodded his head. Yes, he admitted. Sometimes I really do. I’ve had a wonderful evening. But in my mind, I’m still thinking that everything would be made better by a bottle of perfect Oregon pinot noir. That the wine would magnify every taste.

I’m proud of you, Mona said, in the way only a teacher can. In the way only a friend can. I didn’t think you had it in you, she admitted. You proved me wrong.

Charlie reached for Vivian’s hand.

I finally had someone to live for, he admitted. People to live for.

Well, Nathaniel said, we don’t have wineglasses, but I think water will suffice. He stood, a little awkwardly, raised his water glass and said, Cheers. To the newlyweds. May the second time be the charm.

They touched glasses, said, Cheers.

Really, Vivian put in, it’s the fourth time for Charlie. But who’s counting?

Charlie wrapped an arm around Vivian’s shoulder, and they sat that way. Tired, comfortable, content.

And Charlie tells me he’s even a father, Mona said, shaking her head in wonderment. I always knew he was a slow starter, but this takes the cake.

Here she is, Charlie said, offering Mona his phone, where he proudly stored dozens of photos of Jessie, Melissa, Addison, and Ainsley. He couldn’t believe it himself. Suddenly, he was a father, and an honorary grandfather to boot.

Oh, let me take your picture, Mona said, fumbling with the phone. You two look so cute together.

And they posed that way, leaning into one another, smiling, so happy.

Later that night, after Nathaniel and Vivian had retired for the night, Charlie and Mona sat on the porch, listening to the neighborhood’s night sounds. They were quiet, and he knew something was wrong. Mona was rarely this subdued.

Is everything all right? Charlie asked.

She shook her head and began gently crying. He stood and rested a hand on her shoulder.

The cancer has spread, Mona said through tears. This is the last time you’ll see him.

I’m so sorry, Mona. There isn’t anything to be done then?

No. And he’s tired. He’s been through the treatments already. He hated chemo. I thought about asking him to keep fighting, if only for me. But—

Mona’s voice caught and she allowed herself a few moments to regain her composure.

That wouldn’t be fair.

I wish there was some way I could help, Charlie offered. Please let me know if I can help, okay?

I don’t know what I’m going to do, she said. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. I don’t want to think about it. This house? How can I live here without him?

Charlie sank to his knees, and they held each other for a long time.

I’m here for you, he said. Like you were there for me. Anything you need. We’ll be here.

Thank you, she said bravely. The irony, she laughed darkly. You live a roguish existence for sixty years. Breaking hearts and riding the rails. Then, in your sixties, you find love, a daughter, grandkids, a farm… We aren’t that far from our fiftieth, but when Nathaniel dies…I won’t have a thing. Isn’t that something?

She took his face in her hands. It all goes so fast, she said. I don’t understand where all that time went.

He wanted to say, There will be more time. But he didn’t. He said, I’m so, so sorry.

***

Two mornings later, they stood on the front stoop while a neighbor took their picture. Four of them, arms balanced on each other’s shoulders. All smiles. Then they hugged one another, and as Charlie and Vivian were walking back to his truck to leave, Mona said, Let’s go to Spain. Next spring. The four of us. San Sebastian. What do you say?

Charlie turned back to look at his friend, his old professor, his second wife, and he could not control the moisture beading across his eyes. But he said, as cheerfully as he could, We can’t wait. I love you both. Goodbye.