Twenty-Six #3
Nodding, I slid my chair back a bit and stood. Rilee had my plate stacked with hers before I could rise all the way. One hand on the chair, I shifted my hips side to side. “I can do those,” I offered. A couple of plates was definitely within my limits.
“That’s okay. I’ll get them later,” Rilee answered, settling the dishes in the sink out of sight. “I didn’t have a dessert planned, but we could have another glass of wine in the front room if you’d like.”
Was her tone hopeful? Tired? Annoyed? I couldn’t tell. “We can do that,” I agreed. Mindful that I should have offered to take my shoes off when I’d first arrived, I clomped into the living room, my still quarter–full glass in hand.
I didn’t see a coaster so I held onto my glass as I settled on to the blue couch.
Light on her feet, Rilee swept in, bottle in hand, and sat down a couch cushion away.
The couch creaked and shifted beneath me as even the furniture acknowledged her presence.
Coasterless, Rilee set her glass down and poured herself more of the white wine.
“Top you off?” she offered. I set my glass beside hers and in a smooth motion she poured me more. Rilee seemed to not care about coasters on the wood table but leaving the glass to sweat a ring on the blonde wood made me edgy so I picked mine back up.
“You have a nice place,” I motioned to the room, but meant the house generally.
Curling her legs up underneath her, dark skirt spreading tightly across her lap, Rilee pushed her hair behind her ear.
“It’s cozy. I got a good deal before the market went crazy.
I wouldn’t be able to buy it now, but I was in the right place at the right time.
” She traced the edge of her glass with her thumb, cupping it.
“It’s breezy in the summer and can be drafty in the winter, but it’s definitely nice to come home to. ”
Nervously I sipped at the wine, letting the crisp taste distract me. The way Rilee’s hair spilled across her shoulders was liquid sunshine. Looking at her and thinking at the same time was hard. “You like the ocean?” I babbled.
Rilee’s laugh was more distracting than the sight of her.
“Is it that obvious?” Glancing about at the shells, driftwood, the jar of sand, and an unmistakable red life preserver hanging on the wall, she let out a little giggle.
“I guess it is obvious. Yeah, I love the ocean. The wind, the waves, the taste of the air. It’s clean and peaceful while still demanding respect.
” Her smile disappeared as she lowered her glass from her lips.
With a wistful melancholy she added, “Just being on the beach is like living in a dream.” A rosy flush filled her cheeks and Rilee lifted her glass again, disappearing behind it.
“Do you ever swim in the ocean?” she asked. With a howling gust of wind, rain began tapping at the window.
I thought about the times my family had been to the coast. The pacific northwest’s waters were cold, even in the summer.
Memories of sand between my toes and surf against my shins came easily, but full immersion was beyond recollection, even as a small child.
“I just got my feet wet. But it’s a nice feeling, the surf pushing the sand around your ankles. ”
Her smile was back and bright, like I’d passed some kind of test. “I drive to the coast every year.” As she worked through her glass, she told me about last summer’s trip.
The sea otters who chased the boats in the harbor, the pod of killer whales she spied from the lighthouse, eating saltwater taffy while strolling on the beach.
“It sounds like you have good friends.”
Rilee nodded, “They are great. It’s nice to know someone has your back.”
The look on Veronica’s face when she saw the bloody gauze on the small of my back flashed through me lightning quick.
Part horror and nausea. Her hands folded tightly across her chest as she told me to go to an urgent care to get the dressings changed.
Veronica asking me to sleep on the couch because she was worried about stains on the sheets.
Waking up to an empty apartment and the note that there was some pizza in the fridge but not to call her.
All of this crashed through my body despite the woman from my dreams being only an arm’s length away.
A soft grumble of thunder broke a moment before I set my now empty glass down.
“It’s getting late. I probably should be going.
” With one hand on the couch arm, I stood up.
I wasn’t feeling the wine yet, but there was the tickle of something, maybe in my back, maybe in my chest, and I wanted to stay ahead of whatever it was.
It had been a pleasant evening, the best I’d had in years.
Even when it had been memories on the couch next to me.
Rilee rose to meet me, the sofa exhaling behind her.
“It sounds like the weather is kind of nasty,” she said.
Rain tickled at the window and a hungry wind rattled the pane.
Taking a step toward me she added, “It’s cold.
” Her voice low, Rilee reached her raised hand into the space between us, “And dark.” The tips of her fingers touched my chest, feeling the hollow at my heart. “You could stay.”
I could stay. I didn’t have to go back out into the night.
But what if the dream wasn’t true? What if this was just a pattern repeating in my mind, another Veronica.
My coat was in the closet, truck keys in the pocket.
Just a few steps to put on the coat. A few more and I’d be down the steps. A dozen strides and I’d be safe.
When I took a step toward Rilee, her outstretched hand flattened across my chest. Her fingertips pressing into that hole, the hollow between the muscles I’d built, moving logs, lifting weights, rehabbing my back, regaining my life.
Until she’d touched me, I’d been unable to look down into that void. And now she was here.
My hand covered hers, feeling the space between her fingers, the heights of her knuckles, the beating of my own heart through her skin. My other hand reached out, my thumb on her chin, fingers along her jaw, the touch of her ear. I felt her lips as I answered, “I’ll stay.”
She smiled at my answer. I couldn’t see it or hear her response, I was too close, but her murmured words brushed against me, tickling and warming me from the inside out.
My hands were in her hair and her fingers found the buttons on my shirt.
I tasted the oaky vanilla of the wine on her breath and the saltiness of the space behind her ear.
My shirt buttons came apart and Rilee tugged the tails of my shirt free from my pants, tracing her finger along my belt.
Then with a hungry grin she slipped her finger behind my buckle, “Come on,” tugging me down the hall, face to face.
Following her I held onto her elbows, desperate to hold onto any part of her, unwilling to walk the hall alone.
Her bedroom was in white, a dark twisted iron bed frame overflowed with a soft creamy comforter.
Opposite the bed was the painting of the lighthouse on the headland, crashing waves, dark seas.
At the sight from my dream my bad knee locked up and I stumbled.
“Hey there,” she said, catching me, “I’ve got you.
” Locked together we took the final steps into the middle of the room.