[stylist] Flirting with Monday Chapter 16

[Barbara Hammel]

Almost horray for you!  I felt the tears come to my eyes when Glen admitted 
he didn't want to face things.  It was right after he said he didn't want 
her to leave.
Barbara

Snow is God's way of reminding us that beauty can be found even in the 
coldest hearts.

--------------------------------------------------
From: "Shelley J. Alongi" <qobells at roadrunner.com>
Sent: Sunday, September 27, 2009 10:17 PM
To: "NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: [stylist] Flirting with Monday Chapter 16

> Back to the barbecue.
>
> Flirting with Monday
>
> Chapter 16
>
>
>
> Judy was beautiful. On that balmy April day with birds singing and a 
> gentle breeze caressing our corner of the world, I watched her come up the 
> walkway with two large grocery bags in her hands. Angel and Magnet and 
> Vincent barked enthusiastically from the back yard. I skipped down the 
> stairs and sprinted out to meet her. I took one of the bags out of her 
> hand and then reached for the other one. She gave me a surprised look, her 
> eyes went wide.
>
>
>
> "Mr. Chivalry," she said. "My goodness what's gotten into you?"
>
>
>
> "Just trying to be helpful," I said cheerfully.
>
>
>
> "Well, you're succeeding quite nicely. I think you'll like what I got. 
> Pork roast and steak. Enough for an army."
>
>
>
> "I'll say."
>
>
>
> "Don't worry," she said. "You can live on the leftovers till you go back 
> to work and even after that."
>
>
>
> We walked up the stairs together, I put my key in the door, behind us the 
> warm, perfect day for barbecuing awaited us, but first things first.
>
>
>
> "it's nice to see you, Judy," I said as we got into the house. I put the 
> bags down in the entry hallway, turning to face Judy as she closed the 
> door. The lights in the hallway touched on her golden hair, the red 
> checkered blouse seemed softer, she stood there in the tiled hallway, 
> soft, quiet. She put her arms out, I stood back for a moment, still 
> looking at her. She looked up at me, her eyes smiling into mine.  I 
> brought her to me gently, then more possessively, holding her as if she 
> would go away. She leaned into me, her hair tickling my chest, her arms 
> comforting my possessiveness. I loosened my hug, held her gently. She was 
> warm, the gentle scent of flowers surrounded me. She was live, breathing, 
> comforting, loving Judy flower. My lips found her's, our parting not so 
> quick in coming. She leaned against me for a moment, just breathing, 
> rubbing my back, my hands on her waist.
>
>
>
> "You missed me," she said. "I can tell."
>
>
>
> "yes," I said, feeling my heart melting just a little more, feeling a 
> stirring of desire flickering in the cool depths of my fearful heart. 
> Slowly, I was warming up to her. The icy coolness of my detachment was 
> easing, a voice in my head said "I hope you decide to face all this, Glen" 
> it was Sandy marsh's voice, "She may just be what the doctor ordered," I 
> remembered my mother saying at the fence. Judy rubbed my back again, her 
> hand trailed along to mine, she put her fingers into my hand, easing them 
> between my own fingers, gently resting her hand on my chest.
>
>
>
> "Are you okay, Glen?" she said now, feeling my body tense only slightly in 
> response to the thoughts that had suddenly found their way into my head.
>
>
>
> "I'm fine," I said easily. "Just thinking about the trip. Some wise advice 
> I got."
>
>
>
> "About me?"
>
>
>
> "yes."
>
>
>
> "You'll tell me won't you?"
>
>
>
> "I'll tell you," I said, holding her face, resting my scarred hand on her 
> cheek, making her look into my eyes.
>
>
>
> "You're the best thing to happen to me in twenty years Miss Judy Flower," 
> I said. "I'm hungry. Let's start the barbecue."
>
>
>
>
>
> The barrier had stopped me from moving beyond this physical expression of 
> my interest. Judy somehow didn't seem to mind. It was something I hadn't 
> had to consider with Elizabeth. We had been too close too fast. Now the 
> desire I felt for Judy was like a flickering flame and could be snuffed 
> out at a moment's notice leaving me with just a companionable 
> relationship. We went into the kitchen, exploring her purchases.
>
>
>
> "What's the damage?" I asked her. We settled on me paying her half of the 
> cost and I sat down and wrote her a check, giving it to her now before we 
> got too involved in preparation and enjoying the day. Judy watched me 
> write out the check.
>
>
>
> "Do you get pleasure out of your friend holding a pen?" I asked her as she 
> watched my hand forming the letters and numbers.
>
>
>
> "I like everything about you," she said. "Even your writing." I handed her 
> the check. "Judy you're silly," I said, secretly glad she liked the 
> smallest things.
>
>
>
> "I'm not sure how to take that. It's amazing. I bet there would be 
> something about me you don't' like," I said, putting away the checkbook.
>
>
>
> "Is your bedroom a mess?" she asked. "It was the last time I was in it."
>
>
>
> "Probably," I said. "You see. I knew I wasn't perfect."
>
>
>
> "Well that's your personal space," she said. "I prefer mine to be clean 
> and organized. But if you like a messy room that doesn't' make you 
> imperfect. The rest of the place looks okay and I've never known you to be 
> late for work. You're always on time and you have good taste. I like your 
> mountain landscape on the wall. And the train clock is nice. You're nice. 
> I've never seen you mistreat your dogs or me or anyone at work. What's 
> there not to like?"
>
>
>
> "I don't' always tell you everything," I said. "Maybe that bothers you?"
>
>
>
> "Glen," she said, "since this always seems to come up, one of these days 
> you're going to tell me what bothers you. The fact that you keep bringing 
> it up tells me you're thinking about it. Am I right?"
>
>
>
> I nodded. My eyes smarted but I kept the tears at bay. I didn't want them 
> to ruin this moment.
>
>
>
> "Okay," she said. "Come here."
>
>
>
> I came close to her. She hugged me and looked up at me.
>
>
>
> "Are you hungry?"
>
>
>
> "I had a late lunch," I said, "but a light one. Are you cooking?"
>
>
>
> "I'm a wiz at the barbecue," she said. "And you are, too. Let's be a team. 
> Let's make something yummy." She lifted her face. We kissed quietly and 
> gently, her acceptance warming, easing, comforting, healing. We stood 
> there for a few moments, quiet. Suddenly a growl met our ears and I turned 
> to see Vincent standing in the corner of the room looking at us. I 
> laughed. Judy laughed and we parted.
>
>
>
> "Vincent approves," I said. "Come on. I love you Miss Judy "Flower. Just 
> please know that."
>
>
>
> "Okay," she said. "I know it. It's in your touch. Your kiss. Your voice on 
> the phone. It's there. It's growing like a beautiful plant. It will take 
> some time but it's nice to see now. Tell me about the trip, Glen. Is 
> everyone okay? Your mom? Your dad, do you want to tell me about that?"
>
>
>
> After the steaks had been grilled and while we waited for them to finish I 
> told her of my father's death and the house and the couple on the train. I 
> told her I had seen Sandy marsh. Judy smiled when I mentioned horses.
>
>
>
> "I haven't been riding in a while" she said. "Maybe twice in my life. Will 
> you take me riding some time?"
>
>
>
> "Yeah," I said, glad not to talk about the conversation I had with Sandy. 
> I told her about how I was a caretaker so many summers ago. I told her 
> that I had a mare and that she died the summer I went to work for Union 
> pacific.
>
>
>
> Dinner was ready. We sat down outside looking at the fence where some 
> birds nested. The same family of birds came year after year nesting on the 
> top of the fence, somehow bringing grass and twigs and setting them in an 
> uneven space between the top layer of bricks, laying their eggs and flying 
> off into a new season. I didn't know how many times that fence had seen 
> the hatching little chicks learning to fly and eat and being pushed out 
> into the world.
>
>
>
> "I need a swing," I said. "Like your swing."
>
>
>
> "I bought that swing with some money my brothers sent me for Christmas one 
> year," she said. "I've lived in that house for five years and I just put 
> it in the summer before you came to the New Year's party. It is nice to 
> have."
>
>
>
> "You entertain all your sweethearts there?" I said, smiling a little.
>
>
>
> Judy took my plate and put steak on it from the platter. She ladled corn 
> and potatoes onto the plate and put a helping of baked apples she had 
> bought on it. She looked at me and smiled.
>
>
>
> "I haven't had a sweetheart in a while," she said. "I never entertained 
> them on the swing. Only you my train engineer." She sat down with her own 
> plate. "I was always too busy for a sweetheart," she continued. "A few in 
> college. Someone grabbed my interest a while back but it didn't work out."
>
>
>
> "Why not?"
>
>
>
> "He was in a hurry," she said. "I wasn't. That was the simple truth, Glen. 
> I think these things should go more slowly. More time to learn about each 
> other. Learn important things like how do you manage money? What do you 
> value in life? He wanted me in bed on the second date. I wasn't ready for 
> that."
>
>
>
> "Oh," I said, suddenly more comfortable with proceeding slowly. "You want 
> me to tell you how I manage money?"
>
>
>
> "Okay," she said. "When you want to."
>
>
>
> "I'm not rich," I said. "I have a pretty good salary. I was smart enough 
> when I went to work for UP to start saving money, a little bit out of each 
> check so I have a pretty good savings account. But I don't' dabble in the 
> stock market."
>
>
>
> "Interest bearing account?" she asked.
>
>
>
> "Yeah. It looks nice. That's been twenty years. I'm a patient man when it 
> comes to money."
>
>
>
> "And everything else?"
>
>
>
> "Waiting for signals," I said, "on trains. Waiting for horses and dogs and 
> meeting people. I like to do things right the first time."
>
>
>
> I told her about painting my mother's fence.
>
>
>
> "That's why you're in such a good mood, Glen," she said easily. "You like 
> physical labor. It helps heal you. And you get things done. I'm like that 
> a little."
>
>
>
> "No other boyfriends?" I asked.
>
>
>
> "No. Lots of friends. I make friends easily."
>
>
>
> "Yes, you do," I said. "You do."
>
>
>
> "You're the best one," she said." You're sweet and nice and troubled. Just 
> like the rest of us. And you said something glen, something that hits on 
> what you're not telling me about you."
>
>
>
> "What is that?"
>
> I looked down at my plate and then I looked at my hands and then at Judy.
>
>
>
> "You told me you like to do things right the first time. The thing that 
> bothers you, Glen, you didn't do right. Is that close?"
>
>
>
> If I wasn't careful I would tell Judy what the trouble was and tonight I 
> didn't want to do that.
>
>
>
> "Let's not talk about it," I suddenly said, frightened, not wanting to end 
> this pleasant evening on such a note. "I can't talk about it, Judy. It's 
> very painful." I looked out at the moon, the sun had set. Judy looked back 
> at me for a moment then she came and took my hands.
>
>
>
> "Okay, Glen," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm starting to understand you don't 
> want to face this. I don't' know why," she placated my suddenly hurt 
> feelings. "I don't' understand. I only know you don't want to face this."
>
>
>
> I got up and pulled my hand away, not rudely, only with pain. I walked 
> resolutely back in the house. Judy followed me. We had left the plates 
> outside on the table.
>
>
>
> "Hey," she said. "Hey now you're upset. Maybe it's a good thing, Glen. 
> You're pushing me away because of something you can't face."
>
>
>
> Why did she have to be right on the money? I loved her. She knew it. We 
> had gotten together tonight with the intension to enjoy the evening and be 
> easy friends but now here we were, she was finally understanding that I 
> couldn't face this. I sat down and put my head in my hands. I looked up 
> and Judy stood in front of me.
>
> "I'll go, Glen. I've said the wrong thing."
>
>
>
> "Judy," I choked. "Please don't leave. Please."
>
>
>
> There was something in that sentence, something that made both of us stop 
> in our tracks. Judy sat down on the floor beside me and took my hand. She 
> put her head on my knee.
>
>
>
> "Glen I don't want to leave."
>
> She looked up at my face, tears streamed silently down my cheeks.
>
>
>
> "It wasn't me," I said, "Who didn't do things right. I thought I did 
> everything right. And it all turned out wrong. I'm still upset. I am 
> sorry, Judy."
>
>
>
> She held my hand, rubbing my fingers. During the painting of the fence, I 
> had gotten splinters in my hands, and removing them left the entry points 
> sore. Her fingers were warm in my palm. She rubbed my wrist, her fingers 
> rubbing the little bones, she felt my pulse, she laid her hand in mine, 
> fitted them together.
>
>
>
> "You're afraid I'm going to leave you," she said. "Even if you don't' want 
> to tell me what happened, you are afraid I'm going to leave you. That you 
> might wake up one morning and I won't be there."
>
>
>
> Judy got up, she stood next to me I put my arms out and pulled her down on 
> my knee. For the first time she was on my lap, she put her head on my 
> chest and rapped her comforting arms around me. I put my head on her 
> shoulder and just sat there. My tears had dried. Now I felt Judy's healing 
> touch. Time passed, I felt her sitting there, close. She turned her head 
> so she could see my face. She lifted her face and kissed my cheek and said 
> nothing. She lifted one hand to my hair, letting her fingers stray through 
> the dark curls. She kissed me again quietly, gently, trying to ease my 
> discomfort.
>
> "Glen," she said finally, "what is it going to take for you to realize I'm 
> serious about not leaving you?" She kept her arms around me, communicating 
> her love through her eyes. I returned her gaze.
>
> "Time," she answered her own question. "Time will show you I'm not going 
> away."
>
>
>
> "Maybe you'll get angry," I said. "Tired of waiting."
>
>
>
> "Glen I'm forty years old. I've learned that these things work out. My 
> life is very hectic, Glen. My mother needs constant care, my work is 
> sometimes very exhausting. I'm a hard working friendly woman who is 
> content as I am even if my days off can get very chaotic. Sitting with 
> you, watching trains, or watching movies, playing with Magnet, Vincent and 
> Angel, drinking coffee at the café, sitting here now, it is peaceful. 
> You're afraid of something that happened years ago but you still have a 
> lot to give, a lot that can make someone happy. You make me happy, Glen. 
> If it takes you a while to face this I can wait. If you're game, I'm happy 
> to wait. Let's not make it complicated. I don't need complications now. 
> Not with my mother in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's. I just need a 
> friend. Someone to do things with. The kiss is sweet. Sitting here with 
> you is sweet. And I'm hungry!"
>
>
>
> I smiled. I got up and took Judy's hand.
>
>
>
> "Okay," I whispered. "Come driving with me along the coast tomorrow," I 
> said quietly. "We can do something together."
>
>
>
> Judy looked up at me.
>
>
>
> "Really?" her eyes lighted up like a child. "I could use that," she said 
> tears suddenly appearing in her eyes. "My brother is taking care of my 
> mother tomorrow," she explained. "I could use the time away. And it is 
> nice to see you. Come on," she led me outside like a child with a second 
> chance to please, "let's eat."
>
>
> Shelley J. Alongi
> Home Office: (714)869-3207
> **
> NFBWD "Slate and Style" editor
> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>
> **
> "What sparked your interest in trains?"
> "The face of an engineer who knew he was going to get killed by a freight 
> train."
> ---SJA for anyone who wants to know
> To read essays on my journey through the Chatsworth train accident, 
> Metrolink 111 or other interests click on 
> http://www.storymania.com/cgibin/sm2/smshowauthorbox.cgi?page=&author=AlongiSJ&alpha=A
>
> updated September 24, 2009
> _______________________________________________
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