Bittersweets_Terry and Alex

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I miss you,” he said. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking in almost four years.”

  “Well, get over it, because we’re through. I’m seeing someone now. He’s here, as a matter of fact, so this is rude.”

  Silence, and then, “Who is it?”

  “No one you know,” Terry answered.

  “I can’t believe it,” Arvin said. “We’re so good together. I thought we had something going.”

  “Arvin, get over yourself,” she said, laughing.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m horny.”

  “Well, good luck with that,” she said, sad she’d sunk so low to have anything to do with this guy. “You’ll have to call one of your other babes.”

  “Good luck, Terry,” he said. “Take care.”

  “Take care yourself, Arvin. Goodbye.”

  Hanging up, she went into the kitchen to look at the wall clock; eight thirty in the morning. Back in the bedroom, Alex was waiting.

  “I guess you’re a free woman,” he said, smiling.

  “I always was,” she replied. “That was his attempt at a booty call.”

  She crawled back into bed. “So! Is eleven hours enough sleep? Or should we try to go back.”

  “Eleven hours is enough,” he said. “I have an idea.”

  “And what is that,” she said, curling up against him.

  “I’m going to get on the train and go downtown. I’ll bring my car back up full of my stuff, if that’s okay with you. Then I’d like to get into the shower with you. I want to make love to you again. And when we’re satisfied, if it’s not too late, we’ll go out for Sunday brunch.”

  “Wow, that’s about as perfect as it gets,” she said. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  “Yes,” he replied shortly. “I wish I’d met you two years ago.”

  She didn’t inquire why, figuring that must have been when he got married. “What will you do if your wife is still there?” she asked.

  “She wasn’t going to spend the night,” he reminded her. “She won’t be a problem.”

  Reluctantly, he got out of bed. “The sooner I get moving the sooner I’ll be back,” he said. “Can I wear your sweatpants?”

  “Of course,” she answered, giggling. “They’ll look very nice with your topcoat.”

  “Walk with me to the train? I’m afraid I’ll get lost,” he said.

  Bundling up, they left the apartment, walking down the hill toward the train hand in hand. It had stopped raining, temperatures dropping. Forgetting it was Sunday, they were alone at the station.

  “The train’s on a Sunday schedule,” she said. “If we had missed it, another doesn’t come for a half an hour. I hope you won’t have trouble getting back.”

  “Remember I’m driving back up,” he said.

  “Will you be able to find your way back to me?”

  “Send me the address,” he said. “I can’t wait to get back.”

  The rattle of the train echoed, announcing its arrival, the screech of the brakes making conversation impossible. Turning to her, he kissed her.

  “Hurry back,” she said, inexplicably sad.

  Nodding, he got on the train, watching her through the window. Waiting until the train was out of sight, she started the walk back up the hill, examining the depth of her feelings for him. It had happened so quickly. When they were working together, she was attracted to him, ignoring his return vibe. It was all professional. Did she have tequila to thank for their budding romance?

  Trudging back to her apartment, the excitement for the changes taking place replaced the sadness she felt with him leaving, even temporarily. She’d spend the next hours cleaning her apartment. In the foyer, she closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar smells; lemon oil polish coming from Earle’s place, steam from the radiators. The front door opened again and Benny came in from the night shift, his blue scrubs visible covered with a down coat.

  “Winter’s here, Terry,” he said, following her up the stairs. “I’m not so sure I’m ready for it!”

  “Me either,” she said. “But there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Wait here,” he said at his door. “Believe it or not, that tomato plant Earle had in back just gave me it’s last tomato.”

  He’d rescued it before Earle threw it away, and had been nurturing the last little green tomatoes in the window. “Open your hand,” he said, dropping a small, bright red tomato in. “They were so sweet this year.”

  “I’m going to eat it as soon as I get upstairs,” she said. “Thank you, dear.”

  “I’m going to bed,” he said. “Have a good day.”

  “FYI, Alex is moving in,” she said. “We’ll keep the noise down.”

  “No worries,” he replied. “I liked hearing you up there. And I’m happy for you. Congratulations.”

  “Goodbye, Benny,” she said, continuing up.

  For the next hour, she tiptoed around her apartment, cleaning, changing sheets, making space in her dresser and closet for another person. At ten she got a text from Alex that he’d arrived home and was loading his car. He ended the text, Terry, I love you, Alex. No one had ever said I love you.

  What exactly did I love you mean? Right at that moment, it meant to Terry that she needed to be considerate of another person in the bathroom, that some of her single behavior wasn’t going to cut it as a couple. Cleaning out the medicine cabinet, she left an entire shelf for him. Under the sink, she tried to arrange her very personal items so they’re weren’t conspicuous. In the bedroom she dug out a small round decorative hat box she bought from a home goods store that was pretty but useless. It would be the perfect receptacle for her sanitary products, the disposable enema and douche packages, everything she didn’t want him to have to look at on a daily basis. Even her gross toothpaste that she tried to squeeze the last drop out of went into the trash. Alex was worth a new tube. Later, she’d discover he was even worse than she was about conserving toiletries, using a nub of soap until it disappeared, and adding water to the shampoo bottle to get every smidgen of it out.

  In the kitchen, she perused the contents of the refrigerator. Thinking over the weeks they’d worked together, she’d noticed he took milk in his coffee, not cream. Sometimes in the afternoon he drank tea. At lunch, he ordered white bread sandwiches, preferred bologna over salami, strawberry jelly for toast, apples and grapes, corn flakes, and hot dogs, not all at once. Jotting these things down, she’d run to the grocery store around the corner and pick up a few things, adding cookies and chips to her basket even though those things were dangerous to keep around.

  At eleven thirty, he texted that he was on his way back up to Mount Airy. Quickly paying for her purchases, she couldn’t remember ever being so excited. A man who was interested enough to go out of his way, to actually abandon his single life, possibly even his job, just to be with her was a new experience.

  Crossing the street, her next door neighbor, an African American woman her father’s age, waved to Terry. “I’m finished with school! We’re having a party next weekend. Put it on your calendar,” she called.

  School meant grad school – Mrs. Dell was getting a Master’s Degree in Sociology.

  “Congratulations!” Terry replied. “What a wonderful achievement. Can I bring a guest?”

  “Absolutely! Earle already called me,” she said, laughing.

  “Ha! Well that’s a good thing, I guess.”

  The plus side of her business being all over the neighborhood was that no one would be able to pull anything on her without everyone knowing and protecting her.

  “See you later, Terry!” Mrs. Dell said. “I’ll send you an Evite.”

  Dragging her bags of groceries back up the stairs was the final workout of the day until Alex arrived. She’d help him empty his car, wondering what he brought along.

  As it turned out, he’d never unpacked when he moved into the apartment, and his sedan was packed with cardboard boxes full of his books and m
ementoes, including photo albums and things from his Army days.

  “This is just part of it,” he said. “I’m going to get a storage locker.”

  There’s no need for that,” she said. “I have access to the basement and it’s nice and dry. Perfect for storage.”

  “Thank you,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.

  A half hour later, his car was empty. Boxes of books stacked in the living room awaited bookshelves. “We’ll shop at the resale shops along Germantown Avenue,” she said. “A bigger table and another chair for the kitchen is called for.”

  “And don’t forget a recliner,” he said.

  “We have to spring for a new one of those,” she replied.

  “So are you ready for our shower and lovemaking? I’ve thought of little else since I waved goodbye down at the train.”

  Leaning against him, she signed with pleasure. “Sure. We should take care of important business first,” she said, thinking there was plenty of time for shopping and brunch. “Come with me.”

  Taking him by the hand, she led him to the bathroom. A freshly scrubbed out tub, fluffy towels, and candles waited.

  “I’m going to ravish you,” she whispered, catching him off guard, and he giggled, as excited as a schoolboy having his first chance at love with a girl.

  “I was going to ravish you,” he replied.

  “You first,” she said, the stern schoolmarm. “I’ll undress you.”

  “Oh boy,” he moaned. “I’m not sure I’ll last.”

  “You’ll be fine,” she said, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

  Reaching into the tub, she turned the water on to warm up. “How hot do you like it?” she asked.

  “Just warm enough. Not too hot,” he said.

  She could tell he was excited, and a little nervous. “Now, the pants have to come off,” she said, pointing. “I want to watch.”

  He untied the string and slid her Michigan sweat pants off over his hips, his erection springing out, free of encumbrances.

  “Step into the tub,” she said, taking his hand.

  “Wait, aren’t you going to join me?” he asked.

  “I will, but I’m going to give you a bath, first,” she said, keeping her voice as low as she could, thinking Benny probably had a glass to his ceiling.

  He stepped into the tub and sat down, moaning as the warm water flowed over him. “I haven’t taken a bath in years,” he said. “This feels wonderful.”

  “Well, just wait,” she said, turning the water off.

  She had the radio on low, just enough to drown out any of their louder moans, but not so intrusive as to be distracting.

  “What are you going to do to me?” he asked, obviously a little anxious.

  Kneeling on the bath mat, she took a bar of soap and worked it into a lather, and in turn went to work on him. Soaping up his chest and abdomen, she slid her hands up over his shoulders, and then down a little further below his waist. Then over his arms and back, and down to his groin, finally stopping there, and concentrating on that part of him, kneading and delving deep into all the hidden places until he was right on the edge, begging her to stop before it was too late.

  “Let go,” she whispered. “Let it come. I want to watch you.”

  He did, shuddering, flexing his hips up and down, moaning in pleasure until he was spent. He laid back, eyes closed, flushed, letting her rinse the soap off his body, she’d unplugged the drain and had the hand held shower on, gently spraying warm water over him.

  When he could finally talk, he opened his eyes, and started laughing. “Are you kidding me?” he said.

  “What?” she asked smiling.

  “I feel like a selfish pig,” he said.

  “That wasn’t my intention, I can assure you,” she said, giggling. “I wanted you to feel as good as you’ve been making me feel.”

  “Well, you succeeded,” he said. “But what about you?”

  “I’m still satisfied from the last time we did it,” she said. “Let’s go to brunch before it gets too late. Then, when we get back home, and you’re recovered, we can do it again.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “I’m positive,” she said, handing him a large fluffy bath towel.

  She held out a hand and he took it, standing up and they held each other.

  “This is the most fun I’ve had in a bathtub since I was six,” he said.

  “That’s the idea. I wanted you to relax.”

  “I’m relaxed,” he assured her. “I’m ready to take you to brunch. Do you have a place in mind?”

  “I do, and then I want to take you to my favorite used furniture store. You need bookcases to stash your things.”

  Soon, they were in his car, on their way to brunch. The hostess led them to a cozy table in back. Alex held Terry’s chair, and pushed it in for her. The act was so touching, she didn’t know what to think of it, imagining being married to someone like this…married? You’re getting carried away, she thought.

  He was talking to her, telling her about his apartment. “It’s almost empty,” he said. “I can’t believe my life is contained in eight cardboard boxes.”

  “Are you going to keep it?” she asked.

  “My apartment? No, if it’s okay with you. I’m paid up until the fifteenth.”

  “Oh boy, Christmas is right around the corner then,” she said. “I think I’ll make an effort this this year.”

  “Why?” he said, sipping coffee. “Because of me?”

  “Because of you,” she said, smiling. “Having someone else around just makes it easier.”

  “I agree,” he said, taking her hand. “We’ll go to cut down a tree together…”

  “Ha! That means I’ll finally agree to take ornaments from my mother’s stash.”

  “Was she trying to get you to take them?”

  “She died two years ago. It was my father who’s after me. ‘What do I need with boxes and boxes of these things?’ My dad’s Jewish, you see. My mom loved Christmas and my poor father was surrounded by nativity scenes from Thanksgiving until January 15th.

  “For the last two years, he continued to put up a tree. So you can see why I have to go. He’s making the effort for me.”

  “How sad,” Alex said. “We should definitely go to see your dad. If you’re about done there, we can go now.”

  “Really?” she asked. “It would be so nice. He’ll be so surprised. I’ll text him; even my old dad text messages.”

  In less than a minute, he answered. Come over.

  “Ha! He has spoken,” she said, repeating his answer.

  “Let’s go!”

  Putting money down for a tip, Alex left more than was necessary, and she liked that. Something to add to the pro list; he was generous.

  “I should pay,” she said.

  “No, you shouldn’t. We’re staying in your place. Until we work out an arrangement, I’ll pay for our meals out, alright? I can’t stand men who sit back and let women pay the bill at a restaurant.”

  “Ew, looks like I hit a nerve. I’ve been wondering if there were any Achilles heels in there.”

  “Oh yes, I have a few,” he said. “You have to lead the way. I have no idea where we’re going.”

  “It’s all back roads. Only ten miles,” she said. “Do you want me to drive?”

  “Sure,” he said, throwing her the keys. “I love to be driven.”

  “Is that right? When your ship comes in will you have a chauffeur?”

  “Definitely,” he said. “And a housekeeper.”

  “I’d have a chef,” Terry said. “And a gardener.”

  “And then what would you do?” he asked.

  “I’d make stuff. Dolls, and quilts.”

  “Do you do that now?” he asked.

  “No. No time for anything but work and a little relaxation. You see what our work load is like during the week. It’s a steady, frequent twelve hour day, five days a week. But I’d like to learn. What about you? Do you hav
e any hobbies?”

  “I like to read,” he said. “I like American history.”

  “Is that how law came about for you?” she asked.

  “Yes, it really is. Good observation,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. “When I retire I’m going to learn to make my own tiles, too. How nerdy is that?”

  “Like pottery? Like Moravian Tiles?” Terry asked. “That’s my favorite place to visit, the Moravian Tile works.”

  “We’ll have to make a point to go there soon,” Alex said.

  “Oh look! That store is open. Let’s stop and see if they have any bookshelves. I know what I want, too. Barrister cases.”

  She pulled up right in front of the store and turned the car off.

  “Aren’t they expensive?” he asked.

  “So what? You see my place. It’s not like I’ve indulged myself with great furniture. I want something nice in there for your stuff.”

  “It’s just my stuff,” Alex said. “Don’t get carried away now, Terry.”

  “I won’t,” she said. “Follow me.”

  They went into the dusty store and before they knew it, they were the proud owners of four stackable oak barrister cases and an old leather wing backed chair with a foot stool.

  “Will you be okay with this instead of a recliner?” Terry asked.

  “This is grand,” he said, running his hand along the leather. “I’ll be fine with it.”

  They split the cost of the furniture, half on his Visa, half on her American Express. The owner would deliver later that evening, after he closed up and had dinner with his wife.

  “Wow! I feel so lucky!” Terry said, pressing the unlock button on the key fob. “Ask and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.”

  “Who said that?” Alex asked.

  “Jesus did! Where have you been?” she answered, buckling her seat belt.

  “Oh, right, sorry,” he said and they laughed. “I used to go to Sunday school.”

  “Well, you know I did. Another thing my father allowed.”

  Pointing out historic landmarks on the way to the northeast part of the city reinforced to Terry how much she loved Philadelphia.

  “Are you sure about leaving New Jersey permanently?” she asked.