Andrea watched another lousy show.
But this wasn’t fiction. The man across from her had drunk too much, then lost decades of his life, her life, what might have been their life; would she have actually married him, or more to the point, would he have really asked her?
“Thom, when you left, what had we been arguing about?”
“You don’t remember?”
She winced; he sounded hurt. “No honey, it’s been a long time.”
He looked at the table, then picked up her hand again, caressing her left ring finger. “I told you I was gonna buy you a ring, but you didn’t believe me.”
All her life flashed, from that very night, to turning seventy-two. “Oh my lord.”
“Andy, I, I…”
She took deep breaths to push back sobs. He moved to her side, pulling her close. She smelled his chest, felt him inhale, then he let it out, along with words; he was sorry for getting drunk, for leaving her, for taking so long to get back to her. That if she wanted him to go, he would. “I don’t wanna hurt you again honey. Andy, oh baby, don’t cry.”
Where could he go, what sort of life waited for such a man? She bit her bottom lip, then met his eyes. “I shut that out, just completely forgot it.”
“Or maybe you didn’t take me seriously. And when I didn’t come back…”
“I ached for so long after you were gone, even after I married Carl. He was a good man, but he wasn’t you. And now I’m not who you loved, I’m not, not…”
“You are everything Andrea. You haven’t aged a day.”
His smile was truthful, so she nodded. If a man could slip through time, perhaps a woman could too.
She told him she was afraid of being hurt. He said that was the last thing he wanted to do.
She remembered her last time with Carl, four nights before he died. They hadn’t made love often, maybe once every two or three weeks. She had no idea if that was normal for couples in their early sixties, but she wasn’t bothered. Lovemaking had dwindled slowly, and by the time she realized how infrequent it was, it was like accepting rain in winter, just what happened.
She had no clue what would occur that night, one reason for her fear. The other was simple; what if in the morning, he wasn’t there?
“Where else would I be?” he said, taking off his shirt.
“How should I know?” She watched him, felt giddy. “My goodness, you are just the same.”
He smiled, scooting her way. She wore her nightgown, but had taken off her underwear. Her mouth trembled as he approached her face, his breath so warm and…
His kiss was tender, as if she was nineteen again, stirring within her all the dreams of an inexperienced young woman. Now she was an uncertain old lady, maybe there was little difference. He pulled away and she inhaled, then stroked his cheek. She had deliberately avoided these sorts of touches, but once breached, Andrea’s heart raced, her mind a blur. “Thom, be gentle with me.”
He kissed her again. “That’s what you said the first time.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. I was then, I will be now.”
And he was, which made her weep from joy and pleasure. His pleasure was satisfied over and over, but he never looked away from her, never seemed to be far from her skin. It was saggy and cool, yet under his fingers, she accepted new feelings, or restored sensations. In the last ten years, she had never dreamed of again knowing a man inside her, then falling asleep along her naked body. As Thom began to snore, his arm over her, Andrea shivered, wondering why this had occurred.
Warm sun flooded the room, what woke her. To Andrea’s great shock, Thom was sitting beside her, eyes open, smiling down at her. “Good morning honey.”
She blinked, then slowly grinned, getting her bearings. “How long you been up?”
“An hour. Sun woke me.”
“I forgot to close the curtains last night.”
He kissed her forehead. “Other things on your mind.”
She nodded, then started to sit up. Then she recalled she was nude. She giggled, looking at his hairy chest. Carl had been hairless, but when Andrea had made love with Thom, curls stuck to her breasts, which at the time had been on the small side. Nursing and gravity had altered them; now she probably had his chest hairs caught everywhere.
“You want some coffee?” he asked, looking to the windows.
She smiled, pulling up the sheet. “Did you make some?”
He shook his head, then traced her cheek. “But I gotta start somewhere.”
She wanted to say the biggest adjustment had already occurred. She blinked away a few tears, finally with a small comprehension of what he had faced when waking in a new century. She gripped his hand, still along her cheek. “You were gentle with me. I’ll be the same teaching you whatever you need to know.”
He had been very tender, nothing ached at all. But now fear sat in his eyes, not just of the coffeemaker. Waking with her had been some marker, proving that yes, she was still his lover, but so much time had passed him by.
“Let me use the bathroom and throw on some clothes. We’ll go down together, I’ll show you…”
Again he shook his head, then curled into her. “I wanted to make it, God, I need some joe. But I had no idea what to do. Then I wondered if Laurel might come over, or your grandson, so I just stayed here. Well, I took a leak. I think I fixed the toilet. It’s a little quieter now.”
She leaned over him as he spoke, stroking his back, then kissing his skin. All she had bottled inside had been let loose last night, was still being uncorked that morning. How many years, not just the ten that Carl had been dead, but ages of missing this man, longing for just this sort of moment, where they were free to love each other without the specter of her parents or maybe getting pregnant. Then she laughed out loud, but it was cut short by his sudden lurch forward. And thinking about Laurel, who hadn’t been so lucky.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, wiping his face.
She told him the first part, said nothing about her granddaughter. He smiled, then chuckled. “No one to tell us no anymore.”
“Not even Justin.” She hoped to see him today, just to get it over with. “Thom, I want you here, in this house.” She smiled. “In this bed, for however long I can have you. You stay here, live with me. I’ll teach you to make coffee, use my cell phone, the TV, whatever you need.”
He nodded, then looked to the windows. “What will you tell people?”
“What should I tell them?”
He breathed deeply, then got out of bed, pulling the drapes. Andy’s vision was good, and she took in his sturdy frame. He was hard, but she didn’t think anything would happen. Only that he was thirty-two, a youngster in her mind. She smiled as he faced her. He had been older than her for so long, and now he was just a kid.
But all man, as he sat on the bed, not losing any stiffness. “Tell them I’m the son of someone you used to know. No one would believe the truth, and I don’t care what people think of me.”
“What about what they think of me?”
Her grin was small, and he offered one. “They’ll think I’m crazy, and that you are too. I can live with that.”
She nodded, then kissed him.
They spent that day going over various appliances; she wrote down steps for the TV and microwave. He found those the most fascinating, was overwhelmed by her computer and the cell phone. He had fixed her toilet, the quiet catching her off guard, but her daughters had called, so had her grandchildren, except for Justin. Laurel was at work, but wanted to come by to speak to both of them. The pictures, Andrea knew. Laurel had photographic evidence, but her job intruded.
Maybe that was best, Andrea told Thom over lunch. Give Laurel a few days to let it sink in. Maybe Justin would show up, perhaps with some friends along. Andrea considered texting him, then left it. No need to drag him round unnecessarily.
Thom needed clothes and she needed milk and something more substantial than pasta for dinner, so after lunch they went to town. She drove,
but he asked to drive them home, only because he missed being behind the wheel. He stood close to her at the store, was stunned by the amount of goods and how people, especially young women, were dressed. She didn’t see anyone she knew well, but a few eyes darted their way. Eventually the talk would begin, but she didn’t care. Thom had been right. They would think he had lost his mind and that she was a sex-crazed old woman. Neither was true, but parts weren’t false.
Back in the car, he was skittish at first, then drove like she remembered, a little too fast. When they arrived home, Justin’s car waited, but he wasn’t in it. Andrea always locked her house, but all the kids had a key. She hoped he had gone hunting for Thom, but wouldn’t be surprised if he sat at the kitchen table.
Thom grabbed the bags while Andrea unlocked the door. The house was quiet, and she called Justin’s name, but no one answered. She went upstairs to pee. When she came back into the kitchen, Thom was putting ice cream in the freezer. And Justin was standing just beyond the screen door.
“Well, you coming inside?” she asked him.
Thom turned, but Justin didn’t move.
“Or are you just gonna stand there?” Andrea stepped toward Thom. “Justin, this’s Thom Sugerman. Thom, that’s my oldest grandchild, Justin.”
“Hello,” Thom said quietly.
Justin grimaced, then cleared his throat. “Hey.”
“We gonna talk through the screen all day?” Andrea left Thom, heading to the door. “What’s it gonna be?”
“Can I speak with you alone Grandma?”
Thom nodded,
50 Years Waiting Page 5
