by Roy Miller
Seventy
For the past few weeks we've both been busy again, getting into one of those tightly-coiled routines of high stress, bad diet and no quality time together. After a night filled with tension and even an argument over where the peanut butter is supposed to go, you wake the next morning determined to fix it. I'm already up and getting ready for work when you step into the shower behind me and tell me that we need to spend some time together and get back to our base. A new Pottery class is starting at the YMCA and you feel like it's a good way for us to go out and do something together that's hands-on. I agree and at the end of the work week we get ready for our first class. The instructor is a woman probably the same age as us, although a lot of the participants are much older. We get acquainted with terms like slurry and candling while also learning our way around the wheel. The instructor, whose name is Madison and who also put a sour taste in your mouth when you remembered a girl of the same name putting chalk in your sandwich in seventh grade, tells us to come up with what we want to create for our first project. I say an ashtray so I can remember the good times when you drive me to smoke, and you say a coffee mug, so you can do the same when you're getting caffeinated to keep from assaulting me. An old woman looks at us with confusion and I wink at you, causing your smile to stretch.
Seventy One
While looking in your purse for cash at the gas station you find an old gift card to Bath & Body Works that you'd received years before. For some reason you'd never gotten around to using it, and today seemed as good a day as any, so when you get back to the car you ask if I'd mind taking a ride to the mall. It takes about five minutes to find somewhere to park, a bad omen in itself, but we eventually make it inside and start looking for the store. The majority of the patrons are either teenagers or old mall walkers, and I find amusement in trying to guess which teenagers would end up back here in fifty years to aggressively walk in circles. Two kids in all black outfits, complete with skinny jeans and spiked wrist cuffs, attempt to talk to a larger group of girls waiting outside of Orange Julius. I tap your elbow and point, and you light-heartedly scoff at me for making fun. I mention how I probably looked the same way when I first approached you and you smile with your lips pressed shut, not so quick to say otherwise. I slow down a little to watch the kid on the left make his pitch but he's met with nothing but giggles and walks away solemnly, his friend texting in tow.
Seventy Two
Our kitten has run out of food and when it comes time to go to the store, you insist on going to the actual pet store, since so many pet food products have been recalled lately. You say you want to be able to ask someone that actually knows what they're talking about. I know that we'll spend at least an hour in there with the way you play with animals, but I don't mind. First thing after we walk in you head straight to the left side wall where the cats are. The first case has two, an all white female cat named Vanilla and a male calico kitten named Daryl. The name instantly makes that kitten my favorite, since no one else seems to understand why people names for animals are so funny. You make your rounds, stopping by the bunnies and the hamsters while I let Daryl nibble on my finger through the small holes in the glass. An assistant carts you away to the cat aisle for food and I say goodbye to my new friend. He meows when I walk away, and it sounds like a mixture of a squeak toy and letting the air out of a balloon. I hope that he gets adopted soon, or at least Vanilla takes good care of him.
Seventy Three
There's three days left before your birthday and I've been making lists for weeks on what would end up being your perfect gift. Each time I hear you mention something from a catalog or point to the TV during a commercial I make a mental note and then an actual note when you aren't looking. I've crossed twelve items off the list, narrowing it down to four finalists. During an afternoon trip to the store for odds and ends I break off onto my own, searching the aisles for one of the items left or anything else that might catch my eye. I don't find anything and hear your voice two aisles down, so I head back to find you toe to toe with your high school ex. You're standing neutral with your front towards the end of the row and he's leaning toward you, closing the minimal gap with animated gestures of his hands. I walk up but stay silent, not trying to ruin the guy's story, but you introduce me like an auctioneer with a prize cattle. The guy, whose name I remember being Seth, looks me up and down and instantly changes his tone. He mentions something about being busy and needing to leave, then bows out without looking at me again. You grab my hand and kiss me lightly, but when I say he has a pretty cool haircut you punch me in the arm and walk away laughing.
Seventy Four
During a perfect sixty three degree night in the blissful transition of summer to fall, you tell me you wish we had a swing that you could use whenever you wanted. I inspect the trees in the backyard from the kitchen window and find one with a sturdy enough branch, so I tell you I'll work on it over the weekend. When Saturday rolls around I head to the hardware store for rope, hooks and screws. On the way back home I stop a few houses down to one of our neighbors I know has a table saw. He's out working in the garage and when I spot some excess wood, I ask him if he'll cut me a piece and he does. He's a very quiet but kind guy, a lot less abrasive than my high school Woodshop teacher. Back at the house I bring the materials to the tree and spend about an hour getting everything put into place and secured. I call you outside so I can measure where the board should sit for your legs to be comfortable, and when I finish you test it out. Your hair blows back when you glide away, leaving traces of strawberries and cream. I feel as if each push of my hand on the small of your back is like an argument we've had, separating us from each other. But no matter how hard I push you always come back. Seeing your smile light up your eyes reminds me to make a note on doing regular maintenance of the swing, so it will last as long as we do.
Seventy Five
It's getting to that time of year where the days are cooler longer than they are warm, but not quite late enough in the season to need a jacket. The leaves are just starting to change and the same tree in the side yard begins the start of its transition with the lead-up to bright red. You tell me you want to go for a drive and see the city lights since you're feeling a little closed in, so I grab the keys and walk you to the car. We get on the highway and set a course for the skyline, so you swipe back and forth on the MP3 player until Six Parts Seven starts seeping through the dash speakers. You roll your window down and stick your foot out, leaning back in the seat so the setting sun coats your front. I reach over and grab your hand, you tap your thumb on mine to the beat of the song. You were always most comfortable in the car. I told you once that I'd drive all night if it helped you sleep and you thanked me softly, staring into me with the way heavy eyes ignite. You have that same look again before you close your eyes, so I set the cruise control at seventy five and settle in for the ride. I'm not sure where we'll end up, but it doesn't matter as long as I'm with you.
About The Author
Roy Miller is a Midwestern cinema lover and book fiend residing in Michigan. His work has appeared in Potluck Magazine, Down in the Dirt and Through The Gaps, among others. He also is a contributing editorial writer for his local newspaper.
© Roy Miller, 2014. All Rights Reserved.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Foreword
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Thirty
Thirty One
Thirty Two
Thirty Three
Thirty Four
Thirty Five
Thirty Six
Thirty Seven
Thirty Eight
Thirty Nine
Forty
Forty One
Forty Two
Forty Three
Forty Four
Forty Five
Forty Six
Forty Seven
Forty Eight
Forty Nine
Fifty
Fifty One
Fifty Two
Fifty Three
Fifty Four
Fifty Five
Fifty Six
Fifty Seven
Fifty Eight
Fifty Nine
Sixty
Sixty One
Sixty Two
Sixty Three
Sixty Four
Sixty Five
Sixty Six
Sixty Seven
Sixty Eight
Sixty Nine
Seventy
Seventy One
Seventy Two
Seventy Three
Seventy Four
Seventy Five
About The Author
