It was the best sleep I'd had in years. Looking back, I attribute it to exhaustion, coupled with the feeling of satisfaction and complete safety. What's remarkable is that I felt completely safe in the arms of a young man I had met less than an hour before.
We slept until nearly noon. When I awoke, I was spooned with my new lover. His arm was protectively draped across my waist, my own arm covering his. I lay there enjoying the warmth and safety, the feeling of a man next to me for the first time in such a very long time. Shug's breathing was soft, regular and slow. I lay there silently, not wanting to disturb him.
I turned the events of the last eight hours over in my mind. I had virtually demanded this boy make love to me. He was so kind. I recalled his offering to let me sleep unmolested. It was my decision, I remembered, to crawl into his bed. When I considered our joining, my desperate need for him, his willingness to please me, I realized I wanted more. I thought about his startlingly bright blue eyes. I wondered what they would look like when not beset by fatigue. I didn't see how they could be more brilliant.
If I allowed my mind to run wild I could imagine a relationship with this young man. What would it be like, I wondered? He's so much younger than I am. Maybe he wouldn't want a relationship with someone like me, someone as old as I. Yet, perhaps it was just what he was looking for.
"I'm putting my husband through medical school," I heard myself explain to friends. And after medical school, what? Long hours of loneliness as he endured an internship, then a residency. Could I handle that? And, what about all those pretty young nurses in the hospital setting. Doctors, too, I realized. Beautiful, young women with plenty of brains and great figures. He would be besieged, as attractive as he is.
Whoa! I told myself. This is getting way out of hand. I'd only known this guy for less than a day. My husband? What was my motivation for that kind of thinking? True, I'd been alone for those three awful years. Nathan did need a father figure other than my father, who was, God bless him, doing all he could to see the boy had a good role model. Dad took him to ball games and carnivals. But, still, Dad was Grandpa, not Daddy.
Was it my own desperate need that took me down this path of immediate commitment? Was I so bereft of feelings and emotions without a man around that I would consider such a reckless decision. I really needed to put the brakes on my own imagination. For now, I decided, I would just enjoy Shug's company for as long as it lasted. When I'd taken him to St. Louis, I'd probably never hear from him again. But, I would have, my mind rationalized, wonderful memories of this night and this boy.
I twisted in the bed, rolling over to face him. I propped up on an elbow so I could look at him. I was amazed to discover that the straight sandy blond hair I'd seen last night had become golden and somewhat curlier. He must have been truly soaked through by the time I'd picked him up.
I twirled a small lock of his hair around my finger. I smiled at his peaceful, youthful visage. I couldn't resist planting a soft kiss on his forehead, close to the temple. I inhaled the fragrance of him, and kissed him lightly again.
The silence in the room crumpled with a little hum of pleasure. I heard Shug's voice whisper, "Good morning, pretty lady."
I apologized. "I woke you up. I'm sorry."
"It's all right," he told me. "It was a very nice way to wake up."
"Did you sleep all right?" I asked.
Shug rolled on his back and stretched. "Mm-hmm," he murmured. "I slept great. How about you?"
"The best in years," I answered.
"Pretty weird, though," Shug acknowledged.
"I was just thinking the same thing," I told him.
"Nice," he said. "But, still, I don't know…kind of…I don't know."
"Impulsive," I offered.
"Yeah. Impulsive."
"But I don't regret it," I said.
"Maybe not right now. But, in nine months you might."
"Not to worry," I assured him. "I'm only four days from my last period. I'm not fertile yet."
"Oh." He sounded relieved.
"Look," I told him. "I've got to pee really bad. Then I want to brush my teeth."
"So, you're leaving me already? Screw, sleep and scoot? Is that it?" he joked.
I popped a little fist into his side. "That's not it, at all," I protested. "We just need to make arrangements, you know? There's only one bathroom."
"Oh," he said, again. "Well, you go ahead to the bathroom first, and I'll brush my teeth. And, I'll meet you back here in, say, six minutes?"
"Why six?" I asked.
"Because it's not five, and four is probably too short," he answered with a reasonable tone. It struck me a curious.
"Six minutes, then," I agreed. "Right here? Or, do you want to use the other bed?"
"I have an emotional attachment to this one," Shug said. "It's where we first became intimate. I like this bed. I'll probably have to buy it from the motel."
"You're crazy, aren't you?" I said.
"It is, after all," Shug said, that reasonable tone in his voice again, "a very special bed."
"Of course it is," I nodded in agreement, trying not to smile and to use that same reasonable tone. "I'm going to the bathroom now."
"Can I kiss you before you go?" Shug asked.
"I'd really rather not," I told him. "Morning breath and all."
"How about right here," he said, placing a finger on my shoulder.
"There would be fine," I assented.
Shug leaned upwards and planted his lips right where his finger touched. I felt his tongue swipe at the skin. It made me shiver.
"You need a shave, too, my dear," I said.
"I'll take care of that right now," he nodded. "Although six minutes doesn't give much time for a close shave."
I rolled toward the edge of the bed and sat up. "Do your best. Just don't be late."
I recovered my T-shirt from the floor where I'd dropped it in the dark and headed toward the bathroom. As I sat on the commode, I made a definitive decision. I couldn't count on a relationship with Shug. I wouldn't set my sites on that. But, one thing I'd been missing for years was fun. So, I decided, what I would do for as long as we were together would be to have fun. He had a great sense of humor. He made me laugh, or at least giggle. I would enjoy that. If something more developed, that would be fine. If not, I would be able to get past it. I committed to not committing. That done, I could more easily be myself and simply enjoy whatever hours we would be allowed to share with each other.
I yelled through the door. "Are you anxious to ditch me?"
"What?" I heard Shug holler back.
"Are you anxious to get rid of me and be on your way?"
"Now you're the one who's talking crazy," he yelled to me.
"I thought maybe you'd, you know, want to be on about your business. You got laid and had a good night's sleep and were ready to move on."
Shug opened the door. I was startled. He peered down at me, sitting on the commode. I felt totally vulnerable. His face was half-covered with shaving cream. I could see the swipes he'd taken with his razor, like plow-tracks through snow. He had a towel wrapped around his middle. Shug's eyes were brilliant and flashing.
"Is that what you think of me, Caroline? Is that what kind of man you think I am?"
I was trembling. "I don't know, Shug. I don't know you. I hardly know you at all."
