I Noced

I Knocked

It seems I have been thinking lately about lonely people finding each other after being friends for many years. This is another example of that idea.

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My plane landed on time in Chicago and I made my way to the baggage claim. I know some people pack light and carry on their bags, not willing to wait twenty minutes at the carousel, but it was a three-hour flight and what's an extra twenty minutes? Besides, I was prescribed a C-PAP not too many years ago and I've grown so used to the thing that I'm afraid to sleep without it. Add clothes enough for five days and the usual extras (umbrella, sweats for the gym, etc.) and I stop trying to pack light. I pack comfortable and my oversize luggage has wheels.

I got my bag and headed for the shuttle. I knew the drill. I've been here so many times that I can do it in my sleep. Then, as I'm standing there waiting for my hotel shuttle to turn up, I heard, "Well look what the cat dragged in!"

I turned and it's BB. Her full name is Brittany Benjamin and at work she answers to Britt. I called her BB once and she damn near bit my head off. She said, "BB is a short, rotund, middle-aged woman with a skinny-assed husband and too many kids." I never called her that again, but secretly and only from time to time, I still think "BB the Magnificent" when I think of her. It's a dangerous game.

"Well, you're definitely not short and you're not rotund."

"I am middle aged. I plan to make it to 110, maybe longer if I exercise and eat right." Brittany is fifty-five and she likes to laugh at her own jokes.

We were both going to the same place. We do it every year at this time. I check in with the shuttle driver and he has our reservations. We're on time. He's on time. So far, so good. That's my philosophy on travelling - expect the worst and be grateful when you're wrong. Also, always have a backup plan for everything because sooner or later you'll need it.

We threw our bags in the back of the van, climb in, and got settled. The driver told us to buckle our seat belts, but anyone who's ridden in an airport van knows to buckle up because the drivers will bounce you around like dice at a craps table, accelerating, changing lanes, decelerating, back and forth, until your brains are rattled, and your stomach is having longing thoughts of the plane in the middle of severe turbulence.

During one of the quieter moments, Britt said to me, "Are you staying the weekend?"

"No. I'm doing my time and going home. You?"

"Not this trip. If I were, I'd come early and enjoy the weekend before all the meetings wear me down. By Friday I'll be ready to go home and sleep in my own bed."

I didn't tell her, but that gave me a mental image and I decided to enjoy it. A few minutes later the driver changed lanes suddenly and she fell toward me, placing her hand on my leg to stabilize herself. "Sorry!"

I just smiled and said, "Do it again!" That earned me a smile and we continued on without saying much more than that.

We got to the hotel, checked in, and on the way to the elevators she said, "Buy you a drink if you're not too tired?"

I just looked at her, smiled, and said, "I'm parched." We agreed to meet at the bar in twenty minutes.

We entered the elevator, I pushed the button marked "12" and said, "What floor?"

"Same as you." She was her usual pleasant self.

I thought to myself, "How is she always so relaxed? I'm wound up from the shuttles and the flight while she is just pleasantly getting along."

The doors opened, we did the usual stop and check, found the sign pointing to our rooms, and turned in the same direction. "Is your room down this way?" I asked.

"Yep! Twelve-fourteen. You?"

"Twelve-twelve." I said.

We resumed walking to our rooms when she let out a chuckle and said, "Well, neighbor, if you throw one of those wild parties you better damn sight invite me, or I'll call the desk and complain!"

"You'll complain about the party, or not being invited?"

"Both!" she said. With that, and laughing at our silly little jokes, we arrived at our rooms.

As we're passing our key cards through the locks, she said, "See you in twenty in the bar?"

I respond, "How about you knock when you're ready and I'll walk down with you."

"It's a date!" she said and for a moment I think I see her blush.

Once inside, I surveyed the room. It's a good room, which means it's marginally clean enough and it has a comfortable chair. I see that we have connecting rooms, so I opened my door and figure she's at least as likely to knock on that door as the door to the hallway. This way I can just call out to come in while I unpack. Then a moment of clarity hits me, I think about the day spent getting here, and I decide to wash my face and brush my teeth. There's no point in having the day's grime on my when I'm trying to enjoy sitting in the bar with BB, that's BB the Magnificent!

So I hit the bathroom, did a quick once over on my face and hands, and gave my teeth a brushing. I'm unpacking my bag when I hear the knock on the connecting door. I shout "Come in!" without turning around.

"Are you about ready?"

"Britt, I was born ready!"

"Ouch! That must have been rough on your mother pushing you out with that glass in your hand."

I don't know whether to smile or cringe at the image she'd placed in my mind.

"Okay. Stop feeling guilty. It was just a joke. Come on, let's get liquored up!" Like I said, Brittany likes to laugh at her own jokes and her laughter makes me laugh, too.

The truth is we aren't big drinkers. We enjoy unwinding on the road with a drink in the evening, but neither of us could remember the last time we were drunk. For some, drinking too much is part of a fun night, but I never liked that loss of control. It's a funny thing about that need for control. What I mean is, I try to be prepared for surprises so they aren't surprises and I don't like doing things spontaneously that I'll regret later unless I've had time to think them through first. So, I guess they aren't spontaneous then, are they? Britt is a lot like me in that regard. Nothing rattles her, but she always looks before she leaps. She projects a friendly confidence and seems to be in control. However, deep down she is as insecure as anyone and more than some.

We found the hotel bar without any effort. Okay, we've had years of practice. It's not like we had to ask where it is. As was our habit, we took a table in the corner where the bar noise would let us talk.

Rhetorically, I asked, "What does one order in Chicago?"

Without missing a beat, Brittany replied, "Well, one normally orders an Old Fashioned, but I'll have a boilermaker."

I looked at her as if to say, "Who are you?" and she cracked up.

Britt turned to the waiter and said, "I'll have a bourbon over ice." Now that's the BB I'm used to!

I ordered the same and we sat back to savor the moment.

She looked at me with this mischievous grin and said, "I ordered two fingers over ice once."

"Yeah?"

"It was all ice! The idiot put the ice in first and then literally measured out two fingers on the side of the glass!" That was a typical Brittany joke.

"New bartender?"

"I don't think they kept him around long enough to become an old bartender."

We were still amusing ourselves when the waiter brought our drinks.

We settled in to enjoy our drinks and our evening. We talked about work and as we talked we sipped our bourbon. In time, our conversation turned to more personal introspection.

"Do you ever hear from your ex?" she asked.

"How can I avoid it? We have two kids together, and even though they're grown and have families of their own, we still get thrown together on birthdays and holidays."

"You get along?"

"Well enough. She remarried as soon as the ink was dry on the divorce, so you know what that means. He's about what you would expect for that sort."

"Asshole?"

"Big time."

"What do the kids think of him?"

"My ex wants the grandkids to call him granddad. My son said, and I quote, 'Over my dead body!' My daughter was a bit more circumspect about it, but to this day the grandkids all call him Jack."

Brittany raised her glass. "Score one for the good guys." With that, we clinked our glasses.

"How about you? Do you ever hear from your ex-husband?"

"Rarely. It's been sixteen years. We never had kids, so there's no reason to have anything to do with him."

I thought about it for a moment. I didn't want to offend her, but I felt there was a story there that maybe she wanted to tell. "Do you mind telling me why you never had kids?"

"Initially, we didn't want to rush into it. We wanted a few years to ourselves. I'm grateful for that because it didn't take all that long for him to start cheating on me. I'm guessing he was at it three, maybe four years into the marriage? I caught him five years in, but looking back the signs were all there. He apologized. He actually cried. He swore it was one time and it would never happen again. I decided at that point I wanted to hold off on having kids until I was sure I could trust him. Then I caught him three years later. I almost walked out on him, but he begged me to stay. A year after that I caught him for the last time and left him. The divorce took a year, so all told we were married for ten years."

I looked in her eyes and I could see the pain. "You know, he's a fool. He had a good woman for his wife. Besides, any man who cheats is not a man. He should have said a prayer of thanks every night that he had you in his life."

I could now see the gratitude in her eyes. "I could say the same about you, you know. You're a good man, James. Your wife was nuts."

"My wife was a slut!" I looked at her and it dawned on me. "I guess your ex and my ex were cut from the same cloth."

She just nods slowly.

We sit in silence for a time until the quiet becomes uncomfortable. "We can really pick 'em, can't we?"

She smiled and lied. "I didn't drink before I married him." And with that we were back to our usual light-hearted silliness.

We stayed in this hotel every year because it was located close to everything we needed to do. Most nights we went out for dinner and any entertainment we wanted, and we didn't always go out together. However, in addition to a pretty nice bar, this hotel had a nice restaurant and the restaurant had a small dance floor. As we walked past the restaurant, I did something I've never done before; I took her hand and gave her a friendly tug.

She was confused and followed me slowly as we entered the restaurant. The maitre d asked to seat us, but I said, "No thanks. We're just here to dance a little."

With that Britt's face lit up.

"I haven't danced in years." I said.

"I haven't danced since my wedding." she responded. She was becoming emotional.

We walked hand-in-hand to the dance floor. The music was canned, but we didn't care. I said, "May I have this dance?"

She just smiled. I think for once she was at a loss for words. Still, she moved into my arms and I danced her around the smallest dance floor in the city. Everyone was watching and that was just fine with me. I was never a very good dancer, but that seemed all right with her. Three dances and I had earned myself a hug. She whispered, "Thank you." and I could see she was on the verge of tears.

"I guess it's time we call it a night?"

She just nodded and smiled. I could see vulnerability in her eyes and that was a rare experience with Brittany. She took my arm and we walked to the elevator with a quiet applause from the diners behind us.

The ride up to the twelfth floor was quiet. I said, "Thank you for a delightful evening." and all she could do was smile, bite her lip, and take shy glances in my direction. This was not the Brittany I was used to, but this was a side of Brittany that I found irresistible.

We reached our room and she silently removed her key card from her pocket. We smiled to each other again, opened our doors, and entered our rooms.

The room seemed empty now. I felt filled with a sense of warmth in a room that seemed somehow sterile now, lifeless. My heart was beating fast, but I was standing still. I turned and looked at the connecting door to her room and I wanted to pass through it to take her in my arms and kiss her. No, it's better to take my time. I needed to think. We'd known each other too long for me to offend her now.

It's late, so I stripped down and head for the shower. I'd sleep better if I had a shower before bed. I brushed my teeth, climbed into the shower, and ten minutes later I was toweling off. Walking out of the bathroom, I was drying my hair. I can't see the room through the towel, but I can see the floor and it guides me.

That's when I heard her. "James?" Her voice was quiet and unsure.

I froze and looked up from under the towel.

"I thought... That is, I was wondering..." She was breathing hard and her eyes were darting in every direction. She was flustered. "I'm sorry. I should have knocked. I mean, I did knock. I should have stayed in my room. I'm sorry." She took a step toward the door, but I reached out and took her arm.

I was standing naked before her without apology or embarrassment, and I thought, "No, it doesn't end this way."

I didn't analyze the situation. I didn't plan for contingencies. I took her in my arms, and I kissed her. She kissed me back.

When we broke our kiss, she said, "James, you're naked!" She said it quietly, and she seemed surprised.

"Yes, and you're not. We need to change that."

I spent my efforts holding her loosely and kissing her as she busied herself undressing. It was clumsy, but delightfully effective. I helped as best I could while not wanting to let go of her, touching and fondling as I went. In a very short while there was a pile her clothes on the floor much like the pile of my own. Naked together, we kissed and resumed our dance as we slowly made our way toward the bed.

"James?"

"Yes, Britt?"

"You don't need to feel any obligation. I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing."

"Are you trying to get rid of me already?"

She laughed quietly as I kissed her neck. "I'm not easy to live with!"

"I'd like to find out for myself." I leaned back and looked at her face. "Britt, we've known each other too long to make a mistake now. I want you in my life. If you don't feel the same way, then we need to stop now."

"James, I've wanted this for years. I've wanted you for years. This isn't a mistake."

With that, we fell onto the bed with entangled arms and legs, caressing and fondling as we explored each other for the first time. Our coupling was frantic; it was desperate. Years of desire compelled us and drove us together. It was the long-awaited response to unspoken questions. Our passion was heated and hungry. It was unrelenting until we were both exhausted and our lust was momentarily sated.

When it was over, we lay beside each other panting until bit by bit we both began to laugh.

"That was worth waiting for!" I needed to hear that. There was a voice in my head telling me that our first time together should have been tender and loving and maybe, just maybe, I'd blown it. The last thing in this world that I wanted was for Brittany to feel used. She spoke and I finally exhaled and my fears left me.

I rolled up onto my elbow and looking at her I said, "I love you Brittany Benjamin."

"Hughes." That was all she said and she smiled.

"Hughes?"

"Yes, it's my maiden name. I don't want his name any longer."

"How would you feel about Parker?"

She gave me the biggest smile I've ever seen. "Brittany Parker? I like the sound of that. James and Brittany Parker. It rolls off the tongue easily. Yes, I definitely like that."

Our second coupling was slow and loving. We knew where we were going and we would arrive there together. Our second coupling was more about the journey than the destination.

Of course, it would be some time before we made it official, but from that night onward we were a couple. We informed our employer when we got home and rather than put us on separate projects, he simply said, "What took you two so long? Everyone else knew it!" Then he congratulated us, said he'd throw us a party when it was official, and told us to get back to work.

When I introduced her to my family, the kids embraced Britt with a warmth and openness that surprised her, and she soon found herself with the family she had been denied for so many years. Much to the consternation of my ex, the grandchildren took to calling her "grandmom" and every time they do I smile.