Rediscovering Passion

I can feel him pressed against me. The room is so dark; I can barely see his face. His breath is close to my ear as his hands travel up and down my legs, I want to tell him how good this feels, how much I’ve missed his body being pressed against mine, but the words wont come out. They can’t, he’s kissing me, his tongue invading my mouth as I run my fingers though his hair. He moves down to my neck, running his tongue over my collarbone. I can feel his arousal against me as our bodies writhe on the bed.

I close my eyes, letting the words flow from my mouth, “Oh Robert, I’ve missed you so much.”

He moves his head up, rubbing his nose against mine. I open my eyes, smiling. My smile quickly fading to confusion then fear. It’s not Robert.

****

I bolt up in bed. My heart is racing and I look around my bedroom, making certain I’m the only occupant of the bed. I am, and this is no surprise. I’m sweating and I look over at the bedside clock, 3:12 a.m.

So what in the hell is wrong with me? I wish I could answer that, I’m having a good dream, one of the best I’ve had in months, and I wake up in a cold sweat making sure the boogeyman isn’t sharing my bed. Why? Because it was him in the dream, Eric. He’s been invading my thoughts. At the supermarket, pumping gas, plucking my eyebrows, there he is. To say the least, it’s driving me crazy.

I was minding my own business, last week, wiping down the dashboard of my Honda Accord, when he walks up to the driver side door, startling me so bad that I bang my forehead on the top of the door panel. I spewed enough cuss words that I was sure I wouldn’t see him again. That wasn’t the case, because just this morning he waltzes into my gallery, grinning from ear to ear.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Did I just hear him right? “Hi Eric.” I muttered, half smiling.

He was carrying two Styrofoam coffee cups and handed one to me. “I hope you like a little cream and sugar.”

“Actually, I prefer iced caramel cappuccinos, but this will do, thanks.”

“I’ll remember that.” He grinned, just enough that I felt my chest start to get warm. Either it was the grin or I was hitting menopause at 28. Given my luck in the past year, this was not out of the question.

“What do I owe this visit?” I inquired, sipping the coffee.

“I was just in the area, wanted to check out some of your work.”

“I think you’ve seen all of the paintings I have in the gallery, at least once.”

He smiled, as if he’d been caught. Which he was, considering he was here last week, using that same excuse. I gave him a knowing look and went back to what I was doing, at the same time watching him as he walked toward one of the paintings. I couldn’t ignore what was happening here, but I wasn’t ready to accept it. There were too many feelings still inside me, too much fear to let someone back in right now. Part of me wanted to, somewhere inside me I was craving everything that this man could potentially give me. It was silly to feel that way, considering I’d known him for less than a month. But when I was around him, I felt comfortable, safe, admired.

“I think I want this one.” He said, pointing at the watercolor he was standing in front of.

“You want to buy it?” I questioned.

“Yeah.”

I knew this was a pity purchase. My gallery was not booming, but I was doing well enough, all things considered. I didn’t want him buying one of my paintings, because he thought I needed him to.

“It’s sold.” I lied.

“Damn, I really like that one, it’d look great in my dining room.” He commented, holding his stare on it as he walked back over to the counter.

“Maybe I’ll work on one, similar to that.”

“If you do, save it for me.”

I didn’t particularly care for that piece and had no intention of creating one comparable, but it seemed to appease him for the moment.

“Ok.” I winked at him, and signed the last check in a stack in front of me.

I looked back up at him and saw seriousness wash over him.

“Sydney, would you like to…I got these two tickets from a client at work, for Romeo & Juliet, it’s playing at the Morris next Saturday.”

I knew it was just a matter of time. Eventually he would try to take us from a casual friendship, to dating.

“Would you like to go?” He asked.

I wanted to say yes. It was at the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t spit it off.

“Um, I think I have something going on that night.” Another lie.

He didn’t lose a beat, he perked up and looked out the window.

“Ok, no problem….I should go, I have to get back to the office.”

I numbly nodded my head, wanting to take back what I had just said. Before I could, he had said goodbye and was out the door. I had been too scared to say anything else.

Now, here I was, in my sweat soaked t-shirt, scared that that man was actually occupying my bed. Not because I wouldn’t want that, but because it would feel too damn good.

****

“Then, you wouldn’t believe what happened; Kyle kissed her and told her that he was leaving Marissa for her…I about fell off my chair.” Carol blabbered on about her daytime soap opera as we shuffled through racks of clearance dresses.

“Wow.” I muttered half interested. I forgot that this woman had an uncanny ability to read my mind at times.

“What’s going on Syd?”

“What do you mean what’s going on? Nothing is “going on.” I replied, in a more defensive tone, than necessary.

She put the olive green dress she was admiring, back on the rack and looked me square in the eyes.

“Tell me.” She ordered.

I let out a long sigh, rolling my eyes in frustration at her ability to get things out of me. The words were barely out of my mouth, before she interjected.

“It’s that guy, isn’t it? The one that’s been lingering around the gallery.”

“Uh-huh” I affirmed.

“So, what’s the deal?” She questioned.

“The deal is, he asked me to the theatre this Saturday and I turned him down, and now I’m sort of wishing I’d at least thought about it.”

“Honey, I know you don’t have a damn thing going on this Saturday.”

She was right. My evening was going to consist of eating a half gallon of Ben & Jerry’s and watching Golden Girl reruns until I can’t keep my eyes open.

“I really have some things I need to do.” I mumbled.

“No you don’t, why did you turn him down?” Her eyebrow raising curiously.

“I’m really not ready for the dating scene again, Carol.”

Her face warmed into a smile and she walked around the rack, putting her arms around me. God, I hope no one is watching us.

“Syd, this man obviously likes you, I think you should find it in yourself to give it a chance, it may feel good.”

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered into her sleeve. She pulled away, smiling at me again.

“Good, now I’m going to go try this on.” She grabbed the olive nightmare and strutted off to the dressing room.

I wish it were as easy as she made it sound. The truth was, I was terrified. It had been months, but the emptiness still lingered in me. The bitterness that I was feeling the day I met Eric, crept back up every now and then, and as much as I wanted to shake it, I couldn’t. I also couldn’t deny the fact that I did want to go.

****

So I thought about. Just like I said I would. It took half of a large pizza and two Snickers bars later, but I’d made a decision. I knew I was cutting it close, since it was Saturday afternoon and the play started in 5 hours, but it was worth a shot. Courage like this only comes so often, so I might as well act on it.

I put Drake’s leash on him and we headed off toward Eric Riley’s house. I felt good, really good. I was actually going to do this, and it was going to be fun. Damn, I can give myself one hell of a pep talk. Even Drake was excited, his tongue was hanging half way down to the sidewalk, tail wagging madly.

We rounded the corner onto his street, and there he was, standing on his porch. But who was that coming out of his house? I stood there, half stunned as I watched a vivacious blonde bounce down his steps and over to the SUV parked in his driveway. He followed her over, giving her a hug just before she got in, a long hug.

Drake had planted his butt on the sidewalk and watched this unravel with me. “Well, looks like we’re heading home.” I grumbled to him. We turned around and marched back to Hickory Street.

“Geez, I’m glad we didn’t go through with that.” One would say I was talking to myself, but I was talking to Drake, and he was listening.

I was upset, more than I thought I would be. I had psyched myself up for this date, only to realize, it hadn’t take him long at all to find a replacement. This was my fault; I’d blown him off too many times. In the midst of disappointment, I forced myself to feel relief. He’s lucky I refused the date when I did, otherwise it would have turned into more dates, and eventually I’d have to tell him about what had happened. Why I still sometimes cry myself to sleep at night, why I’ve acquired this habit of talking to myself, why I wear a man’s wedding ring around my neck. These were all things he did not need to know.

The weekend came and went and I had managed to put most thoughts of Eric out of my mind. By Monday evening, I’d started working on a new painting and was rather absorbed, which was a feeling I realized I’d missed. Art had always been my true passion, and for the last several months, although I maintained the gallery and managed to be successful in that, my heart hadn’t been in the creation aspect of my business. I lay in bed last night, envisioning what I wanted to paint, and strutted up here first thing this evening to start it.

“Drake!” I yelled. He was standing at the window barking continually at something on the street below. After a few seconds and the realization that he was not going to listen to me, I walked over to look for myself.

There he was, jogging past my house. His hair was tucked under a hat, t-shirt stuck to his firm chest as he ran along in knee length shorts. I felt a rush of excitement shoot through me. There was something remarkably sexy to me about a tanned, sweaty man, breathing heavy. I smiled, silently thanking Eric for this moment of admiration. I patted Drakes head as he stopped barking, and walked back over to my easel.

****

“You wanna go see that new Mel Gibson movie tonight?” I asked Carol as I rummaged through my stack of mail.

“I can’t, Myron and I leaving for Vegas tomorrow morning, I need to make sure everything is packed by then.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

We bumbled through the rest of the afternoon at the gallery and I headed off to the cinema that night to see it, alone. One thing I’d become accustomed to was doing things alone. I sat through the movie, ate an entire bucket of popcorn and felt thoroughly content on my drive home.

However, it was moments like these that I thought of Robert. I imagined him driving us home, while I sat in the passenger seat, reaching my hand over to his. Listening to him tell me which parts of the movie he liked. I’d complain about the popcorn kernels stuck in my teeth, he’d roll his eyes. These are the moments that are utterly forgettable.

Once I got home I changed into my pajamas, crawled into bed, and wiped away a few stray tears before I fell asleep.

I reserved Saturday mornings as “my time”. I’d usually read the paper drink my coffee and enjoy the silence that I had grown so used to. Even before Robert died, I had been a private person. Relishing in this solitude was not a new feeling for me.

I flipped through the pages until a paragraph in the Community section caught my eye. It was a support group at the local university for widows and widowers. I had never been much for these kinds of gatherings, but as I sat there, I thought it could be helpful. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about my feelings and reaction to Robert’s death except for my mother and Carol, neither of which truly new what it was like to experience such a loss. I ripped out the section of the paper and stuck it on the fridge.

I was feeling rather good about myself and in need of some Ultraviolet rays, so I changed into my bathing suit and headed out to the backyard with my lawn chair. Drake was feeling a bit pale himself, so he waddled out with me, groaning as he laid down on the back step.

Not twenty minutes later, I was asking myself why I’d thought this was a good idea. My face was coated with perspiration and it was making my eyes sting. Did I hear whistling? Who was whistling? I slid my sunglasses down my nose to see Eric standing on the other side of my fence. I jumped slightly in my chair.

“Hello, kid.”

It had been about three weeks since I’d talked to him, but he made me smile within seconds.

“Hi, Eric, what are you doing?”

“I can’t come and visit a friend on a beautiful Saturday morning?”

“Sure you can, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I like to surprise.” He smirked.

I wasn’t sure what to say to him, but I thought I should at least invite him to the other side of the fence.

“Come on in.” He reached over the fence, unlatching it and came through sitting next to Drake on the back step. Who was immediately on all fours licking Eric’s face. I yelled for him to stop, but it didn’t sound very commanding while I was laughing.

“He’s fine, I think I forgot to wash my face this morning anyway.”

There was an awkward silence between us. I wanted to ask about his date to the theatre, apologize that I couldn’t go, but at the same time I didn’t want him to know that I even remembered that he’d asked me.

He looked over at me, that serious expression in his eyes again.

“I was on my way over to this estate sale, do you want to go with me?”

I loved estate sales, garage sales, thrift shops, anywhere that I could get junk I didn’t need at a cheap price.

“Sure, I’d like to.” I responded, getting up from my chair and wrapping a towel around my waist. He’d seen me in a bikini and hadn’t fled screaming, this was a good sign.

“Great.” He stood, stretching his long torso as I passed.

“Do you want to…” I paused. I couldn’t invite him in, there were still wedding photos hanging on the walls.

“I’ll be right back.” I stammered. I let Drake in the house and quickly changed into a t-shirt, shorts and sandals.

We walked down the sidewalk toward the sale as he told me how he collected vinyl albums, which was the main reason he was drawn to these types of sales.

“I collect junk.” I stated, kicking a pebble from the sidewalk.

“Junk, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for stuff I don’t need and will probably never use. I did buy this wooden chair once for a dollar and it’s in my bedroom, that was a dollar well spent.”

“Maybe I can see this chair in your bedroom sometime.” He flirted. I looked up at him, smiling. “Maybe.”

“You’ve got a nice house, what do you do with all that space?”

“Fill it with junk.”

He laughed. “Lets see if we can’t find you some more today, that’s a big house for just one person.”

“Technically there are two living there.”

He looked at me curiously.

“If you count the 80 pound, drooling mess that drinks out of the toilet.”

“Oh, him yeah.” I thought I saw a look of relief on his face.

We walked up the driveway of a massive Victorian house, the sun was beating down on the back of our necks and it was refreshing to get under the shade of the garage. There were wall-to-wall tables, piled high with odds and ends stuff. Most of which I rummaged through, finding nothing that caught my eye. I watched Eric shuffle through a crate full of albums, pulling a few out to look them over.

I pulled a vintage brown leather purse from beneath a stack of mothball smelling sweaters. It was in decent shape; I ran my fingers over the smooth material and opened it. I unzipped the inside pocket and pulled out a small picture. It was black and white, very old as the edges were tattered. It was a man and woman, obviously a couple as he was standing behind her, his arms around her waist. They were both smiling widely at the camera.

I could feel him standing over me, and could tell he was looking at it too. I stared a few seconds longer, ignoring the fact that he was probably wondering why, then stuck it back in the pocket. I turned around, facing him. He had a numb look on his face, and then forced a smile.

“Find anything?” He asked.

“No, did you? I saw you looking at the albums.”

“Yeah, but nothing that popped out at me…you ready?”

“Sure, let’s go.” I dropped the purse on the table and followed him out of the garage.

There was another brief moment of silence between us. I was still thinking about the couple in the picture. What became of them? Was this their house? Did they have children, grandchildren? I looked over at Eric, his eyes squinted against the sun, and wondered what he was thinking.

I had reached a point that I couldn’t deny the fact that I enjoyed his company. He carried this aura of tranquility with him that was contagious.

He looked over at me and grinned.

“What?” He asked.

“I didn’t say anything”

“You were staring at me.”

“I’m sorry.” I blushed and looked away. I was and I hadn’t even realized it. “It’s alright, I kind of liked it.”

I was confused.

“Eric, can I ask you something?”

“Sure”

“Why did you come to my house today?”

We stopped on the sidewalk in front of my house. He turned toward me.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Ok…” I responded, numbly.

“You look confused, Sydney.”

“Why did you want to see me?”

“Because I like spending time with you.”

I nodded and smiled at him. He reached over and took my hand in his, kissing me lightly on the cheek.