The last time that I was in Key West was almost 20 years ago when I was a junior in high school. My family and I had rented a place on one of the other keys and we'd driven down for the day. I don't remember very much about the details of that trip. I recall standing at the southernmost point of the U.S., buying a white friendship bracelet-type-thing that I wore constantly, and being impressed with the name of a sandwich shop. It was a submarine sandwich place and they were named after the underground train. Brilliant! Little did I know that these shops would soon be on every other street corner and that their formerly obese spokesperson would make a career out of irritating me during the commercial breaks of my favorite TV shows.
What I remembered most though about being in Key West, was the sense of tranquility that had come over me when I was there. Vacations in our family had always been stressful times. Both of my parents had hectic work schedules and I think they put a lot of pressure on themselves to make memorable the few opportunities we had to get away together. So, when us kids started bickering, or something went wrong with the plan, they tended to loose it, which usually lead to everyone just wishing they were back home. But the trip to the Keys had been different. It had been what a vacation was meant to be; peaceful, refreshing, and fun.
Twenty years later, my wife and I were walking along Duval Street, checking out the tourist shops and looking for a nice place to have dinner. Somewhere around the point where had we crossed the 7 Mile Bridge between Key Vaca and Little Duck Key, we had felt all the built up tension and stress begin to slip away.
"It's so beautiful," Susan had said. "Is the water always this calm?"
"I think it usually is," I had answered. "I heard it's because of the barrier reef."
"It's so peaceful," she replied as she stared out across the shallow blue-green sea.
Now, after turning down Whitehead Street and heading toward the concrete buoy that marks the southernmost point of the continental US, all the anxieties and irritations of daily life seemed miles away.
We stood together on the concrete wall and looked out across the water. The sun was beginning to set and people were taking turns posing for pictures by the buoy. Waves gently broke against the rocks below the wall as pelicans swooped down to catch dinner. Susan took my hand and looked into my eyes.
"We really needed this you know," she said to me.
"Definitely," I agreed. "It's really nice to get away from everything."
"It's really nice to see you relax," she responded.
Her solemn tone caught my attention and I looked into her penetrating green eyes. She held my gaze, her eyes staring back intently, letting me know that there was something more she needed to say.
"What?" I tentatively asked.
She paused for a moment, contemplating the best way to say what was on her mind. Finally she spoke. "It's just that ...well; we've both been under a lot of pressure this past year. Our jobs, the new house, and you going back to school...it's all been pretty intense. But I've been getting worried about the way these things have seemed to consume you. You haven't seemed happy."
I tried to allay her concerns. "Of course I'm happy baby," I told her. "You make me the happiest guy in the world." It was kind of hackneyed but I wasn't sure where she was going with this and I didn't know quite what to say.
"That's not it" she told me. "I guess I don't know quite how to say what I mean. You're the most important thing in the world to me. Not the house, not the money you make. I feel like you've been so worried about all those things that they're sucking away at your soul."
Defensively I responded, "I know I may not have been the easiest person to be around lately, but I worry about those things so that we can have a good life together."
"I know you do honey, and I love you for it," she said. "But you need to learn when to let go. I just bring it up because I see you relaxing a little on this trip and I think it's good for you."
She leaned towards me and kissed me. I pulled her close and our mouths opened. Her tongue slid into my mouth. I ran my hand through her long blonde hair and pulled her head closer to mine. I could feel myself beginning to grow hard as we explored each others mouths. I moved my lips to her ear. Whispering, I told her, "I don't think these shorts do a good job at concealing how much your turning me on."
She laughed and said, "Come on, let's go get something to eat."
We ate on the porch of a mansion built in the 1800's. Like most of the other homes along Duval Street it had been converted into a place of business but still maintained much of its charm. It was a beautiful night and the caress of the humid air was tempered nicely by an ocean breeze. I stared at Susan as she commented on the lushness of the foliage, with which we were mostly unfamiliar. She had always been one step ahead of me. She had known we were in love before I did, she had known we'd be married before I did, and apparently she'd realized before I had that the pressures of daily life were starting to break me. I wondered how far ahead of me the thoughts running through her mind right now were.
She turned to me and asked, "Are you ready to get out of here?"
"Sure," I told her and we paid the bill and headed out into the evening.
We wandered arm in arm down the street until we came to a bar called the Bull and Whistle. Susan liked the idea of the balcony overlooking the road so we walked up to the second floor. A friendly red-head asked us what we'd like to drink and I ordered a beer for Susan and a rum and coke for myself. The bartender made small talk with us for bit until Susan excused herself to use the rest room.
"Are you guys heading upstairs?" the bartender asked.
"I think we're just going to hangout on the balcony here," I told her.
"You should head upstairs afterwards," she replied and with a wink she was off to take care of someone else.
I didn't know what to make of what she had said but I left her a nice tip and headed out to the balcony. Susan met me a moment later and we started to watch all the people walking by along the street below. My wife is one of the kindest, most caring people I've ever met, but if there is one thing that she can't stand its people with no sense of style. She loves to watch people go by and then ask me exactly what they were thinking when they left the house dressed like that. We stood there drinking our drinks and commenting on everyone who passed by. Anyone who might have overheard us would have taken us for the two shallowest people on earth. I could tell from the way she was laughing that the wine from dinner, along with the beer she was finishing up, was going to her head. I suggested that it might be a good time to head back to the hotel room. I was a little worn out from the drive down and I'd been thinking about getting her back to the room and out of her clothes ever since the kiss we'd shared at the southernmost point.
