Changes occur, sometimes dramatically but more often subtly or nuanced rather than cataclysmic. A bond formed between Rachel and me. Not a chain inexorably linking us, but a sense that we were not just two individuals but a duet whose actions were choreographed either by reason or necessity.
Summer segued into a comfortable fall which abruptly became winter. My Nebraska upbringing girded me for harsh weather and a winter in Baltimore was hardly harsh compared to Nebraska. However, I was not prepared for the constant harping about 'wet' cold versus 'dry' cold. Rachel, who was from the south, always had a comment on the 'chill' in the air.
We spend more and more time together but did not make specific plans. I maintained a minimum wardrobe at Rachel's, but I still kept my apartment. Also, we maintained the professional separation that working in the same office dictated. We did not arrive or leave together and did not confine our office socializing to only ourselves. For emphasis, I walked to and from work; Rachel arrived and departed at a credible offset in her decrepit sports car. We attended and left office functions separately and if one of us was not available to attend, the other always participated and mingled.
To co-workers and acquaintances our relationship was businesslike, platonic, innocent, and transparent. I maintained my prim and conservative everyday routine. Rachel continued to with her bohemian, quirky, yet responsible lifestyle. We aroused no suspicions. On the occasions we spent our off-hour time together, I caught the light rail and traveled to a pre-planned, out of the way stop, where we met.
Rachel maintained her routine of competing in races and triathlons; frequently leaving early on Friday and not returning for the weekend. I would occupy my time as I had done before I met Rachel. In all outward appearances, our lives were distinct and unattached, yet harmonized.
Our time together was comfortable, discreet, and passionate. In her place or mine, away from prying eyes or the curious, we indulged ourselves. We unabashedly shared our bodies our lusts and our desires. Afterwards we lay naked beneath the covers and talked of our dreams and drifted to sleep wrapped in each other's arms. Rachel always fell asleep before me and awoke after I did. These moments or minutes, when she was asleep and yet we clung to each other were my Nirvana. The satisfaction I obtained by lying by her side joined only by the naked seam that that welded us from our calf to shoulder is difficult to describe; it was transcendental. The feel of her skin, her aroma, the sweat and stickiness carried me to dreamlike hinterland.
And so it went, week after week. We accommodated each other during Holidays. We both flew home for Christmas holiday, and both abruptly returned after two days. New Year's we stayed warm together at a secluded cabin in upstate New York, far from friends, acquaintances, and gossips.
It flurried occasionally during early January but caused no real inconvenience and then the weather abruptly turned raw. Snow fell weekly 5 - 7 inches each time and then melted the next day or two. The sidewalks, streets and alleys were perpetual slush fields. My walk to work was an exercise in sliding on sidewalks and dodging skidding traffic in the roads. It was also a time of quiet pleasures. Long evenings nestled beneath covers followed by lazy, languid weekend days in libraries, coffee shops and out of the way bars.
The snow began in mid-afternoon the right before the three-day weekend. Most businesses closed early, and the roads were soon clogged with frustrated commuters. Rachel stared at
her car in the parking lot which was quickly vanishing beneath a blanket of snow. "I'll never get through this shit" she said in disgust. "The first chunk of ice that falls off the bus in front of me will get wedged under my axle and hang me up" she proclaimed to the cluster of employees making their ways out the door. "I reckon I'll take the train tonight." She shook her head as she turned away from the door. As she did, she caught my eye with a wink and a wry smile.
I bundled myself in my coat and pulled my hat down over my ears and walked out the door. Rachel and two co-workers were standing on the stoop surveying the snow and the parking lot.
"Walking to the light rail?" someone asked me.
"I pass it on my way." I declared, not anxious for company.
"Mind if we join you?" The rhetorical question excluded a negative answer.
"Sure." With that the four of us slogged down the hill to the stop. At the shelter, the two tagalongs bid goodbye and crossed the track to catch the northbound train. Rachel stayed on the southbound side, and I continued up the hill. I was a block away when the warning horn blared and the 'ding, ding, ding' of the crossing guard bell made me look over my shoulder. I watched as the northbound train waited for the riders to exit and board and then pulled away. Huddled in a group still waiting for the southbound was Rachel. The crossing guard gate lifted. Rachel cut herself away from the crowd and trudged across the tracks and up the hill towards me. My spirits rose.
That night we shared a survival dinner on the floor of my apartment complete with an assortment of cheeses and a bottle of red wine. When we finished the bottle, Rachel placed it on its side between us on the floor and spun it. The bottle slowed and came to rest with the tapered end pointing towards me. "You first!" Rachel announced and reached across to begin unbuttoning my blouse. I laughed as she continued until it lay on the floor. Rachel proceeded to follow suit. We did so until we lay on the floor naked and shivering.
Under the covers we shared each other with enthusiasm. Satisfied, with the snow sticking against the windows, we floated off to sleep. I awoke when Rachel shifted on her side with her hip leaning against me. The streetlights reflected off the falling snow vaguely illuminated the room. I mused as I stared into the dark, letting my imagination relive the events of the evening.
Rachel rolled on her back and snuggled under the cover. I closed my eyes with utter contentment as I slid over until our bodies touched and let my hand drop softly on her thigh.
"You're awake" she whispered with a sense of surprise.
"Of course. I always wake up when you make the slighted move."
There was a long pause. "I didn't know that." She commented as she placed her hands behind her head and stared blankly at the ceiling. A somber silence, more silent than two people sleeping, filled the room.
