Part one of a two part story.
It's Friday afternoon and I can't wait to hit the shower and rinse away dust and dirt I've collected at three job sites today. I work for the city as a safety inspector. Long days of dealing with people who have an innate distrust of me and want me gone as quick as possible. Not the most rewarding job, but it more than pays the bills.
After entering the house, I make my way to the master and strip off, dropping everything into a bamboo hamper that is reserved for my clothes, so that none of my fiancée Sandy's good work clothes will get ruined. Opening the closet, I grab some boxers, shorts and a tank top, stopping to touch the tuxedo bag hanging beside the shelves. Two weeks from the next day, I'm taking the big plunge and marrying my girlfriend of nine years.
When I met Sandy, I was a twenty nine year old sower of wild oats, and did well. I'm six foot two and keep myself in great shape with exercise and diet. My only downfall is I like to get my drink on when the weekend comes around. I met Sandy on a site as she was dropping off papers to a client for the law firm she works at. After she handed the package to the man and left, for some reason, I excused myself to him, turned and ran across the site, catching up to her near the entrance.
"Excuse me!" I called out.
She stopped and half turned, flipping her long auburn hair back over her head with her left arm, giving me a generous view of all her assets in profile. "Yes?"
"Ma'am, my name is Greg Birch, and I just needed you to know, in case no one else had told you today, that you are one of the most stunning of God's creations."
"Well, Mr. Birch, thank you for letting me know. I'll be sure to add that to my resume." She then raised an eyebrow, silently asking if there was more, or if that was all I had.
"You should." I gave her my best bashful smile. "Have you ever played 'would you rather'?"
"Ah, yeah..."
"So would you rather go out to dinner with me on Saturday or go on a picnic in Grayson Park on Sunday?" I asked.
"Pretty gutsy of a construction guy, just assuming a lady is single and just waiting to be picked up during the execution of her work duties. Does your model come with those balls, or do you rent them by the week?"
I started laughing, causing her to do the same. "Actually I work for the city, and it's not balls, I'm just smart enough to know that if a lady literally takes your breath away, follow her and try and get it back. Or trade it for her name, her number, something."
"Did I really take your breath away?" she asked, one hand on her hip.
"Yes Ma'am. You also made the hair on my arms stand on end and gave me a tingling sensation between my shoulder blades and up the back of my neck. I took that as a sign."
She scoffed. "I will offer you a trade. Stop calling me Ma'am, you are making me feel like a feeble old crone. My name is Sandra, but everyone calls me Sandy."
I took that as a victory. She picked the picnic. I worked hard to show her how head over heels I was about her. She had just come out of a long-term relationship, so the going was slow, but she finally admitted to me around the four-month mark that I had completely won her heart. We moved in together two months later, and bought a house a year after that.
Fixing up our little home was a labor of love for both of us. Sandy was a hard worker and never shied away from our weekend projects, rather researched and asked questions during the week so that we could dive in and finish our tasks in good time. In the spring of year four, we had a pool put in and spent a couple of months building a stone patio and landscaping. Just as our yard redo was finishing up, we had a new neighbor move in next door. It was pretty funny actually, as our fence is only a little over five feet high, but we would see the tops of boxes floating through the air to the back of the house. Sandy surmised that perhaps we had ghosts moving in beside us. A minute later two little hands popped up above the fence line and loud, mournful moans emanated as the hands made their way back to the street. We both started laughing.
"C'mon" I said to Sandy and we went out front to introduce ourselves. We rounded the back of the big moving truck just as this tiny, dark haired pixie was jumping down out of the box. I held out a hand and introduced myself, then Sandy. Instead of a handshake, she grabbed a box and pushed it into my chest.
"I'm Deedee. Through the back and into the kitchen. The boxes are almost done but I'm going to need your help with the furniture." Sandy started laughing, reveling in the shocked look on my face, until a bigger box was thrust at her.
"You guys are the first two to show up for the moving party, so you get to open the top shelf liquor box with me tonight," she said with a wink and a smile.
"Where are the movers?" I asked.
"It's just us for right now sunshine" she said, picking up another box and leading the way.
"Well, who drove the truck?" I asked confused.
"I did. And, with you guys helping I can get it back hours early, saving me a bundle. Now let's go people!" Sandy and I just looked at each other and shrugged.
We did get the truck unloaded fairly quickly, and she returned the truck by 2pm. She had thought it would be an after-hours drop off. She invited us for dinner and drinks at five to thank us for our help. Deedee was a year older than me and was a nurse at a small local hospital, explaining her ease of bossing people around. All three of us got loaded that night, and it was evident that this little dynamo could handle her liquor. And your liquor. And probably everybody else's liquor. She and Sandy became inseparable almost immediately. Bar nights. Morning coffee. Day off meals. Deedee even went to the Dominican with us two years ago. They were always together.
When I proposed to Sandy, you would have thought Deedee was the bride with the amount of energy and time she put into the planning of the wedding. Then about four weeks ago, I arrived in the home one night to Sandy in tears, being consoled by her sister, Charlene. At first, I thought someone had died, until I saw all the wedding stuff spread all over the table. Sandy and Deedee had a fight and the latter was out as Maid of Honor, to be replaced by Char. When I asked Sandy what had happened with Dee, she said she didn't even want to hear her name. I knew that it wasn't a trivial tiff or a misunderstanding.
It was strange the first couple of days without Deedee around. Her car was gone when I got up and I would only hear her pull in at night. I knew better than to stick my nose in their business. It was best to let them work it out on their own. I did miss Deedee's energy though.
The real cost of all of this was in the bedroom. I have never been one to pressure or beg a woman for sex and intimacy. Sandy and I have always had a regular, varied and unforced sex life. But since the onset of wedding planning, it had slowed down a bit. Since the fight, it was non-existent. Sandy was on the laptop and phone from the time she got home, which was usually late after some wedding related task, until her face hit the pillow. Even trying to get a hug out of her in the morning was like a trial of Hercules. I was now looking forward to having the marriage ceremony behind us so that things could get back to normal.
Last Thursday I got a call from Cindy, one of the paralegals that works with Sandy. She explained that a bunch of girls from work had organized a lake house weekend bachelorette party for Sandy the next weekend. She said she knows it was last minute, but wanted my help keeping her home life schedule clear. I agreed, knowing that a relaxing weekend of partying was just what my fiancée needed. Cindy said that it was going to be a surprise and that Char would come pack a bag for Sandy on Friday morning.
As I stood in the walk in closet, I noticed that the small suitcase was indeed gone. There didn't appear to be a lot of clothes gone, but the back shelf that usually held bathing suits and lingerie had been raided quite liberally. Oh well, girls will be girls.
After my shower, I made a big salad with some left over chicken breast chunked up in it and opened my laptop to catch up on messages and emails. I had opened a window in front earlier, but it wasn't pulling a draft, so I opened the sliding doors at the back. I could hear country music playing softly next door, indicating that Deedee was a) home, and b) drinking out back. That was usually the only time she had music on.
I finished my salad, grabbed a six pack from the basement fridge and made my way out the front to the gate into Dee Dee's yard. I was almost as close to Dee as Sandy was. Whatever passed between them, it wouldn't effect my friendship with her until I knew what went down. I missed my friend.
"Knock knock!" I called out before rounding the corner, giving her a chance to warn me off if she wasn't decent. No answer came. Dee was sitting in an Adirondack chair, legs crossed, flip flop bouncing to the beat of the music, but not a fun bounce, nervous, aggressive.
"Greg, what's wrong?" I could instantly tell she was a few drinks in and her eyes told me she had gotten high as well. She saw my beer and continued. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were coming to drink. I gotta warn you, I might not be the best company. But, you are welcome to stay and drink. Pull up a log."
I moved another chair close to hers. I looked her over. She wasn't looking herself at all. She usually wore her jet-black hair about an inch and a half long, short enough to fit in a surgical cap, long enough to be able to style it different if she was going out. Today it was short - less than half an inch. And, even in the fading light I could see the first hints of salt and pepper up front. She had bags under her eyes and her face was a bit slack - she had lost a bit of weight. The most striking thing I noticed was how pale she was. By this time of the summer, she was usually pretty dark with stark bikini lines. The tan also accentuated a line of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. It was still faint.
