I finished loading box #35. Who would believe the amount of crap you can collect over twenty five years? Well, really thirty two but twenty five in this house. Some of it easy to toss. Some of it not so much. Memories. Man, they stack up. Just like the boxes lining the garage. But, life has changed. I mean really changed.
Thirty two years of marriage gone in less than a year of a tragic, terrible diagnoses followed by non-helpful, non-curing, painful chemotherapy and then – she was gone. All the brightness, all the laughter, all the sparkling beauty not really diminished but snuffed out at the age of fifty five.
And now a life change. Out of the three thousand foot house on the golf course. Nice view, but shit, I never played golf, we just loved the green view that we never had to mow. A couple of months after June died I had gone back to the ad agency I run. It was always fun, now it was therapy as well. The garage sale got rid of useless crap and chochkies, the rest would go to the new apartment and some in storage.
Thank God for Lisa. The woman is a machine. She runs my office more as a right hand than a secretary or personal assistant or some such drivel. And since June's cancer got really bad, she was a moral support as well. Taking the calls, coming to the house, running the business really for the two months after June died and I did a tailspin.
Movers coming tomorrow. Kids had stayed after the funeral, but they have lives to lead and kids of their own. They live from LA to NY. So, I refused to let them come back once I decided I could not handle living in that house all alone. I finally convinced them that honest, even at fifty seven, I can really handle a move by myself. And Lisa told them that she would be there, of course.
Lisa was in her late forties, maybe fifty, I think. I mean frankly I never really asked. She passed HR five years ago with flying colors, aced an interview with me during which I never looked at her application. She was almost as tall as me, not a big deal since I am a strapping five foot nine inches.
If you asked me what June looked like before cancer ravaged her, I could probably spend an hour describing as much of her physical attributes as you cared to hear and then take off on her accomplishments and personality.
But Lisa? She was there, at the desk, on the phone and then at the house constantly . She was married before – I know that and no kids. Why? That I do not know. What did she look like? Wow. That took some thought. Let's see. Brown hair? I guess. Built? Yeah, I guess. She is a runner as am I, so being human I have looked at her legs. Sturdy. She had nice breasts, not that small but she did not feature them in her clothes. Yes, I looked. Like I said, I'm human.
She insisted on coming on this Saturday morning to check that all was ready for the movers that afternoon. "Lisa!" I said when she called, "not necessary. I know where I want everything to go and these guys are the pros."
Her smooth, always deep voice came back, "Bill, I know you know. But a friendly helping hand is not going to hurt and I've got nothing going Saturday after my run."
She started calling me by my first name after she and June got friendly before June got sick. Now, I have to admit, hers was the only voice I wanted to hear, the only other soul I could stand being in constant touch.
I mean, the kids are great, but they are suffering loss too and it is still just too present. I knew Lisa would handle the move like she handled the office and while June's presence would be there in my thoughts, I was glad to have the companionship.
Sure enough, right after my morning coffee in the last remaining cup, she showed up with bagels and cream cheese and more hot coffee. She knocked at the front door and there she was – baseball cap on her head, tee shirt and running shorts, Asics on her feet.
"Don't gawk, dude!" She cried in that deep voice. "Take the freaking coffee and tell me what has to be done."
I guess it was the first time I really looked at her. Don't ask me why it was that moment. The cap had a long bill, but I could see those brown eyes flashing and the neat little creases in her cheeks as she smiled. When we sat at the kitchen counter, for the first time I noticed very white teeth and full voluptuous lips as they tore into the bagel. As she stood and stretched - yeah the breasts were large enough to bring the tee shirt up over her shorts and revealed a stomach that I swear was hiding a six pack.
The movers showed on time, two burly guys, two smaller ones and the truck was packed in under two hours. "Bill!" Lisa called from the driveway. "Give me the keys to the apartment and you stay and vacuum and clean up. I'll meet you there."
I leaned out the front door. She was standing with her hands on her hips watching the final loading carefully. "But..." I called.
She trotted up the driveway to me. "I got this! After all, it was me and that gal at the leasing office who really found this place, right? So – clean up and then come over."
She was right of course. She did pick out the one with the garden patio – a two bedroom where one was going to be my home office. She turned and trotted down the driveway. Damn! For a woman her age, that was a really tight little ass!
Now, let me stop right here. My wife was really ill for six months. Fading daily. So, it was a little more than that since I have had sex. I am still in a state of grief, but I am also still a man. Got it? Yes, Lisa Melnick had a tight ass, great boobs and a luscious mouth. Said it.
I finished vacuuming and making the place "broom clean" for the realtor to come on Monday. In the three weeks it had taken me to find an apartment and decide I just had to get out of that house, couple of lookers - no bites. Oh well.
By four o'clock that afternoon, Lisa and the movers with a little nudge here and there from me had the apartment looking like it could really be lived in. Couch and chairs in the living room gathered around the black cocktail table, new expandable dining room table in with chairs, bed in place waiting to be made – kitchen cabinets full. Ditto the fridge. Just a load of boxes in my new home office to be opened and fill the office.
I sat down in one of the wing chairs facing the couch, which faced the flat screen. Lisa flopped in the other one. "Well done Miss Melnick!" I said.
"You too, Mr. Kraft," She replied.
"Look," I said leaning toward her. "If you've got to be somewhere – you are way beyond the call of duty for today, lady."
She leaned in towards me, the deep brown eyes lasered in on mine. "I am a single lady, once divorced as you well know, sir. With no significant other and an open Saturday night. Can I just sit and relax a minute? Besides I must smell like I just ran a marathon."
