The loud clap of thunder followed the flash of lightening almost immediately, rattling the windows, and lighting the house fully. I awoke with a start, and looked around wondering where exactly I was. The rain was falling loudly and nothing looked familiar in the brief moment of light. My eyes adjusted as my mind cleared and I remembered I was on the couch in a friend's house. I relaxed back down on the pillow and stared up into the darkness at the ceiling I knew was up there somewhere.
I replayed the events of last night in my mind. My car had broken down in the rain almost forty miles from home. Sometimes we can be thankful for cell phones. Soon I had the auto club I'd belonged to for years finally pay back some of the dues by sending a wrecker in my direction. As I sat there watching the flashers illuminate my dash over and over again, I called home to break the good news. No, I didn't need a ride home, I'd have the wrecker drop me off at a motel on the way I knew we'd take to the local dealership. Since I was on business, the hotel was on my expense account, and I'd work a day off anyway. I didn't even flip the phone closed after that call, but immediately speed dialed both my boss's number, and then my assistant's, leaving word of my plight on their respective voice mails, and letting them know I'd call them up in the morning and see them the following day.
Having covered all the bases, I sat back to await the orange emergency lights of the tow truck. The rain was getting heavy. Earlier, I'd heard the weatherman say there were severe thunderstorms and bands of rain on tap for the entire night and most of tomorrow. I looked at my watch. Almost nine. Putting my hands on the wheel I sat back and sighed. Damn I hate motels.
Wait a minute! I remembered we had some friends that lived not too far from the side of the road I was on. We hadn't crossed paths in a couple of years, but quite awhile ago not long after they were married, we'd helped them out with fixing up their (then) new house, and I'd managed to pull a few strings at the bank and get some "little details" smoothed over that was holding up their mortgage. Even so, their closing was delayed a few days beyond their lease being up, so they stored their stuff in a co-worker's garage, and bunked with us. Turn-about is fair play they say, and soon I'd found their number through directory assistance (another $1.50 plus tax on my cell phone bill).
In a few minutes I found to my relief that they were happy to help and to catch up a bit, and that they'd be waiting for me at the dealership to take me home for the night. There'd even be some supper ready and waiting since their crock-pot was still half full of chili that hadn't cooled down enough for the fridge when I'd called. They'd just turn it back on when they hung up.
I smiled. No use to call home, I'd bring the news home with me in the morning. Plus I get to see Gail again. I'd dated her in high school a few times, even got a good night kiss once, before she met Gene. I'd always kidded them that I just couldn't compete with his name since it made for easy initials on their towels. My interests soon turned elsewhere, so I couldn't accuse her of a broken heart. But she was a good kisser. The sound of the wrecker broke my thoughts.
Soon I was sitting at "the G's" kitchen table and catching up on kids, grandkids, funerals and hospital stays. We spent quite awhile talking over an empty chili bowl, half a package of saltines and three ever-full glasses of ice tea. Gene looked at the clock on the range and announced he just had to get to bed since he'd be up at four-thirty to get ready for work. I apologized for keeping them up past midnight, and after he assured me that it was no problem, he headed back towards the bedroom. Soon I was all fixed up on the big comfy couch in the three-season room off the kitchen.
As the house shut down, I relaxed as another wave of heavy rain hit. I love the sound of it, and here in this enclosed porch it was exceptionally nice. I smiled.
Gail had indeed remained very attractive. Motherhood and the years had changed features and dress sizes, but her eyes still sparkled and her curves were still soft and inviting.
We hadn't kept up with them, and the conversation had revealed Gene had gone through a (successful) cancer encounter a couple of years back. We didn't' go into details, but I wondered if he'd been "put out of commission" in the intimacy department. Not that I would even want details, but it's a male thing (at least a middle-aged male thing) to shudder at that possibility. Mentally I made a note to schedule a visit to the doctor for that "fun" examination. Approaching fifty, I needed to just make it an annual event.
I drifted off to sleep wondering if the pretty lady was still enjoying the good lovin' she'd dumped me for so long ago.
The rain was still falling and the storm was overhead when the sound of a loud thunderclap woke me with a start. I looked at my watch, my eyes adjusting enough to make out the fuzzy glowing hands. After four as best I could make out, and I was in too comfortable a position to move to find my glasses and make sure. I was almost back to sleep when I heard the buzz of an alarm down the hall, and lights begin to come on. They'd told me to just sleep in, so I closed my eyes and pretended to be sound asleep when the lights came on in the kitchen.
I was in a good position to see over into it, or at least a portion of it, so I opened my eyes just enough to see what was going on. I could get up, but we'd caught up on all the news last night. It's funny how when you re-connect with old friends who've you've not been overly close with how little you still have in common. Old news and new news is soon exchanged, and conversation then seems harder to make than it's worth.
Gail was putting on the coffee. She'd not gone back to work after she'd been laid off at the down-sizing of the insurance company she'd been at since they'd married. I smiled. It's not every lady who'd get up to see her hubby off to work this early. As the coffee brewed, she put a bowl and box of cereal on the table. She poured herself a cup of coffee and I saw her coming my way.
I closed my eyes almost fully, open just enough to make out her silhouette in the doorway by the kitchen light. She just stood there, looking at me. She was still in her pajamas, nice silky ones but far from lingerie-grade, white top, blue bottoms. She sipped her coffee and just looked. It seemed like almost two or three full minutes. The sound of the bathroom door in the hall turned her head quickly, and she almost ran back to the kitchen, getting to the table just as he entered the room.
I rolled back on the pillow and wondered what in the world she was thinking. Probably calculating the extra laundry I'd just created. The sound of whispers told me they were trying to keep the volume down so I'd not wake up. I was still sleepy, and was drifting back to sleep with the hypnotic sound of rain all around me when I heard the door close and the car start. The kitchen light went out and I resumed my search for a little more sleep.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the room again, this time with several seconds separating it from the roll of thunder. My eyes opened enough to see her standing there again, this time with no coffee cup and leaning against the doorway.
She knew the noise might have awakened me, so she whispered, "Steve."
I chose not to respond right away. Like any other male, we learned early how to fake sleep well (it's hard for us to "fake" some other things most females have learned to do).
