Hello In There Hello

Hello In There, Hello

I hadn't run in ten days, anyway. Too much of a shit show with getting Marie settled at The Elms. So it was good to get up on the Ridge Trail and shake the yayas out, even though the old legs let me know I was insulting them. The Ridge Trail isn't too rough, a little up, a little down and groomed wide enough so you aren't skidding in loose gravel. Nice views of the town below.

The day was pretty warm even as the sun was descending, so I was a bit sweaty on that first stretch. Bit of an incline and i was huffing and puffing more than I wanted to. Tough shit. You have a few decades on you and that happens. Still, I promised myself I would push until I got to the lone eucalyptus just below the crest at the lookout, take a blow and then continue on. Done it before; could do it again.

So I'm puffing pretty hard when I get to the tree. I wrap an arm around it and hang there, panting, when something thumps the far side of the tree, and, suddenly, this

person

is in my arms, face to face, body to body, a serious embrace. And without a thought we are kissing. And I'm not talking a little, 'hello, how are you' kiss. I'm talking deep into you, lips and tongues and serious contact and hands finding their way onto bodies where bodies need to be touched. And for no reason at all we didn't stop for a while.

But then we did. She looked into my eyes. I looked into hers. Noticed the full lips, the wavy 'dirty-blonde' sprinkled with grey hair a bit damp at the temples. The puzzled smile. She says....

"That was unexpected...but nice." I reply....

"Very nice."

She explores my face with her eyes for a moment. Shakes her head. Checks her watch and says, "Oops, gotta run." And she's off down the trail. Runs well. Slim, fit lady of about my age, I would guess. Nice bounce to her step. Still carries some nice things to bounce. Waves a hand over her head as she runs, but doesn't look back. Disappears around the bend.

I'm not out of breath any more; so I continue my run, up over the crest and on to the other trailhead on Jackson street. Turn around and come back.

I stop at the overlook and enjoy the view. Look down the rail to the tree and the little 'adventure' there feels like a complete fantasy. Honestly, did it really happen? How do I even feel about it? 'Enchanted' is perhaps the right word. A magic moment. As though I had been 'graced'. Because.

Because, I have to admit, as I run to the end of the trail and get out my car keys, that I needed something so much like exactly that. A warm moment that I still exist as a capable, sexy...yeah, sexy man with a bit of gas still in the tank. Because the thing with Marie has got me just about down to fumes.

It's a very strange 'movie' when the person you have known and loved for years not only starts seeing you as a stranger but also actually gets frightened and backs off and calls for help if you touch her. The only thing even a little bit close was a time when I found this stray Irish setter roaming in the woods where I used to play as a kid. Gorgeous dog she was. Silky red-brown coat. But when I first found her she was a scary mess. Ratty, with burrs in her hair. Ribs showing. Fierce and snappy. She was scared shitless of me. But she was seriously interested in the beef jerky in my pocket.

So I kind of lured her home. Put her in the back yard and left her alone. Gave her some water and food and that's all until she got used to the idea. I think it took almost a half year before she would even let me pat her on the back. Actually bit me a couple of times. So. Yeah. Except slowly losing your mate for life is like that moving in the other direction, and much worse.

Marie got careless with her appearance. Had some 'personal accidents.' Didn't eat. Got skinny. Got mad a lot when things weren't where they should be. Blamed me. And stopped wanting me to touch her.

Hey, we're aging. Sex often contains an 'oof' or an 'ouch' or a 'can you brush your teeth first?' You're ready. But then she's asleep, so....

And then they start to become a stranger. Maybe...for some...sort of...it's a new adventure. You have to kind of court her all over again. 'Hi, hon, do you mind a little hug?' 'I'll bet you're a sweet kisser.' 'Is it okay if I touch you here? Well, maybe another time.' And so it goes...away.

So I...we had moved into that Nevernever Land where all the rules had changed. Was I deeply lonely for the old (young) Marie? You bet. Was I totally ready to bank down all my fires and make maybe holding hands the extent of my love life? Nope. But who has a choice when the snow is getting pretty thick on the roof? And then...this.

So I was leaving The Elms after an hour or so with Marie. She's sleepy, maybe the new meds, kind of waving me off a little. Kind of pissed, but she doesn't know why about being in a different place. Sad. So I give her as big and as long a hug as she will allow and head out. Maybe I'm a little gloomy and I got my head down. The place is new to me and I don't know it very well. I turn a corner to where I think the elevators are and I find myself wrapped around this woman who is dragging a walker. She yelps in my face. I grab her by the shoulders and we straighten out.

It's my 'date' from the eucalyptus tree.

"I...what...I'm sorry...excuse...what?" Then she starts laughing...a funny laugh with a little snort in it. She takes a breath. "Shall we say it together. One. Two. Three."

"We've got to stop meeting like this."

Then we're holding onto each other and I'm so ready to pull her into my arms and kiss her again; but this is

so

the wrong time and place. She holds my arms; looks me over.

"You're here?"

"Just getting my wife situated."

"Ah."

"You?"

"Taking Sam his walker. He forgets it in the dining room sometimes when he goes off with friends."

"He's been here a while?"

"Two years."

"Mmm. Marie's new."

"Yeah...I know how that is."

"So I should let you get to...Sam."

"Sam. Right."

"I guess I'll see you around...the place...the trail."

"Yes...likely.

"Good. See you."

"See you."

She points me at the elevator and I head that way, then have a thought. I scuttle back around the corner. She's entering a room.

"Hey."

"Yes?"

"Coffee. Sometime soon."

"Good, yes, coffee." She gives a little wave and disappears.

I rambled off, shaking my head. Stupid. I didn't even ask her name, nor she mine. No phone number or address or even when she might be where again.

Fuck it. Mark it up to fantasy. I went home and watched a ballgame. The Sox won. I really wasn't able to think about anything. Except...

So, who is writing this comedy of my life? Surely I don't have this much imagination. I'm scurrying through Whole Foods on a Friday evening. (I wrongly assumed everyone would be at work, or the local bar, or home.) The place is friggin' mobbed. I'm trying to dodge my way through absent-minded mobs who can't figure out whether whole grain or rye would be better with poached eggs. Funny how you get pissed off at shaky old folks only to remember that's you.

I wheel round an 'end cap' more than a little pissed off, loose tomatoes in the kiddie seat soaking up whatever the last kiddie left there, because I'm too lazy, or fumble fingered, or ecological to use a plastic bag. And I

slam

into another card scurrying the other way. The tomatoes go flying and I'm cursing and I look up holding a bruised tomato, and of course, it's

her.

"We have to stop meeting like this." We both say. In unison. And crack up.

The befuddled shoppers around us must think we're nuts. Because we can't stop laughing. And hanging onto each other. And yokking again. After a while we get it almost together and I notice an open area near the fish counter. I point to that and we both steer there.

Now we have almost nothing to say. Just grinning and looking at each other side eye. Finally, I realize we have never formally 'met'. I stick out my hand and stammer, "I'm John...John Gentry." She does the same. "Greta...Greta White." It's a handshake, but we seem to keep holding hands. Then I pat her hand with my other one. Then she touches my shoulder.

"I think we need to get out of here." Her voice is small, but she means more than that simple phrase. I nod.

"Yuh."

"Are you about done?"

I look at my cart. I pretty much have what I need, but I have an idea.

"I would like a couple of bottles of wine."

"White or red?"

"Cabernet... but I also like zinfandel."

"Me too."

"Okay. And maybe a cake...or a pie."

"A pie is good. I like blueberry."

"Yes. Blueberry if they've got it. Any other fruit if they don't."

"Even rhubarb?"

"Technically not a fruit, but hey...haven't had rhubarb in a long time, so...."

I get the wine and she gets the pie. We meet up at checkout. I'm thinking...too much.

"Greta?"

"Yes?"

"We can drink this wine and eat this...yes, blueberry pie together, right?"

"Yes."

"Obvious question..."

She answers. "No I don't live at 'the place'. We kept our house. You?"

"I have a condo just down the way. Fifty-five plus."

"So you have snoopy neighbors, some of whom might be old friends."

"You got it in one." I'm helping bag her stuff. She has a couple of sirloin steaks.

"I'd be happy to barbecue these, if you've got a grill?"

She thinks. "Sounds like a plan. Hasn't been fired up since Sam went in, but it's just charcoal, so not rocket science to get it started."

"Where are you?"

She thinks I am kidding her about being a little 'spacey'.

"I'm right here...I just.... Oh, you mean 'where do I live?' Foothill...749 Foothill. You can follow me."

I tell her I will.

She drives fast, and I have to 'finesse' a stoplight in order to stay with her. Funny feelings chasing those tailights. An adventure. I haven't done anything like this in fifty years. Well, technically...thirty when I had that 'flirtation with...Nancy, was it...from the drama group. NBD. Didn't change my feelings for Marie any. Don't know if Marie ever had a 'flirtation' with anyone. There were some men she 'talked about': that new assistant pastor, her trainer who she got for free when we joined the athletic club, a college alum she bumped into at a reunion. Water under the bridge. No waves made in how she treated me.

This. This made me feel funny.

Marie had become 'someone else.' In a way, she had 'moved out on me.' And we really hadn't been intimate in ever so long. For quite a while my touch had kind of weirded her out, scared her, even.

Now here was a woman who, for no logical reason was 'into me'. Okay, her husband had 'become someone else' and 'moved out on her' too. Was that all it was? Two slightly scared and lonely people connecting? Was or wasn't that 'enough'?

Her house was pretty special, mid-century modern with some creative landscaping, a little citrus/avocado grove off to one side. I admired it. We babbled nervously about 'what would be on the menu' even though it was pretty simple; but I wanted to know whether I should roast the potatoes on the grill. Would they still be raw? We decided to grill them until they were scorchy on the outside and then nuke them if they were still hard. Some steamed broccoli. She made a face when I said I like mine with mayo. But she had mayo.

The thing was that there was this 'hidden' conversation going on behind the real one we were having. And I'm sure we both knew what it was. It started with, "I really need to kiss you again, and more." It went on to

not

saying, "Why don't we just skip dinner and head to the bedroom and fuck like bunnies?" So I headed it off at the pass by saying, "Why don't we enjoy some wine as I start the steaks and potatoes and you steam the broccoli? I'm looking forward to getting to know you better." Sure, there was a 'Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more' element to that. But we were on new ground. De facto ground rules.

So I got the grill going; letting the charcoal burn to coals for a bit. Oiled and salted the potatoes. She put some heat under the broccoli. We sat together on her comfortable couch in her classy living room with big glass windows overlooking the valley. We weren't cuddling. Just sitting close enough so she could put a hand on my knee when she made a point. A little talking to share the small stuff; how long we had been there, working or not working, any major health issues, where the kids were. A few horror stories about taking care of our spouses.

We looked at each other. I was afraid she would now see a has-been old fart and chill out on the vibe. But that didn't happen. There was a softness in her eyes. There was some color high on her cheeks, a touch of moisture on her sweet upper lip, above that thick cupid's bow of a mouth. Her lips were strong. I realized, with a little shiver, that I already knew she knew how to kiss. The thought of that first 'accidental' kiss was more powerful than the zinfandel; although it was doing its work.

I had to get up to start the steaks and I realized, for one of the first times in my life, that I was 'showing my interest' a bit in my jeans. I started to hide myself with a discreet move and then I realized I didn't give a shit, and just got up. Her eyes flickered that way for just a second. A little smile.

"Hurry back."

"Okay, but I need to do my job now. I don't want to burn the meat."

Bigger smile. "That would be a shame. But. We could always eat something else." Eye flicker again.

I headed for the patio with a light step. Put the steaks on the grill where they sizzled nicely. Put the potatoes near the back. Looking through the sliding door I saw that she was still, holding that sweet smile. I yelled.

"How do you want yours?"

"Rare to medium rare! But a little burned on the outside, if you can!"

I told my phone to set for four minutes. I could have stayed out there but I wanted to be closer to Greta. So I went back in. We didn't need to say much. She grabbed a remote off the coffee table and pushed a button. Music. Bossa Nova.

"Will this do?"

"Perfectly. I wish I really knew how to dance to it."

"Do you want to try? I'm game."

"Maybe later. I'm so comfortable, and...I'm sorry...but once I get my arms around you I might not be able to let go for a while."

She didn't say much for a minute, but her breath was 'higher' and she game a little sigh.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

We looked at each other. The phone alarm went off.

"You'd better flip your meat." She winked. "I'm going to see if my pot is heating up the way it should. Oh. Do you like sauce on your...?"

I nodded and headed for the door. I stayed with the steaks until they were done, rolled the potatoes. They would need to be nuked. Brought them in.

We ate almost in silence. I don't know why, but there was something amazing about watching her eat. Just seeing each bite pass her lips; how she chewed, sometimes the tip of her tongue on her lip. The way she sipped her wine and her long throat as she swallowed. I was entranced. And she seemed to be looking at me, too.

As we finished our steak and potatoes and the pie was warming and the French vanilla ice cream cooling I put a hand on hers as she started to wipe her lip with the clean white linen napkin. She must have felt that she had a slick of butter and steak gravy on her lips. Fine. But I had an uncontrollable urge to kiss her mouth exactly like that. I told her so.

"Wait. Greta, I'm sorry. Push me away if I'm silly, but I desperately need to kiss your mouth exactly as it is. Am I stupid?"

Her eyes were a little wide, but she shook her head.

"Please."

I pulled my chair close and put a hand behind her neck. Kissed her well. Tasting the steak and butter and wine and a very subtle cologne and of course...her. We just disappeared into it for a while. She shook her head. Her voice was low, peeking up at me through her eyelashes.

"Whoa. Thank you. I

so

needed that. Like cool water after a hot run, just to evoke how we first met."

I licked my lips. Was it too much?

"And now I really need warm pie and...."

"... cool ice cream."

"Exactly."

Was it corny that we fed each other? Was it vulgar for her to swipe a bit of ice cream from the corner of my mouth and suck it from her finger? We didn't

need

to flirt so flagrantly. I think it was more about

stalling.

It wasn't so much that neither of us was

ready

. We both were

ready.

It's more that we wanted it

so much

that we needed to wait for it, if that makes any sense.

We finished our wine. We cleaned up the dishes together. I think we were both feeling, 'This is too damn domestic. We both still have

spouses.

We are both

thoroughly married.

And we love our mates very much'. I know we both knew that this could be just 'scratching an itch' or it could be something more. It felt like more because it wasn't just physical attraction. Fuck it, we both were distinctly

senior.

But we also were seriously

lively.

We had met

running.

She took my hand. We were doing an imitation bossa nova toward the bedroom.

"I've waited long enough. Time to get naked. Are you ready?"

"Well there's ready and there's

ready.

I'm at least one of the two."

"Are you of an age where you need a little 'chemical science' to finish the job?"

"To be candid, I can be helped by a blue pill if the mood music isn't right. But to be candid again, I don't care. If we don't do one thing we'll do something else. What I want...no, what I

need

is to be very close to you, to share more of those amazing kisses; to get to know your body; to find out what

really pleases you.

Of course, maybe all you want is a 'wham bam, thank you ma'am', but I'm betting that isn't it?"

"That isn't it. Just to make it simple, I have had day dreams about your mouth...and your hands...and..."

"Shhh...funny. Maybe we bumped into each other in dreams too...because your fantasies match mine."

We had reached the door.

"Any ground rules?" I asked her as I held her against the wall. She thought for a moment. Shook her head. "Nope. But I'll definitely let you know if you cross a line.... Please pull my top off."

I kissed her then, against the wall, my whole body firmly against hers, her arms tangled in the blouse over her head. We squirmed against each other. When the shirt was finally off she used her hands to remove mine. Unhooked her bra. Chest to chest. Pushed me away. Looking hard into my eyes.

"Stop."

"What?"

"We can't do this. We really can't."

"We seem to be...."

"Exactly." She was fumbling around trying to get her bra clasped again. "Fucking arthritis. Can you help me do this up...?"

"Wait, I was just doing my damndest to

undo

it. For pity's sake, I'm standing here in my

boxers.

You were so...."

"I was, wasn't I? Shame on me. Damn, if I still smoked I could

so

do with a cigarette. You wouldn't...?"

"Nah. Old Sherlock Holmes pipe from back in the day. No tobacco. Once in a while I use it to do some grass...."

I sat down on the bed. I still had one sock on.

"Greta, can we just back up and reconnoiter for a minute?"

"What?""

"Sit. Talk."

"No really, I have to go...wait, what am I saying...

you

have to go. Where's...here. Here's your shirt. Your trousers...where are your trousers? Really...really...really...John...I think you'd better leave."

All this has me out of breath and background pissed off for forsaking a good hard-on. I need her to

say

what's going on. But it seems important to her to

not say

what's on her mind.

"You wouldn't...? She was looking around for a shoe that had probably scooted under the bed. Bending over, her ass looked marvelous in her satin slip. "No, that would be a mistake anyway, because if we got stoned we would

absolutely

end up fucking. I'm sorry, I don't want to get down on my belly and fish out that shoe. Have you got a broom or something...wait, this is

my

house. Maybe Alzheimers is catching. Just a sec.