He sank down into his favourite chair in his study. It had been a good day of sailing with a brilliant blue sky and an ocean as clear as any crystal. He drew the ottoman closer and kicked off his deck shoes. He rubbed the smooth worn leather of his chair affectionately, sliding his fingers beneath the arms. It had been a comforting friend to him in many a lonely time. He reached for the bottle of Bordeaux and poured it slowly into the Waterford glass, twirling it between his fingers and admiring the colour of the wine and the beauty of the glass. He let the wine roll lazily around his mouth before swallowing, then rested his head back and let out a sigh of contentment.
He was completely alone in the house, the first time in so long he could hardly remember. The children all off doing their own thing with their friends for the weekend, and his wife had gone to a meditation retreat. She wouldn't be back until Monday morning. Oh joy, a whole evening and still one more day of perfect quiet and solitude. His skin was glowing from the day in the sun and he hadn't even bothered to shower yet, the feel of the salt clinging to the hairs on his bare arms felt good. Perhaps he would go to bed and track sand all through the bedroom, he could always vacuum it up before she returned. Imagine doing something so daring, he chuckled to himself. "Ah, some music" he thought, and quickly located his favourite version of Puccini's La Bohème, the one with Pavorotti singing. Soon he was lost in the music and he closed his eyes as Rudolpho's aria filled the room.
It was strange how he had often felt so lonely when the house was filled with people. Now here is was alone, and yet not lonely at all. His mind drifted and the music washed over him. He felt so relaxed and peaceful, he even felt himself smiling slightly to himself. This was so delightfully pleasant, what more could he possibly want?
Suddenly there was the sharp irritating sound of the gate intercom. He was startled out of his reverie. He looked at his watch, 7:30 p.m. Who on earth could want him now. It must be one of the kids' friends. Damm. He decided he'd ignore the buzzer and they would realize the boys weren't home and leave. It sounded again, longer this time. "Damm" he said again, this time out loud. He pushed himself out of the chair to go into the hall. The mood was broken anyway. He pressed the button and snapped "Yes" into the microphone. A young woman's voice said "Oh thank heavens you're home Professor Guterson. This is Mimi". For a moment he was back inside the opera and he repeated "Mimi?"
"Yes, yes, Mimi Graham. I took your writing class last year Professor." He remembered her now, a lithe auburn haired girl, hair tied up in a knot. He'd only given her a "C" he recalled, and had suspected her of cheating because her final essay had been so much more superior than any of the others. "Ah yes, Mimi, what do you want?" he inquired. "Well you see Professor, I was out running and I slipped and I think I've sprained my ankle and I wondered if I could come and use your phone to get my room mate to come and pick me up. I'm sorry, I forgot to bring my cell phone today."
"Yes, of course" he said as he depressed the open gate button.
He padded in his bare feet across the wood floor to the front door and opened it looking out. Sure enough a figure emerged around the bend in the driveway limping badly. He went down the steps towards her, saying "Wait, I'll give you a hand." He took her arm over his broad shoulder and slipped his left arm around her slim waist. "Oh thank you, it just hurts so much." Her voice was cracking a little, so he replied reassuringly, "It's O.K. Mimi, let's get your foot up and get some ice on it." She hopped up the steps beside him and since his study was the nearest he helped her in and let her down gently onto the suede couch. "Look I'll just go and get some ice, and perhaps you could do with some water to drink." He told her. "Do you think you could get me something stronger?" She asked. "Of course, for medicinal purposes, perhaps some brandy?"
