I picked up a cup from the sink, dumped out its contents, and placed it on the top rung of my dishwasher. The phone rang. It was just before10 pm, which meant whomever was calling either didn’t know me very well, or it was an emergency. I meant to turn off my phone at 10, but since I’d forgotten to, I just ignored it.
I grabbed a bowl and put it next to the cup. The phone’s ringing increased in volume, but I just shoved a handful of silverware into the lower shelf basket, trying to pretend that I didn’t hear it. The next level of volume, though, penetrated my serenity. I wiped my hands on my pants and walked towards the table, which was scattered with various school papers, pens and a few napkins left from dinner. The phone glowed and twirled in a semi-circle as I reached for it, almost teasing me. I picked it up with my damp hand, not looking at the caller ID before I answered.
“Hello.”
“Hey, it’s me.”
My heart jumped. I recognized the voice and immediately felt my face flush.
“Hey you. Gomer, what are you doin’ calling me?”
“I want to see you.”
“I’d like to see you, too. You want to meet me somewhere in Atlanta in a few weeks?”
“No. I want to see you….. now. Can I come see you?”
I leaned against the chair and propped my knee on it to stabilize myself.
“You’re kidding? You mean right now.”
“Yes. Now. As in-- I want to leave here in 10 minutes. I can be there by 11:30. That’s not too late, is it?”
I breathed fast and ran my fingers through my hair. I looked up at the clock and imagined him arriving, in less than two hours. Thoughts of his wispy blonde hair and blue eyes made my palms sweat. Images of candlelight and white table cloths floated by then sailed away. They were replaced by a sense of the earth turning beneath me while I hovered above the land, watching it move underneath me.
“Kathy. There is something I need to ask you. But I need to see you, look you in the eyes, hold your hands,…. Can I come over?” His voice jolted me back to earth.
“Sure you can.” I didn’t even really think it through; it just seemed like the ONLY thing that I could possibly say. One of those moments when you know that it doesn’t make any real logical sense, but somewhere deep down inside of you, you know its supposed to happen.
“O.K. Then, I’ll see you in a little while.” He said matter-of-factly, as if this were something that happened every day.
“You’re serious. You are really going to drive over here tonight?” I started to get the feeling I’d had years ago when it was the day before Christmas Eve. It was an intangible moment, spiritual mainly, but I knew from experience that there would be evidence of the magical moment.
“Yes. I’ll text you when I’m getting off the exit. It’s exit 51, right?”
“Uh huh. Then turn left and drive about 13 miles. At the light go right, then you go about two miles. I’m the fourth street on your left.”
“I’ve googled it; so I’ve got directions. I’ll see you soon. Around 11:30. O.K.? I can’t wait!”
“Oh my goodness. You are really about to drive over here.” I uttered, which was more for my own understanding than his. I needed to clarify the reality.
“Yes, I am. I’m getting my coat right now. I’ll call you when I get to Woodstock.
“O.K. Be careful. Bye.”
I laid the phone down on the table and scanned my surroundings. Random shoes, an empty bag of chips and three backpacks littered my living room. Just as an animal will clear away leaves and brush to create a space for sleeping, I instinctively began sweeping up items with both hands. When a pile stood knee high, I looked for a place to toss everything. A nearby empty laundry basket offered itself to me. So I began flinging things in its direction, most of them landing in it. Sorting things didn’t seem important.
After the large objects were removed from the floor, the specs of food particles and tiny bits of paper seemed to jump up out of nowhere. I grabbed the vacuum and shoved it around both the dining room and living room- as if a million dollars rested on finishing the job in less than 3 minutes. I wanted time to get a shower and then make some type of refreshments for us. Any type of meeting with my once in a lifetime love, could not occur without food. After I slung the vacuum back into the laundry room, I opened the fridge to scan the fare. A few containers with unknown contents sat next to yogurt, butter, cream cheese and a new pack of blueberry muffins. I opened the crisper drawers and found that 2 oranges were left from the sack I’d bought earlier in the week.
“Muffins and oranges. With hot tea and honey.” I said outloud. “Perfect!”
I wiped the dining room table after collecting the papers and books and piling them into one of the chairs. Then I headed straight to the shower.
I heard the buzz of my phone as I was towel drying my hair, and dove across my bed to answer it. It was a text message. “Just hit I-20.” That meant I had about an hour to kill. My palms began to sweat even in my cool bedroom. I pulled on pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and headed to the living room to make sure the fire in the wood stove was still burning.
The fire had a bed of coals that would make any pioneer feel proud. The radiating heat almost scalded my face. I sat and stared at the embers, glowing white, while brushing out my hair. It seemed like everything I had understood to be true, like the fact that a square has four equal sides, that the sun rises in the east, had just been re-configured. I suppose there is a moment, after a scientist does intense research, striving to understand a tiny particle, when something so random occurs, and almost seems like a ‘chance’ experience, that the whole picture shifts. Things fall into place and the surroundings grow quiet. That is what I was feeling. The quiet. Warmth surrounded me and it wasn’t all coming from the stove. It seemed to descend from above and below. Like a wave, not the kind that knocks you down and scares you, but like warm sea water, on a cool day. It almost pulls you in, and you let your body relax and float into the giant mass of life. Then you find yourself up to your neck, and feel the cool wind on your face, and something like enormous understanding flows all over you. The threatening sea is now wrapping itself around you, protecting you.
The phone was now in my pocket, so I would not miss the next call. If he called me at exit 51, that would leave me with 10 minutes of heart-pounding, quick breathing. I glanced at the clock. If his calculation was right, I had about 20 minutes left. “Oh my gosh! Tea. Muffins!”
I got the oranges out and sliced them on a bright yellow plate. The juice ran out and seemed to represent my heart at that very moment. I was cutting it open, and letting things run out that I had held in for years. Hopes, dreams, that I dared not even allow into my head, were just running out, and I wasn’t reaching for a napkin.
I reached on my tip-toes to try and grab a couple of candles from the top shelf. Pointless. I had to grab a chair. I always tried to get stuff without a chair, I guess somehow hoping that I’d finally grow that extra 2 inches I’d waited for till I was about 18, before giving up. I slid a chair up to the counter and began digging for candles. I found 3 tall white ones, left over from Christmas, and a couple of short red ones. I grabbed the crystal holders and set them in place using the old, melt-the-bottom-of-the-candle-first trick.
I felt my pocket vibrate, and was almost too scared to read the text. But, I couldn’t NOT look. “Exit 51 up ahead. My heart is pounding.”
My face, I had to do something with my face. I didn’t wanna put on too much make-up. But, I wanted my tired face to reflect the brightness that I felt.
I looked on the kitchen hook for my purse, which held my tiny make-up bag. No purse. I glanced at the table, the door knob, the sofa….still no purse. “The car! It’s in the car!”
I dashed outside into the very cold, still, night and grabbed my purse, Before turning to go back inside, I glanced up and saw a perfectly white moon, just between the branches on the tall pine tree hanging over my head. It seemed to nod, even wink at me, before I darted back inside. I went directly to the restroom and studied my face. My cheeks were glowing pink, probably from the fire, but quite possibly the frigid air had added another layer of intensity to it. My nose, too, was a nice pink color. I took off my glasses and studied my eyes. Lines around the corners, which didn’t bother me at all, seemed to soften my whole face. I put on a slight amount of mascara, a light pink lipstick, and decided that would be just right. I brushed my hair again, noticing the few gray hairs that were blending nicely with my new highlights. Funny how my own conclusion at looking at myself was summed up in one word, “pretty.” I felt pretty, and I smelled pretty. I brushed my teeth and scooted random bathroom items to the edge of the counter. I wiped the mirror before grabbing a pair of socks off the floor and hanging up a bath towel that was lying next to the bathtub.
I ran back to the kitchen to make sure I had left the garage light on. My pocket vibrated and I almost couldn’t get my hand into my pocket. When I looked at the screen I saw that it was a call, not a text. “Hello.”
“I’m on 48. I’ll be there in 10 minutes, Kathy.”
I swallowed. Hearing him say my name felt like his hand had just caressed my heart.
“Hello. Can you hear me?”
“Hello. Can you hear me?”
“Yes. I hear you. Watch out for deer. And that road has a few strong curves.”
“Okay. See ya in just a little bit. Bye.”
“Good-bye.”
Candles. I needed to light them. I looked over at the mantle and noticed 3 Christmas candles sitting beside the nativity scene. I ran my hands around to feel for a lighter and after a few swipes, my fingers landed on it. I quickly lit the first tall, red candle, then tipped it to the side to light the short green Santa candle before walking around the room to light the others. I put two on the hand-made children’s table that sat directly in front of the wood stove. The seven or eight candles cast a nice golden glow over everything, and softened the dust bunnies and random toys and shoes that were wedged between pieces of furniture. I placed our plates on the little table before glancing out the window to look for headlights. My pocket vibrated again.
“I’m at the red light. I turn left here?”
“Um, right, left, correct.” My heart jumped and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention.
“Fourth street?”
“Fourth. On your right. Across from the church. Second house on right.” I wasn’t speaking in complete sentences. My brain wouldn’t let me.
“I’m beside the high school.”
“Less than a quarter mile. Start counting streets.”
“O.K. See you in a minute.” He hung up and I stood- absolutely terrified, excited, and anxious. A mixture of joy, not unlike what I felt at the birth of my own child, and the intense grief I felt during the days following the death of my mother, swirled around my being and threatened to pull me down to the floor while lifting my soul to the stars.
I opened my kitchen door and stuck my head out. A cold blast of icy air froze the tears that had already started down my cheeks. I came back to the window, glanced down the street and immediately saw headlights. I knew they were his. The truck drove under the street light and I saw his silhouette. I ran to the door and opened it again, this time waving my hand. He turned in my driveway and I blinked the garage light. He opened his door, and an overhead light came on. I saw him leaning over his passenger seat before he looked up and saw me. Walking out to meet him didn’t seem right, so I stood on my threshold, observing him walking towards me. When he was about 4 feet away, I held out both my arms as a child does when a parent comes home. He wrapped himself around me. I let myself fall into his warm chest, inhaled deeply and whispered in his ear, “Welcome home.”
I listened to his breathing, which was as fast as mine, and noticed the familiar scent that seemed to fill a part of me, that had laid like an empty room for many, many years. We both exhaled and relaxed into each other’s being.
“Thank you.” He whispered.
“Come on in.”
He stepped into the kitchen and I said, “Would you please just stand here for a minute. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. I didn’t think I would ever see you standing here in my kitchen.” A flashback hit me, from 6 years earlier, of my husband asking me, “What would you do, Kathy, if Luke Greene walked in this house right now?”
“If he were single, I would take his hand, and get the children, and walk out of this house with him.”
“You are that certain?” He said, in complete disbelief.
“Of course I am that certain. I’ve had 20 years to learn about life and love. And the love I had for him, and he for me, is just that once in a lifetime thing.”
“So, I’ve always been number two.”
“Since you put it that way. Yes. You have been.” The hurt in his eyes was deep. But I wasn’t concerned with him anymore. I was more concerned with being honest with myself, about who I was and where I was going.
“But, Luke Greene is not going to walk in this house.” That phrase rolled around over and over as I stood looking at him, his white beard, his gentle forehead wrinkles, and the blonde curls that peeked out from under his hat.
He walked over to me, kissed my cheek and held my face in his hands. “Kathy, you are beautiful. More beautiful today than ever.”
“Can I pick you up?” he asked, in a bashful tone.
“Sure you can.” Before I could finish speaking he scooped me up into his arms and carried me into my livingroom. He sat me down on the sofa before taking a seat beside me.
“Thank you for letting me come see you. I know this seems crazy. But it’s not.”
“Well, Mr. G, you have just done something that I thought would remain an unfulfilled dream.”
“And what is that?”
“You are sitting beside me, in my home, on my sofa.” I reached for his hand and he turned his palm up to meet mine.
“Thank you.” He repeated. And it seemed like he was wanting to say more, but just didn’t have any words. I knew just how he felt, and decided that words would only limit our conversation so I simply squeezed his hand and reached for his other one. He slid close to me, put his arm around me, and pulled my head to his chest.
I closed my eyes, listened to his heart, and felt a release inside of me. Tears came and I didn’t try to stop them. Images of children, a home, a front yard, a porch swing, big trees, sunsets, spilled milk, tucking children in bed, sitting at the dinner table with him beside me, came flashing through my mind at such a rapid speed, that I didn’t even try to focus on any of them.
“Are you O.K.?” he asked.
“Better than O.K. I’m really, really happy you came tonight. I don’t care what happens tomorrow, or even in the next 5 minutes really. This, right now, is enough.”
We sat in the golden room, the silence swirled around us. I looked at him, then at the wood stove with a red glow dancing behind the glass doors, then back at him again. He reached up, and with his thumb, brushed away the tears dropping off my chin. He kept his hand on my chin, leaned close to me, pressed his lips on my forehead, and then whispered, “Can I kiss you?”
How can a woman, forty-seven years old, with three kids, having been married and divorced, feel like she has never been kissed before? Well, it happens. It sounds insane. But it really did seem like I was about to experience something for the first time. Now I know that I wasn’t imagining things. It was a first.
“Yes. You can.”
His hands, placed on both sides of my head, gently pulled me towards him. He leaned close and said, “Open your eyes. I want to see you looking at me.”
He tilted his head, and brushed his lips lightly over mine. We both gasped.
He pulled away, looked at me and smiled. He moved his thumb to my lower lip and pulled it down gently before coming towards me and pressing his mouth on mine. I closed my eyes. The room began to spin, a rush of energy shot through me and the desire to be consumed, completely, came crashing into me like an unexpected wave.
I don’t know how long we continued with a blending of our physical and spiritual selves. It seemed like a lifetime, but in reality it probably wasn’t more than 6 or 7 minutes. I think we both understood that too much of whatever it was that we were feeling might put us in a place that we weren’t ready for.
“Let me make us some tea.” I offered, almost as a way to bring myself down to earth for a moment.
“That sounds nice.”
“I’ve got some muffins to heat up, too.” I said, while pushing myself towards the kitchen, which was harder than I imagined it would be. While I stood in front of the microwave, watching the muffins spin, I had thoughts swirling around me like a soft, warm tornado.
He’s sitting in my livingroom right now. Twighlight Zone ain’t got nothin’ on this.
I got two cups from the cabinet and opened packets of vanilla chai tea. “Do you like vanilla chai?”
“I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure it’ll be great!” He responded with enthusiasm.
“Do you like sugar and milk in your tea?” I asked from the kitchen.
“Fix it how you like it. I do like it sweet.”
We sat on the sofa, with the muffins, oranges and tea in front of us. The fire crackled. The candles flickered. I sat beside this man, the person who had been in my life almost thirty years ago, and felt exactly the same way, thought the same thoughts that I had thought then. I remembered asking myself the same questions then, that were bubbling up right now. But this time, though, I knew the answers.
“Thank you for the tea. It’s perfect.” He said, while looking into me. Not at me.
“I made yours just like mine, cream and sugar.”
“Kathy. I want to ask you something. You know, I drove over here so I could talk to you. And it may seem really strange, but this has been gnawing at me for a while.”
“I will listen to whatever you want to talk about. This is your time.”
He took my hands in his, and looked at them, not at my face. And I looked at him looking at our hands, thinking about how beautiful his eyelids were. His long, blonde eyelashes, seemed to announce his inner beauty.
“Kathy, if I were really sick. I mean, if I were, um, about to cross over into the next life, and I asked you to come see me, would you come? Would you come hold my hand as I left this world? I’ve thought about this a lot. And it’s something I need to know.” He paused. But I could tell he wasn’t finished with his thoughts, because he was still looking at his hands holding mine, and he was trembling. “I would give your number to my son Mike, and explain to him who you are, and ask him to call you.” At that point he looked up at me and stated, “Would you sit beside me, hold my hand, and say good-bye?”
I wanted to ask, “Do you have a terminal illness? How long do you have to live? What’s the matter?” But my censoring mechanism must have been on supercharged, because the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “Yes. I’d come.”
He looked down at our hands again, and sighed. His breathing slowed down and a slight smile emerged. “Good. Then. I just needed to know how you felt about that. And if you’d come. I’m not sick.” He quickly added. He must have known what I was thinking. “I just had a physical and everything checked out great. But you never know. I am fifty. And you know what else? I can’t imagine being on my way out of this life, and you not being beside me.”
I can’t recall what I said next. Or what I did. From that point onward, well, it was again like seeing evidence that a square doesn’t have four sides. Something huge shifted in my universe. Almost as if my ship, pointed in one direction my entire life, was just set one degree closer towards the east. I can see in the distance, due to the gift of a super powerful telescope, that my final destination, my final years of life, will be very different than what I had imagined.
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