Chapter 6

Buddy’s turn:

Damned near a week in a hospital. Home now, slices healing in my calf. Went with Mimi so she could salvage things from her apartment.

She didn’t get much – some clothes, a couple of pots and utensils from the kitchen, a couple of photo albums. We got back home. I showed her some things I’d learned about salvaging flooded documents, got her precious photos laid out in the garage, drying. She started washing and drying her grandma’s cast iron pots, carefully cleaning, then putting them on the stove to dry under heat, finally wiping them down with cooking oil.

That took care of that set of tasks. She turned to me, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel. “Now, you. Go take a shower. Let me put a new dressing on your leg.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied in an overly subservient tone.

She snickered. “Good patient. Just do as you’re told. I’m gonna start a load of laundry. And I’ll do MY shower.”

I went into my bedroom, stripped, and showered in the master bathroom that adjoined it. The hot water felt good. I missed my home shower. My leg was giving me twinges of pain, though, so all was not good in paradise.

I finished the shower, was finishing up my shaving when I heard Mimi’s voice. “You okay?”

“Shaving,” I said. “In a minute...”

“I’m waiting, Buddy. Don’t be so bashful. I’ve already seen it.”

I toweled off my face, dragged on a pair of cotton briefs. “Okay, brave girl,” I said. “You asked for it.”

She shouldn’t’ve giggled when she saw me. “Ohmigod! Tightie-whities! I can hardly restrain myself!” The sarcasm was spiced with that laughter of hers that I’d heard only briefly. I hadn’t heard it nearly enough.

She’s playing a little game. I can play games. “Oh, it’s like that, then? Hang on!” I turned away from her, reached in my dresser drawer for a pair of blue briefs, then turned toward her. “Better?”

Her eyes flashed curiously. “Mmmm-hmmm.”

I turned my back to her, dropped the white ones, pulled the blue ones up. When I turned around, she was smiling.

“Now let me do your leg.”

You can’t give a guy a straight line like that and NOT expect a response. “A friend’s dog did that once,” I said.

She laughed out loud. “That’s the most horrible HORRIBLE thing you’ve ever said,” she squealed.

“I’m sorry. Momma raised me wrong. Uh, why are you laughing, then?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t warped at least a little bit.” She smirked. “You think you’re sooooo cool. You should be punished.”

“I promise I won’t do it again, nurse,” I said. I stretched out on the bed. Mimi sat cross-legged next to me, her supplies laid out beside her. She knows what she’s doing. The leg is dressed neatly. I let my eyes close while she worked. When I opened them, I thought I caught her looking at the blue-covered lump at my crotch.

She finished my dressing and got off the bed. I started to get up. Don’t know why. Nothing pressing.

“No, you stay there. Let it rest.”

I obeyed. Closed my eyes. I just let myself drift until I felt the bed move as Mimi crawled in beside me. I turned to her. “Gutsy little thing, ain’t you?”

“Look, Buddy. We both have clothes on. It’s a big bed.” Then she laid a killer on me. “And I have a case of the lonesomes.”

And heaven help me, so do I. And she’s certainly pretty enough in a kind of tomboyish, girl next door way. Actually, I’d probably pick this one out of a lineup. And dammit, perfume. It’s been assaulting my nose. I’m sliding. I don’t know if I should be thinking what I’m thinking, but I do like the lady.

We’ve been talking about how dating would work, especially since she lives under my roof. We agree that the fact that we’ve spent so much time together, it’s like a normal (is there such a thing?) couple had been dating for weeks. We’ve talked in the mornings and in the evenings and we’ve shared meals and thanking God, she’s cared for me while I was in the hospital. Truth is, she’s seen every bit of me. All I’ve seen are the public versions of her.

Mentally? She’s smart. Seems levelheaded. A man could do a lot worse. Come to think of it, I did.

“Welcome to my safe space,” I said.

“How safe am I?” she asked.

“As safe as you want to be,” I answered.

“So if we’ve, like, had at least a couple of dates, then this would be safe?”

Before I could think of an answer, she kissed me. It was totally inappropriate for a platonic relationship. I turned to her, put my hand behind her head, kissed her back.

When we broke apart, we both sighed. She smiled. “Good. You?”

“I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“We talked about this. I didn’t want to come off as some guy who took advantage of you. But I’ve been wanting to get my nose in the middle of your hair for a week.”

“My hair? Your nose? You one a’them freaks?”

I thought I’d ruined things. “Not the first time I’ve been called that. Mimi ... your hair. That perfume. Gets to me.”

“Well, now THAT’S a development,” she said, sitting up.

‘That’s it, ‘ I thought to myself. ‘She’s gone.’

I can be so wrong sometimes. She half-turned, flopped back, the back of her head softly landing on my face.

“Help yourself,” she giggled.

I moaned, a throaty, almost growl, clasped her head in my hands, reveled in the scent, the texture, the color. Finally, I said “Turn.”

She did. Our mouths welded together, tongues meeting, exploring. I didn’t feel bad about wrapping my arms around her because she wrapped me in hers. The kisses became hot, passionate, then finally we drew our faces apart.

I took advantage, stroking her hair back from her face, gazing into those blue eyes.

“What in the world are we doing, Buddy?” she asked.

“Beautiful Mimi, I don’t know ... Just sort of...”

“Me, too. Buddy, I’m not some stupid teenager making out at a pool party...” She kissed me again. “Though heaven knows, if this is what it felt like...”

“I don’t want...”

“I know what you want, Buddy.” She gently pushed me onto my back. Her face hovered just above mine, one hand touching my cheek. “You want this to mean something, not just a great shot of hormones.”

“Mimi, believe me, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re beautiful.”

“I might go as far as ‘cute’,” she said. “And I know what you’re gonna say.”

“What am I gonna say?”

“No one-night stands. No shackups.”

“At least that.”

“See?!? You’re this horrible anachronistic Neanderthal of a man, thumping on your chest and rescuing damsels ‘n’ shit. I know you. I know your type.”

“If you know, then...” I started, “why bother?”

“Don’t you see, Buddy? That’s what I’m looking for.”

“Heaven help us, then...” And I held her in my arms, looking into a totally charming face.

“You’re gonna mess that leg up if you keep flopping around like this,” she said.

“Are you gonna do this all the time?” I asked.

“What’d I do?”

“Broke into a tender moment with some of that sensible nurse stuff.”

“You’re kinda helpless on your own. Somebody needs to take care of you.”

“Take care of me? Are you applying for a job?”

She smiled. Kissed me. “I’ve had worse jobs.”

I reeled her in for another of the kind of kisses that men dream about on frigid nights in lands far from home. I made sure I didn’t flop around. One part in particular had no chance of flopping at all. And I’m trying to ignore hormones being dumped into my brain, erasing everything except ‘Ugh! Female! Must breed with female!’ Whatever’s left of the decent and conscientious part of me is telling me to back off and see what Mimi REALLY wants to do.

If that’s just kissing and cuddling, well, Buddy, you can use that. It’s been a long time.

More kisses. Her body seems to form itself to mine, fragrant, fresh, clean, soft in exactly the right way.

“Talk,” she said.

“I think I can still talk.”

“We both suffer from diverted blood supplies.”

“I love it when you’re clinical.”

“This isn’t clinical. This is Mimi being completely ruled by feelings.”

“I like it,” I said, then found further words impossible because she was kissing me.

“I do, too. What have you done?”

“Me?”

‘You, Buddy. You got me.”

“I got you?”

“I’m being a silly little girl, the same one that stupided her way into a bad marriage.”

“Happens, princess. So you’re thinking we’re stupid?”

“Aren’t we?”

“I dunno,” I said. “Truth is, I find more good in you in a week than I did in the months before I got married.” I paused. “And I got married anyway.”

“You’re no man-boy, Francis Marion Fontenot,” she said.

“And you do not appear to be some little girl who wants a man to keep her a princess all her life, Frances Marian Clemons,” I said, following her lead.

“You have a knack for serious conversation while wearing your skivvies,” she smiled.

“I didn’t start the serious conversation, Mimi.”

“I know. I did. We’ve had a lot of conversations, you and me, in the last week. But this is serious. About relationships. I think I know who you are. I want to know what you expect of me.”

“I dunno, Mimi. I guess I’m kind of fond of who you are right now. What I’ve seen of you, you sort of stepped up when you didn’t have to...”

“I am compelled by my upbringing,” she said.

“As am I. Yet here we are.”

She took a very deep breath. Appeared to almost say something several times, each time swallowing the words. Then, “Buddy, I know how to be married.”

I thought she’d get to exercise her CPR skills. I know my heart stopped and restarted three times.

“I do, too, Mimi. Kinda scared, here.”

“I’d make a good wife. Partner this time, if my husband wanted a partner. If he wanted arm candy or a slave, he wouldn’t be my husband.”

“I like that ‘partner’ thing, although any woman I’d take for a wife might have to spend occasional time on a pedestal.”

“We could trade places from time to time.”

There. She’d said it. It was me. Assuredly and unambiguously me.

“That makes this a very serious conversation, Mimi.”