Chapter 8

That night was the beginning of a completely new phase of Mike’s life, one of extreme happiness. Perhaps it was more a case of contentment than mere happiness. The feeling he had when he was around her was difficult to describe at first, but in time he came to understand it; she was the female equivalent of the friends he’d had as a teenager. The guys that had been classed as his best friends, the ones he’d felt would have been his buddies for life. The reality was they’d disappeared one after another, lost to careers, wives and families, or just changing interests. In Connie’s case he’d determined that first night that he was willing to do anything to prevent losing her.

He stayed the night with her. There had been no invitations or questions on either of their parts; both had just assumed it was the natural thing to do. Lying next to her, Mike slept fitfully. It was almost as if he wanted to be sure she was still there, that it all hadn’t been a part of some elaborate dream. It was at these times he would reach out and run his hand lightly along her shoulder, her back, or even her hair to reassure himself it was all real. He was incredibly happy.

As hard as he tried not to wake her up, at one point she rolled over on her back. The dim light of her alarm clock was reflected in her eyes, he knew she was looking at him. He placed his hand alongside her face gently, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“Are you OK?” she asked quietly.

“More than OK,” he reassured her, “so much more, trust me.”

She turned her head suddenly and sharply to the side, kissing the palm of his hand. Then she returned to her original position.

“Me too,” she said simply. Then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

The rude blast of her alarm clock in the morning ended their nocturnal reverie. Suddenly awakened, Mike continued to lay there rubbing his eyes, wishing he could stay in the bed with her all morning. He felt the mattress move as Connie sat up to silence the offending alarm. When he looked over, he saw the bed sheet had fallen down to her lap. He couldn’t help but watch her breasts rise and fall as she took a couple of deep breathes.

He was surprised at how matter of fact she was about her nudity. He’d noticed it last night, but that was different, it had been in semi-darkness and they had been making love. She had never struck him as someone who would be as casual about it in the light of day. It was funny; somehow he found this earthy side of her rather refreshing. He felt he’d fallen in love with a natural woman. He wondered what else was submerged beneath the still waters of her personality.

She turned and looked down at him, “Time to get up, or are you one of those people that have to have the snooze alarm go off a couple times before you realize it means business?”

“No,” he smiled up at her, “I’m usually pretty quick to get out of bed, but you’re usually not in the bed with me. That makes it tougher to get up.”

“Well, I just wouldn’t want you to be late for work. I assume you’ve got time to get ready.”

“I’ve got time,” he said, “but how about you? You don’t want to be late either.”

“Not a problem, I’m off today.”

“How convenient.”

He sat up and put his arms around her, kissed her on the neck and then pulled her close, resting his cheek on her hair. He found the feel of her warm soft flesh pressing against him comforting. He remembered when she had told him the mothering instinct was strong in her and that seemed to be true now; it was as if that instinct was radiating out of her. It went beyond the simple feeling of physical comfort; he felt safe and wanted. She was a basic earth mother and he’d fallen under her spell.

“About how long,” he asked, “would it take for you to get dressed and ready to go out?”

“Not long, long enough for a quick shower, to throw on some clothes, and run a brush and comb through my hair. I guess it depends on how dressed up I need to be. Why?”

“Just presentable, I thought we could go out for breakfast.”

“I can make a breakfast if you’re hungry.”

“Not the same,” he said. “The Manor House Restaurant puts on a fancy breakfast spread every morning; Belgian Waffles piled high with fruit and whipped cream, steak and eggs, espressos, cappuccinos, mimosas, that sort of thing. I thought we could go, live it up.”

“But, then you will be late for work for certain.”

“I’m just a car salesman, I have to face it; I’m just not that important. Nobody’s life depends on me being there on time. If somebody wants to buy a car first thing in the morning, there’ll be somebody else there to sell it. Nobody’ll care if I’m late.”

“Well you’ll care if you get fired.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured the mother in her, “nobody’s going to fire me for being late once. Now, what do you say, shall we have breakfast like the upper crust?”

“You sound like your mind’s made up and far be it from me to dissuade you. OK then, let’s do it.”

A little over an hour later, freshly scrubbed and dressed, Mike and Connie were seated at the restaurant studying the menu sipping their drinks; a cappuccino for him, herbal tea for her.

“My God,” she said, looking over the top of her menu, “this is like the height of decadence.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “this isn’t the breakfast of champions, more like the breakfast of spoiled aristocracy. But, even the working class has a right to spoil themselves every now and then. This is one of those times.”

“The menu says they’re the home of ‘the area’s best mimosas’. That sounds pretty tempting, if only it weren’t so damned early in the day.”

“Yeah,” he smiled at her, “but I think the idea of spiking your orange juice with champagne is to quell last night’s excesses, or brace yourself for the coming day’s tribulations. Besides, how often do you get to have the ‘best’ mimosa?”

“True, but still...” she left her statement unfinished.

“Come on, I’ll have one if you will. What do you say?”

“Depends, which of those reasons are yours, bracing yourself for the day, or last night’s excesses?”

“I’m expecting a tough day.” Then he added, “I don’t want anything that’ll wipe out last night’s excesses, if that’s what you want to call them.”

“If that’s the case, I say we go for it.”

When the waitress arrived, they placed their order, including the breakfast cocktails. While waiting for their food, they made casual conversation about nothing in particular, until she looked at him and asked a simple question.

“Mike, all this, is this where we have the conversation?”

“The conversation, what conversation?”

“The one where you tell me last night was fun, that you’ll always remember it, but I shouldn’t take it all too seriously.”

“What, no, God no. Jesus H Christ, what made you say that?”

“Just idle curiosity, if that was the case, I just wanted to get it over with now and have done with it. The thought did cross my mind though, you know, you take me somewhere public where I wouldn’t make a scene.”

“Aw Christ, Connie, this was supposed to be celebration of the start of something, not the end of it.”

“That’s good to hear,” she looked at him with her complacent smile.

Mike had been surprised by her question, but then he remembered the morning after he’d slept with Donna; he’d actually had that conversation with her. Was this something women expected from men, a quick romp in the hay followed by a grateful fare thee well? Now he wondered if when Donna had assured him it had been a onetime thing between friends, had she been telling the truth, not just trying to get past some unpleasantness with the minimum of pain. It was an uncomfortable thought that brought feelings of guilt; he hoped desperately that she’d been telling the truth that morning.

Seeing his change in mood, Connie assumed she had been the cause of it. In a manner of speaking, she had, although not in the way she thought. She had no way of knowing about Donna or of the memories she’d triggered with her question. But, accepting the blame, she reached across the table and took his hand.

“Mike, I’m sorry if I upset you,” she said remorsefully, “I was just trying to find out where I stood. I hope you’ll understand.”

“It’s all right, I’m not insulted. You just made me think a bit and, yes, I do understand.” He squeezed her hand gently, raised it up, and kissed it.

“I guess I should have known better than expect the worst from you, but I had to ask.”

Their food arrived in time to put an end to an awkward moment. The subject changed when she saw the size of the plate of bananas foster she’d ordered.

“Good lord, if I ate here on a regular basis I’d be the size of a house.”

“Not only that,” he joked, “you’d have spent enough money to actually buy a house.”

“Well, let’s just say my eyes may be bigger than my stomach. I hope I can get a doggie bag if I need one.”

She sliced the pancakes with the side of her fork and put a wedge into her mouth. Tipping her head back slightly she closed her eyes as she chewed, then swallowed.

“There’s a lot,” she said, “but, my God, there’re good. I may have to eat them all out of purely hedonistic desire.”

“Wow, that’s one fancy way of saying you’re hungry.”

“No,” she smiled, “this goes beyond mere hunger, this is a sensuous experience.”

“All that over pancakes, it’s a good God damned thing you didn’t order waffles.”

“I guess you just don’t understand,” she sighed resignedly then continued her assault on the pancakes.

She was right, he really didn’t understand. It didn’t matter though, he was happy to see her enjoying the meal. The fact was he was enjoying it also, he’d ordered a mushroom and brie omelet topped with some sort of truffle spread It sat atop a generous slice of ham. It was good, but somehow fell short of being called “sensuous”.

Connie made a good effort at it, but couldn’t finish her meal; there was simply too much there. About three quarters of the way through, she surrendered and asked the waitress to wrap up the remainder to take home. Mike finished his eggs, but was definitely full. He wondered how many eggs had gone into the omelet. He was sure of one thing, he would be skipping lunch.

After driving Connie home, Mike walked her to her apartment door. Once there, she stood facing him, leaning back against the door. She was wearing the familiar calm smile as she looked at him.

“I don’t suppose you can come in for a while, can you?”

“No,” he replied, “much as I’d love to, I’ve got to get down to Herring’s, back to work. How about tonight though, you doing anything?”

“Nothing planned.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. It was a warm, passionate kiss. When he finished and began walking away, he turned and looked back at her. She smiled brightly, raised her hand and waggled her fingers in a good bye gesture. He returned the wave and then walked away. It was the first time he’d ever left her without being consumed by doubt or confusion. For once he was positive where he stood with her and was elated.

When he got down to Herring’s he found he’d been right, nobody had really taken any notice of the fact that he’d been late. Donnie Herring had jokingly asked if he’d had a big night. Mike couldn’t help but think about how right Donnie was, it had been a big night; like childhood Christmas and Easter mornings combined, along with the last day of school before summer vacation. But he merely nodded and smiled vaguely in reply.

The changes that Connie brought into Mike’s life were many and dramatic. The comparison that had run through his mind about childhood Christmas was valid. The time when he was away from her was like Christmas Eve, filled with happy anticipation, knowing what the morning would bring. When they were together, it was like Christmas morning, the fulfillment of all his hopes. He’d probably never been happier in his adult lifetime.

With Connie, it was about sharing, with Joanie it had been about possession. He had not, however, thought about Joanie as a mere physical possession; it had been a case of his wanting to be with a woman who had her physical beauty, someone so strikingly attractive. He had been in love with the idea of her, rather than the reality of her. Connie, he loved her for what she was, pure and simple. Any differences between them or things he considered odd about her just made her that that much more endearing to him. They disagreed about a lot of things, Connie was a woman of strong opinions, but they never argued; each respected the other’s thoughts.