Chapter 23

I couldn't help laughing.

"You want to let me in on the joke?"

"Us."

It was the kind of night that seemed to define Washington. Define the northwest. The air was clear after the afternoon rain. The Moon was out in force enviously trying to outshine her older brother, the sun. The stars shone brightly, cheering her on, yet twinkling at her forlorn attempt. The air was cool, still filled with the moisture of the rain.

Tami and I were taking our ritual walk, hand in hand, enjoying the night, the moon, each other.

The image popped into my head and I laughed.

"We're funny?" Tami asked.

"No, not us. Our relationship," I said, still laughing.

"Our relationship? Or OUR relationship? She asked, the capital letters in her second sentence obvious."

I let go of her hand and slid my arm around her, my hand sliding into the far back pocket of her jeans. "Both," I said, as I got my breath back and stopped laughing.

Tami glared at me out of the corner of her eye. Not in anger, but in the frustration of not understanding. I gave her ass a squeeze. "Did you ever see The World According to Garp?"

"I think so. Robin Williams? He was a writer or something."

"That's the one," I agreed.

"What does Garp have to do with us?"

"After Garp sold his first book and married his sweetheart, I think it was Helen, they were going to buy a house. They looked at one and weren't sure, then...

"An airplane flew into it," she finished for me. "I remember that part."

"Yeah, and Garp decided to buy the house because it had been pre-disastered. We're kind of like that."

"Pre-disastered?"

"Exactly. Look at all the stuff that's happened to us. If we can survive this, we can survive anything."

"Don't tempt fate," she warned, holding her fingers out in front of her to form a cross.

"I'm not. I just figure we're pre-disastered. We've had our problems, and now we can go the distance."

"You make me feel like I'm seventy years old, in my rocking chair on the porch."

"We'll be seventy all right. But we'll be running our great grand-kids ragged."

"Great grand-kids, huh?"

"Yep, Tony the fourth, star quarterback and short stop.

"What about Tami the fourth?"

"Super-model."

"Super-model?"

"Yep, super-model, just like mom, grandmom, and great grandmom."

"Tony, you're hopeless."

"I can see the sports illustrated cover now, Four generations in bikinis. Tami the fourth, mom, grand-mom, and you."

"I hope," she said stiffly, "that when I'm seventy, I have sense enough not to wear a bikini."

"Awww."

"I've seen you cringe when you saw some old broad in spandex or a bikini."

"But they're not you."

"Anyway, I hope I do more than become a super-model," she said as she slipped her hand in my back pocket and gave me a quick squeeze.

"How about super-model slash secret agent. Keeping the world safe for democracy."

"If and when I decide democracy is worth saving, I'll consider it."

"Going communist on me, babe? I think we'll have to move to China or Cuba, but I'll follow you anywhere."

"No, I'm not going communist. And call me babe again, and you won't live long enough to follow me anywhere," she said with a laugh.

I grinned back at her.

"Besides, it'll be hard for you to be a pro football slash baseball player in China or Cuba."

"Who knows, by then they may have franchises."

"The Peking Ducks?"

"Ouch. But I don't want to be a pro."

"Weren't you and Robbie arguing about who would be first to be drafted."

"That's different. I want to get drafted, I just don't want to play."

"I don't get it."

"I play football and baseball for fun. I don't want it to be a job."

"So if the Miami Cowboys or Dallas Bears offer you ten million a year?"

"I'd like to think I'll say no, but we'll have to wait until they actually wave the green in front of my face."

"So you want them to want you, just so you can say no?"

"No. I want them to want me because I want to be that good. I want to say no because there's something more important in my future."

"What?" she asked bluntly.

"Not a clue," I admitted.

"Not even a little one?" she prodded.

"Well, journalism with you was fun this year."

"I can picture you running into the pressroom yelling 'Stop the presses!'".

I grinned. "And I've thought about medicine, but blood is not my favorite liquid."

"Maybe you could be a reproductive specialist. You seem to like sperm."

"Only my own. Maybe I could be a g-y-n, cause you know how I like pussy."

Tami giggled.

"And I know it sounds like a little kid, but I've thought about being an astronaut. I mean, maybe, by the time I'm ready, NASA will get off it's ass and make the manned space program more than a taxi service."

"You read too much Heinlein," Tami accused with a laugh.

"And Asimov. And Bova."

"I'll bet it was that damn Bova and his Grand Tour that did it too you."

"Guilty," I admitted with a grin.

"Anything else?"

"Well, I could see myself sitting on the Supreme Court, shaping the law. But, unfortunately they make you be a lawyer first, and I don't know if I could stomach that."

"Pretty unfair," she commiserated. "But just because most lawyers are crooks doesn't mean you have to be.

"Oh, I could be an honest lawyer, but I'd have to hang out with crooks. Don't know if I could bring myself to do that."