Chapter 14

Oh, the horrors of Monday after vacation. When you like your job, Mondays aren't as dreadful. I liked my job. But I liked spending time with Tina more. She was about as excited about school as I was about work. I was positively reluctant to go out the door, even absent the freezing temperatures.

Still, we did what we must. I arrived, finding that my boss was snowbound up north, half the crews didn't show up for similar reasons, and as the "responsible senior engineer" on site, I presided over a rather miserable meeting. We looked at where we were on the project for all the different disciplines, who among us actually had enough workers on site to do anything useful. I put my fractional crew to work, having many tasks that needed one or two knowledgeable technicians.

Only one of the crane operators made it back, and the steelworkers were not the least bit disappointed to be relegated to inventory duties instead of hanging off I-beams in twenty mile an hour north winds and freezing temperatures.

An extra coffee pot in my main substation and passing the word around to the work crews that hot coffee was available made my techs a little set of heroes. They needed credit. I didn't.

Home was a drive through gray dusk and when I turned the corner into the park I saw Tina's little car parked at the trailer. I walked in to something that smelled good.

"Soup," she said. "I dumped stuff into the pot an' added a little of this and a little of that, and cut up some of your precious Cajun sausage in it. I hope you like it."

"It's a soup kind of day, little one," I said, collecting a kiss from a girl in a sweatshirt with a spoon in her hand. "How was your day?"

"Nobody wanted to be there. Lots of giggling and story-telling and the teachers just sort of went along with most of it. "Mr. Barnes told us in math to just go ahead and get it out of our systems because tomorrow was 'buckle down and get it' day." She grinned. "So I guess it wasn't bad. Yours?"

I related my sad tales. The coffee pot deal made her smile.

"It'll get better. I know we built time into the schedule for this stuff."

Bleak January passed us. There was a bit of flying, a destination on a weekend, or not, as in Alan, can we just go buzz around the state? I mean, there's SNOW on the ground. Us Louisiana kids never see snow."

There were a couple of evenings with Susan and her parents. Susan was an only child and actually quite attached, despite my initial assessment of her from Tina's party episode. Having dinner with them meant five of us socializing, Tina handling the transition between being Susan's contemporary and best school friend and being my wife and friend of her parents. Of course, Susan was a case herself, funny, sometimes sounding a bit flighty, but quite intelligent and the absolute apple of her dad's eye.

Five of us playing some silly board game as an excuse to laugh and be sociable made for pleasant evenings.

Of course, relating such forays into a wild life of debauchery to some of my co-workers was always interesting, as in, "Man, if I had a seventeen year old that looked like that, I DAMNED sure wouldn't be visiting people an' playin' board games!"

"There's more to life and love than continuous sex," I laughed.

"But that'll do until that other stuff comes along," my buddy answered.

"Uh-huh..."

Life rumbled along as life does. On bright sunny days we got out to do SOMETHING, if only a walk, and a young girl with a pilot license and yearning to fly, well, that was a frequent goal too. I considered selling her little trainer, but we just hadn't gotten around to pushing it hard. I left word with the other flyers, Charlie and a couple of other active pilots, that we'd entertain offers on it.

Tina's school business stayed good. She brought home an application to take her ACT, preparatory to college aspirations. I found humor in that. The Tina I knew was not going to have a problem getting into college. I only wished she'd have had more time in Tennessee, just to benefit from some of the scholarships.

It wasn't a matter of needing the money. I had that covered. It was just the idea that I thought that Tina was outstanding enough that she should be recognized.

One day I came in from work to find another car next to the trailer. I walked in the door and saw Tina and Susan sitting on opposite sides of the little booth that served as our dining room table, a laptop open, papers spread around.

"What's up, ladies?" I asked.

"Navy bean soup and a social studies paper," Tina said.

"Hi, Mister Alan," chirped Susan.

"Hi, Susan," I said. "You stayin' for dinner?"

"If you don't mind. I helped Tina cook it."

"She's a good cook," I said.

"Dump soup," Tina snorted. "Grandma called it 'dump soup'. Open cans, dump it in a pot. Stir."

"You chopped up onions and ham," Susan said, "an' cooked 'em first."

"It's quick, and sometimes it's nice to sit at home with a bowl of hot soup instead of driving up the road to a restaurant."

"I know," chirped Susan, "I love it when Mom cooks a whole meal. But she had to work late today."

"You're always welcome," I said. "It's little, but it's home."

"I think it's CUTE!" Susan giggled. "Kinda like camping!"

Tina snorted, "Uh, Susan, that's why they call it a 'camper'..."

"Oh, yeah!" Another giggle.

Life. As it is supposed to be lived. I always heard about it, and now, for once the joy was there every day.

I didn't mind seeing Tina and Susan hanging out together. It gave Tina the ties I thought she needed between her life as wife of an older man and life as a high school girl. Like when Susan took a battering from the comings and goings of teenaged love, and Tina was the shoulder to cry on.

"I don't know that it's something I miss at all," Tina told me. "Susan's devastated."

"She'll go okay," I said. "She's cute and smart and her family loves her and that's ground that you can build on. She knows what relationships are supposed to look like."

"That's what she said about us, baby," Tina replied. "That it works when you find the right one."

"But the guy she split up with, what's the deal?"

"He liked the way Susan looked. But her mind..."

"Oh." I scooped Tina up in my arms. "The best part of you. And that's saying something, because the other bits are pretty damned good."

Her arms went around my neck and the tip of her nose touched mine. "I'm glad you don't mind her hangin' around. She feels like she has to dumb down with a lot of other kids."

"Ah," I said. "I understand that."

"You've been there," Tina purred. Little kiss. "Me too. And if Grandma was still alive and I was in the world I left with her, I'd probably be in the same boat. I had a taste of it. It's tough being the 'smart kid'."

And other serious discussions.

And quiet times.

"Look what I found," she said on one evening when we were lounging in the trailer after dinner.

"What's that?" I asked.

"This chamber orchestra from Germany is doing a tour in the USA. They have a date in Charlotte, North Carolina in February. That's in range, you know."

"What's the menu?" I asked.

"Oh, gosh! Brandenburg Concerto. The third one! You love that one! And so do I. Live! D'you think..."

"Get us tickets, then ... When is it?"

"Saturday evening, like most of 'em."

"Well," I said, "We can shoot for me getting you out of school early on Friday and flying in on Friday afternoon, huh?"

"Weather permitting. Should I make hotel reservations?"

"Some place nice, okay?" I said.

"Always," she said. "But remember that you promised we'd go camping when the weather warms up."

"Oh, yes, I remember," I said. "Wonder what warm weather feels like?"

"Oh, you remember all too well," she smiled. "We both do. Louisiana, you know..."

"Sure, you pick a day when it's fifteen degrees outside to remind me."

"So when is this thing?" I asked.

"Oh, it's like perfect," she giggled. "It'll be my reward for not coming unglued when I take the ACT's. It's the Saturday after the tests."

"Buy the tickets. Make the reservations. Worst thing that'll happen is things go off track and we have to eat the tickets. And I've never had an excuse to go to Charlotte, so we'll have fun exploring on Saturday before the concert."

"We need to spend an extra session at the gym, too, baby. You know how we tend to pig out on those little adventures. You don't need a plump little wife, you know..."

"And you don't need a fat old husband either. And forty year old guys can put on weight really easy. Especially when one of their great joys is sitting across the table with a laughing cutie, enjoying good food."

She smiled. "Monday Wednesday Friday at the gym, then, hon. And walk around the park every day it's not raining. Gotta keep your strength up." And she stuck her tongue at me.

"Hold that thought!" I laughed.

She giggled. "Why should I HOLD that thought? Are you lacking in a sense of adventure, guy?"

"I do believe I'm up for a bit of adventure..."

Squeal! She was shoving me back towards the bed at the far end of the trailer.

We loved each other enthusiastically, happily, eagerly, joyously. In the afterglow, she purred in my ear, my arm holding her soft form next to me.

"Only bad thing is that NOW we have to get up and shower, sweetie," she said.

"Oh, I know," I admitted. "Just a little while longer..."

She rolled halfway on top of me and kissed me. "Now, babe! We can get back to bed when we finish."

"Oh, you're right, but this sure feels good."

"Uh-huh. It's s'posed to."

Showers. One for each of us. One shave, one dried and brushed short auburn head of hair, and back to bed for cuddling and giggling and laughing. And sleep.

Thursday and Friday went well. It should have. We, the team at work, were professionals, and we were up to speed, looking down the road to head off difficulties. Sure, that's not going to stop all the tight-jaw moments, but it lessens their number.

Home. We called it home. We knew how to keep from bumping into each other when were were trying to get things done. I knew how she was when it was THAT time of the month now, six months into living together, and I determined that it wasn't worth the battle to try to get my own way.

On and on. Dozens of little vignettes reside in my head about how two people meet and commit and begin the process of fitting together. Some people never get through this process. Some get through it and end up with resentments and hurts that color their lives forever. And some find that the whole process is too difficult and not worth the benefit.

We laughed and frowned and giggled and fretted. And grew closer.

The period thing? I wasn't sure how manage it, if indeed it could even be managed. She got moody. She was on her period when we first met, but I figured that the emotional roller-coaster of her evacuating with mom and mom's loser boyfriend, the incident in the diner where we met, and the whole 'new life' thing sort of shoved any mood swings off the table.

Since then, though, sometimes she got really giggly, sometimes something would turn her somber, but we both recognized the hormonal change as the cause and as for me, I just backed off and let things go for a day or two. Usually, if she was a bit brusque to me, she'd come back later and apologize.

I found out that SHE got grossed out when I trimmed my toenails, something I used to do while sitting cross-legged in bed. The first time I attempted that after we'd committed to one another, I thought she was going to lose it.

"No, I don't CARE when I cut MINE! I can't stand to watch you cut YOURS!" she yelled.

"But, baby, that makes no SENSE!" I tried reason. Logic. And decided it wasn't worth the fight. I mean, she was very careful about her own conduct. I was too many years a bachelor. And DAMNED sure didn't want to go back to being one just so I could trim my toenails at my own leisure.

"So exactly WHERE does a guy have to go to trim his toenails, Tina?" I looked at her.

"He DOESN'T have to go anywhere. All he has to do is trust the person who loves him most..." She wasn't smiling.

"Wai-wai-wait! You mean to tell me that you can't STAND to watch me sit in the bed and trim my own toenails, but YOU will do it for me?"

"Yes," she said. "Grandma had arthritis. I used to do hers for her."

"You know how to do it right? Straight across?"

"I THINK I can trim your toenails, Alan. Give me a foot." And for the first time in my adult life, somebody else trimmed my toenails. And kissed me after it was over, saying, "Now, was it THAT bad?"

It wasn't.

Make-up sex. Sometimes it's REALLY good, even if you didn't REALLY fight.

On a rare mall trip, I was patiently waiting as she perused the perfume counter for another bottle of scent. I loved the tiny hints of fragrance she used, catching a sweet aroma wafting in the currents as she walked near me.

She motioned me over, extending a sample of a MAN's cologne. "What'd'ya think?" she asked.

"I've been wearing the same one for ten years, baby. What's wrong with it?" I asked. I should know better.

"I think this one's nice," she said. Her blue eyes twinkled to accompany her little smile.

Hooked. Now I smell different. I was in my office signing off purchase orders when the project administrator bent over to swap stacks with me. "You smell different," she said. "Tina?"

"Yep," I admitted.

"She's got good taste," she said.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I think she does."

I learned that Tina did not like her hair touching her neck when she was sweaty. That meant that when we went to the gym for a serious bit of exercise, she put her hair up in a couple of tiny, short ponytails, one at each ear. That just drove me wild. I told her so.

"You know I love you, Alan, but that's just STRANGE!" Giggle. And then we got finished and went home to shower. When I got finished shaving, I stepped out of the tiny bathroom and looked at the sofa, Tina's usual destination after she dried her hair. She wasn't there. She was kneeling in the middle of the bed naked, hair in two little ponytails. And grinning.

As I rolled onto my back with this sweet thing in my arms, she was giggling. "Just thought I'd humor you ... Looks like it works, huh?"

"You could wear a burka, baby doll," I laughed, "but you KNOW I appreciate you paying attention."

"I can tell," she tittered, eyeing a very obvious sign of my appreciation.

I think that somewhere in the ensuing forty-five minutes I had multiple out-of-body experiences.

I walked into the trailer one day to an unusual smell from the stove.

"What IS that?" I asked.

She said, "Hamburger Helper. I had a craving." And I collected my usual 'welcome home' kiss.

"Baby, ' I said. "I understand cravings. But Hamburger Helper?"

"Hamburger Stroganoff, to be exact," she said. "Call it a weakness."

"Most people get a little more, oh, I dunno, 'exotic'," I said.

"Grandma made it when she didn't feel good enough to spend a lot of time in the kitchen, you know, when she was sick."

"Okay. I'll buy that," I said. "Just surprising."

"Oh, I know," she admitted. "But it IS fast, too. I stopped by the grocery store on the way home and got the stuff."