I lean closer, allowing my hand to trace the cool line of your brow. You don’t stir, your lids heavy with the exhaustion of making love to me. Every muscle in my body wants to pull you to me and wrap you in my arms so closely you wake to my touch, but I dare not rouse you so late at night. I feel tears in my eyes at the thought of you. What had I done to deserve a man who loves me so much? Who cradles me like an infant when I breakdown, who teaches and shows me the world through eyes so much brighter than my own? You restored my faith in men, the upstanding goodness in humanity, the vulnerable beauty of the smallest of things. In the morning you will mutter in a newborn manner, and reach for me across the sea of sheets with two long, ape like arms, longing to be held, and I will hold you as you hold me. I love the smallness of your hands, the neatness of each fingernail, the crease of your beautiful eyes as you wince at waking. You call me dear, or beautiful, as if it was as much. I know a bartender, probably Enrique, is cleaning up, getting ready for the Friday crowd. In Spanish, I say ‘Enrique, this is Ross, Marissa’s friend.’ ‘How are you?’ Enrique asks. ‘Okay. Tell Marissa that, as we discussed, tonight I am bringing my girlfriend to meet her.’ ‘You are very brave,’ Enrique says, laughing. ‘Brave, or stupid,’ I answer. A year ago, at the prior Spring Break, Jen makes me promise that I will introduce her to Marissa, a year later, which is now. I guess Jen hopes that I will give Marissa up, instead of keeping my promise. But here we are. Jim Ed grins and stares at me. ‘I never thought my best friend would be stuck on a girl from the White Lake Whorehouse.’ Before I can answer, the girls are within range. By late morning, a good fish fry fills us. Beth strums her guitar. She creates naughty lyrics that she sings with familiar melodies. ‘I cain’t get over youuuuuu while you are over herrrr…Yee Haw!’ We all giggle, especially Beth. Then we nap until two. While.
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