Sunday Morning Respite

Ray forgot how good it felt to have someone not related to you by blood give a shit whether you were alive or dead.  Sitting on the couch with MSNBC going he watched Sarah brush her teeth.  She stood in the doorway in a t-shirt and sweat pants, one hand working the toothbrush and the other holding the morning’s newspaper, her damp hair hanging loosely around her shoulders.  She looked up to see him staring.  “What?” she mumbled through the toothpaste and shrugged her shoulders.

“Nothing.”  Ray took his attention back to the television.  Sarah gave a short “Why is he so weird” head shake, put down the newspaper and headed back to the bathroom.

It happened quickly.  They fell in love at first sight after knowing each other for 10 years.

“You going to shower?  We’re meeting Brian and Karen in a couple of hours.”  She plopped down next to him on the couch putting her legs across his lap.  He could smell the faint aroma of her shampoo.

“I’m going to in a minute.  I want to finish watching this segment.”

“He looks young to have his own Sunday show.”

“He’s only 5 years younger than I am.”

“What does that say about you?”  He looked over to her and beneath her fierce, intelligent eyes came her flirty sweet smile with speck of toothpaste at the right corner of her mouth.

He turned back to the television with his own grin, and there it was.  The silence.  It first happened over beers on that long first day together.  They had been with each other all day talking, eating, and visiting all the places they could think of in uptown.  They went to McColl Center, The Museum of The New South, and the NASCAR Museum.  Then at about 10 that night, they sat in a bar drinking beer in silence.

In his past mostly failed relationships, this silence was filled with anger, nervousness, and/or embarrassment.  This moment was filled with the comfortable satisfaction that this was where you were supposed to be with whom you were supposed to be.  Ray guessed that was as close as he could get to describing love.

“All right.  I’m going to hit the shower.”

“I’ll start a pot.”

“Irish breakfast?”

“Works for me.”  He kissed her, tasting the toothpaste, and walked towards the bathroom, thinking how a great a day this was going to be.

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2 Responses to “Sunday Morning Respite”

  1. […] Here is part 1, Sunday Morning Respite. […]

  2. […]  Part 1, Part 2, Part […]

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