One Short Day

A Favor Repaid

As time slowed to its natural progression, the memory of his smile and the way he made her smile faded slowly, like the spirits of the past who do not wish to be forgotten.

Her mind was on auto-pilot, and she worked through her tasks without need for second thoughts or a series of questions.  But over and over again, in her mind, she remembered her time with the photographer from Portland.  He might have been a stranger to  her, yet it was so easy to spend time with him.  She smiled as that one particular memory of the laughed they shared musing over French Lace condoms appear before her eyes.

They can't have been very effective.

She mused over how easy it was to just let go and for that moment, just enjoy life and allow the time to ticker on as though it were barreling toward its final destination.  It wasn't just about spending time with someone - it was more than that.  Much more.  The way he looked at her with those luring eyes and the way she found herself giggling coyly, obviously vulnerable to his charms. 

He wanted her to be his personal tour guide.

She couldn't remember why she refused him.

It had to be because of the fear.  They had only met, and yet she felt this pull, this undescribable to him in the time they were together.  She didn't know him, and yet she did.  She felt like there was nothing to fear from him, and if she were to choose to be his tour guide, she'd never have to worry about leery stares and unwanted advances.  If she had to worry about anything, it would be whether a lock of hair was out of place or whether he liked a particular outfit she wore or not.

And even then, it probably wouldn't matter.

She shook her head, scolding her train of thought.  Imagine that - her being so hung up on a tall, dark, and handsome tourist.  What was this, a Harlequin romance novel?  Were those things even realistic, resolving a torrid love affair in two hundred pages or less?  She scoffed at the idea.  The dashing stranger always seemed to win the heart of the modern day damsel in distress, no matter the obstacles in the way. 

Real life was never that way, and certainly could be resolved in two thousand pages, let alone two hundred.

Well, it didn't matter anyway.  She would never see him again - and that was that.  He would probably throw himself into his work here, and she'd just march on with the slow progression of time, living life as she did before that one short day on Creek Street.

But even as she resigned herself to this fate, she said a silent prayer of thanks, happy for the time she did have with someone who lifted her spirits, who spent a little time with her - the one thing she always wanted but never had the courage to ask for.

Thank you, she thought, whoever you are.

------

Tick-tock on the clock.

She rested in bed with eyes wide open, listening to that tick-tock on the clock.

She needed to get to sleep.  She needed the rest.  But she couldn't.  The emptiness, the loneliness - it weighed heavily on her now, in the dark of night. 

It's always hard, settling back into the pattern of loneliness after spending time with someone.

They used to listen to the ticking of the clocks together - she in this room, her mother in hers.  The clocks came with the house, and her mother didn't have the heart to throw them out.  They had character, and she was pretty sure that if she saved them for a little while longer, they'd end up being priceless heirlooms that could be sold for a nice chunk of change.

She died before that happened.  When they found the cancer, it was already too late.  Her mother accepted her fate graciously, happy to be dying in such a beautiful place, but regretted that she wouldn't be around long enough to net the proceeds from their sale.

She hated those clocks with a passion.  They reminded her of her stalled existence, her inability to move forward, and her lot in life to remain alone.  But she couldn't bear to sell them or this house for that matter.  She was afraid of what she would be without them.  They were so familiar, like scars that haven't healed completely.  She didn't like the pain they inflicted, but she feared what life would be like without that routine certainty.

Her time with her mother was the only time she ever knew of faith, love, and freedom.  Her mother would never hurt her - that was the beauty of a mother's love.  No other love could compare to it - especially not romantic love.  It was the biggest thorn in her side, and no matter how many times opened herself to it, she was ultimately stabbed, and it always drew blood. 

Behind her mother's embrace, she never had to worry about that.  She had her mom, a good job, and a nice life.  And during her mother's final days, all the work that came into caring for her in a dignified way outweighed any desire for someone to be there for her, to tell her that everything would be okay, and to care for her. 

But her mother was gone now - the shield faded.  And now, alone in her room and alone in her thoughts, one thought filled with deep, melancholic longing sat inside her mind.

She was lonely - and she really wanted someone to spend more short days with.

But that's would always be out of her reach, she decided.  So, she'd just lay there and will herself to fall asleep.

Falling asleep to that tick-tock on the clock.

------

She dreamt the dream of companionship.

She awakened from another dream that faded as quickly as it played out, and before she could open her eyes, she felt the warm presence against her back.  She shut her eyes even tighter, in hopes that she could feel this warmth a little while longer.  She leaned against it, hungry for more warmth, and she felt an arm drap across her waist in kind. 

She swore she could hear the rise and fall of another's breathing, and the faint steady beat of another's heart. 

Beloved.

She refused to open her eyes.  If she did, it would all fade away into nothingness.  She wanted to stave off the chilly solitude a little while longer.  She wanted to preoccupy herself with something other than those damn clocks.  This warm - this sensual, delightful warmth was everything she needed and more.  She wanted to hold onto it for as long as she could.

Stay with me.

She clung to the warmth even as it pulled itself away.  She shut her eyes tighter and tighter, but even she could not prolong the inevitable.

Please come back...

Her eyes fluttered open, the bright morning light stinging her eyes.  Her eyes drifted over to the digital clock on the nightstand - 7:30AM.

She'd never awakened that late before.

------

Today is sunny - no chance of rain, for once.

The lunch is salad bar nachos from the grocery store down the way, made just the way she likes them.

The place is her usual lunching spot, by the Monorail to Cape Fox Lodge.

She stared at her lunch, one long moment after another, unable to eat it.  Something refused to allow it - some unknown force beyond her understand that knew better than she did. Her stomach growled, demand sustenence, but there was no appeasing it.

"That's so peculiar," she whispered to herself.  "Why can't I eat?"

"Ah, what a happy coincidence."  A startled cry escaped her lips as he plopped down beside her, a cheeky grin spread across his face.  "I caught you before you've had your lunch.  So now, I can repay you for services rendered yesterday.  That is, if you'll let me."

She couldn't get rid of that container fast enough.