The Nature of Love

Chapter 10

Copyright (c) 2014 Phyllis Zimbler Miller

All rights reserved.

Israeli Defense Minister Moshe Dayan says Israel has suffered 578 killed and wounded since the end of the June 1967 war. – June 12, 1968

Jennifer’s Story

Cambridge, Massachusetts 1968

         I sat in Harvard Square waiting for Rusty. We had talked for two hours this morning. About nothing and everything. When he suggested meeting in person this afternoon, I agreed.

        "How about Harvard Square? Or is it too public?" I said.

        "I'll wear sunglasses," he said. "And a black t-shirt."

      Should I have agreed to meet? I was a married woman. Was there some meaning to my choosing Harvard Square? Was I hoping to have the same conclusion to this first meeting as I did with Trent?

        I watched Rusty approach me.

       "I hope you haven't been waiting long," he said, lifting his sunglasses so I could see the smile in his eyes.

       I shook my head, my tongue needing a moment to get unstuck – his television theatrical role had not done justice to his good looks.  "Want to get an ice cream cone with jimmies at Bailey's?" I finally said.

       His body strode along next to mine radiating power. His uniqueness.

      "What are you going to do when you get your doctorate in history?" he said.

      "The usual. Teach. Write." Have children. With Steve?

      "Maybe you'll write an historical play for me some day."

      I smiled.

     Outside Bailey's a student with hair flapping across his eyes handed us flyers announcing a Vietnam War protest. Rusty pocketed his.

      "Do you worry about your husband being drafted and going to Vietnam?" he said.

      "He's exempt with grad school and teaching."

      Rusty nodded. "Do you want to eat here or walk with our cones?"

      "Walk," I said. It was not really a date if we didn't sit down.

      The person behind the counter handed us our cones and we left the store licking at the drips. "Where to now?" Rusty said.

       "We can walk along the Charles."

      He smiled. "I was thinking somewhere inside and away from others so I can remove my sunglasses."

        I hesitated for only a second. "There is my apartment."

      "Won’t your husband be home?"

      I shook my head. "He always spends all day Saturday in his lab; sometimes till late at night. I'm on my own."

      "Well, then, I'd like to see where you live. You must have quite a collection of books.”

      An hour later Rusty poured the dregs of the wine into our glasses as he recited from Robert Browning's love poem “In a Gondola”:

         The moth's kiss, first!

       Kiss me as if you made me believe

      You were not sure, this eve,

      How my face, your flower, had pursed

      Its petals up; so, here and there

     You brush it, till I grow aware

      Who wants me, and wide ope I burst.

       His lips burned mine. I did not consider pulling back.

      In moments we were in the bedroom and undressed. He ran his hands over my nude body. I had never wanted anything so much.

       The word adultery had no meaning.

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If you would also like to read women’s fiction that takes place in the future rather than the past, check out THE MOTHER SIEGE here on Wattpad at http://budurl.com/MSintro