4th of July

Chapter 36

THE WANING SUN WAS streaking the sky as Joe, Martha, and I had our dinner out on the deck facing the bay. I’d used my mom’s barbecue sauce recipe on the chicken, and we followed it up with a pint each of Cherry Garcia and Chunky Monkey.

We sat nestled together for hours, listening to the crickets and music on the radio, watching the candle flames do the mambo in the soft, sultry breeze.

Later, we slept in snatches, waking up to reach for each other, to laugh together, to make love. We ate chocolate-chip cookies, swapped memories of our dreams, and fell back to sleep, our limbs entwined.

At dawn, Joe’s cell phone brought the rest of the world crashing back. Joe said, “Yes, sir. Will do,” and snapped the phone shut.

He opened his arms and folded me back in. I reached up and kissed his neck.

“So. When is the car coming for you?”

“Couple of minutes.”

Joe didn’t exaggerate. I had 120 seconds to watch him dress in the dark room, one lone ray of light slipping beneath the window shades to show me how sad he looked as he left me.

“Don’t get up,” Joe said as I pushed back the covers. He drew them up to my chin. He kissed me about eleven times: my lips, cheeks, eyes.

“By the way, I got my three wishes.”

“Which were?”

“Not telling, but one of them was the Cherry Garcia.”

I laughed. I kissed him.

“Love you, Lindsay.”

“Love you, too, Joe.”

“I’ll call you.”

I didn’t ask when.