Seventy-Two Hours (4 page)

The tiny second floor bedroom reminded me that
heat rises as I pulled the lightweight blanket and sheet down on the bed. The
room did have a ceiling fan and a single window. After turning the fan on, I
went over to the closed window to see what was what. I unlocked the inner
window and shoved it up. It slowly slid down and that would be why there was a
ten or so inch long piece of 1”X4” wood lying inside between the window and the
outer storm window. I braced it under the sash to hold it open and then went
to work disengaging the latches on the storm window while lifting it up and
locking it in place. I felt for a screen to pull down in its place, but was
unsuccessful. There was a noticeable temperature difference with the window
open so I made the decision to risk a mosquito invasion versus heat stroke.

Climbing into bed, I was happy with my
decision as the sounds of nature filled my room. I switched off the bedside
lamp and got comfortable. I felt sleep tugging away at my consciousness not
long after my head hit the pillow.

I don’t know which woke me first; the
fluttering or the high-pitched squeaks. In the grand scheme of things, it
didn’t really matter. The important fact was something woke me at the perfect
time. I was a bit fuzzy on my location at first, but as that memory came back
to me, I sat up and turned on the lamp and blinked madly as my eyes adjusted.
That was when it buzzed by my head in a fly-by. As my sleepy brain began
processing the facts--fluttering, squeaks, and fly-bys--panic struck and I
rolled out of bed and onto the floor. There was a bat in my room. Bats
carried rabies. That would be why I was on the floor and screamed like a
scared schoolgirl.

The door banged into my barefoot as Chris
came scrambling in saying, “What the hell’s wrong?!?”

“Get it out! Get it out!” I shrieked
sounding more like an extra from a horror film than a mild-mannered history teacher.

“Get
what
out?”

“There’s a goddamn bat in here!”

“Where?”

I decided to stop being a coward and stood up
slowly while keeping my eyes peeled for the whereabouts of the little rodent
with wings. I sort of used Chris as a shield while I jerkily scanned the
ceiling, walls, and curtains.

And then it swooped by from out of nowhere.

Chris closed the door to keep it from going
out into the rest of the cottage and said, “He’s fast!”

“No shit!”

We both lost track of him. I didn’t have a
good feeling about getting any sleep for the rest of the night. Surely not in
that room. The entire event left me with the heebie-jeebies.

“Look, we’ll leave the window open like so.
He’ll probably let himself out. He can’t really see with the light on in
here,” Chris suggested.

“I can’t sleep in here,” I said frankly.

“Not my problem,” he said as he reached for
the doorknob. “The master bedroom has a room air conditioner.” I watched as
he stepped out into the hall and turned to pull the door closed. And before he
actually closed it, the bastard winked at me and said, “Good night, Jen.”

My fear wore off and I felt my cheeks go warm
as my blood pressure rose. The bat’s location temporarily forgotten when I opened
the door and stalked off after him. He was already in his room with the door
closed. Enjoying my predicament and his damn air conditioning. I was met by a
wall of cooler air as I went inside his room without knocking. He pointed at
the door and firmly told me to close it as he sat down and swung his bare legs
up into bed. It was the first time I’d noticed he was only wearing his boxers.

Pushing the door closed I said, “You’re just
going to leave that…that thing in my room with me?”

“Did you remember to close your door before
coming after me?”

I thought for a moment. “Well, no.”

“Who’s to say he’s still in your room. He
could be anywhere in the cottage at this point. You gave him an engraved
invitation,” he said as he laid back and covered himself up to his waist. The
contrast of his tanned skin and sprinkling of dark chest hair stood out in my
mind as my eyes took it all in.

I made myself focus on what he’d said and my
heart began to beat rapidly in my chest. “Oh, my God! I can’t sleep out there.
I could wake up and it could be on me,” I said in a rush of loosely controlled
panic. “Tangled in my hair,” I murmured with revulsion as I ran my hands over
my shoulder length hair protectively.

He laced his fingers together and then raised
his arms up and placed his hands behind his head while watching me. “I don’t
know what else to tell you and I’m not giving up my room,” he told me. “Now,
if you would have mentioned to me ahead of time that you wanted separate rooms,
I would have suggested you take this room with its air conditioning, but you
didn’t and now I’m settled and comfortable.”

I glared at him and considered my options.
Sleeping in his SUV was one of them. Completely unappealing. I huffed and
then asked, “May I sleep in here?”

He took his time as if he really needed to
think it over before finally saying, “Sure. But stay over on your side of the
bed.”

“I’ll try to control myself,” I muttered as
he switched off the light and I climbed into his bed.

I awoke on my left side with morning sunlight
streaming into the room and Chris’ hand cupping my breast. He was
subconsciously spooning me and I’d subconsciously allowed it. I squirmed a bit
in an attempt to get him to move without waking him. And any other time it
would have worked. Not that time.

I sighed with frustration. Lifting his hand off
me by the wrist and tossing it back seemed to be my only option. So I did. He
grunted in his sleep after the toss and then his hand ended up at my waist. I
rolled my eyes at my luck. All I wanted to do was get out of the damn bed. I
wiggled again.

“You do know if you keep doing that, I’ll be
done before we even get started, right?” Chris murmured in a tired voice and I
realized what he thought I was doing. More like I
felt
what he thought
as his morning erection pressed against my backside.

No longer having to be concerned with waking
him, I pushed his hand off and rolled out of bed. “That is
the last thing
I want to do with you this morning,” I scoffed.

“You haven’t always felt that way,” he
replied as I opened the door.

I stopped and, with my back to him, replied, “But
I do now. Here’s an idea. Why don’t you let your work bring you morning comfort
and pleasure? It’s been sustaining you for so long, why not now.”

“So that’s what this is all about. You’re
feeling neglected.”

I closed my eyes while taking a deep breath.
I opened them and turned to him answering with, “What a chauvinistic conclusion.
You assume my dalliance occurred because you haven’t been ‘servicing the little
woman’.” I even made the air quotes with my hands. “Chris, at this point, I
truly don’t believe you’ll ever understand. You have such a brilliant mind,
but are utterly lacking in commonsense and compassion.”

“It works both ways, sweetheart, and I can’t
recall the last time you were particularly attentive in our marriage.”

“Not really a marriage when only one is
attending, is it?” I spat back at him.

“What’s happened to us, Jen? To you? Where
has the woman gone that I fell in love with?”

I was a bit taken aback by his questions. Finally,
I replied, “She’s tired of carrying the marriage, Chris. She’s checked out of
the relationship.”

“But I’m not ready to check out. Not on us.
Not on you.” His response was forlorn and startling to hear.

“I think it’s too late to matter.” And I
walked away.

July 4, 1987 - East Smithfield, PA

“Are you sure you want to wait for Chris?” my
mother asked as she closed the car trunk on lawn chairs, a cooler, and blankets
for the evening’s community fireworks show at the VFW.

I nodded. “He said he would be here after
work.”

“It’s getting late, sweetie. What if he gets
held up for even longer? Are you going to drive over by yourself or miss
them?” she asked as I took in her look of motherly concern.

“I told him I’d wait and I guess, if he
doesn’t make it, I’ll stay home.” I was newly graduated from high school and
ready for some independence.

She cupped my cheek and with a knowing smile
said, “It was hard having him away at college, wasn’t it? You’ve missed him.”

My face broke into a huge smile and I felt my
cheeks go warm. “Maybe.”

“And now that he’s working at the farm, you
have him home and yet he’s busy.”

“They’re still trying to get haying done and
it’s been so hot and dry.”

“Perfect weather for haying,” Mom stated the
obvious.

“Which means bad weather for girlfriends.”

She looked past me as my father came outside
with my brother. Jake was four years younger than me and a total pain (as only
little brothers could be.) Now that his baseball season was over, annoying me
had become his summer vacation hobby. It made me look forward to leaving for
college in the fall.

My parents owned a large New Holland
dealership selling farm tractors, equipment, and parts. While my father spent
six days a week at the dealership, my mother focused on family, home, and
church. She did spend at least one morning a week at the dealership just to
“stay on top of things.” Needless to say, my mother was most welcomed by the
sales and service teams on those mornings since she always came in with some
scrumptious treat she’d baked for them. Her treats would be the reason my
father had grown soft in the middle over the years.

She explained to my father what she and I had
discussed and he offered me use of his truck to drive myself if Chris didn’t
make it. That offer also came with a short lecture about how congested traffic
would be and that I needed to drive carefully. I promised him I would and said
we’d try to find them when we got there even though I had no intentions of
attending the fireworks. I had something else in mind.

I wanted to be alone with Chris. Between his
farm job that seemed to take up most of his time and my weekday babysitting
job, our free time was very limited. And unintentionally chaperoned.

As soon as the dust plume from my mother’s
car disappeared down the road, I went inside and began packing a picnic dinner
for the two of us. Not unlike any other year, my parents invited a few friends
and relatives back to our house after the parade for a Fourth of July BBQ with
lots and lots of picnic foods. I had plenty of leftovers to choose from
including Mom’s blueberry pie. Chris’ favorite.

When he finally arrived at 8:30, he was fresh
from the shower smelling of soap and Stetson. His short brown hair still wet.
“Sorry I’m so late. The baler was acting up,” he offered as he stood outside
the open door of his truck. “Are you ready?”

I’d chosen wisely. He couldn’t seem to take
his eyes off of my outfit. Or near lack of. I had on a blue floral halter top
style dress that tied behind my neck. It was fitted and the hem fell a good
six inches above my knees. Of course, I’d changed after my parents left.

I walked up to him, placing my hands flat
against his chest, and looked up at him. I cocked my head sideways a bit and
said, “I thought we could watch the fireworks from here.”

“We won’t be able to see them as well.”

“Not up close, but if we go up to the pond
and sit on the backside, we’ll be able to see into the valley better,” I said while
snaking my arms around his neck. “C’mon. It’ll be nice. Just you and me.”

A playful smile formed on his tired, young
face. “Jenny.”

“I was hoping we could be alone. I even
packed a picnic for us. We could sit together on the dock or you could drive
your truck over and we could sit in the back like at the drive-in,” I cajoled
until he gave in.

He decided to drive over using the lane my
father made for a boat launch and then backed in facing the pond and the
valley. Although the pond was on our property, locals often asked permission
to fish out of it since it covered over eight acres of land. It was six feet
deep at its deepest spot and always fresh and cool due to the numerous springs
feeding into it. We didn’t have the need for a swimming pool. Not with a pond
like ours. It’s where I’d learned to swim.

We sat on the tailgate and ate with the food sitting
between us. I’d slipped my sandals off and sat Indian style so I could face
Chris. He was quiet at first, but I could tell he was exhausted, so I did most
of the talking. I filled him in about the picnic he’d missed and how my
grandmother’s dog got into the flag cake my aunt made and then how my aunt
cried and blamed my grandmother for the ruined cake.

“It was actually funny to listen to.
According to Aunt Susie, Gram let Sammy get the cake because Gram’s jealous she
makes it better than her.”

“I hate when I miss a family spat,” Chris
joked as he balled up his napkin.