Walk on Water (29 page)

“Maybe,” Mommy said. “We’ll see.”

The room was silent again. In the distance there was the repetitive beeping of a car alarm. Did those things even work? I sighed. Mommy finished her tea and carried the cup to the sink. Oh well. She couldn’t punish Luke so I supposed I would have to do.

“Mommy,” I finally said with my back to her. “I’m sorry if Luke offended you.”

“He didn’t,” she replied.

I turned to face her, but her back was to me.

“Then why are you so upset?” I asked.

“Who says I’m upset?” she wanted to know.

“Mommy. Come on. You haven’t said two words to me since lunch.”

“What do you want me to say?” she asked wiping down the already clean countertop.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Something like you’re okay with this.”

“With what?” Mommy looked at me. “Your getting involved with a man with nothing but limitations?”

“Luke’s not limited.”

“Please,” Mommy snipped and resumed wiping the countertop before rinsing the dishcloth and draping it over the kitchen faucet to dry.

I watched her then go to the pantry for more dry dog food to replenish Pookie’s bowl.

“I don’t see him that way,” I eventually said.

“That’s because you aren’t too smart when it comes to men,” she replied. “Especially when it comes to Luke. You were blessed to have Robert but he wasn’t
Prince Charming
, so to hell with him. And my guess is this Brian isn’t so charming either. It’s Luke or bust with you. It’s not fair, Rachel. Robert deserved better than that.”

She closed up the bag and put it away, shutting the pantry door.

“I wonder when you’re going to stop holding that against me.” I said.

“Robert was a good husband,” she replied.

“How would you know, Mommy? You’ve never been married.”

Did I just say that? Oh God.
I didn’t want this to be a fight.

“I chose not to,” replied Mommy.

“That’s right, Mommy, you chose,” I tried to say in a softer tone. “I’m choosing too. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because I know that when Luke Sterling had a choice, you weren’t it. You’re like a consolation prize for him, you ever think about that?”

A consolation prize.
That was a pretty good counter-punch for my
you’ve-never-
been-married
strike. So I was second place. A silver. Maybe even a bronze. An
honorable mention
. I thought about it all the time. But according to the Bible
the race was not to the swift
. It was the one who endured to the end who was saved, who was loved. A little smile broke across my face.

“You’re okay with that?” Mommy demanded.

My smile brightened, and I took another sip of tea.

“It’s not so bad, Mommy,” I said. “In a way I’m kinda your consolation prize too.”

By the time I got home it was almost seven and T-T and Agatha were very pleased to see me. The light on my answering machine was also a blinking, which filled my stomach with little butterflies in anticipation that it would be Luke maybe inviting me to come over. I didn’t usually see him on Sunday evenings, but this had not been a
usual
Sunday.

I stared at the red light, the way Eve might have stared at the apple. We had made it through the rest of lunch, even through coffee, and a shared single slice of chocolate cake that Luke had insisted we order. So much for Mommy’s warnings about dessert. To her credit Mommy had graciously thanked Luke at the end when naturally he had paid the check. The blinking light was spellbinding. Still amazed by his admission during lunch, I was very hungry to see him. But then again when wasn’t I? So choosing to practice a little
delayed gratification,
I walked away from the answering machine and fed T-T and Agatha instead. Then I cleaned their litter box and carried the waste out to the condo complex dumpster, impressing myself with my discipline.

If it was Luke who had called, it must not have been urgent or important; otherwise he could have called my cell or left me a text. He knew where I would be. It was after all Mommy’s day even if she had not enjoyed it. Maybe it was only Corrine wanting to hear about how the lunch had gone. My guess was that I would be telling her almost everything, so it was also a little gratification-delaying not to call her tonight too.
Corrine, I think he’s sorry we broke up
I could hear myself telling her. What if Lucas was right? What if this was like some kind of movie?

Back in the house again, I hit play on the answering machine. The single message was from Luke: “Hey. Sorry about the way lunch went down. I wasn’t much of a gentleman. Maybe we can do it again and I’ll be better behaved. Talk to you later.”

I wasn’t expecting that. Not an apology. What did he have to apologize for? It was Mommy’s
behavior
that needed improvement. I respected my elders as much as anybody, but that didn’t mean you shouldn’t defend yourself. Immediately I started to dial Luke’s number but then stopped and hung up the phone. His voice sounded funny, flat, like he was tired. What if we ended up arguing about lunch or something? Him defending Mommy and me defending him. No, maybe it was best to let it go for the evening. I could call him when it was time to go to bed and say goodnight. That would seem normal. I settled for cuddling with the cats on the couch, playing classical music for them to purr by.

This lasted for about an hour, until the cats were dozing and I was missing Luke too much to sit still. Suddenly, no doubt a bit emboldened by Luke’s lunchtime
confession
about the past, I took a very quick shower and changed into a red pullover cardigan and put on the jeans that he liked. Then I put on a little makeup and dashed out the front door and down the stairs to my trusty Corolla before I could think about what I was doing too much.

.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I
wouldn’t stay long I bargained with myself as I drove to Luke’s house. I’d be back home by eleven and in bed before twelve. I just felt like seeing him that was all—well seeing him among other things of course. And he was my boyfriend. It was okay for me to do the pop-over. In fact it was kind of left up to me to do it. Because I lived on a second floor in a building with no elevator.

Speeding, I was there in record time. From the street, Luke’s house looked dark, and for an instant I thought that maybe he had gone to bed early. But really he rarely used the living room. It wasn’t unusual that the drapes were closed. I should have called him I fussed at myself as I parked in his driveway. I had never
popped-over
before, and maybe he was busy, working possibly, or perhaps taking care of some physical thing that was the consequence of his disability in which case he would want his privacy. Nevertheless I was here now. I wanted to see him, even if only for a little while. And if it meant seeing more than I had bargained for then so be it. It was his life, and I was glad to be a part of that life.

Approaching the front door I heard music. The thump-thump-thump base of some kind of dance music vibrated through his house. Picturing Luke’s fancy Bose system cranked-up loud enough to possibly be disturbing his neighbors made me smile. Maybe
forty
really was the new
twenty.
I certainly felt like a teenager at times. It was kind of nice being silly and irresponsible every now and then.

I rang the doorbell and waited a moment. Then I rang it again. This time the music stopped. He had heard me. I got ready to tease him when he opened the door.

“Who is it?” Luke asked a little while later.

“The police,” I said in a rough, authoritative voice. “Your neighbors called.”

The deadbolt turned.

“What the—” his voice dropped off when opening the door he discovered me standing on his threshold.

I was kind of speechless too. Shirtless, Luke’s square shoulders, tight pecs, and bulging biceps shone in the foyer light, glistening with sweat.

“Rachel?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

My mouth was as dry as my panties were wet.

“I-I just popped-over,” I stammered. “I-I hope it’s okay.”

He fairly glowed, and it was a struggle to focus on anything besides my own primal desires. Reading me, an amused a smile begin to fill Luke’s face, pleasure replacing surprise.

“Sure,” he said, grinning now. “Come in.”

I did and he closed the door.

“I hope I-I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” I said, my voice sounding almost squeaky.

“No,” he replied. “Just working-out.”

With the towel around his neck he mopped his forehead. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him naked before, and even in a jacket and tie my own mother had been impressed by Luke’s upper body. Trying to collect myself I turned away from him to set my handbag down on the small hall table, which took all of about a second and so I was right back to facing him. He rolled towards me, his dark eyes melting me.

“Oh…working out, huh?” I tried sounding cool and sophisticated. “Can I watch?”

“Later maybe,” he answered, pulling me down into his lap.

And I was in heaven, or Eden, or some other mystical, magical place. The wonderful pungent scent of Luke’s fresh exertion filled my nostrils as his demanding tongue filled my mouth. I moved to straddle him in the wheelchair so that I was facing him, my legs draped over the wheels. His bare skin was warm and slick to my fingers, deliciously salty to my taste. While he fondled my breasts, I nipped at his throat with my teeth, tenderly venturing down to his own sensitive naked nipples, taking each hardened tip between my lips. He groaned softly and crushed me against him. At last resting my head against his shoulder, I sighed and listened to him breathing deeply.

“So pop-overs are okay?” I asked timidly.

“Planning breakfast already?” replied Luke.

“No,” I started. “I mean—oh you know what I mean.”

He smiled knowingly. I blushed.

“But you are staying for breakfast, right?” he asked, holding me tighter.

“Do you want me to?” I asked back.

“What do you think?” he kissed me again.

“Yes,” I answered him, when we parted to catch our breaths.

A little while later the music was off, and I was in Luke’s bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing one of his bathrobes, waiting for him to take a shower.

“You don’t have to,” I had told him when he had excused himself to get cleaned-up after our little meet-and-greet by the front door. “I like the smell of fresh sweat.”

Plus I just didn’t want to wait. To prove the point I had snuggled in even closer, loudly inhaling a deep breath of his bare right shoulder, before nibbling at it.

“Your peculiar tastes notwithstanding,” he had replied. “I think I could use a little soap and water.”

Now I heard the shower shut-off. I sighed happily. We would soon be making more sweat—together.

When Robert and I were married sometimes we had taken showers together, usually leading to wet soapy intercourse, which had been fun until afterwards when still being wet I would get cold, even in the summertime. Luke used a special chair in his shower. Maybe I could sit on his lap. I wondered if we would ever try it. I wondered if he would ever try to have intercourse. When I touched it, I could feel Luke’s penis responding, moving a little against my hand, like it could harden, and I would crave it. But Luke would always move my hand away, bringing it to some other place north of
the border
.

Luke emerged from the bathroom, wearing as usual only a towel across his lap. I beamed at him as he pushed himself to the bed, a mixture of love, joy, gratitude, and hardcore lust electrifying my being. He was beautiful. Parking the chair, he removed the towel from across his lap and placed his limp naked feet on the floor one at a time, preparing to transfer. Before he could, however, impulsively I crawled over and kissed him ardently, then moved back on the bed, pulling the covers with me, welcoming him.

Once he was settled in the bed, the sheet pulled up to his waist, I snuggled my own naked body up against his. He now smelled of
Lever
body wash and in a little while I would smell of it too, and Luke would smell of
Juniper Breeze
.

“Do you really like the
Juniper Breeze
?” I asked recalling his admission at lunch. “I mean it’s not fancy or expensive. I like it because it’s kind of natural.”

“
Juniper breeze
,” Luke replied in an ad-man’s voice. “What the well-dressed environmentalist wears.”

“Too boring?” I pressed my most nagging doubt.

“You never were one to go for what’s popular,” he observed.

“That’s not totally true,” I sighed, caressing his chest. “I went for you. But you’re right, usually, I stay in my lane.”

“Nothing wrong with that. As long as you get where you wanna go.”

And my
lane
had brought me here. I ought to pinch myself or ask Luke to do it.

“I read in
People Magazine
or
Prevention,
one of those, that men really like the scent of vanilla,” I said. “I could wear that sometime.”

“And what do women like?” asked Luke.

“I don’t know. The article didn’t say.” Then I confessed, “I always liked
Calvin Klein’s Obsession
for men.”