I picked up a stone from the ground and rubbed it in my hand before pitching it at the glass. It hit the window with a soft pang and then fell down the side of the house, landing finally on the hard dirt next to the white paneling. I picked up another stone and threw it at the same window, this time a little harder. This one bounced onto the roof after making a hard pang on the glass. Still there was no reaction from the dark room that was attached to the window. I started picking up rocks more fervently, getting annoyed and frustrated that no one was opening the window. I must have thrown at least five more stones at the glass until someone finally opened the window.
The figure in the window stuck her head out and squinted down at me. “Taylor?” My wife said, a note of exhausted confusion in her voice. I picked up the acoustic guitar that I had rescued from our unlocked garage and put the strap around my neck. My wife wrapped her bathrobe tighter around her and held it close around her neck with her left hand, her right hand rested on the window frame in order to keep her supported as she leaned farther out the window.
I strummed the A-chord on the guitar and starting picking the strings with my fingers, introducing a new collaboration of musical notes that had formed in my brain as I was walking back from town. I neglected to use a guitar pick as I started playing the tune of the song, yet the metal strings caused no pain on my out-of-practice fingers. Perhaps it was because I could no longer feel my icy hands in the cold February night.
“The night I first saw you I knew it was true, I couldn’t live another moment without you. Since the time I first saw you our love was all I have known, true love was all I needed and before tonight it was all I had shown. Don’t leave me here thinkin about what I’ve done wrong, don’t leave me here hoping to end this for all, this soul is nothing without the love that I knew since the first moment that I met you.”
“Taylor,” my wife softly yelled down, “the neighbors are going to hear.”
“Oh, I don’t want anything more than a kiss, but your embrace is more than I deserve. I wronged you in a way that I can’t explain, this time I know that it’s hard to reverse. . . I love you, I need you, I can’t go on. . .” I continued singing, ignoring her anxiousness.
I kept my eyes cast on my wife. Her hands were nervously clenching her robe tightly to her chest. “They’re going to call the cops,” she warned. Her eyes were darting around the neighborhood, looking for any indication that our neighbors were waking. . . a light coming on, a door opening, a figure yelling out the window that he and his wife were trying to sleep... yet none came. I continued on, again ignoring her warning.
“Forgive me baby, for I have sinned, we have the power to make it right, but it’s up to you because it’s all my fault. I’ll love you forever no matter the result, but the time is tickin-- I’m dyin without ya... Don’t leave me here thinkin about what I’ve done wrong, don’t leave me here hoping to end this for all, this soul is nothing with the love that I knew since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
I finished and leaned down towards the ground, picking up the bouquet of roses I had bought from the gas station in town. I pushed the guitar behind my back, letting the neck rest on my shoulder. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” I called up to her. “I love you so much, I don’t know what got into me. I’m a horrible person. I can’t believe I did what I did to you. I-”
“Taylor!” Clare hushed me, bringing a finger to her lips. “The whole neighborhood doesn’t have to hear about it.”
I couldn’t tell if she was angry or embarrassed or both.
I noticed that she was starring behind me at the Johnson’s house. A light had come on in their upstairs bedroom window. I turned back towards my own bedroom window.
“Clare, please let me come home again. I love you.”
“Taylor, just come inside!” She urged. I saw her shiver. She pulled the robe tighter and held it to her neck with both hands. “It’s freezing and you’re going to catch a cold out there.” She stepped back from the ledge. “I’ll meet you at the front door.” She closed the window with a bang.
I cradled the roses in my arm and made my way to the front porch. Clare was already there by the time that I arrived, meaning she had run down the stairs in order to beat me there. My wife leaned up against the door frame and starred at me. I looked into her eyes and saw only love, not hate like I expected there to be.
“Are those for me?” She asked, gesturing towards the roses. She was trying to act stern, but she knew I already read her. She was hurt, but still loved me.
I nodded and handed them to my wife. I took her warm hand in my icy one and held it to my chest. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” I bent my neck and kissed her fingers gently, bringing her hand back down when I was finished. “I really don’t know what got into me.”
She didn’t look at me this time, instead she just starred at my hands. “You’re freezing,” she muttered. She looked up and brought her free hand to my cheek. “You’re going to catch pneumonia being out in the winter wearing only a sweatshirt and sweatpants.”
I nodded. “I don’t care, I needed to walk to cool down. I hurt you badly, I broke a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed. You needed to be alone to trash me to the kids.” I smiled jokingly.
My wife sighed with a slight smile and jokingly nodded. “It’s not just your fault,” she admitted after a few seconds of silence. “I could have given you what you wanted.” She looked up into my eyes again. “Now get inside,” she said sharply, brushing off what had turned into a downing heart-to-heart conversation.
Clare stepped aside allowing me to enter the warm house, and closed the door behind me, securing both of the locks. She placed the roses on the table next to the door and snuggled down into my chest, wrapping her warm arms around my body. She rested her chin on my chest and I kissed her nose. “I hate fighting with you,” I told her.
“There’s a difference this time,” she said, her voice reaching a level of
seductiveness, the sides of her mouth twitching while she tried to stifle a grin unsuccessfully. I knew right away that her mood had taken a drastic swing towards the opposite side. A switch that I felt was sort of wrong, but wanted so badly.
“Oh really?” I asked, surprising myself. Unconsciously I pushed what I should have said, that I didn’t want to push her into doing anything she had been so dead set against a few hours before, right out of my mind and went along with my animalistic instincts instead. Hey, if she had switched to wanting sex why couldn’t I get what I wanted?
I swallowed hard and then grinned happily as she spoke, “this time you’re going to win.”
I dipped down and caught her lips. A few seconds later her hands were on my chest, gently pushing me from her mouth.
“What now?” I asked letting my annoyance show through in my voice. “I thought you said this time I’m going to win this fight.”
“You taste like an ashtray,” she exclaimed in a sickened voice. “An ashtray mixed with...” She thought for a second, allowing herself time to determine the flavor in her mouth, “Corona.” She reached into my pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I thought you quit.”
“I did,” I told her snatching the pack from her hand. I shook it hard and put it back into my sweatshirt pocket. “I just needed to calm myself down,” I explained slowly, drawing her close again. “I promise I’ll throw them out.”
“Taylor, your heart,” Clare said softly, her voice trailing off. We both knew the end of the sentence. Her hand was pressed against my chest. I put my hand over hers.
“It was one cigarette,” I told her. “I’ll live.” I smiled and leaned close to her face.
“I promise.” I kissed her mouth softly.
She smiled and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me towards the living room couch. “You promise you’ll throw them out right away?”
“First thing in the morning,” I confirmed before kissing her again. We laid down on the couch, pulling at our clothes, my lips running across her bare neck and shoulders, “I promise.”