Our Infinite Sadness

Proviso One

The old red Chevy rumbled and chugged back into Forks village with Ben behind the wheel. Edythe sat across the bench seat, feet stretched out to the passenger door, her shoulder against his, her hands on his thighs. She traced tentative exploratory patterns from his knees to his pelvis. They had still been on her family's private drive, not yet on the road, when she had asked him if he minded. He had shaken his head, unable to form words. No, he didn't mind her slow tender molestation. He had told her that he might have trouble keeping the truck on the road, and she had assured him with an indulgent smile that she would multitask vigilantly and spot his driving if necessary.

"I'm sorry about Alice. She really is a bit much. She's wrong more than she's right, as we well know. We were so comfortable on my couch. I swear sometimes that she can't bear to see me happy, and now she's in perpetual war against your happiness, too."

He mulled that over silently— certain that she had one or two assertions backward— and struggled to attend to his driving, while her slender fingers caressed his high instep. He said, "To be honest your couch wasn't so comfortable for me. You're inured to the absence of privacy at your house, I suppose, but all the listening ears make me antsy."

She thought this through and glumly agreed, "You're right. Inured. Appropriate. Given I'm the biggest offender by far, when it comes to violating others' personal space."

"All but mine."

"Yes," she said, crossly. "All but yours. I had no idea you were uncomfortable on my couch. You should have said something."

He hastily said, "I didn't mind too much. Let's just say I took the bad with the good. Anyway, I can be a lot more comfortable at my house, until Charlie gets home, so the change of venue is just as well. Let's just deal with whatever Alice was going on about, the unexpected package delivery or whatever, and then we'll have the place to ourselves, possibly for hours, if the fish are really biting and Charlie's sufficiently inebriated."

Edythe liked that plan a lot. She resentfully snipped, "Who knows what she was going on about. Half the time she sees phantasms. It's too much to be borne."

"I can't believe she stole your bedroom."

Edythe laughed gaily, truly appreciative of the support. She seethed, "I know, right? Sometime I think my dear sister is verily the Devil's Imp, come to earth to litter my path with broken glass."

As she finished this scathing denunciation, she leaned against him and nibbled playfully at his neck and jaw.

"Umm, Edythe?" With a suddenly dry throat he struggled, "We'll be at my house in just a few minutes."

"Oh, I know."

He was about to tell her that he couldn't possibly drive, with what she was doing to him, when he realized that there were three hands on the wheel. She craned her mouth up to his ear and whispered, "You might as well just let go of the wheel, Benjamin. I can think of better places for your hands, can't you?"

How Edythe could steer the car and do what she was doing, he couldn't imagine, but that was the lesser of concerns.

He gasped, "I'm thinking we don't know what we're going to find at my house, and we shouldn't start something we can't finish."

Edythe sighed and conceded, "Sensible. Damn Alice to the deepest hell."

He grinned and kissed her hair. "It'll be fine. To be continued."

"Yes," she said resolutely, "first things first. Put the hammer down, my Benjamin."

He gamely floored it, which had the net effect of making the cabin much louder.