Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories

Till Death

"Do you remember those vows?"

She shook her head.

"And so do I," Harbor said. "Can't say I ever kept my word on much, but I did on them. How long we been hitched, Jess?"

"'Bout a hundred years, I guess," she said.

"Yeah," Harbor said. "Seems like more, sometimes."

"I know exactly what you're saying," Jess said. "You remember . . ."

"Yeah," he said. "I know just what you're going to say."

"That happens. Don't it? When you've lived the same pages of history for so long and told the same stories over and over? What do you want for supper?" Jess asked.

"What day is this?" he asked.

"Thursday."

"So," he said, "I guess it's meatloaf."

"Uh-huh," she said.

She rose to fix dinner. Stopping in the doorway, she turned and smiled.

"I know that look," Harbor said.

"What if," Jess said, "we do something different tonight?"

Harbor grimaced.

"You mean skip the game shows? But Jess, you know I love those things."

"Just one night," Jess said.

"Oh, okay. What do you suggest?"

"We could, I dunno . . . go skinny dipping," Jess said. "I was thinking down in the creek."

"Won't that bring on a chill?" Harbor asked.

"No chillier than using the outhouse in October."

"Well," said Harbor, "I don't know."

"What's wrong," Jess asked. "You wore out your birthday suit?"

"Course not. But what if we're seen? What will the neighbors say?"

"At our age?" Jess asked. "They'll say it's dementia and laugh their fool heads off."

"We could get arrested," Harbor said.

"For indecent exposure or public humiliation?" said Jess. "I think not. Harbor, you and I have more wrinkles than a Shar Pei. Our sags and bags will cover our indecency. And we can call them 'skin skirts.' So there. It ain't like we're naked. Now, stop hemming and hawing. Just say you're with me."

"You're saying," Harbor asked, "you truly love me?"

"No," said Jess. "I'm saying it's no fun skinny dipping alone."

"You probably got a point there," Harbor said.