One Shots with Chris Evans

Story of Our Life

  My body aches in a way that's become the norm recently, and it's not in the delicious way. 

  No, I haven't felt those kinds of wonderful body aches in much too long. 

  I'd been on my feet the entire day before as it had been end of the course testing for my middle school math classes.  There's no one with half a brain that trusts young teenagers not to cheat when their placement for the following year is dependent upon those final grades.  Especially when you've got a handful of football players that might lose their spot on Junior Varsity in ninth grade if they don't manage to at least pull a C on the exam to keep their average at the level for playing. 

  Thankfully, it's Saturday though, with just three days left next week to finalize grades and then a very welcomed reprieve is in sight with summer break around the corner.  Today sounds like the perfect day to recoup with doing as little laundry as possible and relax knowing that tomorrow the 'Sunday Scaries' won't be near as terrifying with a short final week ahead. 

  As I'm climbing out of the long soak in the tub I treated myself to, there's a harsh knock against the front door.  With a look over at my house phone, I see I haven't missed any calls or messages.  I soon realize I forgot to plug in my cell phone last night and it's completely dead having spent the night in the bottom of my huge teacher bag, lost in the midst of those same finals that are still waiting to be graded.

  "Just a second!" I call out, rushing through my bedroom as quickly as my sore and tired legs will allow. 

  Which, by the way, isn't actually quickly at all as I stumble around reaching for the first item of clothing I can grab which happens to be my robe off the bed's footpost. 

  Another knock pops off the metal storm door, startling me as I tie off the robe.  I use the towel from my bath to wrap atop my head and all I can think about is how happy I decided to not put on the face mask I'd pulled out of the drawer at the last second.

  Brushing down the material of the robe as I step through the house, making sure it's in place and none of my bits are showing by the time I reach the door.  

  Normally, I'd look through the small window that lines the side of the door, but the incessant and impatient knocking has me ignoring what had been drilled into my head about checking for strangers before opening the door. 

  I'm kicking myself internally when I open the wood door, now seeing the body standing on the other side of the clear window of the storm door.

  "Hi."

    It's a simple enough word. A quaint, small greeting. Short, two letters that would normally become welcoming under usual circumstances.

  This is not a usual circumstance, and certainly not welcomed. 

  The smile that I had waiting for the person on the other side of this door falls, deciding he doesn't get anymore of my smiles.

  "What are you doing here?"

  He widens his stance, shoulder width apart. Years earlier I found his large frame comforting, now it feels foreboding as he crosses his arms against his chest.  The lines of his veins that run through his thick forearms tattooed as though they needed any help to be noticed. No, one of the things I loved most about his body happened to be those ridges that ran all over his arms. But he knew how much it would drive me crazy to make them more prominent.

  Which is why that night after he'd gotten them tattooed was one for the history books.

  It was also the night we were both sure I'd end up pregnant from.