Get It Straight, Or Say Good Night

Home/ Alone

Time ticked, days passed, Louie's sex drive waned and soared. Paul visited sometimes but not often, the other times she let the ache gnaw at her.

John was better, he went out of house for his diet of takeaway sex to which she was thankful and they settled into an uneven road of familiarity.

Louie didn't mind really.

It was much better than fighting with him.

Really...it was.

She cooked, cleaned, mended his shirts from girls ripping them and darned the holes in his socks that he insisted on wearing without shoes or slippers.

He would leave for a few days' worth of gigs then be back, arriving at the flat in the dead of the night.
She slept in his bed those nights he was far away, feeling safer. Even though he wasn't there for all those lonely dark hours. Somehow the maleness lingered gifting her some sense of safety.

On his return, for the rest of that night, she let him cuddle close to her body, spooning her as they settled back into sleep.

"One egg or two?" Louise tapped the egg to crack it open on the side of the frypan and let it slip into the ring watching the oil sizzle around it as it hit the heat.

"Oh two please, ta" He was the picture of relaxed man about the house, nothing to do but sit in his stripy pj's and dark navy blue dressing gown all day, with his sock covered feet on the other kitchen chair reading the daily paper. A cup of tea was set in front of him and a 'thanks luv' muttered but never did his eyes flicker upwards.

Louise liked it best when he was in no hurry, he would scuttle out the door with barely a ta-rah most days or evenings and even though he had said not more than ten words this morning, most of those in answer to a question about his breakfast, she enjoyed the moment immensely.

Like a window into another dimension she could imagine happy families... mother baking a cake or like right now frying the bacon and eggs. Children dashing about and love, loads of love of course in the house, in the home.

Last weekend she felt like the waitress, he ordered the breakfast and she cooked and served and cleared away. Today there was hardly any difference, but she let her mind wander dreamily to where it truly would like to be.

Setting down his bacon, eggs, beans and fried bread he grinned like a school boy, fresh faced and stupendously happy with the sight before him.

"Oooooh Louie, fried bread, haven't had that since forever" She was granted an enormous grin as he finally dragged his eyeballs away from the laden plate.

"Well it's not the most healthiest of foods, so I'm not cooking it often, we don't want a chubby Beatle, do we now" Louise laughed then pushed his socked feet off her chair and sank down. Her feet were sore already and it was only a bit past half nine in the morning!

John bit a huge chunk of oily, slightly crunchy toasty bread away and munched it in near glee, trying to say something in retort but only getting out a "Immmmnotfattmmm"

"I didn't say you were, I meant I'm not making it for you every time we have hot breakfast"

"Once a month then, Mimi" He grinned, a little oil smeared on his chin Lou swiped it with the tea-towel and slapped his arm for the Mimi name calling.

All day they sat around the house or in the back garden in the sun, soaking the few rays that flooded down when the sun shone from behind a fluffy white cloud that had been drifting lazily by.

Reading the newspaper or a book, listening to the records that John had received in his monthly mailing of new LPs and drinking loads and loads of tea.