(10) Fishing For Bliss
While Janet was showering, Andrew washed up in his own ensuite, marveling at his good fortune. Which of the Hindu, or maybe Greek, gods was smiling on him? Janet’s enthusiasm was that of the long denied, not the frisky athlete. Thoughts of how long she had been without dissolved into thoughts of why me and why now? As usual there was no answer to that one, other than perhaps the laughing clown of life’s rich pageant tickling his ribs. Was his faith being tested in a way not anticipated by the Book of Job’s composers? Maybe Wikipedia would have something to say on the matter. Janet called out for the location of the hair dryer. Andrew figured under the sink was a good place to start. Perhaps Hetty had absentmindedly shifted it? But Janet’s Found it! resounded and he relaxed.
He started the coffee and found three muffins in the freezer, whose inky blotches suggested blueberry. Janet appeared cheery and radiant and threw her arms about him, hugging. Oh, you are the best Mr. Andrew. Thanks Ms. Janet, the feeling’s mutual I assure you. She kissed him on the nose, giggled and sat down. He apologised for the frozen, and likely dry, muffins. She sipped her coffee and took an exploratory bite, which turned into a tentative chew and then an affirmative nod. She took another bite and observed the depth of her hunger.
I can’t imagine why, can you? I mean, it was a full night’s rest after all.
I’m particularly well rested myself. All I can think of is the commodious nature of that couch.
My, that last minute exercise routine helped us over that hump? You know that falling asleep hump?
Surely, Miss Janet. I am well acquainted with it. But last night, I must admit, I seemed to sail right past it without incident. And what of today? Are you required anywhere?
I’m afraid I am. One pm at the central book depository.
Well that leaves you a couple of hours of freedom. Unless of course, you have, commitments at home base.
A wardrobe make over will, in all honesty, be necessary. The eyebrows of colleagues will be raised.
Ah yes, the eyebrows of colleagues. I recall such things.
From the bad old days?
Andrew nodded. With just the right touch of mock solemnity, Janet thought.
Andrew admired her moon face and the bob of blonde hair which held it like an inverted chalice. He had an ugly feeling that such an image carried some symbolic bad vibes and said nothing of it. Of course Janet asked what he was looking at. He replied it was the perfectly symmetrical landscape of her face. She let a shy smile emerge and he allowed himself to enjoy it without comment.
He took her hand, after asking for it that is, and led her to the conservatory. She stood, possibly entranced, but equally possibly politely bored, swivelling her head slowly from left to right and left again. She lent her chin on his shoulder and spoke softly of how she was the luckiest girl in, if not the world, then southern Ontario right then. She moved slightly forward and poked her tongue in his ear, retracted it and whispered thanks. They sat on the wicker recliners, about three feet apart, her right fingers curled about his left. It wasn’t quite meditating, but it was quiet and contemplative. Both of them were glad to be free of words for a while. Talk after love was so celebratory and yet so, well, expected. The breathing quietly together was so much better. This they agreed as they returned to the real world of the kitchen and coat closet by the front door.
