the mouth that might have turned a head or two.
“Baby, thank you,” Anna said.
“The book didn’t cost that much,” I said.
Anna leaned over the table once again, but this time to deliver a playful slug on my arm.
“I don’t care what the book cost,” she said. “I care what it represents.”
“It represents that I’m in this with you, all the way,” I said.
We kissed again, more a peck this time around.
“You know, Lily is still very shaken by what happened with my mom,” Anna said while leafing through the book. “We spoke about it this morning after you left for work.”
“So I’m guessing she’s going to want to delay her visit with my folks for just a bit.”
Anna made a little noise, so she didn’t have to say that was an understatement. Searching for a change of subject, I asked to see the book and flipped to a random page.
“What about Bay?” I suggested.
Anna made a face.
“As a name, or something we should do at the moon?” she asked.
“Cosimo,” I offered.
“Is that even a real name?”
“It’s in the book,” I said, pointing.
Anna ripped the book from my hands.
“How about Saffron?” she asked.
“Too spicy,” I said.
“Trudy?”
“Wasn’t she on The Facts of Life ?” I asked.
“Notice how I’m picking out the girls names,” Anna said.
“Notice that I don’t care what we have, as long as he or she is healthy and ours.”
“Cheers to that,” Anna said, with a sip of her latte.
I took the book from her.
“How about Thelonious?” I asked.
“How about it’s not tickling my ivories,” she said.
“Oh, do you want your ivories tickled?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she answered, returning a knowing smirk.
I stood, took Anna by the hand, ready to usher her out of the coffee shop, quick as could be, but she pulled back and held her ground.
“Let me buy a sandwich,” Anna said. “Just in case.”
I nodded, because she did this most every time we went out for lunch. Anna purchased a chicken panini with tomato, avocado, and cheddar cheese from the fresh-faced young woman working behind the counter. It did not take long before we came upon a derelict-looking man, with a filthy gray beard, wearing a ratty sports coat and soiled pants, sitting on a metal grating in the shade of a tall building. His hands were extended as we passed.
“Can you spare a dollar?” he asked in a raspy voice.
“I don’t have a dollar,” Anna said, “but I do have a meal.”
Anna was loath to give money to those who begged for fear they would use it to buy alcohol or drugs, but she had no qualms about feeding the hungry. As she knelt down to hand over the sandwich, I thought back to the day she crouched before a girl who sat crying on the curbside of a bus stop. It occurred to me then how one simple act of kindness really did have the power to alter lives.
We arrived home in separate cars. I parked on the street so that Anna could pull into the driveway. We walked up the front stairs holding hands. At some point in our marriage, Karen and I had stopped holding hands while traipsing through the basic rhythms of life. I can’t say when that happened exactly, but I only know that it did because I had Anna. I suspected that down the road, Anna and I would stop holding hands when we walked into the house together. It wouldn’t mean our love for each other had lessened, just that it would grow and change with the years.
Anna wasted no time getting down to business. Standing in our narrow hallway, she began to undress before I closed the front door behind me. We were kissing now, our mouths locked together, tongues exploring. Anna pushed me away, only to undo her belt. I slipped my hands around her slender waist, pulling up the fabric of her dress, feeling the firmness of her body and silky brush of her leggings. I hiked her dress up higher and higher until the slippery fabric rested above her hips. A groan escaped Anna’s mouth as I caressed her hair while kissing
“Baby, thank you,” Anna said.
“The book didn’t cost that much,” I said.
Anna leaned over the table once again, but this time to deliver a playful slug on my arm.
“I don’t care what the book cost,” she said. “I care what it represents.”
“It represents that I’m in this with you, all the way,” I said.
We kissed again, more a peck this time around.
“You know, Lily is still very shaken by what happened with my mom,” Anna said while leafing through the book. “We spoke about it this morning after you left for work.”
“So I’m guessing she’s going to want to delay her visit with my folks for just a bit.”
Anna made a little noise, so she didn’t have to say that was an understatement. Searching for a change of subject, I asked to see the book and flipped to a random page.
“What about Bay?” I suggested.
Anna made a face.
“As a name, or something we should do at the moon?” she asked.
“Cosimo,” I offered.
“Is that even a real name?”
“It’s in the book,” I said, pointing.
Anna ripped the book from my hands.
“How about Saffron?” she asked.
“Too spicy,” I said.
“Trudy?”
“Wasn’t she on The Facts of Life ?” I asked.
“Notice how I’m picking out the girls names,” Anna said.
“Notice that I don’t care what we have, as long as he or she is healthy and ours.”
“Cheers to that,” Anna said, with a sip of her latte.
I took the book from her.
“How about Thelonious?” I asked.
“How about it’s not tickling my ivories,” she said.
“Oh, do you want your ivories tickled?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she answered, returning a knowing smirk.
I stood, took Anna by the hand, ready to usher her out of the coffee shop, quick as could be, but she pulled back and held her ground.
“Let me buy a sandwich,” Anna said. “Just in case.”
I nodded, because she did this most every time we went out for lunch. Anna purchased a chicken panini with tomato, avocado, and cheddar cheese from the fresh-faced young woman working behind the counter. It did not take long before we came upon a derelict-looking man, with a filthy gray beard, wearing a ratty sports coat and soiled pants, sitting on a metal grating in the shade of a tall building. His hands were extended as we passed.
“Can you spare a dollar?” he asked in a raspy voice.
“I don’t have a dollar,” Anna said, “but I do have a meal.”
Anna was loath to give money to those who begged for fear they would use it to buy alcohol or drugs, but she had no qualms about feeding the hungry. As she knelt down to hand over the sandwich, I thought back to the day she crouched before a girl who sat crying on the curbside of a bus stop. It occurred to me then how one simple act of kindness really did have the power to alter lives.
We arrived home in separate cars. I parked on the street so that Anna could pull into the driveway. We walked up the front stairs holding hands. At some point in our marriage, Karen and I had stopped holding hands while traipsing through the basic rhythms of life. I can’t say when that happened exactly, but I only know that it did because I had Anna. I suspected that down the road, Anna and I would stop holding hands when we walked into the house together. It wouldn’t mean our love for each other had lessened, just that it would grow and change with the years.
Anna wasted no time getting down to business. Standing in our narrow hallway, she began to undress before I closed the front door behind me. We were kissing now, our mouths locked together, tongues exploring. Anna pushed me away, only to undo her belt. I slipped my hands around her slender waist, pulling up the fabric of her dress, feeling the firmness of her body and silky brush of her leggings. I hiked her dress up higher and higher until the slippery fabric rested above her hips. A groan escaped Anna’s mouth as I caressed her hair while kissing
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