awakened late in the morning, with the cat snuggled under the covers between them. The power was still off and the apartment was bone-jarringly cold. Unlike a blizzard-proof dogsled, Steve’s car remained mired in the snowy terrains of the parking lot.
There was nothing for Michelle and Steve to do but to climb back into bed with the sandwiches they’d made and talk some more. They spent the entire day there, snacking and talking. It was amazing how much they had to say to each other and how easily it was to say it. Nothing seemed too trivial to reveal.
“Everybody claims to love those old movies from the thirties, those screwball comedies and dark melodramas. So I pretend that I do, too,” Steve confided. “But to be perfectly honest, I don’t get their appeal. I like the movies of today—with lots of action and car chases and special effects.”
“I have an equally shameful confession,” Michelle offered. “Remember the outrage when those old black and white movie classics were colorized for TV? Well, I like them better in color.”
“So do I.” Steve grinned. “I guess it’s a good thing we chose careers based in Harrisburg, not Hollywood, hmm?”
“For our own sakes as well as the sake of the film industry,” added Michelle.
They exchanged congenial, confidential smiles.
It was almost nine o’clock that night when the power was finally restored. At the same moment that a rush of heat came blasting through the vents, every light in the living room flashed on. Michelle and Steve were huddled under the quilt in the bedroom.
“The power’s back on!” she exclaimed. Part of her was relieved. It was extremely difficult to do without electricity in an all-electric apartment. But another part of her felt a twinge of regret. The power outage had given her the opportunity to spend time with Steve, to get to know him in a way she otherwise never would have. And that was over now.
“Three cheers for Med Ed.” But despite his endorsement of the electric company, Steve made no move to leave the bed.
Michelle switched on the bedside lamp before slipping out of the bed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was horrified at the sight of her rumpled sweat suit, her tousled hair and flushed face, totally devoid of makeup. It didn’t matter that she’d spent the entire day with Steve without an ounce of concern about her appearance. Now a self-conscious wave swept over her and she felt like turning off the lights before he could get a good look at her.
The return of civilization, it seemed, changed everything.
Steve sensed her withdrawal. He wondered if he could persuade her to let him spend another night here, in bed with her. This time with heat. And minus three layers of clothes. Tonight, no clothes would be required.
Michelle turned at that moment to see his unmistakably predatory smile. He reminded her of Burton stalking the new parakeet she’d brought home one day from the mall pet shop. Watching, assessing, planning. Waiting for the chance to make his move. She’d taken the little bird back to the store, knowing it was unsafe here. Now it appeared that she was in the same predicament.
“We should see if your car is still stuck in the lot,” she said with sudden brisk efficiency. She was pulling on her outdoor gear before Steve sat up in bed.
He finally did so with a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to go outside, Michelle. I’ll check on it.” Naturally he would discover his car still hopelessly stuck, he promised himself.
Michelle met his eyes. And correctly interpreted the gleam she saw there. “I’ll be glad to go with you,” she insisted firmly.
They trudged out together to find that the building superintendent had already arranged for the lot to be plowed and salted. With the reliability of a dogsled in the Arctic, Steve’s car glided smoothly out of its space. He was free. There was no excuse not to collect his things and go home.
Michelle walked him to the door.
There was nothing for Michelle and Steve to do but to climb back into bed with the sandwiches they’d made and talk some more. They spent the entire day there, snacking and talking. It was amazing how much they had to say to each other and how easily it was to say it. Nothing seemed too trivial to reveal.
“Everybody claims to love those old movies from the thirties, those screwball comedies and dark melodramas. So I pretend that I do, too,” Steve confided. “But to be perfectly honest, I don’t get their appeal. I like the movies of today—with lots of action and car chases and special effects.”
“I have an equally shameful confession,” Michelle offered. “Remember the outrage when those old black and white movie classics were colorized for TV? Well, I like them better in color.”
“So do I.” Steve grinned. “I guess it’s a good thing we chose careers based in Harrisburg, not Hollywood, hmm?”
“For our own sakes as well as the sake of the film industry,” added Michelle.
They exchanged congenial, confidential smiles.
It was almost nine o’clock that night when the power was finally restored. At the same moment that a rush of heat came blasting through the vents, every light in the living room flashed on. Michelle and Steve were huddled under the quilt in the bedroom.
“The power’s back on!” she exclaimed. Part of her was relieved. It was extremely difficult to do without electricity in an all-electric apartment. But another part of her felt a twinge of regret. The power outage had given her the opportunity to spend time with Steve, to get to know him in a way she otherwise never would have. And that was over now.
“Three cheers for Med Ed.” But despite his endorsement of the electric company, Steve made no move to leave the bed.
Michelle switched on the bedside lamp before slipping out of the bed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was horrified at the sight of her rumpled sweat suit, her tousled hair and flushed face, totally devoid of makeup. It didn’t matter that she’d spent the entire day with Steve without an ounce of concern about her appearance. Now a self-conscious wave swept over her and she felt like turning off the lights before he could get a good look at her.
The return of civilization, it seemed, changed everything.
Steve sensed her withdrawal. He wondered if he could persuade her to let him spend another night here, in bed with her. This time with heat. And minus three layers of clothes. Tonight, no clothes would be required.
Michelle turned at that moment to see his unmistakably predatory smile. He reminded her of Burton stalking the new parakeet she’d brought home one day from the mall pet shop. Watching, assessing, planning. Waiting for the chance to make his move. She’d taken the little bird back to the store, knowing it was unsafe here. Now it appeared that she was in the same predicament.
“We should see if your car is still stuck in the lot,” she said with sudden brisk efficiency. She was pulling on her outdoor gear before Steve sat up in bed.
He finally did so with a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to go outside, Michelle. I’ll check on it.” Naturally he would discover his car still hopelessly stuck, he promised himself.
Michelle met his eyes. And correctly interpreted the gleam she saw there. “I’ll be glad to go with you,” she insisted firmly.
They trudged out together to find that the building superintendent had already arranged for the lot to be plowed and salted. With the reliability of a dogsled in the Arctic, Steve’s car glided smoothly out of its space. He was free. There was no excuse not to collect his things and go home.
Michelle walked him to the door.
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