chair. “Do you mind?” He asked as he handed me the sunscreen.
I squeezed out a large amount of the white greasy emollient all over his back. Scooting my chair closer to him for convenience, I rubbed the liquid sun shield onto every part of bare skin within my reach. It took a long time to rub in all of that cream. I had so much sunscreen to work with that I took it from his back to rub onto his legs and feet.
Yes, he’s ticklish, discovered while paying particular attention to his feet and toes.
“Never mind the feet.” He said to dismiss me from continuing.
Pretending as though I didn’t hear it, I continued to rub in the lotion. He kicked around a bit but, I held on tight until I was thoroughly finished. He was laughing and kicking at me before I was done.
“My feet are very sensitive.”
He tried to explain. Ya think? I was laughing but I gave him his foot back. He slumped himself into a very relaxed position. He’d be sweating hard in no time. He asked me to select another CD for the player.
My choice was Van Morrison. As the music played, I dug around for something to drink and took out two waters. I handed him a bottle of cold water.
“You getting hungry for lunch?”
“In about an hour.” He mumbled through his laziness.
After an hour, I woke him up.
“No matter how strong that sunscreen, if you are in the hot sun long enough you will burn. Michael, it’s time to move.” I suggested.
He opened his eyes and smiled at me. He sat up and put his tee shirt back on.
“Did I hear something about lunch? Should we have lunch now?”
I picked up the phone and called room service for cheese burgers and French fries with some fruit and jello for dessert.
“What would you like to drink?” I called over my shoulder.
“I’ll grab something from the mini bar. Would you like something?” He countered.
“Diet coke?”
“Sounds good.”
After I placed the order, we straightened up the balcony. I packed a bowl for after lunch. Michael selected another CD – Simply Red. And we waited. I sipped on my soda and relaxed with my eyes closed.
“This fella has a lovely voice don’t you think?” I said nonchalantly.
“Oh yeah, this is a great record.” He replied.
Neither of us spoke again until the room service staff set up our lunch, supplied us with the necessary condiments, collected their tip, and left the cabin.
The lunch table was set deep into the alee of the balcony so I felt protected enough to light up the bowl. Michael was building his cheese burger from the stuff that was on his plate, but he stopped to take his turn with the pipe. He took the hit, coughed, and handed it back to me. Again, we passed it back and forth until the bowl held only dust.
I set the pipe in its ‘Pinky’ and organized my burger. Michael gave me his tomato and I gave him my pickles. We both finished about the same time as did the Simply Red tune ‘Money’s Too Tight to Mention’.
After the clean up and the tray was secured outside my door, we imbibed in another bowl. Michael got up from his chair.
“It’s about time that I gave you some space. I’m sorry if I have been wearing out my welcome.”
“Honestly, Michael, not a problem. I’ve been doing exactly what I planned and I am surprised how easy it is to sit with you.”
He took the comment as an invitation.
“Ok. I’ll get some of the CDs that I brought with me.”
He went to the narrow wall between our balconies and pushed the door open as wide as it would go. Next he took a heavy chair from his stateroom and propped the door open. I could hear him rooting around for a short time, and then he came out with a short stack of CDs.
“Any of those yours,” I ribbed.
“I think you brought all of mine.” He said and then he winked.
We spread his CDs out on the cleared table. He had some interesting albums and covered just about every genre of music. He had: A classical CD with a compilation of many composers; 2 country and western CDs – Carrie Underwood and Shania Twain; Herb Alpert; Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald; Dave Mathews; Percy Faith; John Phillips Sousa; 3 Best Of pop albums – The best of the 50s, The best of the 60s and The best of the 70s – Time Life compilations; Sammy Davis, Jr. There were a dozen CDs in all.
My turn to be amazed, I said, “interesting collection.” Michael laughed a short little ‘I know’ laugh.
“Why don’t you choose; I like them all.” He suggested.
Because I was surprised to see marching music in the middle of everything, I picked up the John Phillip Sousa and put it in the player. I turned down the volume a bit because I wasn’t sure what to expect. Michael reached over to the player and wrapped his fingers around mine and the volume control. I had no choice but to bring the volume back up.
When he removed his hand from mine, I felt a very slight hesitation and his fingers brushed over the skin on the back of my hand. Was that intentional? What was he thinking?
I was thinking about what that felt like when Denice appeared at the slider again without notice from either Michael or me. She took the one step to claim the empty chair. Her face was directly across the table from me and I could see some new excitement broiling on the surface. She needed, wanted to talk about it. Let’s see, was she ok with talking in front of Michael. I hoped so; I didn’t want to send him away and interrupt our special calmness.
“Hey, Ma Soeure, I greeted her with the enthusiasm appropriate for the level of excitement she emanated.
“Hi Hellie; hi Mike, so what’s new?”
She looked at me with a ‘got stuff to tell?’ look in her eyes. I kind of cringed at the use of a nick name for Michael but he didn’t seem to react except to mirror her greeting with a simple “Hi.”
“Our day has been pretty quiet – just listening to music and enjoying the sun and sea.” I informed her.
“You look like you are about to bust at the seams. What’s the story, morning glory?”
She took a long breath before she began. I peeked quickly at Michael before she launched into her story. He was smiling and looking at her with expectation in his eyes. I focused my attention back to Denice.
“Remember my line-dance friends?”
She asked but didn’t really expect an answer, so I said nothing, just listened dutifully.
“Anyway,” she continued.
“There are five of them, two couples and one man by himself. I joined the group to make it even so that Manny had a dance partner. I really want to tell you about Manny. He is short and kind of stocky, which you know suits me just fine. I think he might be a few years behind me, which you know is ok with me, too.”
She paused for a brief moment before she went on.
“Hellie, he’s an engineer for the city of San Diego.”
She nearly wailed the last sentence.
Michael looked at me for clarification. I touched his hand absently and explained.
“Her ex-husband is an engineer for the city of Los Angeles – similarities freak her out sometimes.”
“Is he anything like Frank?”
I encouraged her; I needed more information than that to be able to understand what the excitement was all about.
“Actually, yes,” She