Fix It for Us (14 page)

I give him an answer.  One I don’t really want to say, but the rational, grown-up side of me knows I should.  “No, you should go.  You should do it.”  Davis frowns a bit. “I mean it.  I can’t tell you I love the idea, but it is a huge deal for you.  Bett
er than being just a technician all summer.  We’ll work it out.”  A slight smile returns to his face.

“Really?  Lizard?  You aren’t just saying that?  I mean, I am excited about the prospect  of designing, too, but being away from you …the thought it sort of, well, kills me.”

“We’ll work it out.”  I answer a bit flatly.  Feigning a bit of cheerfulness I redirect the conversation, “It’s all good.  Hey, you invited my parents over in a little bit, umm … perhaps we should get ready.  Why don’t you order some Chinese or something?  I need to go clean up a bit.  I feel grimy from all that moving.”  I give him a forced smile and a quick peck and excuse myself to the master bathroom.  It’s all a deflection.  I need to be alone to process this change of course. 

Once I get to the bath
room, I lock the door behind me, turn on the water and well, turn on the waterworks.  I can’t stop the tears.  I held them back with Davis, but now small droplets are appearing in my eyes.  A few roll down my cheeks before I look in the mirror.  I don’t quite know if I am sad or panicking, but I use my mantra, “I can do this, I can do this,” reassure myself it will all be fine and then wash my hands and splash water on my dirty, streaky face.  I’ve ruined my mascara with the water, so after a few deep breaths and patting my face dry, I reapply my make-up.  Okay, a little better.  It will be fine.  Davis and I will work it out.  We did not get this far for nothing.

The time before my parents
arrive is a little awkward.  Davis and I are setting the table and waiting for the food to arrive, in relative quiet.  Occasionally, Davis drops some information about his new job, like the fact that he has to leave for Chicago on Monday.  Two days after graduation.  I busy myself with finding placemats and napkins. 

I’
m downright relieved when the doorbell rings.  It’s my parents.  I am so very pleased to see them.  I give each of them a big hug, pouring a bit of my new sadness into it.  They are pretty intuitive and each ask, “Hey, Bizzy girl/Biz, everything okay?” 

I reassure, them, “Y
es, I’m fine, just tired from the moving and anxious about graduation.”  It’s then when their eyes lock onto the boxes of my stuff strewn about.

“Something you need to tell us, Bizzy?”  Dad inquires.

This is going to be easier than I originally thought given Davis’ recent employment bombshell.  “Well, yeah, Dad … Mom, I’m moving in.”  Both of their mouths open and then shut in a frown.

Davis interrupts as he enters
quickly from the kitchen, “It’s not exactly what you think, Cal, Diane.  Biz is moving in, but I’m not going to be here this summer, so we sort of ARE and AREN’T living together.”  Davis ushers us all into the family room and just as we are being seated so that Davis and I can elaborate, the doorbell rings once more.  Davis excuses himself and opens the door to retrieve our dinner from the Yin Cheng delivery guy.  He pays and tips him and then takes the food over to the island.  My parents and I just watch the proceedings with the food, not re-engaging in the “living together” conversation.

Davis returns, “Maybe we could talk over dinner?  I would hate for it to get cold.” 

I think this is Davis’ way of trying to decrease any additional intensity a conversation like this might have.  My parents both agree.  Soon, we are seated and passing around cartons of Chinese yumminess. 

Once everyone’s plate is full, Davis bravely gets back on topic.  “We want to be honest, we originally were going to be
living together this summer.  We’re engaged and will eventually be married, so we saw no point in waiting.  BUT, circumstances have changed.  I just received an offer to design at a summer stock near my hometown.  Biz and I have only had a chance to talk briefly, so there’s lots to figure out, but I won’t be here for most of the summer.  I was thinking that perhaps that would give you, Diane and Cal, a chance to be more comfortable with us living together?”  I am impressed with how well he presented all of this.

My
dad pokes at his food with his chopsticks a couple of times and then clears his throat.  Okay, here it comes.  He looks up at my mom, frowns and then smiles.  He looks at me and says, “Are you okay with all of this, Biz kid?”  Wow, not at all what I expected. 

I ask, “What part?”

“Well, first the living together, but not living together part and, I guess, the being alone all summer part, too.”

“Dad, I was always okay with living with Davis.  I’ve never really had a roomm
ate since freshman year, and we
are
engaged.”  I glance over at Davis and wince a bit, “I’m not thrilled about NOT being together this summer, but the day was going to come eventually when we had to be apart for a while, given our careers.  I don’t know about the alone part.  It’s too soon.  I haven’t had much time to think about it.”

Surprisingly, it’s my mom that speaks next.  “Biz, Davis, we were preparing ourselves for the fact you would live together before getting married.  I don’t know if I
’m okay with it yet, but like you said, you’re engaged and both adults.  Not much we can do about that.  I just want to offer a bit of advice – living together is different than being married.  It just is.  But you don’t need me to tell you that, you’ll figure it out.”

The whole conversat
ion is different than I imagined it would be.  I thought there would be a lot more getting upset and refusal on my parents’ part.  Instead, they are cautiously supportive.  I’m surprised but pleased.

“Thanks, Mom and Dad.  You’re right.  We have a lot to figure out.
I …” I look over at Davis and then reach out my hand to him.  He takes it and brings it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles and smiles, “WE… really appreciate the support.”  Even with my parents sitting right at the table with us, Davis’ kisses do something to me way down deep.  I feel a flutter in my lower abdomen and only hope that I am not giving out signals that I’d like nothing more than to ignore everyone else and jump this man.

Davis’ next statement comes completely out of left field, “I heard Kathleen is looking for a new place to live.  Maybe she could move in for the summer?”  What?  Where did
that
come from?

My parents speak simultaneously.  My dad saying what a great idea that would be.  My mother asking, “Isn’t that your former fiancée, Davis?”  I just sit there looking between the three of them with my mouth hanging open.

“Oops.”  Davis says with a look of mock fear on his face, “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up right now.” 

I’
m still speechless.  I turn my head slightly to look at Davis fully, “Um, yeah … I’m just wrapping my head around your leaving for the summer.”  Then I pause for a moment and tap my chopsticks on my fingers and then my lips.  “But if Kathleen were here, I wouldn’t be all alone.  I would have someone to hang with and Smitty would probably be over.  It might not be a bad idea, Mavis.”  Davis appears relieved and rubs my hand, the one he’s been holding throughout this exchange, even when I pulled it back from him slightly in surprise, he held on.  He knows me.  Well.  We have the details about this sudden change in plans to discuss and in a very short amount of time. 

Davis and I continue to sneak looks at each other throughou
t the remainder of dinner, each, it seems, willing time to move slower so we have more time together and faster, so my parents will leave and we can be alone.  My parents get the hint.  They leave immediately after finishing their dinner, wishing us good-night and confirming the times for the graduation ceremony tomorrow.  Davis and I see them out the door and all the way into the hallway, saying good-bye again as they descend the stairs.

I turn to go back into the
condo, when I am swooped up at the knees and tossed over Davis’ shoulder, my butt in the air. “Oh my God, Mavis, what are you doing?”

“Carrying you over the threshold.  Like I should have when we first got here this afternoon.”

I protest lightly, “I believe that’s for when we first come back to our home, married.”

“Then we’ll do it again then, too.”

Davis carries me past the table, littered with empty Chinese take-out cartons and into the bedroom.  I expect him to throw me on the bed and try to make me forget all that is changing.  He doesn’t.  Instead, he slides me down his body, so I can feel all of him against all of me.  Davis bends, his face in the crook of my neck, he slowly runs his nose up the side of my throat and stops just below my earlobe, giving me a soft kiss that leaves me tingly.

“I want nothing more than to strip you naked and make love to you, Lizard, but first w
e are going to figure all this stuff out.  I want you thinking about
us
when we are together, not about us being apart.”  I can barely believe his control.  I want him, too, but I know it would be bittersweet if we were just starting in on series of good-byes without talking. 

We sit down in the middle of the bed fully clothed.  Neither one of us says it, but we seem to have made an unspoken agreement not to touch,
not to distract each other while we make a plan.  We talk for what seems like hours.  Davis will go to Chicago.  I will stay here and work at The Forest Park Theatre as planned.  Davis has to call and turn down his job there tomorrow, then pack on Sunday and leave early Monday morning.

We will be apart for
almost three months, only a little less than we’ve been together.  Davis says at least ten times – he doesn’t have to go, he will stay with me.  I refuse all ten times.  I won’t stand in the way of his career and I won’t give him any reason to resent being with me.  He assures me that would not be the case.  I just don’t want to risk it.  It’s killing me inside.  What I really want to do is beg him not to go.  That would be too selfish. 

We
reassure each other it will be fine.  We’ll talk daily.  It’s not like it’s the 1900’s.  We can text and videochat.  He’ll be home in August.  He could drive down on his day off.  I could come up.  It will all be fine.  I think we both keep saying the word “fine,” to try and convince or at least rationalize with ourselves.  Once again, if I say it enough, it will be true.  I’m not sure it will be. 

I can feel a palpable lightening of Davis’ mood, once we finally talk through the plan.  He seems relieved.  Relieved to be able to design all summer, relieved that the talk is over or relieved that I am okay with him going?  I am unsure.  I just know he, outwardly, seems happier than I do, inwardly. 

During the conversation, we move from sitting up on the bed to lying down.  Davis on his back, head against the headboard, me, on my stomach, clutching a pillow as if it were a life preserver and looking up at him.  When we have come to the end, agreed on what happens moving forward, Davis finally touches me.  He brings his hand up to the side of my face and strokes his thumb downward.  He wipes away a tear that I didn’t even realize escaped from my eye.  Crying from sadness or just exhaustion?  I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter.

He says only four words, “Thank you for understanding,” before bringing his other hand to my face and then pulling my whole body up to and on top of him, kissing me w
ith tenderness and meaning.  I’m shaking.  We make love slowly and carefully, as if apologizing in advance for our upcoming time away.  It feels different, but in a way even more powerful than some of our frantic passionate times together.  Davis kisses every part of me and makes sure to leave me shuddering, long after he is out of me.  The last thing I remember is kissing his chest and letting out a long cleansing sigh.

***

“Wake up, Biz … Lizard, wake up, baby.  You don’t want to be late to your own graduation, do you?”  Davis is rubbing my arm, almost shaking me.  I groan and pull the pillow up around my ears with both hands.  I don’t want to hear it.  It’s too early.  He’s persistent, scooping his arms around me, pulling me close.  I eventually open my eyes and am rewarded with Davis’ devilish smirk.

I inform him, “You snuggling me is not inspiring me to get up.” 

“What is it inspiring?” he asks with an arched eyebrow.

I giggle and smirk back, then shyly say, “Other stuff,” while bumping my pelvis up against him.

Davis laughs aloud, “Sorry, sleepy-headed Lizard.  Not enough time.  Later.” And he smacks me on the derriere.  “UP!” is what he leaves me with as he pops out of the bed and strolls completely naked into the bathroom.  I open my eyes wider to take in the view.  He’s got a nice ass.  I think I’ll follow that ass.  As I get up to do so, I look at the alarm clock.  Crap!  I only have one hour to get ready and be in line at the arena for the graduation ceremony.  Why did I sleep so late?  That’s right.  It was a long night of talking and well, non-talking.  Smile.

I have never prepared for something so important in such a short amount of time ever before in my life.  Davis and I make it to Chandler Arena, park and get in line in our cap
s and gowns with about five minutes to spare.  We are in alphabetical order so Davis is ahead of me in line.  I can see the tops of his shoulders and his head.  Every now and then, he looks back to smile and roll his eyes at me.  We made it.  Graduation.