typea_all (31 page)

     "I'm glad everything turned out okay. How about you and Elvis? Is that serious?"

     "I hear my boss calling for me," I lied. "I have to go. Talk to you later," and I hung up.

******

     After work I cleaned the house thoroughly. I cleaned the floors, the cabinets, the bathroom, and changed the sheets on the bed. I caught up on all of my soaps, fast-forwarding past commercials and some boring parts, and did lots of email. I packed a bag to take to Ryan's, including a nice pants suit, and snuggled into bed thinking about last night and Ryan's proposal.

Chapter 28

     I got to Ryan's at about 11 AM, and we both acted as if the M word never came up. We walked through the mall and I did him a favor by not buying anything.

     Ryan was hungry, so we went to Down Under, one of those fake Australian places that specialize in steaks and phony atmosphere. When we went in some teenager said "G'Day" in a Philadelphia accent and told us there would be an hour wait. We gave the kid our name, told him we wanted non-smoking seats, and hung out in the entranceway until our table was called.

     Supposedly, you go to Down Under for the food and the atmosphere, neither of which I ever found so appetizing. The place is usually crowded and noisy, and the food just a little too spicy and overcooked for my taste. It took about fifteen minutes for a waiter to appear, and it took him about ten minutes more to tell us his name and the specials for the day. I was so hungry by the time he was done I could have just put ketchup on the menu and snacked on that. I ordered some kind of chicken with an Australian name, and Ryan ordered a steak and one of the large fried onion things that has a normal person's fat allotment for the year.

     While we were waiting for our food, a family with three kids sat down beside us. One kid was an infant, and he sat in a booster chair, the others were about four or five years old. The parents looked like kids themselves.

     The two older kids started running up and down the aisle and the infant began crying. It wasn't a low sobbing, but a loud ear-piercing yell that went right through your brain, like fingernails on a blackboard. Every time Ryan and I started to talk, the kid would let out a shriek. Unfortunately, the parents believed that ignoring a crying child will teach them some sort of lesson, because they just sat there and did nothing.

     It was hard to take the yelling kid, and it was equally hard to put up with the two little monsters running back and forth. I could tell from the looks and comments of the people around us that I wasn't the only one annoyed. Even the waiters and waitresses looked pained each time they walked by. What really amazed me, though, was that nobody said anything to them. Nobody told the kids to stop running and sit down, and nobody asked the parents if they could shut up the little terror.

     Well, I'm not nobody. The next time one of the kids ran by me, I yelled, "This isn't a playground, go sit down." The kid looked at me like he never heard a command before. "That's right, go sit down and stop running. You're just getting in people's way."

     I looked up and made eye contact with the kid's parents, but they just smiled and didn't say anything. Luckily, the two little kids had more manners than their parents, and the kids sat down and started playing with the napkins on their table.

     Meanwhile, the infant was still serenading us with its imitation of an air-raid siren. When the parents weren't watching, I threw a spitball at the kid. Okay, it wasn't really a spitball but just a little piece of wet napkin I rolled into a ball. The thing hit the kid on the cheek and it stopped crying for a minute. The next three times the kid started crying, I hit it with another spitball, and after the last spit ball the kid shut up for the rest of the meal. It turned out I was great at child rearing.

     At last our food was served. The chicken was actually pretty good, and I nibbled some of Ryan's onion, when I could get his fork out of the way long enough to spear some for myself. We were almost done when I smelled smoke. I looked around but couldn't see where the smoke was coming from.

     "Somebody is smoking around here, I can smell it," I told Ryan.

     He looked around. "I don’t smell anything yet, but we're almost done."

     I ate a minute more then the smoke really started to bother me. "I'm telling you, someone is smoking around here. I'll be right back."

     I walked up and down the aisle until I spotted the smokers, a heavy-set couple with fewer teeth than they had children sitting with them. I went back to our table and called over the waiter.

     "That couple over there," I pointed, "are smoking and this is a non-smoking section."

     "Oh."

     "Can you tell them to stop smoking, please; I can't eat when I smell smoke."

     "Gee, I don't know if I can do that."

     "Can you ask the manager to come over?"

     The manager arrived. "Can I help you?"

     "Yes. Those people over there are smoking and this is a non-smoking section. I can't enjoy my food when I smell smoke."

     He looked over at them. "I'll go ask them to stop," he said.

     I watched as the manager went over and said something to the couple. The guy yelled, "I have a right to smoke."

     The manager pointed over to me, the guy turned his head to look at me, blew me a smoke ring and then went back to eating. The manager tried to walk right past me but I grabbed his arm. "Well, is he going to stop smoking?"

     "I'm sorry, I asked him but he refused."

     "What are you going to do about it?"

     "I can't do anything. I can't throw him out and he refuses to move to another table in the smoking section. I can move you, if you want."

     "Why should we be inconvenienced because of him? I'm not moving."

     "Then there is nothing I can do," he said, and then he walked away.

     Ryan was looking every place else but not at me. He knew what I was going to do, but maybe he figured if we didn't make eye contact I'd stay in my seat. It didn't work.

     I walked back to the couple that was smoking. "Excuse me. Do you know this is a non-smoking section?"

     They ignored me.

     "For people who can't read, that means you are not allowed to smoke here."

     They continued to ignore me, and everyone sitting around them suddenly got an interest in looking at the far walls.

     "Listen, I have asthma and a heart condition. I can't be where there is smoke. Can you put the damn things out?"

     "No. We have a right to smoke. If the smell bothers you, that's too bad."

     I walked back to our table, told Ryan what happened and finished eating. When we were done, he paid the bill and started to walk out.

     "I'll be right back," I told him.

     "Brooke, don't start a...."

     "I'm not starting anything, they started it."

     I took the can of Phart Spray out of my bag and walked up to the couple. "So, if someone's smell disturbs me, I'm supposed to move?"

     "That's right honey," the wife said.

     "Fine."  I sprayed them both in the face with Phart Spray, and then gave a quick shot to their food for good measure.

     Ryan was already out the door, so I joined him and we went to the movies.

All during the movie, I quietly bugged him about the surprise but he wouldn't even give me a hint. We went back to his place, and while he showered I puttered around in his kitchen. I took my shower and went into the bedroom.

Ryan will do about almost anything to make me laugh and to have sex.  When I got into the bedroom, I found him lying in bed naked, humming the theme to that television show Wheel of Fortune. Well, almost naked. He had taken a large sheet of paper shaped into a circle and cut out a hole in the middle. The paper was on top of him, with his penis sticking through the center hole.

     "Welcome to Penis of Fortune," he said. "Spin the Penis of Fortune and see what your prize is, young lady."

     As I got closer, I saw that he had divided the paper into numbered segments, just like the wheel on the television show.

     "I'll play if you tell me what the surprise is."

     "No deal, you have to wait. I will tell you that it's something you'll enjoy."

     With him lying there like that, I just couldn't resist. "Okay, how do we play?"

     "Instead of spinning the wheel, you touch the center for at least 30 seconds and then see where it leans. You get the number of kisses indicated on the wheel. Are you ready to play Penis of Fortune?"

     It was great game, and somehow we both came out winners.

******

     I woke up at about 6:30 and jumped on top of Ryan to wake him up. Surprises have a way of getting me going much earlier than usual in the morning.

     "It's Sunday, where's my surprise?"

     "You have to wait," he said groggily.

     "I can't wait, I want it now."

     "Sorry, you'll have to wait until lunchtime."

     "What does lunch have to do with it?"

     "You'll see, now let me sleep a little more. You tired me out last night."

     I started kissing his body and shaking him, rubbing my hands all over him. "How does it feel to be on the receiving end of all this attention when you're half asleep? This is what I have to put up with from you."

     "Oh, it’s terrible. Do more."  I kept it up a few more minutes until I could feel that he was waking up.

     "I see you're getting some energy. If you tell me what the surprise is, I'll make it worth your while."

     "And how is that?"

     "Just guess."

     "Well, here's another surprise." He rolled me over and started kissing me.

     "Not on the mouth, my breath must be bad. I didn't brush my teeth yet."

     "Oh, the suffering you put me through." He kept on kissing me until I longed for him so much I couldn't wait. I flipped him over and straddled him, and we tired each other out once again.

     We stayed in bed holding each other, and every ten minutes or so I asked him about the surprise. After I annoyed him about it for about an hour, he started giving me little hints.

     "It has to do with lunch."

     "It has to do with something you do Monday to Friday."

     "It has to do with doctors."

     "It has to do with children."

     "It has to do with living."

     He was driving me crazy. "Why are you being so annoying?" I asked him.

     "I've had you as a great teacher."

     At about 10 AM he told me that it was time to get up and get dressed. "We have to leave no later than 11 AM so you have one hour to get ready."

     "You're giving me an hour to make myself beautiful?"

     "You're already beautiful; you just have to get dressed."

     "I love being in bed with you. This better be worth it."

     We both dressed, and I was surprised to see Ryan in a sports jacket and dress pants; he's usually much more casual than that. At eleven, we went down to his car and we drove into Philadelphia.

     "Where are we going?"

     "You'll see."

     "Just tell me where, not for what. Just where are we eating at?"

     "God, you're annoying."

     "And cute, too. So, where are we going?" I put my hand on his leg and starting moving it up.