Page 58 of Flying

forty

River

April 2nd

Lily is soft and sweet,her body relaxed into the limp comfort of post-orgasmic bliss. I hold her close as she drifts to sleep. Not today, I decide. Today isn’t the right day to tell her about Grant’s bachelor party.

Today is about her relaxing into being home, about convincing her that this can be her home again. Today is about the comforts we’ve been missing out on for the last few weeks as things became strained by distance and misunderstanding.

Maybe in a few days, that will be a better time.

April 7th

One weekwithout a good time to tell her. Every day that we wake up together, I’m enjoying the separation of work and home more, even if the separation is just a lawn.

When closing wraps up, I grab my flashlight and am careful to notdisturb the new garden boxes and beds—these little touches inspired by our time in Denver and the amazing places my beautiful little flower showed me.

Tonight I’m more overwhelmed than usual by the feelings of dumb luck and admiration, so as I climb into bed I’m forceful when pulling her close. Situated as the big spoon behind her, I place a kiss on her neck below her ear. She hums appreciatively, and Pete grumbles as he shifts to adjust to my longer legs reaching the end of the bed.

“Seeing the construction in the back as I walked home reminds me of Denver.” I’m secretly planning to plant an entire flowerbed dedicated to her filled with fragrant tiger lilies and local wildflowers that draw in butterflies. Wild, free, and flying from petal to petal: just like her. There is no list of preapproved emotions. No proper quantity or size to feel them, just freedom to be.

She didn’t lose or find herself, she just lived. Now I’ll be able to live with her, loving her, there’s no adventure better.

I know the story from Grant’s bachelor party has to be shared, but not now. No, tomorrow may be better.

Tonight, I tell her that every time I walk by these garden beds I’m reminded how she has made me better. Nudging her slightly behind the ear again I whisper, “Lily, do you know what I thought as I walked back here tonight?”

Groaning, she chides me about it being 3:00 a.m., and she’s teaching a class at six virtually but I press a kiss to her neck again.

“The community gardens in Denver were amazing, and now our own local sustainability is improved, this is because of you. I am better simply because you exist, darling.”

As I expected, with the word darling, I see her rolling towards me. She nuzzles against my chest, breathing in deeply despite the sweat and smell of today on me and her inhale suggests it is her favorite cologne. Pressing a soft kiss to my lips she sighs and says, “Well, I can’t resist when you call me darling, but I do need sleep so hold me for now, and we’ll pick this up after my class ends tomorrow. Later today,” on a yawn she continues, “whatever.” She softly begins to snore against me.

Yes, tomorrow will be a better day.

April 14th

Today will be the day.I am pumping myself up that I cannot let this go on much longer. Just a few days left before the girls have the shower, two weeks until the Atlantic City trip and six-weeks until the wedding, I can’t keep this to myself. I owe her this much.

First, I have a few other things to do, though, so I’m going to start today well. That way I’m really ready when we talk. I quietly slip downstairs to see the amazing work that’s been completed already on her living wall. The raw beam shelves filled with plants brighten up the midnight blue and make the space feel like the perfect place for Lily to work.

I’ve watched from the steps as she records classes, talks to potential clients, and edits on the overstuffed couch she chose. The ability to give her this causes pride to swell in my chest. There’s no greater joy than this. I grab my boots at the bottom step, toss them on, and make my way to the garden beds to check on the progress.

Later today, I think.Later is good.

April 20th

“I had Delia clear your schedule.”Lily doesn’t have to work hard in convincing me that today is aholiday,winking and nudging me. She instructs me to sleep in before pulling the curtains tighter and telling Pete to take over as little spoon. He agrees once I scratch between his ears. When I wake up again, she is full of barely contained energy, buzzing to share.

“First rule: you can’t do anything today.” She’s interrupted by a yip from Pete. “Well,” dragging out that final L in a bit of a playful tone, “ we do have to make sure to take good care of Pete, so a short walk. Beyond that, our plans for today are these two joints Isnagged, too much take out, snacks, and movies, starting withDown to You.”

I was following for a bit but now I’m the confused one. “Down to You?”

Her animated behavior tells me the plan to get her comfortable is working.

Popping up like bread in the toaster, she’s engaging. Wearing my oversized navy Featherweight shirt—the one I lent her the first time she shared my bed—and a pair of cotton panties, she’s the epitome of at home. Her hair is messy and chaotic around her shoulders and she’s shaking with excitement describing her all time favorite ‘90s rom-com that ‘not enough people love.’

“So,” she squeals, “it’s a movie about falling in love during college. You have Imogene and Al, they call having sex cake and buy these crappy bodega cakes when they plan to hook up, which is cute enough.”

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