August 14

Did you know you can shut your eyes and still see someone else’s? You can. I know this, because when I was trying to go to sleep last night, I kept seeing Madeline’s: large and shining, the color of dark chocolate—eyes that can go from vulnerable and pleading to burning with pure lust in a split second. When we were saying our good nights, I stared into them under the flickering light above her garage, and what those eyes were doing to me was so intense, I had to think about boring basic things like picking up a replacement bulb for the flickering light, or else I would have lost my shit. Especially since I was still feeling the effects of fucking her. Especially since every time, it gets better, and like I want to take her again as soon as I’m physically able.

The sex Wednesday night—it was un-fucking-believable. We were sitting on her patio drinking a couple beers after dinner, with the fire pit going. We were talking about states we’d visited, she was looking comfortable and relaxed leaning back in the chaise lounge with her hair draped down her shoulder, and I was taking in the sight of her with the orange glow of the fire illuminating her like she was some kind of angel. She was telling me about her trip to Arizona last winter to visit her parents, and I’ll be honest, I started looking at her rather than listening to her—watching the curve of her lips as she smiled, and definitely the curve of her breasts under her tank top. When she paused in her story to take a sip of beer, I fixated on that beautiful mouth on the top of the bottle, and suddenly the bottle became my cock. I got this major urge to take her, right then—got out of my chair without a word, took her drink out of her hands, set it on the patio floor and climbed on top of her, unbuttoning my pants before I started to kiss her. She didn’t protest at all, which was even more of a turn-on, because I know Madeline Callaway is not the type to be into having sex outside, where someone might see. The night was calm and still, the only sounds being the little snaps and pops of the fire, my heavy breathing and her tiny little gasps, which made me fuck her harder.

I know she wanted me to stay—I could see it in her eyes—and I quickly kissed her goodnight and walked to my truck before she saw that I didn’t want to leave her.

If she’d had the chance to ask me, I would have stayed.

I’m over at Ed’s again today. His house is under contract, and the home inspection came up with a couple items that needed attention: drippy faucet in the downstairs bathroom, which was an easy fix—replacing the O-ring in the faucet cartridge. The other thing was a sticky door in one of the bedrooms, so I drove a long jam screw through the top of the hinge and brought it back in line. So that should wrap up what I need to do for Ed. I’m really gonna miss this gentleman.

He’s in a talkative mood today. Seems a little anxious, like he’s got a lot on his mind, which I’m sure he does. He asks me twice if I’d like to have a cup of coffee, and I answer yes both times. It’s breezy but not too hot today, so we sit on his back deck at the glass-topped table and cushioned chairs, with our mugs and a plate of blueberry muffins which taste like store-bought (Callaway has definitely spoiled me).

“So, Ed—congratulations on the sale pending.”

He nods, lifting his mug to his thin lips. “It’s a good thing.”

“Mixed feelings, though, right?”

“Most certainly, Mr. Decker. Although with every box I pack, this place is feeling less like home.” He pauses to take another sip of his coffee. “Truth be told, I hate to leave.” His voice quavers. “I feel Marian here, and I don’t want to lose that.”

I have no clue what to say, but I feel like I should say something. “That must be very comforting for you, sir.”

“Yes. It has been.”

“She’ll follow you, Ed. I know she will.” As I say the words, I’m pretty amazed to find out I actually believe them.

He gives me a small smile. He seems to have aged since the last time I saw him. His face looks a little thinner, and his hair’s hanging down his forehead instead of combed back like it usually is.

“My Marian,” he sighs. “She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. We met at a department store in Bangor as teenagers. I was a stock boy, and she worked at the soda fountain. She always said I kept coming back for her ice cream sundaes—she used to give me extra whipped cream and two cherries—but it was her dimples. And maybe also the sundaes.” He chuckles, and it turns into a cough.

Grinning, I break off a piece of my muffin. “Sounds like she knew you pretty well, even early on.”

“She did. We clicked, you know. Like a key in a lock—she opened up my heart, and I was a goner.” He clears his throat a few times. “You’re a handsome fellow, Mr. Decker. I trust you have someone special in your life?”

I swallow, the muffin sticking in my throat, so I wash it down with coffee. “I don’t do that.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I don’t do relationships. I’ve been burned in the past.”

“Ah. So you’ve given up on love.”

“I guess you could say that.” I realize he’s headed down an avenue I usually like to keep blocked, but surprisingly, I’m not getting up from the table or trying to change the subject.

Why am I not getting up from the table or trying to change the subject? And why do I say what I say next?

“There’s this—girl I’ve been kind of seeing. She’s really great. But it’s just going to be a short term thing.”

“Because you don’t do relationships.”

“Right.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, that sounds like quite a lonely existence, Mr. Decker.”

“I understand how it might look that way, sir. But I’ve made sort of a deal with myself. And I’m doing all right with things the way they are.”

Ed brushes a few crumbs off the table into his hand and drops them onto the plate. “You’re a young man, but I don’t want you to be fooled by the illusion of time, and I don’t want you to have regrets. How old are you?”

“Almost twenty-eight, sir.”

“Ah, to be twenty-eight again.” There’s a gleam in his pale eyes, like he’s remembering. “Did I ever tell you the butterfly story?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Marian and I were watching a PBS special one day. I think it was the mid-1980’s. Now before you get any ideas, our lives were not sitting in front of the TV watching nature programs, mind you.”

I laugh. “All right, Ed. I believe you.”

“I’ll be honest...we were in a bit of a rut coming up on our twentieth wedding anniversary, and for me, the days were grinding along in this seemingly endless string of days. I was a professor at Bates and had just been named department head. Quite full of myself, and I’m ashamed to say I’d lost sight of what was most important to me. What really mattered…Marian, my son Garrett. I was putting most all of my time into work—staying late at my office, holding meetings that really weren’t all that important, reading in my study at home instead of talking to my wife and boy, submitting articles for publication out of sheer vanity.” He frowns and shakes his head. “Well, Marian and I were watching that show about butterflies and their life cycle, and it struck me that she was awful quiet. A few days after that was our anniversary, and we exchanged gifts. I gave her flowers and a silver charm bracelet, and she gave me something much more meaningful.” Ed gets up from his chair stiffly and walks into the house. A few minutes later, he comes back to the table, holding out a wobbly hand. “This is what she gave me.”

I take the object from him carefully. It’s a butterfly made out of crystal—heavy and delicate at the same time, its wings open and frozen in flight. The prism effect throws little rainbows all over the table.

“Marian never liked confrontations. If she was upset about something, she’d let me know in a gentle way. She put a little card in the box and wrote that she hoped the butterfly would be a ‘crystal clear’ reminder of how fleeting and precarious life is. The show we’d watched had mentioned that the average butterfly species live only a couple of weeks, and only a fraction of larvae even make it to adulthood.” Ed pauses. “She added a note that said twenty years, which was how long we’d been married, felt like a butterfly lifetime. That’s all she needed to say. She made me realize that human life, too, is but a blink, and that I needed to focus on what was most important. Family. Love.”

He leans forward, his filmy eyes intense with feeling. “What I’m trying to say in a very roundabout way is, Mr. Decker, is don’t be a fool like I was and take for granted what’s most precious in life. Your family relationships, like your father and brother. And having a relationship with someone special. Fortunately, I learned my lesson before any real damage was done, and I guess the teacher in me wants to pass it along, because I like you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m honored.” I set the butterfly carefully on the table. “And might I add that Marian was one lucky woman.”

He waves a hand at me like he’s not used to taking compliments, but he’s smiling. Marian was totally right: time does go by so fast, because it’s like I blinked and I’m done working for Ed.

And tomorrow, I’ll be wrapping things up for my favorite client.

If someone could invent a pause button for my life, I’d appreciate it.