Elena
I walk in and put Benjamin down for a nap. When I walk back by the kitchen, I see John cooking something.
John: So... how was Greg?
My voice sounds small and hurt: I said goodbye.
John freezes. I don't know what else he does after that because I head upstairs to read.
I pick up that old romance novel I saw this morning. I'm so mad at John I can hardly focus on it. Most of the time I just stare mutely at the pages.
Why did I have to be so mean earlier? The way John asked about Greg makes me wonder if he really was thinking the painful thoughts that, at the time, I wanted him to think out of spite.
Ay! I feel horrible now. He was trying to help and all I did was stab him in the back.
I hear John walk in the room.
Why am I nervous all of a sudden?
John: I'm sorry.
Crap.
I don't look up from my book: About what?
John: Making that snide comment when you walked in the door.
I stand up and put the book back on the shelf. I went ahead and put my bookmark back in the spot it WAS in because I don't remember anything of what I just read.
Me: You don't have to apologize for that. I'M the one who's sorry.
John: Yes, I do have to apologize for that. In my mind, our argument from this morning was still going on.
Me: I realized that which is why I need to apologize for saying what I said when I left. More like.. the WAY I said it.
John smiles suddenly: Are we going to argue about who needs to apologize the most?
Me: Not if you admit that I need to apologize more.
John: No, I was rude. You're hurting, and I mocked you for it.
I sigh in exasperation: And I got very mad at you when all you were doing was trying to help. The whole argument. My apology trumps yours, get over it.
I try very hard not to smile as the sudden irony of the moment hits me. Arguing about apologizing, this is a new one.
John cracks up laughing before he pulls me into a tight hug.
John is still laughing a little: Alright, fine. You win, you silly, oversensitive girl.
Girl? Hah. Not anymore. John just LOVES to rub in that he's ten years older than me.
I feel like it's been ages since he's even hugged me, I think as I make the hug last longer than normal. John takes a deep breath and acts like he doesn't mind at all. We stand there for several minutes, each of us working at mending hurt feelings.
When we pull away from each other, I notice something on John's shoulder. It bugs me. What is it? Flour? My foundation? Stupid powder stuff drives me crazy.
John tries to look at what I'm doing: What?
Me: There's something on your shoulder.
John smiles: Don't worry about it. I'll change in a minute.
Me: No, give me a sec, I can get it off.
John: I was thinking... do you really want a big wedding?
Wedding? Did he say wedding? Surely not. Okay... maybe he did.
I stop messing with whatever it is on his shoulder for a minute: It doesn't matter to me, really. I've had two big weddings, and that was one too many.
John's smile gets wider: Something quiet and private at home then?
I smile back: As long as there's a honeymoon afterward.
John chuckles again. I get distracted again by his shoulder. What the heck is that? Icing? I lick my index finger and try to get whatever it is out.
John: Elena, just leave it.
Me: No, I can get it. Just hold still.
John: Let the washing machine take care of it.
Me: But what if it doesn't? What if it was there when you put it on? And it looks like I can scratch it off if I just can do it right.
I stand there and concentrate on the blasted stuff on his shoulder while he looks down at me and smiles.
I don't see it coming when he suddenly kisses me. Oh, but I don't mind.
Somebody acts like he missed me like I missed him. Now who's silly? I don't know why you've been avoiding this earlier, but I'm glad it's stopped now.
John: I'm sorry I've been so distant these past few days. I wanted to put a little space between Bridgeport and now.
Silly.
My face falls a little: I was wondering.
John: Surely you didn't think ...
Me: I did actually.
John: Oh .... baby don't ever
He doesn't finish his sentence, but I get his implied meaning.
He looks like he wants to start up talking about THAT again. I give him a stern look and watch as the corner of his mouth goes up for a second.
John: I um, invited Hugh over for dinner. I hope that's okay.
Well if it isn't it's too late now, isn't it?
Me: That's alright I guess.
John: You guess.
Me: Well, now I have no idea what I'm going to fix.
John: Don't worry about it. I'll grill some salmon.
Fish. I'm still undecided on fish.
Me: mkay.
I start to pick at his shoulder again. It's really driving me crazy.
John: And now I'm going to go change before you wear a hole in this.
He takes my hand off of his shoulder, kisses it, and goes to pick something else out.
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