Point of Retreat

she never watched from the window again. I thought I’d screwed everything up for good.
     
    I back out of the driveway and straight into hers. I leave the car running and walk around to open the door for her. When I get back inside the car, I get a whiff of her perfume. It’s the vanilla one…my favorite.
     
    “Where are we going?” she asks.
     
    “You’ll see. It’s a surprise,” I say as I pull out of her driveway. Rather than turn onto the street, I pull up right into my own driveway. I kill the ignition and run around to her side of the car and open the door.
     
    “What are you doing, Will?”
     
    I take her hand and pull her out of the car. “We’re here.” I love the look of confusion on her face, so I spare the details.
     
    “You asked me out on a date to your house? I got dressed up, Will! I want to go somewhere.”
     
    She’s whining. I laugh and take her hand and walk her inside. “No, you made me ask you out on a date. I never said we were going anywhere. I just asked if you had plans.”
     
    I've already cooked supper so I walk into the kitchen and get our plates. Rather than sit at the table to eat, I take the plates to the coffee table in the living room. She pulls her jacket off and seems a little disappointed. I continue to elude her while I make our drinks, then take a seat in the floor with her.
     
    “I’m not trying to seem ungrateful,” she says with a mouthful of pasta. “It’s just that we never get to go anywhere anymore. I was looking forward to doing something different.”
     
    I take a drink and wipe my mouth. “Babe, I know what you mean. But tonight has sort of already been planned out for us.” I toss another breadstick on her plate.
     
    “What do you mean planned out for us? I’m not following,” she says.
     
    I don’t respond. I just continue eating.
     
    “Will, just tell me what’s going on, your evasiveness is making me nervous.”
     
    I grin at her and take a drink. “I’m not trying to make you nervous. I’m just doing what I was told.”
     
    She can tell I’m enjoying this. She gives up trying to get anything out of me and takes another bite of her food. “The pasta’s good, at least,” she says.
     
    “So is the view.”
     
    She smiles and winks at me and continues to eat.
     
    She's wearing her hair down tonight. I love it when she wears her hair down. I also love it when she wears it up. In fact, I don't think she's ever worn it in a way that made me not love it. She’s so incredibly beautiful…especially when she’s not trying to be. I realize I’ve been staring at her, lost in thought. I've barely eaten half my food and she's almost finished.
     
    “Will?” She finishes her last bite of food then wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Does this have anything to do with my mom?” she asks quietly. “You know…with our promise to her?”
     
    I know what she’s asking me. I immediately feel guilty that I haven’t thought about what she would think my intentions were tonight. I don’t want her to feel like I expect anything at all from her.
     
    “Not in that way, Babe.” I reach across and take her hand. “That’s not what tonight’s about. I’m sorry if you thought that. That’s for another time…when you’re ready.”
     
    She smiles at me. “Well, I wasn’t gonna object if it was,” she says.
     
    Her comment catches me off guard. I’ve gotten so used to the fact that one of us always calls retreat; I haven't really entertained the possibility of the alternative tonight.
     
    She looks embarrassed by her forwardness and diverts her attention back down to her plate. She tears off a piece of bread and dips it in the sauce. When she’s finished eating, she takes a drink and looks back up at me.
     
    “Before,” she whispers unsteadily. “When I asked if this had anything to do with my mom, you said ‘not in that way.’ What’d you mean by that? Are you saying tonight has something to do with her in a different way?”
     
    I nod, then stand up and take her hand and pull her up. I wrap my arms around her and she leans against my chest and clasps her hands behind my back. “It does have to do with her, Babe.” She pulls her face away from my chest and looks up at me while I explain. “She gave me something else…besides the letters.”
     
    Julia made me promise not to tell her about the letters and the gift until it was time to give them to her. They’ve already opened the letters; the gift was