The Between Years

to presentation. That meant that we now needed to make reservations. Randy wore a dress shirt and tie, even though a dress code hadn't been set in place, but he wanted to fit in with the other patrons. The lights had become dimmer and the prices had been jacked up. Randy had taken me there when we'd first started dating, which quickly became his idea of a romantic dinner. In spite of the prices, I still applaud his taste.

    Over my minestrone soup, I said, “Looks like we've got some of our old energy back.”

    “ You look great,” was all Randy said.

    That was all he needed to say to make me feel good. Little compliments make a woman feel loved, adored. For a moment, I felt like we could forget about our pain and that grief didn't need to consume our lives.

    I ordered a lasagna and Randy ordered the chicken parmesan, each with a glass of red wine. When the food arrived, I understood why the restaurant had become so expensive (and popular!).

    “ This reminds me of the old days,” I said.

    Randy smiled. “Back then, we didn't have a care or worry in the world.”

    “ Except for finishing school maybe.”

    Randy's raised eyebrows suggested that I should know what he meant.

    We ate silence, save for the occasional comment about how our day had gone. Randy had experienced more problems with the neighborhood kids at the library. I'd just finished a round or marking. After, we went to see a foreign film (I can't remember the name of it anymore) at a boutique movie theatre. Randy slipped his arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder, and all the pain that'd haunted me washed away.

    During the drive home, we made new plans. Randy mentioned that the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra would be giving a concert at the University of Buffalo and wondered if I'd like to go. I told him to go ahead and order the tickets. We made more plans, like a weekend in Toronto. Even if we only talked about these things, they made me feel like our relationship was alive again, and that we were vibrant human beings.

    When we arrived home, Randy scooped me up, carried me into the house, and whisked me off to the bedroom. Admittedly, I was excited about it this time, but not so much that I wanted to get straight to business.

    “ Give me a minute to freshen up,” I said.

    Randy nodded, but I could judge by his eyes that he was laden with pent-up energy, and didn't want to wait another second.

    I slipped into the bathroom, shut the door, and ran the taps. Part of this excursion really was to freshen up, but I didn't want Randy to know about any of my extracurricular activities. I grabbed the package of birth control pills I'd hidden beneath the sink and pushed one out of the blister package. Then I popped it into my mouth, scooped a handful of water, and swallowed. I pictured Randy pacing back and forth in anticipation, so I flushed the toilet to throw him off.

    Back in the bedroom, Randy had already stripped down to his boxers and socks, which he peeled off as I inched inside. When he saw me, he leaned back and slipped off his boxers to show the ready erection that bobbed up and down between his legs. This wasn't terribly unlike the old days, except I didn't need to hide my birth control consumption from him, and he still wore condoms as a safety measure. No such luck this time.

    Randy reached for me, pulled me in by the wrists, and fell back onto the bed. I landed square on his chest, and my hair draped over his face. He leaned in to kiss me, his tongue burrowed into my mouth, and his hands clutched my ass.

    He helped lift the shirt over my head, unhooked my bra, and helped me undress, piece by piece until I was completely nude. Then he ran his fingers over my arms, legs, ass and breasts with a tenderness that he hadn't offered in ages. When he slid inside of me, he obliterated the last of my resistance. I closed my eyes to absorb the pleasure. A grunt gushed from my lips and yet I was unashamed.

    With my free hand, I clung to the bedpost; my other hand was trapped beneath Randy's weight. The headboard smacked the wall and the bedsprings creaked. His lips clung to my neck like a suction cup while he thrust with an increasing tempo. I always knew when Randy was about to finish based on his rhythm alone. He always thrust harder and faster, with his chest and forehead glistening with sweat, when he was about to come. His face twitched, he grunted several times, and the deed was finished.

    Just then, his chest lifted