I stood at Andi’s door with an umbrella in hand and she came out, pulling her jacket on. She wore her brown hair down, curling in the humid air until it was less than shoulder length. She called back into the house, “We’ll be back in an hour or so,” and smiled up at me. At five-five she was just lip-height to my six-two frame. I only had to bow my head to meet her lips in greeting.
“That’s getting to be easy,” she said happily. She took hold of my right arm with both hands and we stepped off the porch into the rain together, her left hand sliding down my arm to take my hand. There was an almost giddy energy we shared, scarcely able to believe we were dropping the pretense of being “just friends,” and letting ourselves enjoy the glow of a new relationship.
We walked north on Boylston, an unspoken agreement between us to walk around Volunteer Park. On the way, Andi asked about my brunch with Mom and I told her some of the revelations that I’d just received. I didn’t mention the part about shaving at night, but I’d filed that away in my mind.
“I just can’t believe that I’m 43 years old and I’m still learning things about my parents. I thought I had everything figured out. I lived here all my life.”
“It sounds wonderful. My folks died before I could find any interesting things out about them,” Andi volunteered. “It’s wonderful to have stories like that.”
“How did they die.”
“Auto accident. I was only 17. They didn’t get to see me graduate from high school or college and never met their granddaughter.”
“Where did you live?”
“Ann Arbor, Michigan. I left the state as soon as I turned 18 and never went back. I just couldn’t stand it.” I remembered Andi’s college was in Florida.
“To Florida?”
“Um. Yeah. There first. Until Jack died. Then wandering.”
“Must have been hard.”
“I was young and scared. He left us well-provided for, but it’s still been lonely.”
Cali, why did you ever bring doubt to me about this beautiful woman? I just wanted to be lost in the pleasure of holding Andi in my arms. I didn’t want to weigh every word to see if it rang true. How could I?
We walked around the west rim of the reservoir and up past the Asian Art Museum. It was still raining, but neither of us cared. We went up the steps to the water tower observatory, but the gate to both entrances was locked. When we stepped into the archway to read the sign posted inside, the wind died and we were sheltered from the rain. I wrapped my arm around Andi and brought her close to me. She raised her face and I kissed her. There was no urgency to our kiss, but a rising sense of passion. We explored each other with all our senses, the arch and umbrella blocking us from view should anyone look up our direction. When we parted, our eyes were glued to each other, seeking affirmation of what we felt in what we saw. We hugged and I buried my face in her sweet smelling hair, letting my lips glide across her cheek and neck.
“We’d better get back,” she whispered. “I told Cali and hour or so.”
“I think we’re already into the ‘so’ part of that.” We laughed and held each other closely as we walked back down the steps. When we got to Broadway, Andi directed me to a drugstore and we went in. I followed along as she led me down a row of hair color products. She paused in front of a men’s product line and started holding boxes up against my face.
“Your mother was right; we need to touch up your roots.” I paid for the hair color—considerably less than a trip to see Sinclair—and we walked on down the hill to her duplex, forgetting to put up the umbrella.
“Cali, we’re back!” she called when we went in. “How about some hot chocolate?”
Cali bounced into the room and hugged her mother. She laughed at us standing there with water dripping off our faces.
“Eww! Looks like you two stayed outside too long,” she said. “Didn’t you have an umbrella?” Andi and I just looked at each other and grinned. “I’ll make the chocolate,” Cali said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t you want to change into something dry?”
“That’s a good idea. Dag, run home and put on your grungy jeans and a tee shirt, then come back here and the Marx sisters will do your roots.”
“I get to be Harpo! Honk Honk.” Cali called from the kitchen.
“You couldn’t keep from talking long enough to be Harpo, brat,” Andi scolded. “You’ll have to be Chico. He’s the fast talker.”
“We could make Dag Groucho. How much of that hair color did you get? We’ll have to paint most of the mustache on him.”
“Okay, I’m going,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
***
Before I left that evening, I’d had my roots touched up, had hot chocolate, leftover ribs from yesterday’s barbecue, and a huge bowl of popcorn as the three of us sat on the sofa watching old movies. I couldn’t remember a day that I’d had more fun and I put all thought of Cali’s contract out of my mind. Perhaps she’d forget about it. I could hope.
There was a tense moment halfway through “Horsefeathers” when I turned to Andi and said, “I have tickets to see Two Man Flash at SoDo Friday night. Can I convince you to go with me?”
“Aren’t we too old for them?”
“Apparently there is a limited age bracket between 21 and 21-and-a-half you have to fit into, but I have a fake ID that says I’m much younger than I am.” I grinned at Cali and saw her roll her eyes.
“Oh, but we can’t go hear a band Friday. It’s Cali’s opening.”
“I thought…” I stopped myself and looked a silent appeal at Cali.
“Mom, I thought you wanted Saturday night tickets.”
“And miss the gala?”
“Some gala. A glass of three-buck chuck and a Costco vegetable platter. We have three performances and one’s a matinee. I got you guys tickets for closing on Saturday, not opening.”
“Are you sure, honey? I never miss one of your openings.”
“Mom, really. It’s not like this is a big musical. It’s Shakespeare. Go listen to some good music and then tell me all about it when you get home. I’m so jealous. Or better yet, you do Lady Macbeth and I’ll go with Dag. I love Two Man Flash.” Andi raised a very parental index finger at Cali and wagged it ominously up and down. “Sorry,” Cali squeaked.
“Well, if you’re sure, honey.” She turned to me and her eyes crinkled up in merriment. “It sounds like fun!” she mouthed at me. I gave her an extra squeeze.
And before I left, I’d shared one more toe-curling kiss with Andi at the door.
I felt young and more alive than I’d been in years.
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