Rayna shrugs as she brings the plates to the table, “I dunno. I know he needs it by tomorrow, so I threw things in there to meet the deadline.” She heads out into the great room as I go over the form. Rayna returns with a glass of brandy for me then goes to the fridge for her beverage. “Why are you studying it like that? In all honesty, I did it just before lunch when I was starving.” She chuckles, much to herself.
“Indeed,” I acknowledge her explanation. “I’ll make a few changes before bed. I don’t think Tyler would be amenable to consecutive meals with all this red meat and heavy starches.”
I glance up to Rayna who has already started digging into her spinach and Gouda cheese wrapped in chicken breast. When she comes up for air to find my dubious glare, she simply shrugs. I can’t help but think she’s preoccupied.
“Who did you look like as a baby?” she asks.
“Are you trying that desperately to change the subject?” I reply as I start into my food.
“No. I was thinking about it the other day. We don’t have any baby pictures of you.”
“The same can be said of your missing baby pictures.”
“Uh-un.” She shakes her head while swallowing, then goes for her glass of juice. I watch as her throat shifts as she drinks. “I have quite a few baby pictures. My mother brought them back from Jersey after New Year’s.”
“I’ll see if I can get my hands on some. Are you going to hang them?”
As she cuts into her food, she shrugs her shoulders. “What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”
“Not until the afternoon…about three or so.” I take a sip of my brandy, while observing her. “You cool about earlier?”
“What about earlier?” she avoids my eyes.
I finish chewing my food. “Your gagging.”
“It only happened once. It’s no big deal,” she insists.
“Just thought it was unusual for it to happen at this stage in the game.”
“It won’t happen again, Azmir. And if I’m not mistaken, I more than made up for it in the second round.” She’s finally looking at me. “Drop it.”
We lock eyes for a minute. And here is my fiery Rayna. It’s a welcoming reprimand to have her visit every now and then, but I have no desire to exasperate her. I decide to forfeit and go back to my food.
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need a refresher course is all,” I speak just above a whisper.
Rayna drops her utensils in her plate and cries, “Azmir!” She then belts out an enthusiastic laugh that lightens my shoulders.
I chuckle at my wits and continue to eat, enjoying her mirth. She eventually calms and we enjoy agreeable silence as we eat. When I’m done, I observe Rayna finishing the last of her mashed potatoes and I take my plate to the dishwasher, feeling like a trained domesticated dog.
Before Rayna moved in, I’d leave the dishes in the sink for Chef Boyd or Louise to find in the morning along with the half-filled pots and pans that accompanied them. Rayna shut that down, saying it expressed arrogance and a lack of consideration no matter the fact that I paid Boyd to cook and Louise to clean. I didn’t necessarily agree, but certainly yielded to her request. I even put my soiled clothing in their respective hampers instead of tossing them into a pile for Louise to sort. I’ve come a long way.
“Why do you monitor my cycles?” I hear underneath my introspective thoughts.
I turn to Rayna, “Pardon me?”
“Menstrual cycles. Why do you keep up with them? Is that something you used to do with all of your lovers…or smash partners?” Her lips twitch as she inserts humor.
I don’t know how to answer right away. I finish rinsing the plate and fork and put them into the dishwasher as I ponder her questions.
“I’ve done it a time or two, yes. Though it’s not something I’ve made my thing.”
“Why do you do it?” she asks as she sits, raptly anticipating this exchange. I hope I haven’t offended her by keeping up with her periods.
I find my forehead pinching as I consider her question, deciding how transparent I’ll be in my answer.
“Well, I started it with an older woman I was dating when I was about your age, give a year or two…younger. I knew she’d been around the block and had an idea of my income. I didn’t want the entrapment, so I decided to keep an eye on her cycle…in addition to not slipping with strapping up.”
“And the other?” Rayna retreats from her seat, traveling over to me with her plate, knife, and fork for me to rinse while I’m still at the sink. Yeah, I’m housebroken like a motherfucker, and unapologetically so.
“Huhn?” I ask as I take the dishes.
“You said a time or two. Who was the other woman?” She rests her hip against the counter and folds her arms, appearing very much into this conversation.
“Uhhhh…Tara.” I turn to rinse. “I knew she wanted kids about four years into our relationship. I didn’t. We didn’t exactly use…” Suddenly discussing my former sex life with my wife isn’t so fluid. “Well, you know…birth control was entirely her responsibility, leaving me little control. So, I did the math to stay on top of things.”
“Is that’s why you count mine?” Her eyes are wide though her tone is soft.