I giggled, just a little, mainly because I couldn’t help myself. I squirmed and kept pushing at him. He didn’t budge.
Then I scowled.
“Seriously, stop. I don’t like being tickled.”
“Seriously?” he asked, stil watching me, then he did it again.
“Dude! Stop!” I shouted and heaved. Heaving, I found, also didn’t work. Hank was solid and strong and, although most of the time it was super-good, there were times, like that one, when it was irritatingly bad.
I tried to grab his wrists. Instead, he grabbed mine, pul ed them over my head and, after a brief tussle, held them in one hand.
“Don’t cal me dude,” he said but he was grinning.
I frowned.
“Dude,” I replied, just to be stubborn.
At my use of the word “dude” he used his free hand to torment me by tickling me again.
Half-giggling, half-squirming under him, some of the time shouting at him to stop, alternating with cal ing him dude just to be annoying, we eventual y rol ed off the couch.
I landed on top of him, my hands were freed, I sat up astride him and I started to search for ticklish spots on Hank (I found none, though he didn’t let me try for very long, as in I was searching for about two seconds). This deteriorated into wrestling (because I was stil trying) which degenerated to groping which became far more serious and we ended up never seeing the end of the movie.
I didn’t mind, it didn’t seem like it was going to be a good movie anyway.
*
Early Sunday morning, I left for Chicago. I’d packed a few suitcases to take back with me. Hank and Uncle Tex were going to move the rest of my stuff to Uncle Tex’s while I was gone. Hank took my bags out to the car while I finished getting ready at the same time I was eating a breakfast of Hank’s scrambled eggs and toast.
I put my dishes in the dishwasher, grabbed my purse, shoving my lip balm into the easily accessible side pouch (because everyone knew, on a road trip, you needed easily accessible lip balm) and walked out the front door.
Hank was leaning against the side of the hood of my car (which he’d had returned from the impound the day after Bil y was caught). He had his ankles and arms crossed and Shamus was sitting by his legs.
Hank was staring at his feet, looking both handsome and lost in thought.
I nearly tripped at the sight of him but pul ed myself together and walked forward.
Hank’s head came up and he watched me approach him.
When I got to within reaching distance, he uncrossed his arms and ankles, grabbed me and pul ed me between his legs.
My arms went around his waist, I relaxed into him and I rested my cheek on his chest.
“You’re stoppin’ in Iowa?” he asked over my head.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“You’l cal me when you get a hotel,” It wasn’t so much a question as a demand. A worthless demand, we’d already had this conversation.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling my nostrils beginning to sting.
“You’re stayin’ with Annette and Jason when you get there?” he asked, even though he knew that too.
Annette and Jason had left the day before my parents. I had no idea of the state of my loft but I didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with any aspect of my life that included memories of Bil y, except to clean it up, pack it up and let it go.
“Yeah,” I repeated.
His arms, already tight, got tighter.
“Jesus, Roxie,” he muttered and his voice sounded hoarse.
My arms got tighter too and the tears started to fal down my cheeks.
“It’s only a few weeks,” I said into his chest but you could hear the tears in my voice.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
After awhile, he demanded quietly, “Look at me, Sunshine.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. The minute I did, his came down and he kissed me.
I knew Hank’s light kisses, necking kisses and make-me-dizzy kisses. This was a forth kind of kiss, long, sweet and ful of promise. It might have been the best of them al (okay, maybe not, but a close second).
His mouth came away from mine and he wiped the tears from my cheeks. Then he walked me to the driver’s side, his arm hooked around my neck, mine around his waist. He gave me a light kiss, I got in, started the car, looked up at him and gave a weak smile and a stupid wave and I drove away.
At the end of the block, I looked into the rearview mirror and he was standing in the same spot, eyes on my car, Shamus at his side.
I turned the car left toward University Boulevard.
*
When there was nothing but highway in front of me and Denver in my mirrors, I pul ed out my cel , flipped it opened and said Hank’s name into the phone. It rang twice.
“You okay?” he asked in greeting.
“My life began when I met you,” I told him.
There was a beat of silence.
Then, I heard him say, “Sunshine –”
I flipped the phone closed, pushed it deep in my purse but it rang once before I turned up Springsteen and I started singing with him to “She’s the One”.
Together, Bruce and I drowned out the sound of the ringing phone.