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Je veux être la fille avec la plupart de gâteau. Regardez-moi dans la glace.
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10 March 2006


Jefferson. Airplane.

I drove to the airport, all the while thinking how I couldn’t believe that he was coming. We’d laughed at our mutual luck that Viviane was having her apartment remodeled and would need a place to stay for several days. I had a weekend free of children and so did Jefferson. He left his apartment to Viviane and got on a plane.

I’d missed him since December.

I parked the car and walked across to the terminal. I was early, as usual. I checked the Arrivals board and took a seat outside the gate to wait the ten minutes for his flight to arrive. As people started filing out and hugging their greeters I scanned the passengers, watching the doorway for him.

Wouldn’t it be just like Jefferson to be the last one off?

Okay, they were closing the door and Jefferson was NOT on the flight. I panicked a
little, checking the board again.


I’d waited at the wrong gate. If you can believe it there was another flight from LaGuardia arriving within minutes of his. Two gates down.

I set off, totally embarrassed.

I nearly walked right past him and whipped around on my heel when I saw his face.

He was plugged into his headphones and didn’t see me right away. I put a hand on his shoulder and mouthed “I’m so sorry!”

He stood and took my neck, pulling me close. We stood, quietly holding each other in the thoroughfare, our breathing and the muffled strains of Death Cab for Cutie the only sounds I could hear.

When we pulled back and kissed, I asked how long he’d been waiting.

“Hours! Where the fuck have you been?”

“I’m such an idiot! I was at the wrong gate.”

“I was thinking that it is very unlike you to be late.”

“It’s true; I am usually early. Is this your bag?”

He held up the tiny briefcase-sized bag, “I didn’t figure I’d be needing many clothes.”

“You figured right, darlin’. Now, let’s get out of here. You must be starving.”

“Oh, I am. You know, they don’t feed you on airplanes anymore. And that is NOT a short flight.”

“Poor baby. Welcome to the heart of America. We know how to feed our men here.”

It was warm, close to 65 degrees. Jefferson tossed his wool coat in the back seat and we kissed.

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

“I know, and I’m here for five days!”

“Man, I am going to be so ready to be rid of you come Tuesday.”

I’d had several weeks to plan our schedule for Jefferson’s first visit to my home, but I laughed when the things which sounded like the most fun were going to the grocery store, cooking food and taking walks. I didn’t worry about it. I figured we’d decide as we went along. Real easy-like.

Anyway, this was going to be a landmark visit of sorts.

Jefferson would meet my children. He offered to meet my parents. And then, as if to drive the point home that he is the coolest boyfriend ever, he wondered if he’d be meeting my ex, Daniel.

Intense stuff, sure, but we expect those thoughts when we’re together.

I pulled out of the space and merged onto the highway for home.

“There is nothing here! Where are the people? There are no buildings! There aren’t even cars!”

“Oh, hush, you. You’re insulting the cows.”

I rested my hand on his thigh as we drove and sang. He looked tired.

I took him for barbecue at one of my favorite places. We flirted with the server: a cute, plump girl working her very first shift. As we sat by the window and watched people walking past, Jefferson remarked, “I don’t know why you can’t seem to get laid in this’s crawling with hot people!”

“I have impossibly high standards,” I said.

“I wish I’d had time to get my hair cut before I left the city,” he said, “I fear I might not meet your standards of hotness now.”

“You are a bit shaggy,” I said, “But not to worry, there are barbershops here. I’ll take you to the right one.”

We held hands as we strolled on Main street, wandering into shops until it was time to get the boys from school.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Miles and his class were playing in the yard. We sat in the car and I pointed him out. One of his friends said something and pointed to the car and Miles came running over.

“Okay, showtime!” We got out of the car.


“Hey, darlin'! How was your day?”

“Good!” He blushed and looked down, smiling, “Hi, Jefferson…”

“Hello, young man! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

They shook hands.

We all walked inside to collect Jack, who came running when he saw us.

Right past me.

“Jefferson! Yay!”

He practically threw himself into Jefferson’s arms and they commenced a long discussion about rockets and airplanes.

Okay, everyone, let’s go home!

“Is Jefferson coming to our house, Momma?”

“Yes he is, and tomorrow, your Daddy comes to see you! How did you get so lucky to have this much excitement in one weekend?!”

We put the kids into carseats and drove the two blocks to my house. Jack grabbed Jefferson by the hand and dragged him to his bedroom. I hung up coats and set out stuff for the kids’ dinner as the boys played.

I called them to dinner; Jefferson went to change into PJs and joined me in the kitchen. I poured bourbons and we clinked glasses as the kids ate.

I’ve said it before; I enjoy the anticipation of being alone with a lover while we are tending to children. Knowing that nothing will happen until they are fast asleep makes minutes seem like hours and that makes the togetherness explode. It's the little electric shivers when fingertips brush shoulders or linger a little longer on thighs that make me want to prolong the agony just a little longer; just put off pleasure in favor of anticipation for a bit more.

The boys reluctantly got ready for bed and Jack very sweetly invited Jefferson to sleep with him that night, "You can sleep in my bed, Jefferson. My Momma is used to sleeping by herself. She's good at it."

It may have been the first time in history that Jefferson has declined to share a bed with a gorgeous blond.

We sat on the couch, Jefferson and I, intertwining fingers, stealing kisses. Jack came out of his room just once and I stood to take him back in.

“No! I want Jefferson.”


Blogger Ruby said...

waiting with bated breath (OK, partially bated) for the story's continuation ...

Blogger Leela Lamore said...

and you continue the tease!


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