Phone Me
Disclaimer: Own nothing/profit nothing - for entertainment only. No beta - all errors are mine alone.
The memorial for Martin had ended and everyone had left, save four. Danny, Steph and Linda had stayed to help Greg tidy up a bit, while Stan dozed in a chair under a blanket Linda had tucked around him shortly after he slipped off to sleep. Once the dining and living rooms were set to rights, Danny and Steph said their goodnights and headed for the door.
Linda stopped them, "Give me just a couple of minutes and then help me get Stan to the car, will you?"
The couple nodded and Danny said, "We'll be at the car. Let me know when you're ready."
As soon as he door closed behind them, Linda went to Greg; she spoke in a kind manner and gently touched his arm, "I want you to know I meant what I said earlier, you'll be fine."
She fixed him with a look and he stared back, giving nothing away.
Her tone didn't change, there was no harshness, just a bit a concern for him, "Come on Greg, don't start doing that again or you'll blow this too."
Now, he was confused, "What, 'this'?"
"With Marcey. I know you heard us in the kitchen. She understands you in a way I never could.
I'm glad she does Greg, really I am. And, I, well I'm sorry I never could."
He gave her a tight nod, "I know. I'm sorry too." The thought came to him that maybe he had been at fault for not giving her much to work with on that point.
She brushed the faintest hint of a kiss on his cheek, "Goodbye, Greg."
Although he tried, he couldn't utter the word 'goodbye', it just seemed too final, so he opted for,
"Be happy, Linda," delivered with a small but heartfelt smile.
She gave him a nod and turned to call Danny in to help her rouse Stan and get him to the car.
Greg turned from the trio and retreated to the kitchen until they had left. He fixed a short scotch and water and made his way to his bedroom for a shower. The question begged, when would Marcey call? He took a leisurely shower. About half way through he found humor in realizing that his mind was calm, for the first time in weeks, he was thinking of nothing but relaxing and enjoying his shower. Between planning the surprise party then the subsequent week following Martin's death he had not relaxed or simply breathed easily for far too long. With his shower completed, Greg dried himself and pulled on his robe. He propped a couple of pillows against the headboard, settled into them with his legs outstretched, and picked up his drink. Sipping absently at the throat warming, pale amber, liquid, Greg began to recall the conversation between Linda and Marcey in the kitchen. Linda had seen him, he was sure of it, she knew he was there and could hear them. She had purposely asked Marcey about not liking when she spoke critically of him. Linda had taken it further by asking if Marcey found his style of communication attractive. His mind kept reminding him that Linda had known he could hear their conversation. This caused him to wonder about whether she had asked about Marcey's age strictly out of curiosity or to try and antagonize him. Linda knew; she knew how he felt about Marcey. Why else would she have asked those questions, knowing full well he could hear her? Hear them! Could Linda know how Marcey felt about him? He wondered. And just what had Linda known? Most importantly, what had Marcey felt? Greg concentrated on Marcey's answers, to see if he could find one of his own. A brief time later his mobile rang.
"Hello?"
"You said to phone you." Marcey said by way of greeting.
"Yes, thank you," a smile evident in his words.
"Welcome." Her response was sort of flat, hesitant, he thought.
"Are you alright?" His attempt to temper his concern failed.
"Yes. Just, just, well,"
She had always been sure and quick thinking, well always for the time he'd known her, and he couldn't help the sudden alarm that tainted his voice, "Marcey?"
"I'm alright Greg, honest. I just, well I just don't know what to say, that's all."
The strong rush of air signaled the release of breath; Greg didn't know he'd been holding. He admitted, "I don't either, really."
They were silent for a moment. Then he, almost, blurted, "Can I see you?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Are you at home?"
"Yeah."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Okay if I come there?"
"Absolutely!"
"Give me about an hour, 'kay?"
"Yeah."
She ended the call and he sat staring at the mute device for a few moments. He smiled at the knowledge of simultaneously feeling both nervous with anticipation and curiously calm and relaxed.
As he dressed, his mind kept replaying part of Marcey's answer about what she thought attractive 'the opposite is. Greg's the opposite. You don't know what he's said, 'til he's gone'. Each time he did, it was followed by another question. Did she know what he had meant in her apartment? Did she know what he'd meant after he left the Benefits Office? If she had known what he'd meant, what did she think? How did she feel about, well, all of it? All of a sudden, Greg realized he was changing for the third time: maybe he wasn't as calm as he thought. He made a quick assessment of his current choice; jeans, light blue tee-shirt, and a lightweight dark blue V collar sweater. Clean, comfortable, and looked relaxed. He hoped it would help him feel relaxed, as he hastily shoved his other clothes back in their respective drawers and cabinets. He picked up his empty glass and headed to the kitchen to get another drink. With the top in one hand, he stopped himself from picking up the decanter. He didn't want anything more to drink, just as he hadn't wanted anymore tablets a couple of days before. Having lost track of the time, Greg quickly checked his phone to see when Marcey had phoned; it was just a little over 45 minutes since they had ended the call. He felt himself growing nervous again as he worried what to do while he waited. After wandering about the kitchen, dining room, and living room, he checked the phone again: 2 minutes. Two minutes?! What was he going to do with himself while he waited? It was beginning to feel like forever since they'd spoken on the phone. Maybe he needed that drink after all he thought as he made his way back to the kitchen. But when he pushed the door open and saw the glass and decanter where he'd left them he paused. "Don't need a drink," he said aloud to reinforce to himself that he was working himself into a state and another drink was not the answer. Greg turned and headed back to the living room, dropped into the nearest chair and focused on breathing the way Marcey had taught him that day in his car. Five deep breaths, moving all his ribs, on the sixth breath he improvised and took a slow deep breath, held it briefly and then exhaled as slowly as he could. A large weight of nervousness seemed to go out of his body, so, he decided to repeat that pattern of breathing a few more times. He saw Marcey's car pull up as he was slowly exhaling a final time. When he rose to meet her at the door, he felt remarkably relaxed physically and mentally calm.
"Marcey." His one word greeting was warm and the smile he offered was complimented by the happiness glinting in his eyes.
Marcey immediately thought this was the man she had believed was in Greg all along. The thought caused her to return his smile, albeit hers was shadowed by a hint of hesitation. "Hello."
"Do come in. Can I get you a drink? Would you like something to eat?" His voice began to pitch slightly as he spoke; they were both aware he was in danger of babbling to no end very soon.
Greg looked her in the eye and just stopped talking. He took a slow deep breath and exhaled the same way. When she grinned knowingly at him, he gave a little shrug, "Sorry."
Marcey took a calming breath of her own, "It's alright. You seem to be doing much better."
He couldn't resist smirking at her, "Yes and no."
"I know what you mean."
Greg had no doubt she did. And, all of a sudden he heard himself saying, "I heard you and Linda earlier." At her sudden change of expression, he hastened to add, "Sorry, I know I shouldn't have but I listened to a part of your conversation."
Marcey gave him a nod in acknowledgement of his apology.
"I really wasn't going to ask this now, but I can't seem to think of anything else at the moment.
You told Linda that you know what I've meant, after I've gone."
He paused briefly and the decided he'd come this far and set it all up, he had to continue or risk never asking. Marcey read his face and knew he was suddenly nervous. Whether it was the question he was about to ask or the answer she would give, she couldn't be sure. She had not expected they would just launch right into that conversation either and knew as much has it had surprised her it likely terrified Greg. Her arm shot forward and she placed her hand above his wrist in reassurance.
Greg glanced at her hand and then sought her eyes again, "What did you, uh, understand me to mean at your office? After I left"
She couldn't help the sense of pride she felt at his show of courage, when she knew full well he was scared. Marcey tilted her head slightly, gave him a bit of a bashful smirk, and offered, "That you hoped, I would feel you deserved me?" She really had intended to state her answer not pose it as a question, but a tiny twinge of doubt had begun under his intense gaze, and she switched tracks mid-sentence.
His quick sigh and the twitch of a smile told her she had been right. But when he stopped himself from actually smiling she felt her previous twinge of doubt begin to blossom.
He tried to figure out whether she was okay with what he had meant, without realizing it he started to sound defensive, "You still think that I..."
Her hand gripped his arm as she cut him off, "No, Greg! I didn't mind that you'd made a move, just that the timing was all wrong, and yeah I was scared, still am." She shrugged as if to apologize, "I didn't handle it right to begin with because I didn't want to make things worse for you and I was scared."
He gave her a questioning look, before allowing his features to relax, "You said that already."
Her turn to be defensive, she enunciated carefully and slowly, "That is because I am still a bit scared." She saw a flash of humor in his eyes, "And, don't you dare laugh at me."
He quickly schooled his features and promised her solemnly, "I wouldn't dare." They looked at each other in silence for moment and then he asked, almost in a whisper, "Too scared for me to give you a hug?"
Not trusting her voice Marcey gave him a tight shake of her head.
Greg turned the arm she held, slid his hand to hers and pulled her hand to his waist, before he trailed his hand up her arm and across the back of her shoulders. When he felt her rest her arm at his lower back he eased his other hand toward her side and slipped his arm around to her waist.
He had kept all his movements slow so as not to do anything to startle Marcey or make her any more nervous than she already was. She had been the one who had had it all together, knew all the answers, and kept him from losing his mind; it was his turn to help her. He gently pulled them closer together and Marcey brought her other hand up to his sweater collar, then around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder. Greg kept his head up from her shoulder, afraid he might be pushing his luck at the moment if he held her in too intimate an embrace too soon.
The instant he felt her begin to relax, he softly said, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Everything."
"Mm. You're welcome."
"And, for letting me hug you without thinking me a cradle snatcher." He had tried for a touch of humor in trying to find out more about what she thought about him or rather about them together.
She pulled back quickly but just far enough to look at him. With a pointed stare she asked, "Greg, how old are you?"
"Fifty last, uh, fifty-one come January."
"You looked through my bag, work identity card, driver's license, name, address, didn't look at my birthdate?"
"Oh, uhm, yeah."
She stared at him a moment, then shifted to an expectant look and waited.
"Thirty-two."
"So, yeah, with an early start you could have a kid my age. Doesn't necessarily make you a cradle snatcher, now does it?"
"No?"
"No."
He nodded but looked as though he didn't quite believe her.
She pinned him with another intense gaze, "Was it a move, Greg?"
He knew immediately she was referring to his touch in her apartment. For a brief moment he thought to deny it again, but then realized she probably knew better than he did, if it was a move or not. So, he gave her half nod, "I don't know. Maybe. Probably."
She smiled and almost chuckled, "Oh, Greg," and then gave him a tentative kiss.
He savored the touch of her lips on his but did not attempt to deepen or prolong her kiss.
When she ended the kiss, he looked at her quizzically and asked, "Was it?"
She answered with a smile, "Yeah. I think so."
He gave her a little shrug and conceded, "Okay."
This earned him another kiss. Marcey started to kiss him the same, rather chastened, way as before. However, when he slipped his arm from her shoulder and brought it to rest at her waist, mirroring his other hand, she deepened the kiss slightly and he responded in kind. Although he didn't want to, Greg chose to end the kiss. The thought that doing so would show Marcey she could trust him to not to take advantage of her. He already had some guilt feeling he had taken advantage, to some degree, the last week plus.
Greg pulled her into another hug and placed his face near her neck, "Now, that's what I call a move."
He had thought she would find humor in the comment but was only mildly surprised when she tilted her cheek against his.
She sighed, "Yeah." and then drew in a slow breath, "What are we doing?"
Her voice was neutral, which seemed to make the shot of panic he suddenly felt, just that much worse. Greg couldn't help his reflexive reactions; his body tensed and his breathing grew shallow. He didn't pull away, fearing she would push him away too soon, as it was.
At that point he was surprised by her as she tightened her hold around his shoulders and pulled him as close as possible, "No, Greg. That's not what I meant. Don't do that. Breathe. I can feel you; move all your ribs. That's it. Good. Breathe nice and deep. Good." She gently massaged the muscles in his back. "Keep breathing."
He knew it was to get him to relax, but he wasn't going to be able to do that until he knew what she had meant. The breathing helped him calm enough to find his voice, "What did you mean?"
It worried him to hear the plaintive tone in his own voice, especially since he had no control over it.
Her hands began slow, smooth, strokes up and down his back, "I just meant I had no intention of..."
When she stalled her speech, it clicked for him; he tightened his hold on her, and idly rubbed tiny circles with his fingers, realizing she needed as much reassurance as he did. Relief began to drift through him and he smiled as he made a guess at what she had started to say, "Making a move?"
She nodded her head against his. When she stopped he nodded too and then said, with a hint of apology, "I helped with that, you know."
Greg felt Marcey's giggle vibrate against him and was instantly calmed.
"I just don't think we should move too fast. I think it'd be a mistake.
He eased his head from under hers, leaned back from her embrace and brought his hands to her face, "Would it be moving too fast if I give you a kiss?" He saw something flash across her eyes and feared she would say yes, so he very quickly added, "Just the one, I promise." Without a flinch he held her gaze and waited patiently for her answer.
Marcey steeled her resolve, "Just the one," she said with a short nod.
With a sideways tilt of his head he affirmed, "Promise."
His kiss was slow and tender, but there was no mistaking his assured approach. When she proved a willing participant and not just a recipient, Greg began to bring the kiss to an end. He leaned his forehead against hers and then smiled when she finally looked at him. With a deliberate and sustained wink he asked, "Could you use a drink?"
It was hard for him not to become mesmerized by her when she swallowed and hesitated before breathing an almost inaudible, "Yeah."
"Come on." Greg dropped his hands to her shoulders and turned her toward the kitchen; he couldn't resist maintaining contact with her and lightly rested one hand on her shoulder as he directed their move to the other room.
As soon as they reached their destination he forced himself to step away and headed to the cabinet along the wall, "What's your preference?"
Suddenly, he recalled she didn't keep much alcohol in her apartment and had never consumed any of her previous drinks in his presence. Also, it occurred to him having a drink had never been her idea, as far as he could remember, it was always his suggestion. There had been a bottle of wine at her apartment, but he was the only one to drink any. She spoke, but he'd been lost in thought, so he turned to face her, hoping it would help to focus his mind in the present, "Sorry?"
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, "Just a small, something."
He gave her a warm, understanding smile and a slight shake of his head to emphasize his words,
"Don't drink much, huh?"
"No."
"Would you rather a tablet?"
He wasn't sure why he had made that offer but he was not about to try and retract it as she seemed to consider it.
She thought it over a moment and then shook her head, "Have anything, uh, in-between?"
With that, Greg got the impression she was opting for a drink because she thought he was. That's when it occurred to him that he didn't need a drink, or particularly want one, especially if it was going to lead Marcey to do something she really did not want to do.
Greg walked back to her, "Um, in-between, warm milk, or, uh, tea. There's tea!." He changed direction both with his thinking and his movements and looked in a cupboard near the stove, "Tea. I have chamomile, citrus blend, earl grey, and, uh, peppermint." His gaze fell on her after he sifted through the tea packets.
Marcey gave him a smile and visibly relaxed a bit, "Peppermint, please."
One swift movement secured the peppermint tea packet and a nudge of his elbow closed the cupboard door. Greg lost himself in thought, again, as he set about fixing the tea. He remembered Marcey saying how he was better off without the tablets and her comment about how the state of him, anxious and whatever else, had made her feel normal. The kettle whistled and he jumped, nearly dropping the tea mugs he held. For a moment he was afraid Marcey had been aware of his thoughts. Realizing that as a daft notion, he returned his attention to the tea and finished pulling everything together on a tray before he suggested they return to the living room.
They moved together toward the couch and, with a small look exchanged between them, sat down next to each in front of the coffee table and the tea tray. Marcey opted for a small bit of sugar in her tea and Greg decided to try his the same way, as he could never remember having had peppermint tea before. They settled back against the cushions and sipped their tea awhile in continued silence. It was amazing how comfortable it felt just being still together. Anytime he and Linda had sat in a room together, both being quiet, there had always been a certain tension around them. The tea was surprisingly pleasant and did have a relaxing effect. He kept his place and held his mug until Marcey had finished her tea as well, then he leaned forward and reached for her mug, setting them both back on the tray. While he was in the rather up right position he angled toward Marcey a bit and took her hand in his, "Sit with me?" She shifted her position enough to lean back with him and he draped his arm about her shoulders, his hand suspended slightly out in front.
Marcey took in the sight of his hand floating about and said, "Your arm'll start to tingle left like that."
She shifted again and curled herself up a bit to be tucked closer against Greg's side allowing for his arm to rest down along her back. He settled his hand at her waist and let out contented sigh when she placed her hand over his heart and laid her head against his shoulder.
After a few minutes he ventured into restarting the conversation between them, "Talk to me
Marcey. Tell me about you, all the things I should ask about but probably would never think to."
She remained silent for a bit and he added, "I am not just feigning a vague interest here. I really do want to know. All about you, anything you're willing to share."
For the next little while she talked about various topics and he actively asked questions along the way, interjecting a comment here and there. Her pauses between topics grew increasingly longer and Greg realized she was fighting sleep. He pulled the earlier discarded blanket from the back of the couch and settled it around them.
Greg placed a kiss on Marcey's head before he whispered, "Sleep's good."
He felt Marcey nod her head against his shoulder. A short time later she felt a bit heavier against him but by no means uncomfortably so. The opposite; he thought and smiled to himself remembering the overheard conversation from earlier. With all that had gone on recently; the revelations and life changes, it felt really good to finally feel at peace. Having Marcey there with him just made it that much better. Greg risked re-positioning slightly to save from a stiff neck in the morning. When she hadn't appeared to be disturbed by his movement he hazarded another bit of motion and drew both arms about her sleeping form; settling in for sleep himself.