She notified him of the divorce by e-mail.
He stared at the screen in disbelief; knowing she'd get everything, he was grateful that they'd never had children.
He flicked his zippo open and shut (something he did when he was either in deep thought or perplexed). And now he did it out of anger, out of hurt, out of betrayal. He knew she'd been cheating, but he never said a word-he loved her that much. How long had it gone on? Five years, six? He didn't know.
His head began to ache and he shut down his laptop, marked the court date down on his large calendar and circled it, more times than he should have.
He told no one.
He finished his last class of the day, stuffed papers into his briefcase and went to his car. The weather was nice, so he put the top down, and drove. He blared Blue October and just drove, to wherever the road would take him. And there, alone in his car, sunglasses on, the wind blowing through his sandy blond hair, he let the tears come.
He was early getting to the courthouse, while she was late, a tall man following her; her lover, no doubt, and his stomach turned. Why was she late? She was always punctual~you could set your watch by her. Had they made love? Had they had sex? What the hell did they even call it, he wondered. His thoughts were interrupted when the judge called his name. He agreed to let her have anything she wanted; he wanted out of the stuffy courtroom. He felt sick. Sign here, sign there, blah, blah, blah. Get me the fuck out of here, for the love of God…
He hurried down the stairwell when he heard her call his name. Against his better judgement, he turned, only to hear her say how sorry she was. He couldn't help but laugh as he continued down the stairs and out of that God forsaken hell-hole. She stared after him, but he never looked back.
Months passed. He taught his classes. He ate frozen dinners. He ran alone on the beach from 4 to 5 in the mornings (Kate had taken his dog, Max). His only stipulation in the divorce was that he could keep the beach house. She was happy to oblige: she hated it. She said it wasn't fit to live in, that it needed too much work and he was always too busy to fix anything. Now, he was proving her wrong. After work, he'd work until he nearly dropped, replacing broken items, painting, cleaning. It wouldn't be too long until it was beautiful: the way he once remembered it, so many years ago, growing up as a child. As a teenager, he would wake up in the mornings and jump into the ocean. He would do it again, soon.
One evening, while painting, he heard music nearby. The only other house on the beach was vacant, he thought. He went to the window and peered out, saw a woman carrying boxes inside the house. He stared longer than he should've, but realized that there was no one to help her. He pulled on an old t-shirt and made his way to the house. When he got there, the woman was struggling with a heavy box.
"Let me help," he offered, picking up the box, and the woman sighed.
"Thank you."
"Where do you want it?"
"Oh, just inside…anywhere."
When he entered, he heard The Rolling Stones playing on a record player. He put the box down and walked to the player.
"Vinyl. Nice."
She put another box down and nodded.
"Nothing beats the sound. Oh…I hope it wasn't bothering you…"
"No. I love the Stones. It's just that this place has been vacant for years. I never thought anyone would move into it."
The woman shrugged. "I love the beach. Plus I'm pretty handy, so I can fix it up myself."
"Yeah. I'm sort of renovating my place, too. I live next door." He extended his hand. "I'm Jimmy."
She shook his hand. "Annie."
"Good to meet you, Annie." He paused. "Well, whattaya say I help you carry in the rest of your stuff? I'm not really doing anything else."
"Wow. Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Not at all," he said with a smile.
Annie smiled back. "Thank you."
It was nearly dark by the time they got everything inside. Jimmy walked around the place, amazed at the architecture, while Annie rummaged around in the kitchen. "I found some spaghettios!" she yelled, and Jimmy chuckled. "Sounds great!"
Annie played the The Rolling Stones as they ate, and Jimmy had to keep from laughing when he saw her head bobbing from side to side to the music while she ate (he was sure she was unaware of it).
"What's your last name?"
Annie looked up. "Reddington."
"Mine's Spader."
Annie smiled, began to gather the dirty dishes. Jimmy stood up and began helping. They took the dishes to the kitchen, but there were boxes everywhere, and when Annie turned to get the dishes from Jimmy, he leaned in to put them into the sink, and they bumped into each other. (For a fleeting moment, Jimmy thought it odd that I Can't No Satisfaction was playing in the other room.)
"I'm sorry!"
Jimmy laughed, looked at the spaghettio stain on his shirt.
"It's ok. It's ancient."
He laughed as he watched Annie fumble in a box and pull out a dish towel and began to pat his chest to remove the stain, to no avail.
"If you wanna take it off I can wash it." She paused and the grinned. "Or I could just Spray'N'Wash you."
Jimmy looked at her, and Annie couldn't help but giggle.
"Actually, it's getting late…"
"I'll put it on a quick cycle. It'll never come out unless you plan on washing it when you get home."
Jimmy looked at her. For some reason, he didn't want to leave. A moment later, he pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to her. "Okay. Be right back!" and she ran off to another room.
Jimmy ran hot water, put dish soap in it, and had the dishes mostly washed by the time she returned.
"You're domesticated."
"I'm divorced," he laughed, and Annie smiled. "At least you have a good attitude about it."
Jimmy dried the last bowl and put it away. "Now I do."
"Oh, shit! I almost forgot. I have a bottle of wine handy. Do you drink?"
"Spaghettios and wine." Jimmy laughed. "Yes, I drink on occasion."
Annie paused. "Is this a wine worthy occasion?"
Jimmy dried his hands. "I've been here three hours. You barely know me, and I'm standing in your kitchen half naked." He sighed. "I'd call that an occasion."
Annie laughed, began rummaging through another box for a wine opener.
"You gave her everything?"
"Yep."
Annie finished her second glass of wine and poured another.
"Easy, there, Sunshine," Jimmy laughed, sipping his first glass, and Annie smiled.
"I love wine."
"I can tell," he replied, raising an eyebrow.
He paused. "What else do you love? Besides vinyl, spaghettios, the beach, and the Stones?"
"I love…sunsets. On the beach, of course." She smiled. "I love oversized sweaters and fuzzy socks, sitting in front of a fireplace in the winter time. I'd love to be kissed under a mistloe at Christmastime." Her thoughts trailed off; the wine was getting to her. "I'd love…love." She paused. "I'm not talking being together for eight years and them taking all of your shit love," she winked, "but real, real love."
Jimmy smiled. "Wouldn't that be nice," he said to himself before standing up.
"It's late. I should go. And you should go to bed," he grinned.
Annie laughed, gave a military salute. "Yes, Sir."
Jimmy made his way to the door. "Lock up."
"Will do. Bye, Jimmy Spader."
"Goodnight, Annie Reddington."
Jimmy left, but didn't go home. He walked along the beach for a while, still shirtless, staring at the moon and stars, pitching rocks into the ocean, and dreaming. Tomorrow he'd start back work on his house. He had two days before summer break and then could devote all of his time to it-he couldn't wait.
He went home, brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. He pulled the sheet and blanket back and was ready to lie down, and then he heard the music…
He checked his watch: 3:30 a.m. He saw dim lights on at Annie's and heard a bluesy tune coming from the small house. He wondered if she'd found another bottle of wine. He knew it was none of his business. Hell, she was a grown woman and could do as she pleased. But that didn't stop him from putting his shoes on and walking to her front door, which was unlocked, and wide open. He called her name through the screen door and got no answer. He hesitated, and then pulled the handle on the screen door. It was unlocked, so he went inside.
He went to the record player and turned the sound down, and called for her once more.
"Up here!" she called, and Jimmy found himself climbing the stairs.
"Where are you?"
"In here."
He opened the door, which looked to be her bedroom, to find her in a bathrobe, her hair wet from a bath or shower.
"The music?"
Jimmy cleared his throat. "Um, yeah. Plus, you were kinda drunk earlier, and…"
Annie smiled. "I'm ok. I'll keep the music low from now on."
"No, it's not really that…"
"Then what is it?" Annie asked, removing the towel atop her head. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders, in curls (before, she'd had it in a loose bun and he thought it was short).
"I, uh, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Without saying anything, she removed her robe to reveal Jimmy's previously stained shirt.
"I hope you don't mind. All my stuff is boxed up, and you left before it got dry."
Jimmy stared at her. "Not at all. It looks better on you, anyway."
Annie smiled, began combing her hair.
"Would you mind?" she asked, holding out the hairbrush. "My mother used to comb my hair forever before bed. It was wonderful." (Either she didn't seem to realize what time it was, or she didn't care.)
As if in a trance, Jimmy moved forward and took the brush from her and began combing her hair. It was soft and smelled wonderful. He hadn't realized how much he missed these feminine things: softness, sweet smelling, curvaceous…gorgeous.
Annie tilted her head back and closed her eyes, and Jimmy stared at her. He found himself massaging her scalp, and when she let out a soft moan, he cleared his throat, put the hairbrush on her nightstand, and told her that it was late and he had to go. "Please lock your doors."
"Why? You're the only one around for miles."
Jimmy put his hands in his pockets. He was speechless. After a moment, he said that he had to go, and he let himself out.
Jimmy was late getting home: no painting today. He opened a beer and lit a cigarette, put the cold bottle to his forehead. It was hot already, despite the weather forecast saying there would be a delay in the summer heat. It would be the end of the summer, at best, before he could fix his air conditioning. Thank goodness he lived beside the ocean.
He rummaged through his freezer and realized he needed to go to the store. As he was about to grab a questionable freezer burnt meal, someone knocked on his door.
"Hi!"
Annie.
Jimmy smiled. "Hey, you. What have you got there, that smells so amazing?"
"Lasagna. And wine, of course."
Jimmy laughed and opened the door for her, and took the lasagna took the kitchen. He put his cigarette out and got out plates, silverware, and two wine glasses as Annie set the table.
"I thought you might be tired of bachelor food, so voila!"
Jimmy poured the wine.
"How did you know I was single?"
Annie looked up from putting the lasagna onto the plates.
She shrugged. "Lucky guess." She paused. "Let's eat."
Jimmy sat back in his chair, miserably content.
"I haven't eaten that much since third grade when Greg Fitzgerald conned me into a pie eating contest."
Annie laughed. "Did you throw up?"
"Let's just say, it wasn't pretty." He sighed, took a drink of wine.
"That was absolutely delicious. Did you make it?"
"My grandma's recipe," she winked.
Jimmy let out a groan. "Now I need to take a nap."
"Well how 'bout you do that, while I clean up?"
"No, no. I can't let you do that."
"Please, it's no bother. I'd be happy to!"
Jimmy thought about it for a minute: it was awfully tempting.
"Okay." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "Listen, I really want to thank you. This was great."
Annie smiled. "You're welcome."
When Jimmy woke up, the house was dark and quiet. He called for Annie, but got no response, so he searched the house for her. When he couldn't find her there, he found her sitting outside next to a lit fire pit. Barefoot, he joined her.
"Beautiful, isn't it? The flames dancing."
"Thank you for cleaning up. I guess I was more tired than I thought."
"No worries," Annie said, her eyes never leaving the fire.
"So how come you're here?" Jimmy asked. "That place has been vacant for years."
"My father owns it. I used to come here for summer vacations when I was little. He told me I could do what I wanted to with it, so I decided to move in."
"So what do you do?"
"Whatever I like. I have quite a large trust fund. Sometimes I travel…but I like it here the best." She paused, glanced at him. "What about you, Jimmy Spader? What do you do?"
"I teach at the college. And I do construction work. Which is great, since I'm fixing up my place." He paused. "Speaking of which, if you need any help with your house..."
"That's really kind of you. But there are people taking care of all of that for me. Which, by the way, it might get noisy sometimes."
Jimmy nudged her. "Just turn up the tunes."
Annie laughed.
He watched the fire dance and the ashes rise, and then he looked at her. Her profile was nearly perfect-a masterpiece. My God, she was indeed beautiful. He felt so at ease with her for some reason that he couldn't quite ascertain. He enjoyed her company immensely, and she seemed to enjoy his. He looked back to the fire and put his hands in his pockets.
In the distance, there was a faint glare from a binocular lens.