Chapter Thirteen:

Figure-Eights Through the Clouds

 A few weeks had passed since the fourth, and Eric and I were just getting around to celebrating.  Like he had planned, we went to the local pizza parlor.  It was just the two of us; he had invited Jamie, too.  While she had explained that she was feeling a little tired and needed some rest, I had the feeling she was just trying to give us a chance to catch up.

"So, what class do you want to take together first?" Eric asked me, picking up his third piece of pizza.  "Underwater basket weaving, maybe?  It'd give us a great chance to check out the pool."

"Umm… I don't think so. … And, for your information, they call it underwater basket weaving because you hold the basket in a pan of water while you work – you, yourself, are actually quite dry."  I laughed, picturing Eric showing up for class on the first day in his swim trunks and goggles.

"What's up with you?  First, I don't hear from you for over a month and have to track you down at your mom's.  And today, you're dodging every question I have about school.  What gives?"  Eric's gaze was unyielding and it was obvious that he expected an answer.

"Jamie's pregnant." 

A spray of Pepsi flew across the table as my words registered.  "Oh, that's funny!  Nice joke.  So what is it really?"

I didn't respond.

"You're eighteen years old!"  His voice was raised, and a few people were starting to look our way.

"Thanks.  You know, I had lost count around ten," I muttered.  "For once, why can't we have a normal reaction?  What I wouldn't give for a 'Congratulations!' or a 'How exciting!'  But no, this time I get showered with pop and asked if I know how old I am."

Silence fell among us.  I knew I had nothing to explain to him.  Then Eric changed the subject.  "Did you catch Letterman last night?  They had this lady on who could actually pop her eyes out!"  His hands went to his eyes, as he demonstrated how far they had protruded.  We both laughed, our conversation returning to normal.

On the way out of the pizza place, Eric invited me back to his house to catch a movie.  I realized that was his way of apologizing.  "I'll have to pass on the movie, but I could use some of your expert computer skills," I smirked.

That afternoon, I returned home, a box under my arm.  Opening the door, the sound of Jamie's voice greeted me.  She was in the kitchen, putting away a few dishes, singing as if she didn't have a care in the world.  "She was feeling tired and needed some rest, hugh?"  I smiled.  She hadn't heard me enter, so I took full advantage of the opportunity. 

"This is the air I breathe,

This is the air I breathe,

Your holy presence

Living in Me.

And I, I'm desperate for You,

And I, I'm lost without You…"

["Breathe"]

            Just then she saw me.  "How long have you been back?"

            I glanced at my watch.  "Maybe five minutes – not long enough to catch the full show, I'm afraid.  Come here; I have something for you to check out."  I could hardly contain myself as I held out the box.

            Joining me in the living room, she took the box in her lap, lifted the lid, and pulled out the photo album from within.  As she opened to the first page, she gasped.  Centered in the page was a picture of the two of us, our faces wrinkled, streaks of gray running through our hair.  Above the picture read the words,

"Happy Golden Anniversary:  50 and still going strong."

            "Landon, you usually celebrate your golden anniversary after 50 years."  Her face glowed with joy.

            "50 years… 50 days… what's the difference, really?  I mean, one day with you provides me with more memories than a year without you."

            Her fingers were running over the pictures as she flipped through the next few pages filled with pictures of us in our "older days".  "How did you do these?"

            "Well, I figured that Eric deserved an opportunity to redeem his photo editing skills. See here…"  I pointed to one of the pictures.  "After our kids graduated, we spent a year in the Peace Core.  They stationed us in Egypt, so we made the trip out to see the pyramids.  We had to ride these camels to get there – I was sore for days."

            Jamie giggled, leaning up against me.  "Go on."

            "And here," I pointed to the next page.  "For our fortieth anniversary, we decided to take flying lessons so that we could really fly together.  You were doing figure-eights through the clouds after just a couple of lessons." 

Jamie turned the page, "What about this one?"  Her laughter was contagious.

"Who could forget my fiftieth birthday?  I came home with a fake Mohawk on.  You actually thought I was going through a midlife crisis or something.  I mean, look at your reaction!"

            "So much we might miss out on," she whispered.

            I leaned up to her ear, allowing the scent of her shampoo to fully overpower me before sighing, "No, so much we might gain."  My fingers traced Romans 8:24-25, which I had written on the top of every page.   Turning to the next section, I replied, "Look how much we've experience already,"

            We sat there, reminiscing as we examined the play script, pictures and reviews from opening night, articles from astrology magazines about comet Haikutaki, our wedding invitation and pictures, the Father's Day card, an add for the county firework display…  It was overwhelming to realize how much we had already done together.

            "Landon, did you happen to check the mail on your way in?" Jamie asked me later that evening.

            "Nope, it slipped my mind."  Realizing I had completely forgotten to do so, I headed towards the door.  Just then the phone rang.

            "I'll get that… my dad said he'd probably give me a call tonight."

Returning to the house a few minutes later, Jamie's whole demeanor had changed.  She was already off the phone and was back flipping through the photo album, but it was apparent that something was different.  "Landon, do you have something you want to share with me?" she questioned.

"You, Jamie, are a finalist in the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes," I responded, holding up the infamous brown envelope, trying to lighten the mood.  Truth be told, I had no clue what she was talking about.

Shaking her head and sighing, she got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen.

"Great!  She's upset and I have to crack a joke! … Wait a second… What was that phone call all about?"  My mind sifted through all the possibilities as I set the mail down and followed Jamie, determined to figure out.