The next several days were little more than work and sleep for the pair. A
couple of nights were spent at his place, a couple at hers, but the back
and forth was surprisingly comfortable. Saturday ended around eleven p.m.,
in Erin's living room. She had been home since nine, but Robert had been
detained in surgery. He walked into her house easily, locking the door
behind him. He found Erin lounging on the couch, eating pizza in front of
the television. Both dogs were at her feet, and she was absorbed in an
action movie. Robert smiled inwardly. Outwardly, however, he put on his
best scowl. "Sixteen hours of surgery and this is what I get? Pizza and
beer and you in your sweats?"
Unfazed, not even averting her eyes from the screen, she gestured to the kitchen. "There's wine in the fridge."
"Oh, never mind." He moved to sit next to her, plucking a bottle of beer from the six pack on the coffee table. "Just give me a bottle opener." Focus still glued to the television, Erin took the bottle from him and unceremoniously twisted the top off. She handed it back and tossed the cap on the table without batting an eyelash. "Well, I could have done that," he griped, taking a few swallows.
Erin giggled. "So why didn't you?"
"'So why didn't you?'" He made a face at her before settling back into the sofa. He turned his attention to the movie that had her so engrossed, recognizing it only by the actor on screen. "I can't believe you're this into Jackie Chan films." He draped his arm along the back of the couch, and she wiggled her way into his embrace. "He's the best!" She insisted. "I can still remember watching 'Drunken Master' in the den with my dad. It was so cool." Robert allowed her words to sink in, and almost did not comment. After a moment, though, he stroked her hair gently.
"You never talk about them much."
Erin looked up at him, eyes soft and warm. "Makes most people uncomfortable," she explained. "When you lose both your parents in a car accident, they tend to fall to the bottom of the 'Appropriate Topics of Conversation' list. It's like people think the slightest mention of them will reduce me to a wailing, sniveling mess."
Robert ran his fingers along the line of her jaw. "Does it?"
Erin nodded easily. "Sometimes." The concern in Robert's face touched her, and she rose quickly, moving into the bedroom. She returned with a framed eight by ten photograph that he had seen but never commented on. In it, a younger Erin stood in a burnt orange cap and gown between a man with salt and pepper hair, and a woman with the same auburn mane as hers. "Meet Patrick and Irene Windsor." She smiled at the picture. "Mom, dad, this is Robert." She handed the frame to him as she continued speaking. "He was a Chief Master Sergeant in the Air Force, enlisted for thirty years. Worked in recruiting service the last ten. She was a teacher. Middle school history, usually fourth or fifth grade. This was taken at my college graduation. I was twenty-one. Hook 'em Horns."
"They died three years later?" Robert asked softly. Erin nodded. "How did it happen?" She shrugged. "Not really sure. It was raining, the roads were pretty slick." She rubbed her shoulders, as if feeling a slight chill. "They lived in a rural area, lots of deer, raccoon, rabbits. My dad probably swerved to avoid hitting something that darted out in front of them. He lost control of the car." She trailed off, and Robert pulled her against him.
"It's okay," he soothed her. "You can stop there."
Erin lay her head against his chest, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "He liked to golf," she mused. "She liked to buy shoes." They both laughed together, and he kissed the top of her head. "What about you?" She asked quietly. "What about your folks?" Robert cleared his throat gruffly. "Mom was great, dad was gone, and I must say, he wasn't missed." Erin looked up at him once more. "Do you remember him?" "Only when I have to." His short answer deterred her from inquiring further. He placed the frame gently on the end table and kicked off his shoes. "So tell me again what's so great about this Jackie Chan."
With a mischievous grin, Erin picked up the remote control and switched the television off. She rose up on her knees, moving her body suggestively against his. "I'd rather talk about what's so great about this Robert Romano." "Ooh, my favorite subject," he smirked casually before taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply.
Later, they lay side by side in her bed, their bodies cooling beneath the sheets. Erin's fingers toyed gently with the fine hair that dusted his chest. Finally, she found the nerve to voice the question nagging her. "Did he - hurt you?"
Robert opened his mouth to ask whom she was talking about, then realized exactly what she was asking. He considered ignoring the inquiry, but the words came out of his mouth before he was fully aware. "Not in the way you're thinking." He spoke coolly, unemotionally. "He never hit me, never molested me. He never touched my mother, either. Literally. Never touched her. Of course, you probably could have found his fingerprints on every cocktail waitress east of Saginaw." He took a ragged breath. "He would come home every day at five-fifteen. And he would sit in front of the TV, not moving, not speaking, until supper was on the table at six. He would eat without saying a word, and by six-thirty, he was gone again. Out the door to who knows where. And gone he would stay, until three, sometimes four in the morning. He'd fall in the front door, stagger up the stairs, and pass out until it was eight a.m., and time to start the whole thing over again." He paused for a moment, and Erin tightened her hold on him a bit. "And then, one day, he didn't come home. Just didn't come home. And it was the best day of my life. You know why?"
Erin raised up on one elbow, shaking her head. "Why?"
"Because it was the first time I heard my mother hum. She hummed while she cooked, she hummed while we ate, and she hummed while she did the dishes." Robert pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "So you see, I never missed him, because he was never really there in the first place." The two shared a moment of silence, and then Erin spoke in a soft, loving voice. "You know, you really are an amazing man."
"You think?"
"I do," she nodded sincerely. "Of course, I'm the only one ." With a growl, Robert rolled her beneath him, covering her laughing mouth with his. She wrapped her arms around him, moving her body to better accommodate his. As he moved his skilled, surgeon's fingers over her skin, she was struck once more by how startlingly right it felt being with him. Pushing back all the painful words and memories they'd shared, she allowed herself to be swept away, welcoming him as he melted into her.
Unfazed, not even averting her eyes from the screen, she gestured to the kitchen. "There's wine in the fridge."
"Oh, never mind." He moved to sit next to her, plucking a bottle of beer from the six pack on the coffee table. "Just give me a bottle opener." Focus still glued to the television, Erin took the bottle from him and unceremoniously twisted the top off. She handed it back and tossed the cap on the table without batting an eyelash. "Well, I could have done that," he griped, taking a few swallows.
Erin giggled. "So why didn't you?"
"'So why didn't you?'" He made a face at her before settling back into the sofa. He turned his attention to the movie that had her so engrossed, recognizing it only by the actor on screen. "I can't believe you're this into Jackie Chan films." He draped his arm along the back of the couch, and she wiggled her way into his embrace. "He's the best!" She insisted. "I can still remember watching 'Drunken Master' in the den with my dad. It was so cool." Robert allowed her words to sink in, and almost did not comment. After a moment, though, he stroked her hair gently.
"You never talk about them much."
Erin looked up at him, eyes soft and warm. "Makes most people uncomfortable," she explained. "When you lose both your parents in a car accident, they tend to fall to the bottom of the 'Appropriate Topics of Conversation' list. It's like people think the slightest mention of them will reduce me to a wailing, sniveling mess."
Robert ran his fingers along the line of her jaw. "Does it?"
Erin nodded easily. "Sometimes." The concern in Robert's face touched her, and she rose quickly, moving into the bedroom. She returned with a framed eight by ten photograph that he had seen but never commented on. In it, a younger Erin stood in a burnt orange cap and gown between a man with salt and pepper hair, and a woman with the same auburn mane as hers. "Meet Patrick and Irene Windsor." She smiled at the picture. "Mom, dad, this is Robert." She handed the frame to him as she continued speaking. "He was a Chief Master Sergeant in the Air Force, enlisted for thirty years. Worked in recruiting service the last ten. She was a teacher. Middle school history, usually fourth or fifth grade. This was taken at my college graduation. I was twenty-one. Hook 'em Horns."
"They died three years later?" Robert asked softly. Erin nodded. "How did it happen?" She shrugged. "Not really sure. It was raining, the roads were pretty slick." She rubbed her shoulders, as if feeling a slight chill. "They lived in a rural area, lots of deer, raccoon, rabbits. My dad probably swerved to avoid hitting something that darted out in front of them. He lost control of the car." She trailed off, and Robert pulled her against him.
"It's okay," he soothed her. "You can stop there."
Erin lay her head against his chest, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "He liked to golf," she mused. "She liked to buy shoes." They both laughed together, and he kissed the top of her head. "What about you?" She asked quietly. "What about your folks?" Robert cleared his throat gruffly. "Mom was great, dad was gone, and I must say, he wasn't missed." Erin looked up at him once more. "Do you remember him?" "Only when I have to." His short answer deterred her from inquiring further. He placed the frame gently on the end table and kicked off his shoes. "So tell me again what's so great about this Jackie Chan."
With a mischievous grin, Erin picked up the remote control and switched the television off. She rose up on her knees, moving her body suggestively against his. "I'd rather talk about what's so great about this Robert Romano." "Ooh, my favorite subject," he smirked casually before taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply.
Later, they lay side by side in her bed, their bodies cooling beneath the sheets. Erin's fingers toyed gently with the fine hair that dusted his chest. Finally, she found the nerve to voice the question nagging her. "Did he - hurt you?"
Robert opened his mouth to ask whom she was talking about, then realized exactly what she was asking. He considered ignoring the inquiry, but the words came out of his mouth before he was fully aware. "Not in the way you're thinking." He spoke coolly, unemotionally. "He never hit me, never molested me. He never touched my mother, either. Literally. Never touched her. Of course, you probably could have found his fingerprints on every cocktail waitress east of Saginaw." He took a ragged breath. "He would come home every day at five-fifteen. And he would sit in front of the TV, not moving, not speaking, until supper was on the table at six. He would eat without saying a word, and by six-thirty, he was gone again. Out the door to who knows where. And gone he would stay, until three, sometimes four in the morning. He'd fall in the front door, stagger up the stairs, and pass out until it was eight a.m., and time to start the whole thing over again." He paused for a moment, and Erin tightened her hold on him a bit. "And then, one day, he didn't come home. Just didn't come home. And it was the best day of my life. You know why?"
Erin raised up on one elbow, shaking her head. "Why?"
"Because it was the first time I heard my mother hum. She hummed while she cooked, she hummed while we ate, and she hummed while she did the dishes." Robert pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "So you see, I never missed him, because he was never really there in the first place." The two shared a moment of silence, and then Erin spoke in a soft, loving voice. "You know, you really are an amazing man."
"You think?"
"I do," she nodded sincerely. "Of course, I'm the only one ." With a growl, Robert rolled her beneath him, covering her laughing mouth with his. She wrapped her arms around him, moving her body to better accommodate his. As he moved his skilled, surgeon's fingers over her skin, she was struck once more by how startlingly right it felt being with him. Pushing back all the painful words and memories they'd shared, she allowed herself to be swept away, welcoming him as he melted into her.