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"In love there are no vacations. No such thing. Love has to be lived fully with its boredom and all that."- Marguerite Duras
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Chapter 36
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The following days were a blur of sex, conversation, sex, food and more sex. It had been a long time since Sam had that much one-on-one time with one man and she had enjoyed every minute of it. In the few days they shared they had even developed a sort of routine: they would sleep in (a feat made much easier once Sam convinced Martin to leave the doggie door flap open since it was highly unlikely that the cat would be out in this weather to torment Milo), have breakfast, watch a movie or read a book together on the sofa (she actually found herself liking Grisham), have lunch, take a nap, have dinner and then top off the night by having mind-blowing sex. On those days when they couldn't wait until nightfall to touch each other, they would rearrange the daily routine as needed.
Sam wished she could say that everyday was as perfect as the first few but by the fourth day of the snowstorm they were both getting a little stir crazy; and in Sam's case, more than a little snippy.
As they were cleaning up the breakfast dishes they got into a ridiculous argument about what order dishes should be placed in the dishwasher, utensils in particular. Even as Sam argued with him about whether forks should be loaded prongs up or down she knew she was being irrational but she couldn't help it.
"I like the prongs up so they don't get tangled with one another or get stuck in the plastic tray." Martin growled as he finished loading the dishes.
"And I am telling you they should go face down so when you unload the silverware you don't get your fingers all over the part of the fork that you put in your mouth." She snapped as she started to rearrange the silverware the he had just finished loading up.
"That's it!" He shouted. He put his hands into a 'T' and said, "Time out!"
"What?" She grumbled as she slammed the dishwasher door shut.
"Time out, I think we need a separation." Martin explained as he leaned against the counter.
"What do you mean a separation?" She asked as she folded her arms across her chest. She thumbed out the window and said, "In case you forgot, there's a snowstorm going on out there."
"I think we should spend today in different rooms. Better yet, different floors." Martin said as he mirrored her posture. "We're making each other crazy and I think it's from spending too much time together."
She suddenly felt guilty for picking on Martin about something so stupid, particularly when it was his fork in his dishwasher in his house. So she tried to recover and said, "No, Martin that's no necessary. I'm fine."
"You have to stop lying Pinocchio or you'll never be a real girl." He said with an easy smile. He walked to where she stood and said, "My house is big enough that we can go off to our own corners and get a little alone time."
"I'm sorry, please don't take it personally." She ran her hand along his forearm and said. "I don't want you to think it's you. I'm just used to having a little space."
"And that's why you should go get some because if you keep snapping at me I am going to start taking it personally." He grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, kissed the crown of her head and gave her a gentle shove towards the stairs. "You take the top floor and I'll stay down here."
After she was exiled to the second floor she took a shower, gave herself a facial, checked her email, called her mom, and still only managed to fill less than four hours. This is why Sam was now sitting all by herself in Martin's office playing solitaire on his laptop. As she dragged a card over to complete the final row to win the game she couldn't help but wonder how Martin was filling his time downstairs. She hadn't heard a peep from him all morning. It didn't help that she was sitting in the very chair where they officially entered his office into the 'favorite room' contest the night before. She actually felt herself get a little aroused at the memory.
However, since she had been the one most in need of alone time she didn't want to be the first one to cave. So being stubborn she hung out upstairs thinking about Martin but not willing to go downstairs to be with him. She also didn't like feeling that she not only wanted to be with him but that she almost needed to be with him. She hated feeling like someone could have that kind of influence over her – especially a man.
So she blew out a frustrated breath and dealt herself another game.
After another half hour of playing solitaire she decided that she was really thirsty and while she could refill her cup of water from the faucet in the bathroom she would much rather have a diet soda and those just happened to be located in the refrigerator downstairs.
She padded softly down the hall and as she moved closer to the stairwell she could hear Martin talking. It didn't sound like he was on the phone so she crept down the stairs, straining her ears to hear what he was saying and to whom.
"What an incredible Cinderella story…. this unknown comes out of nowhere to lead the pack at Augusta." Martin's voice sounded kind of raspy as if he were mumbling. "He's on his final hole. He's about 450 yards away….going to hit about a 2 iron, I think…..Oh, he got outta that."
She moved further down so she could see what he was doing and when she did she had to hold her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. He had shoved all of the furniture back towards the walls and had placed a putting set on one end of the room. It was surrounded by green felt and the 'hole' was a metal cup. He was standing on the other end of the living room wearing a Wilson hat, golf gloves and holding a putter. Milo was lying on the floor by the golfing hole with his head on his paws watching the little white ball intently.
Martin continued talking completely unaware that she was there watching him. "The crowd is standing on its feet here at Augusta; the normally reserved Augusta crowd going wild for this young Cinderella who's coming out of nowhere."
He got into a putting stance and dropping his voice low continued in his narration, "He's a Cinderella boy…tears in his eyes. This crowd has gone deadly silent….." Martin putted the golf ball and it rolled onto the green felt and plopped into the hole. "It's in the hole! It's in the hole!" He raised both of his hands victoriously as if there was really a crowd applauding.
That is when Sam lost it and started laughing and cheering. "Woo hoo!"
Martin went pale and immediately dropped his hands. He cleared his throat nervously, shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, and said, "Hi….uh, what are you doing down here? Is everything all right?"
She stood on the steps and said, "Yeah, I just wanted to get something to drink. Is it safe to come down?"
He nodded his head and said, "My floor is your floor."
She moved off of the steps and into the living room. As she maneuvered around the displaced furniture she asked, "So, you're a golfer?"
Martin swung the putter casually at his side before leaning on it as if it were a cane and replied, "Um, yeah, you could say that."
"Your speech sounded…..familiar." She said as she put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
"Yeah, it's, uh, it's from Caddyshack….you know, Bill Murray as Carl Speckler." Martin quickly uttered before scratching his chin and awkwardly adding, "Good movie."
She gestured down the hall. "I'm just going to go…..get something to drink."
He motioned for her to go but despite herself some lingering chuckles escaped as she made her way to the kitchen. She glanced to where he remained standing the middle of the room blushing brightly. As she opened the door to the kitchen she heard him quietly say to Milo, "Why didn't you warn me she was standing over there?"
With a smile on her face she retrieved a cold soda from the fridge and walked back out to the living room. Martin was still putting but was no longer narrating and it made her kind of sad.
He looked up at her and said, "Got your soda?"
"Yeah," She held it up and said, "So….I'll just head back upstairs."
He nodded his head and returned to his putting. "Okay, see you later."
Sam walked upstairs feeling annoyed that he seemed to be doing just fine without her. She entered the guest room and plopped down on the bed. She reached for the remote, leaned against the headboard and clicked on the TV. She surfed for a little bit before she found a local news station.
An older distinguished man with silver hair and thin lips was discussing the storm that was hitting Chicago, "A series of record-breaking storms battered the west coast of Lake Michigan, hitting Chicago the hardest, shutting nearly everything down. Looting of unattended stores has become rampant. Schools, offices and other work places have been closed for several days and it is likely to continue through the end of the week. Commuters unable to reach home spent several nights camped out in downtown hotels, O'Hare International Airport and stranded cars." Images of weary and stranded people huddled together at the bus station appeared on screen. "Food supplies are scarce and portions are being rationed out…."
Sam realized how lucky she was to be staying with Martin in his spacious home with plenty of food and heat. She was being childish at demanding some solitude when so many others were worried about where to sleep, what they were going to eat and other basics that she was taking for granted. She also realized how silly she was being by not admitting that she was tired of being all alone and that she wanted to be with him.
She walked back downstairs and saw that Martin was still practicing his putting.
This time he heard her approach and looked up at her, "Hi," he greeted. "What brings you back down here? Need ice for that soda?"
"I'm lonely." She said softly, feeling embarrassed. "Would it be okay if I hung out down here with you?"
He smiled and in a soft voice said, "Do you know how to putt?"
"Does miniature golf count?" She asked with a grin.
"Come here," He nodded for her to join him and she walked to where he stood. He motioned for her to stand in front of him and he handed her the putter. She grinned and swiped the hat off of his head and placed it on hers. He shook his head as he laughed. "Okay, you want to hold the putter like this."
He put his strong hands over hers and breathed into her ear, "You just want to tap the ball gently but with enough force so you can control where it goes." He straightened her limbs by running his hands down her arms. "Keep your arms straight..."
As Martin gave her an impromptu golfing lesson she tried to focus on what he was telling her and not just how comfortable and right it felt whenever she was in his arms. Whether it was sitting on the sofa watching a movie, in the throws of passion, or just him teaching her how to putt, he made her feel safe, warm and complete.
It was quite possibly the scariest feeling she ever felt.