A Perfect Day

A Perfect Day

He could still feel the soft warmth of her body tucked into the arch of his back. Soft and strong and yielding, all in that one snug embrace. When he thought of it afterward, it did seem odd. They had never really cared all that much for “snuggling”. Not for a whole night. They liked the feel of space and freedom in their large bed. But snuggling was nice too, and this had been especially so. He’d sniffed the smell of her hair, a special kind of scent, faintly spicy, but more like fresh, clean air. Like a whiff of air skimmed over the waves of the seashore. He could hear seagulls calling, and the busy rushing sound of water scurrying back over the damp sand to the sea from whence it came. It was peaceful and electric at the same time. It felt so incredibly alive. He tingled with the freshness of it and marveled that he could feel so ... so .... young! Yes, young. He hadn’t felt this young in eons of years. Young, and eager, and rested, and ready. Yes, ready for anything.

But perhaps that was asking too much. Hadn’t they already tasted that ecstasy. Of course they had, and then again, and again? Surely not. He couldn’t have been that urgent and greedy, or she as hungry as he. And that must be the reason for this quiet resting, this luxurious sense of being at total peace. If it could only go on forever.

The knock at the door was not loud, but it was persistent.

“What’s that?” she murmured.

“I have no idea.?” He lay in his cocoon of contentment and wondered if he really must go to the door. Of course he must. There was an urgency about that tapping that demanded attention, and she was already sitting up beside him reaching for her housecoat. “I really ought to go to the door, sweetheart; it would be more gentlemanly of me.”

“That’s all right. I’m closer to being dressed than you are, and wider awake probably.”

Her words said one thing, the drooping eyelids and the languid movement of her hands reaching for the sleeve opening of her gown something else.

“No, honey, I mean it. You stay here. I’m decent and they’ll just have to take me as I am, whoever they are.”

And he was too. Far more clothes on than he normally wore. He liked the feel of cool sheets against his bare skin and thought pajamas more nuisance than they were worth. However, these cold nights it had felt good to have a little more covering. “Must have slipped these on during the night. In my sleep, more than likely.” He shuffled his way to the kitchen door - odd they should be knocking on the kitchen door, and at this time of the morning. What time was it anyway?

It must have been early, there was scarcely any daylight outside. The street lights were still on. Good Lord! Who comes bothering you at this time of the morning - night more like. There was no answer, at least, not until they came into the kitchen. Total strangers, but not afraid to make themselves at home, that was obvious.

“What on earth...” he started to say and stopped when he heard her voice behind him.

“Oh dear, I forgot to tell you.”

“What? Tell me what?”

“About the Murchisons. I asked them to come.”

“Murchisons?” Only one word but it conveyed so much more. I don’t know any Murchisons. Why should I know them? What are they doing here? Why did you ask them to come? And at this ungodly hour. And she seemed to recognize all the inferences and at the same time acknowledge the appropriateness of his questions.

“Carver Murchison” the man said, setting down a large wicker basket and extending a gloved hand to him. “And this is my wife Connie. Excuse the glove.”

He stared at the gloved hand and wondered if some explanation would still be offered, but when none came, he nodded his head as if to say “OK” and gingerly he touched fingers with Carver Murchison.

Meanwhile Connie set down a large paper sack and offered her gloved hand to him as well.

“Nice to meet you. Will it be all right to put these here?”

“That’ll be fine Mrs. Murchison. They won’t be in the way at all.” she said.

“Well, I should hope not. When I cook for folks, I have to be able to make myself to home. It’s hard enough figuring out where folks keep their staples and pots and pans without having to constantly figure out where I put my supplies as well. Your kitchen is a little crowded, isn’t it?”

Crowded? He looked around at what he had always thought was a snug cooking space with all drawers and cupboards neat and handy. There were a few dishes in the sink. That was unusual. He liked to keep his sink clean. Must have been a bit forgetful last night. Other things on his mind.

He might have pondered that a little more if he hadn’t had a more pressing question that needed answering. Two strangers were standing in his kitchen, loaded with kitchen utensils and groceries apparently, getting ready to occupy his kitchen without a “by your leave”.

“You’re bringing all that stuff in here?” he asked, aware how silly he sounded. Of course they were bringing “all that stuff” in here. What else did he think they were doing? That wasn’t the question. The question was why.

“I asked them to,” she whispered to him, but not softly enough.

“That’s right” said Carver Murchison, obviously the spokesperson for the Murchison team. “Right here in our appointment book.” He produced a slim brown leather date book, well worn suggesting they had had many customers in their time. “If there’s a mistake, you’ll still have to pay for all these supplies. We confirmed it beforehand, you know.”

Connie Murchison nodded her head emphatically, echoing her husband’s declaration.

“Of course. There’s no mistake. I gave you the order.”

His wife glanced at him apologetically and snatched at his sleeve, inviting him to step out of the kitchen so they could discuss this business further, but he was not ready to go.

“Ordered? Ordered what?”

“Dinner, darling. They’re cooking a special dinner for us.”

“Dinner? In the middle of the night? Good God ....” He was spluttering now and she was doing her best to maneuver him out of the kitchen, much to the puzzlement of the Murchisons.

“Yes, it’s all correct. I wanted to have some help, dear, that’s all. It’s such a short time. I wanted to have as much time with you as I could. That’s why I made these arrangements.”

“As much time” he heard the words and the sweetness, the rightness of the idea flooded into him. What a thoughtful gesture. It had been so long, so achingly long, and now just this one day. Only one day. Oh, why did they even have to bother with a dinner. Why bother with anybody or anything? She was back. After all this unspeakable time. She was back for him. Only for him. He looked at her and saw the beseeching uncertainty in her eyes.

How had this miracle happened? Suddenly the Murchisons and their supplies seemed to evaporate. He didn’t care what time it was. Although why on earth they had to come in the middle of the night to prepare a meal they would not be sitting down to, for hours and hours and hours, he couldn’t explain.

“It’s not the middle of the night, you gruff old bear” she teased him. “Why look at the sunshine out there. It’s a brand new day, with so much light sparkling on the world, it’s a wonder the earth doesn’t crack open with joy.”

“Joy to the World?”

“Joy to the world, darling! Oh God, I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you too. Ever since that night ...”

“Don’t.” She stopped him. “Don’t remember. Don’ talk about it. It’s all over. It’s ended and we’ve gone on and it’s all just as it ought to be.”

“Ought to be? You can say that after what I’ve been through?”

“I know, sweetheart. I really do know. I tried to help you, but there really was nothing I could do. You had to do it. And I must say, you’ve done it well. I’ve been very proud of you. I didn’t know at first how you’d manage, but look at you now.”

He heard the words, saw the genuineness of her approval in her smile and he shook his head in bewilderment. What was happening? How could this be happening? Was this a mistake? Surely it could not be a mistake. Not after all this time. No, more likely the mistake was in his head. He was finally losing his mind.

Only that couldn’t be. Those people in the kitchen weren’t his imagination. Were they?

“Why are they here so early?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I really didn’t expect them this soon. But they are real. They had excellent references. Oh, believe me, this will be a feast like you never had before.”

She sought the protection of his arms and he felt the softness of her body making a home in his embrace. It was so soft, so sweet, so warm and gentle. So Right. That was the only word he could think of. Right. Perfect. It must not end. It must go on for ever and forever and forever.

“There she is Henry. Oh it’s so good to see you.”

Henry and Liz Traxler came bursting into the kitchen and engulfed them with their hugs and kisses. That is, Liz did. Henry was “old school” and showed his pleasure by standing to one side and beaming jovially.

“You’re an angel, an absolute angel. Oh God, it’s so good to see you again. You don’t know how I’ve missed you. I think of you a dozen times a day. I say to myself, ‘Now don’t panic. Just do what she would do.’ And every time, the answer comes. You must be tuned in to me up there. You really must. Why the other day ...”

“That’s enough Liz. Don’t talk her ears off.” Henry frowned his disapproval and Liz stuck her tongue out at him.

“I can too talk if I want. It’s only one day.” And as quickly as the laugh had sparkled through the room, it was eclipsed by a dark cloud that blotted out the sun. Even the streetlights outside seemed to be affected and flickered uncertainly, as if they would be needed again after all.

“You’re sweet, Liz. The best friend a girl ever had.”

Instantly the cloud evaporated and the sun blazed bright as Liz laughed.

“Girl! Listen to her. Forget our age, folks, we’ll be eternally young.”

“May we come in?” Burt Bowen asked as he and Alice squeezed in the room.

“Maybe we’d better not, Burt, it looks kind of crowded in here.”

“Well, who said we had to stay here in the kitchen?” Liz asked indignantly. “There’s plenty of room in the parlor.”

“Maybe they don’t have it picked up yet for guests, Liz” Henry objected.

“Nonsense, we’re all family, or might as well be. Who cares what it looks like.”

“Actually, it looks very nice. I am proud to announce my husband is a most excellent house keeper. I think it looks even better than when I was here. Makes me a little jealous. I don’t think he needed me in the first place.”

“Needed you!” he protested. “Good God in heaven. How can you say that? Don’t even think it.” He looked at her anxiously, trying to read her true thoughts in the expression on her face. Needed her. With his whole being he had needed her. His whole spirit had broken when she ... when she ... No, he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t think it. Not out loud. Not today. Not while she was here. Impulsively he reached out and grabbed her arm, more roughly than he intended. It was meant to be emphatic, a sign that he was telling her a truth that was truer than any truth any man had ever spoken. She smiled as he pulled her to him, pulled her into his embrace once more, enfolded her and blocked out everything and everyone in the world.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. It’s just good to hear you say it. That’s all.”

“If you’re such a good housekeeper, my friend, how’d you miss those bread crumbs on the dining room table?” Burt joked.

“And are you keeping your bed made?” Liz questioned, saucily.

“Let’s go see!” Burt suggested, while Alice protested “Burt, your awful. Mind your manners.”

“He’s not going to mind” Burt said, not the least embarrassed by his social faux pas.

“How do you know.” Alice insisted.

“Yes, how do you know Burt?” Henry echoed, shocked by such jocular behavior.

“No, no, no,” he quickly assured the two friends. “The bed’s made. I always see to that. First thing every morning. I can’t get into an unmade bed at night.” And he even made a flourish of showing them his neat bedroom, with covers all neatly in place and pillows freshly plumped.

Funny. He didn’t remember doing that this morning. She must have done it. Bless her heart. He must be sure to thank her. After all, it was his job. Had been for years, even before ...

“Well good for you. But watch it about the bread crumbs next time.”

“Burt’s right.” Alice said, “They’ll give mice ideas and you don’t want those horrid creatures in here. Speaking of horrid creatures, who are they?” she mouthed, pointing over her shoulder toward the kitchen and the Murchisons.

“Don’t you know?” Liz replied. “I’ve seen them before. They’re that catering couple.”

“Yes, I hired them for dinner tonight. I thought it would be nice not having to prepare dinner my one night home. I wanted to save myself completely for my own true love.” And she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“You didn’t? Well that’s not going to work. We’re bringing pot-luck in. Everybody wants to catch a glimpse of you.” Liz announced.

“Oh dear.” Alice interjected. “This is awkward. I’ve got things set up at the hall. We expect two, three hundred people.”

“Well you can just cancel it then, because we’re going to be right here, all her closest friends.”

The sunshine went behind the cloud again. The words may have been spoken in friendly banter, but the looks belied the meaning.

“No, that just wouldn’t be fitting. This is too important a moment not to share it with all those people who want to see you. You’re a miracle, a living miracle. There ought to be TV cameras and reporters and everything.”

“Good heavens Alice Bowen! We’re talking about our closest, dearest friend here, not some kind of circus freak. It’s much more appropriate that we keep this small and intimate.” Liz announced, daring anyone to disagree with her.

“I do feel a little like a freak, if the truth be told” she said ruefully. “I really appreciate all you’ve done, but ....” and she looked pleadingly at him, seeking some intervention from him.

“Yes, you’re all wonderful, but we want to be alone.”

It was abrupt, brusk, startling.

“Alone?” Burt echoed as if he had never heard the word before.

“Yes, Burt, alone.” Henry confirmed. “I told you that’s what they’d say Liz.”

“Well, they can say what they want, but friends come first. Some things are owed.”

“Owed? You don’t mean that.” Alice said, shocked.

“Don’t I? Haven’t we missed her too? Aren’t we as amazed as anybody seeing her back like this? We need to see her, touch her, hug her, tell her how we love her and want her back.. And we’re going to do it, if I have anything to say about it.” Liz insisted.

“You’re not having all these people for dinner are you?” Mr Murchison asked coming in from the kitchen. “We didn’t sign up for a crowd. It was supposed to just be you two. We can’t handle any more.”

“No, no. That’s right Mr. Murchison. That’s exactly what I asked for.” she said.

“You’re sure? Mrs. Murchison is getting herself in quite a state seeing all these people here.”

“I understand. Please assure her it’s only two for dinner.”

How could a miracle create such a catastrophe, he wondered. Friend turned on friend, voices grew louder and more insistent, tears appeared.

He tried to pull back into their embrace, back into the warmth and safety of their arms, just the two of them, into a still quiet place where all the past could not come in. There was no memory, no obligations, no plans for tomorrow or the next day or any other “nexts”. They would hide in this sacred stillness and just ... love.

It really was just a time for loving. Whys and hows, and what nexts didn’t exist, not in the shelter of this timeless, endless, eternal ...

“Dead!” The word exploded. “After all, she’s been dead almost four years, hasn’t she? And she’s back! Just this one single day. Why wouldn’t we want to share her? He’s not the only one who’s missed her. We’ve all cried until there wasn’t any more tears left in the whole world..”

No one moved. No one spoke. He would never forget it. Never forget how frozen they all were.

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” Liz continued, “but we’re all thinking it. We are in the presence of an incredible miracle, and we’re arguing over who’s going to serve dinner.”

There was a crashing sound in the kitchen and a door slammed. When he looked into the kitchen he saw the wicker basket teetering on the edge of the counter and the paper sack on its side on the floor. The Murchisons were gone. When he turned back, all he could see was her sad eyes looking at him.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, but I really thought you’d like it. A special dinner, just for two. I’d have liked that.”

“So would I.” he said. “It would have been perfect.”

And that’s how it was. When he remembered it afterward, the friends were gone, the caterers, everybody. It had just been the two of them. They hadn’t talked. Hadn’t needed to somehow. He sometimes wondered why he hadn’t told her of what his days had been like without her. What he should have done was ask her about what it was like for her now. Did she miss him? Was she sorry to leave him?

No, he couldn’t ask that. It was too selfish. He was just grateful for this one day. How she’d done it, he’d never know. But what difference would it have made if he had known?

He heard the seagulls call and listened to the waves. He smelled the fresh salt smell of the sea and watched her move slowly away.

“I had a wonderful time, darling. Maybe I can come back some day.”

It had been a perfect day. At least, some might call it so. But can there ever be a perfect day when every day must end?