eyes told me that it wasn’t something he wanted to argue about. There was no argument as we squeezed into the little room to handle our business in tandem. It wasn’t difficult to maintain the connection within the small space. We brushed our teeth with our arms hooked, awkward and messy but the clean up was a snap. We washed each other’s hands and the connection richly rewarded us with a physical glow that took our breath away and our unison gasps for air brought us each the alluring scent of the other.
In the mirror, looking at the two of us my eyes were drawn to Michael and Michael alone. His eyes lowered, his lashes rested on his cheeks and his mouth was nearly a straight line in his face while he concentrated on the job of washing our hands without my help.
“Wow!” I thought, “This moment is ours.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw in the mirror my own smile, a pleased little content smile. But my real focus never left Michael’s tender nurturing face. When he looked up to find me staring at him like he was delicious, I didn’t care. I continued my admiration as he revealed his eyes to me. He stood there looking at me and allowing me to satisfy my need to swim in his warm gray eyes. I made a mental note to notice if the connect makes them just a bit softer in color, more like a dove gray and smooth. I’d seen his eyes smolder in fear and pain, they were nearly charcoal in color.
I glanced at my own eyes – then back to his - then back to mine again – then I tried to isolate only our eyes to look at them together.
Michael watching quietly the whole time said, “It’s the color, our eyes are the exact same color.”
I said, “Yeah dove gray.”
“Don’t leave out the black ring around the iris, it’s also a match.”
Adding. “What else will change about us in order for us to match?”
“Well since I got your eyes, you’ll probably get my boobs.”
We both laughed.
The ‘through the door thing’ went fairly smoothly for me. I was quick like I always am, washed my hands, alone this time, grabbed my lotion and placed my head on the door and said, “I’m coming.”
As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, we were like Velcro, stuck and immobile, and not unpleasant in the least.
The disconnect for Michael’s turn in the bathroom needed more time, that took a greater toll on the connection made fragile and suspect through the door. How odd I thought, I can feel his anxiety through the door. Though the connection was week, I tried to send him my strength and resolve and, of course, love – as much as I could possibly transfer through the closed door.
When I finally heard his “I’m coming,” I stepped back but kept my contact with the door. He came out with a towel and a comb and managed to get me in a mighty bear hug in just one move. Gratitude oozed from both of us; the need to manifest that deeply indebted gratefulness into action was utterly desirable and nearly a necessity. That gratitude though was like an itch that could be scratched involuntarily which would set off more gratitude and more acts of appreciation and so on and so on.
Our stomachs growled in unison, and why not? We both heard it and felt it. We laughed. With seriousness we held each other tightly and again held completely still, waited for the balance, took each other’s hands, and went to dinner.
The deal was to relax and enjoy each other’s company and then the next day, our last full day at sea together, we’d think about the predicament more.
Michael chose another CD for the player, pushed play and we turned to our salads and the challenge of eating with one hand. We found that feeding each other bites was fun and as easy as feeding ourselves. Mid way through our meal, Michael remembered the bottle of wine in the fridge. We took a short and uneventful trip to get it.
Back at our table ‘under the stars,’ they were just becoming visible in the evening sky, we toasted the deck, the connect, and the sunset and a hearty, “Cheers, thanks a lot, eh.”
Another Exercize
One can only assume that Michael didn’t feel that the atmosphere was appropriate for Foreigner’s “Juke Box Hero.” He changed the music so fast that there were only seconds between the Rock ‘n Roll and the Classical sounds in the background. The instruments were muted and nearly lost in the air on the moving ship, making the sound that much more intimate – like an instrumental whisper.
After the meal was finished and the dishes were stashed in the hall, Michael said, “Looks like you’re going to have to sleep over again tonight. Can you handle that?”
“Don’t think I can handle anything else,” I replied.
“I am trying to figure out some way to get a bit of exercise. I’d like to have a catch but that’s probably not possible with the connection keeping us close…unless the connection will work if we are tethered together by a rope or a belt or something like that.” I was thinking out loud.
“I know of a way we can get some exercise.” Michael smiled at his innuendo …left myself wide open for that one.
“I was thinking of something that wouldn’t compromise our other lives – you know no broken promises.”
When I said that, Michael gave me a ‘ho-hum’ look – like it was of no concern to him, making the issue mine alone.
“Here’s an idea.” I said, glad that I had something to offer piecing the idea together in a matter of seconds.
“We can put the lounge chairs end to end so we can connect with our feet and then have a catch.”
Before I’d even finished, Michael was moving his lounge to meet my suggestion. We were hooked by our pinkies so he had to do some twisting and stretching to line up the two chairs.
He sat down next to me and slipped off his flip-flops, wiggled his toes at me, and removed my sandals. I was completely amused by his antics because it took great effort to keep the connection and still maneuver into position so that our feet met. It became my job to keep the connection with our feet while he set up his back rest – he needed to be comfortable for that physical and probably competitive endeavor.
Our positions were set but we needed to get our ‘catch’ object.
Fetching the toy that I had in mind could be a challenge. We leaned forward on our separate chairs, our feet connected, and took each other’s hand. The connection still vital, we swung our legs over to the same side and then just stood up. The ease and grace of the maneuver pleased us both. Our reward was eye contact and returning smiles like proud parents happy the young’uns didn’t fall on their butts again.
Because the slider to my cabin was unlocked I was able to quickly find the toy: a round, soft, spiky, rubber ball, extremely light weight with a little face in the middle of the spikes and four legs hanging limply from the air filled round body just barely longer than the soft spikes, with little feet. The whole thing was the size of a medium apple – perfect for a catch.
When I showed the ‘object’ to Michael, he took it from my right hand and squeezed it and tossed it in the air to catch on its descent. I intercepted without much effort.
Michael smiled and said, “What an odd thing for you to possess.”
