Michael was no longer sitting in the chair at the table. I decided to clean up and put away the remains of the cracker fixins.
“Hey, wait a minute, I wasn’t finished.”
He sat back down.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked as he tapped out a single cigarette from a new pack.
“I seemed to have lost my lighter, may I borrow yours?”
Reaching down and into the cooler and then into my Pinky – the name of the container that houses my pot and paraphernalia, I pulled out a black lighter and handed it to him.
“I think this belongs to you. I took it mistakenly from your pocket last night. I thought you had stolen it from me. Sorry.” I finished sheepishly.
He shrugged and lit his cigarette with the tiniest of flames from the dying lighter. I instantly envied him the smoke taste mixed with the sunflower seed butter. I knew it was a great combination and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.
“Hmmm,” He said, “That’s really good.”
I nearly asked him to share but I know me and I didn’t stop smoking all those years before to start again then.
I was thinking that he shouldn’t be smoking; it’d ruin his voice in his later years. But I said nothing. I just enjoyed the smell of the smoke and the kiss of the sun on my skin.
We sat in relative quiet while he finished his cigarette. I think both of us were happy for the peace and the warmth and the light and each other. It was a gentle camaraderie. We were glad of the quiet but also glad for the company.
Neither one of us had spoken for a long time, both wrapped in our own thoughts. I heard a rap on the door and, “room service.” I claimed our coffee and took it to the balcony where Michael poured two cups. I doctored mine with cream but he took his black. We sat with no words, just the comfort of the coffee and the peace.
We didn’t even notice that Denice was standing in the doorway of the slider until she spoke.
“Quite a night; wouldn’t you say?”
Everything looked benign compared to her animated face. She crossed the few steps to get to me and handed me my copy of the “Princess Patter” and a highlighter to select our activities for the day – the routine, always the routine.
As I accepted them from her, I said, “Denice this is our neighbor Michael. Michael, this is my sister and best friend, Denice.”
He stood up and shook her hand, looked around for another chair, then disappeared into his side, returning in just a sec with a third chair. He held it while my sister sat. Then he returned to the chair next to me.
The three of us sat there amicably while I explained our routine with the newsletter to Michael. He and I went through the daily calendar of events together, one by one. I used my highlighter for the movie under the stars that started at 8:00 pm.
When it was obvious that I was finished with my selections – there was only the one - he took the highlighter from my hand and marked out the 10:00 theater show, then looked at me expectantly. I smiled and shrugged. “Sure,” using a quiet voice – not loud enough for my sister to hear. He returned my smile.
We had more quiet as my sister finished her selections. When she finally finished, she examined my highlights and compared them to her own.
As I had nothing marked until the evening, I was thinking of spending the day right where I was or a bit more in the shade. She had plans with the line dance people again which was included in her highlights – a pottery class that we both said we would take if we ever took that cruise again. She was surprised to see that I hadn’t highlighted it but made no remark out loud. She was probably thinking that I had changed my mind – something we both allow each other without argument.
She looked at her watch and said, “I have to hurry. It’s nice to meet you, Michael. Hellie, I’ll be taking off soon.” Then she disappeared into the stateroom.
Michael and I just sat there comfortably without saying much. I eventually put the CD player on the table and spread out the CDs available. Michael looked through the CDs to discover that I had four of his in the collection. That seemed to please him. But he was more interested in the Paul Gross and Los Lonely Boys CDs.
He said, “I remember you playing this last night. Can we hear it again?” Without waiting for a response, he loaded Los Lonely Boys into the player and pushed play. We listened and even moved a bit to the beat. I could see that he was enjoying the music.
“You are my little senorita, El que la moss Bonita; you’ve got it going on.”
I can never keep my mouth shut entirely and sang along to the lyrics that I could pronounce.
“This doesn’t have to be so loud for you to get the tune right. Did you notice?” He said with a very odd sense of understanding. I thought how could he know that? Oh, duh, it’s his business. We sat quietly again until the end of the CD.
“Do you have anything else by them?” He asked.
I surveyed the CDs on the table and then went inside to find the rest of what I brought with me. Yes. I had two more Los Lonely Boys CDs. But I brought everything I had out to the balcony: Along with the Los Lonely Boys, there were: 2 from Van Morrison, Grass Roots, Police, Duran Duran, U2, Katy Perry, the Boss, Foreigner, Steve Miller, and Simply Red.
Again, Michael spread the compilation out on the table to take it all in. “Interesting collection.”
He selected another Los Lonely Boys CD for the player.
In a comfortable vacuum, we listened to the other two Los Lonely Boys CDs.
It was nearly noon and the sun was hot and unrelenting. We moved the table and chairs back to the deeper part of the balcony. The shade offered immediate relief but I dug for the sunscreen dutifully. After slathering the sunscreen on my face and neck and then my arms, I gave the tube to Michael and I watched him do the same. Michael moved one of the chaise lounge chairs into the sun, removed his shirt, and stretched belly down on the chair. “Do you mind?” He asked as he handed me the sunscreen.
I squeezed out a large amount of the white greasy emollient all over his back. Scooting my chair closer to him for convenience, I rubbed the liquid sun shield onto every part of bare skin within my reach. It took a long time to rub in all of that cream. I had so much sunscreen to work with that I took it from his back to rub onto his legs and feet.
Yes, he’s ticklish, discovered while paying particular attention to his feet and toes.
“Never mind the feet.” He said to dismiss me from continuing.
Pretending as though I didn’t hear it, I continued to rub in the lotion. He kicked around a bit but, I held on tight until I was thoroughly finished. He was laughing and kicking at me before I was done.
“My feet are very sensitive.”
He tried to explain. Ya think? I was laughing but I gave him his foot back. He slumped himself into a very relaxed position. He’d be sweating hard in no time. He asked me to select another CD for the player.
My choice was Van Morrison. As
