by Rob Delisa
Traffic was worse than usual, and the AC in my car was acting up again. The cold air would come on for a few minutes, then turn warm for a few minutes; cold, then warm again. As a result, my body and mind drove home in a constant state of indecision, not knowing whether I was cooling down or heating up. I arrived in my driveway a little after 5:30, and pulled into the garage, feeling that the heat had won the debate. As I opened the door, I noticed my coffee thermos had rolled onto the passenger side floor; I leaned down to get it, and as soon as I sat back up, the top rim of the car door swung back to rudely greet me in the back of the head just under my left earlobe. "#$%*ing, damn stupid door", I cursed in pain and rubbed tears and stars from my eyes. Now, weary and groggy from the drive and jolt to my head, yet still jittery from the coffee I had at the office two hours ago, I staggered into the house hoping to settle my nerves as quickly as possible with a drink - or two. My wife must be out shopping for some last minute dinner ideas, I thought, as my eyes hovered through an empty house. I looked forward to having a cold drink and waiting for the family to arrive. I decided to change into my cut-offs and a tee, then take a look at the swimming pool, and maybe test the water chemicals, before making a visit to the kitchen bar. It seemed like a very ordinary day, and a very typical hot summer evening. It was probably too hot to be in the back yard, without being in the pool, but I was in no mood for swimming. I just wanted to relax and unwind. My mood, the heat, the nervous energy from the coffee two hours ago, and the fatigue from driving in the car all seemed so familiar, and almost too routine and ordinary. Things seemed predictably boring. Or so I thought. Little did I know, my near future had very different plans for the evening.
I decided to walk down to the cool basement and check out the pool from the walk out patio. That's when an ordinary evening turned quite unordinary. That's when I saw her for the very first time: The woman. A rather pretty one, I thought, at first glance. She was sun bathing by my pool. My second glance proved that I had underestimated her on my first. From my position about 20 feet away, this appeared to be a very good-looking woman. A third glance proved that my first two didn't know what the hell I was thinking. This was not simply a good-looking woman. This was a remarkable looking woman in every sense of the word. In the late sun of the day, her hair glowed; golden and shiny. She had obviously not yet been in the pool as her lightly-tanned skin looked completely dry. It seemed as though daylight only existed to reveal her beauty. Her face was a story book painting - one that you didn't want to take your eyes from. She wore a solid, deep blue bikini that seemed made for her curves, yet not exploitive or brash. Her nearly-naked body was a breathless piece of art that not even a man's most vivid imagination could hope to recreate. The site of her at my own swimming pool was like the discovery of a priceless treasure at sea. Yet none of this added up. My pool was not a sea, and a treasure of this sort was not something for me to discover in my own backyard. I had to make a call before I startled this beautiful, unknown woman. She could notice me merely by turning her face towards the house and door where I stood. I was now only about 10 feet away. I slipped back inside the basement door. I attempted to tame my quickened pulse, but the conspicuous view of her feminine figure through the window, proved it was a fruitless idea. The mere site of her would never allow me to calm my own nerves. She got up from her recliner, and was now walking towards the water. She looked quite a bit too old to be a friend of my daughter's, yet a little too young to be an acquaintance or friend of my wife's. Maybe it was a student teacher or a friend from the school where my wife taught. I dialed my wife's cell phone. The phone rang, and rang ... and rang. Then, the unknown woman pulled herself back out of my pool. I hid myself from her view as I watched her dripping, slinky, curving figure reach for her own pink cell phone lying by her towel. She looked at her phone and made somewhat of an odd expression as if she missed an unexpected call. She toweled off, and lay back down on the reclining lawn chair. I had to say something to this unknown woman, but felt uncomfortable letting her know that I was seeing her in such glory as I was. I felt some misplaced guilt, as if I were spying on a woman taking a private shower in the nude. Funny I felt that way, considering I was at my own home, in my own backyard, at a perfectly ordinary time of day. I would be expected at home at 5:50PM on a Friday afternoon, wouldn't I? Still, it was impossible to confront her knowing that she held full awareness of the fact that she was a rather unordinary treat to any man's ordinary eyes. I decided I would simply tell her, hi. I needed to open the door without startling her. As luck would have it, the cat gave me the perfect opportunity. I opened the door and called him in, "Carson. Come on! Just as I hoped, she heard me and looked towards my direction. It was my chance, now, to introduce myself and settle this mystery once and for all. I shifted out the door towards the pool, and before I had the chance to announce myself she greeted me with a friendly nod. She rested her sunglasses on the top of her forehead, revealing a set of sparkling eyes that seemed to absorb the brilliant-blue, crystal reflection of the swimming pool. She gave me an expectant glance and greeted me by name. Her soft-looking, glistening ruby lips seemed to gnaw fondly over my name when she spoke it, and she said no more. She knew me. Was I supposed to know her? Did I want to know her? Was I in danger of knowing her? What in the blazes was going on, here? My mind went back to the drive home; the hot car; the traffic. It was all too familiar until just seconds ago. Could I ask this beautiful woman who she was, or would I be doing something stupid? I can imagine how my wife would give me such a hard time for being dense about something I was supposed to know; or for not remembering that she invited a friend over, and then insulting her by not even knowing her name, despite the fact she quite comfortably seemed to know me and expect me. Would I not have been told if my wife had a friend coming over that looked like one out of every 5 million women in the universe? She would have said something about this. So, now what? With her reply and knowledge of my name, I felt trapped. I could not introduce myself without the risk of looking either rude or incredibly naive. How, do you casually ask a beautiful woman who is sunbathing nearly naked by your pool, "Sure is hot today - and by the way, who in the hell are you?'" Thenbefore I had the chance to consider any more ways I could make an ass of myself, this unknown, supermodel of a woman asked me if I would like to join her for a swim. I nearly fell over, but I knew I had to say something. I calmed myself. I would just play it cool; stalling her until my wife got home. Whoever this woman is, I could not imagine it looking too good if she got home and saw us in the pool together. I suppressed a nervous laugh at the thought of this. "No thanks", I replied, "I think I'll make myself a drink", and then I pretended to reach for my cell phone to answer a call. As I backed inside the basement door, I was nearly certain that I heard her reply, "I'll join you in a minute" At that thought, my heart didn't know whether to sink or swim, but joining her in the pool was out of the question. I dialed my wife's cell phone again. As I peered back towards the swimming pool, I noticed her picking up her phone again ... and she answered my call. I hung up. Cold blood rushed into my veins at once, and then quickly warmed as her smiling, feminine face gleamed back at me over the sparkling, blue water. When her sensational figure bounced back into my full view, a battle of my own wits began. What was cold, then warm, now felt like hot lava flowing through my entire body. She bent over, reaching for her towel, and as more of her delightful curves were revealed to me, my fear and confusion were rebuked by suspense, mystery and desire. I helplessly tried to push my fear aside, knowing that I was now clutched inside the jaws of temptation. I could not get away from this gorgeous woman, who had the most perfect body; who had the most intoxicating face; who answered my wife's call from her own phone; and who now wanted to join me in my house for a drink.
I have always been curious about amnesia. Could those afflicted know they are experiencing it when it happens to them? Can the absence of memory reveal the pleasure of discovery? Or does the loss of what you have, seek to destroy any pleasure in what is realized? Can a man enjoy what is truly his, through the mystery of not knowing that it belongs to him? As I walked away from the pool, I began to question the familiar surroundings of my own house. I did not have the courage to explore, so I walked up the basement stairs feeling comforted by the knowledge of where the liquor was kept. Greeting me on the kitchen bar were a couple of chilled martini glasses, and an unfamiliar, but unmistakably pleasant, feminine scent. My familiar, stainless-steel shaker was placed next to the glasses, and the martinis were already poured, waiting for ice cubes; then to be shaken. The olives were not of the kind I normally would buy, yet they were my favorite: The large ones, without pimentos. They sat in a bowl between the glasses and shaker. I reached through the icemaker door, grabbed a handful of ice cubes and placed them into the shaker. I shook the gin for a good minute, and then removed the ice water from one of the martini glasses. I poured slowly; watching the frothy gin fill the glass, then settle near the top with just enough room for two olives. I placed the olives in one at a time, watching the frothy liquid as it transformed back into its desirable transparent state, leaving round shadowy shapes of steam around the rich green olives. I took satisfaction in remembering the ritual of making my favorite drink and sat and waited for my guest; or wife. Taking a seat at the table by the bar, I took my first sip. I heard the sound of gentle footsteps coming up the stairway. She would be here in seconds.
When the basement door opened, I got a view of her up close for the first time. She was still in her blue bikini, but with a beach towel wrapped around her waist. The covering of the towel afforded me the opportunity to concentrate on her body from the waist up for a few seconds, which like the rest of her, was perfect. Her smile, though electric, somehow calmed my nerves. That feeling was short-lived however, when she removed the towel and walked up the stairway, giving me yet another glorious view; this time from the back. She slipped out of view, and seconds later, I heard the shower water running up in my bedroom's master bath. My mind was a battlefield of uncertainty, guilt and confusion, mixed with a nearly uncontrollable fascination and wanton desire. Her presence made it seem that just one night alone with her would be worth an entire lifetime of guilt, regret and eternal condemnation. Yet, in a strange way, I knew that even an entire lifetime with her would fall short of the reality I once enjoyed. Suddenly, I was feeling very alone. I wondered if the woman could change that, and if she tried, would I allow it? Did the answer to my loneliness rely on discovering who this beautiful woman was, and if it did, would it be the first time it happened with her? And when it happened, could the benefit of reality triumph over the fantasy of getting to know her, both physically and emotionally, for the first time? A part of me didn't want to know who I was. I didn't want to spoil the surprise. Can there be true pleasure in the deceit of one's own conscience? And was I willing to find out? I sipped the ice cold gin and looked forward to the alcohol's attempt to tame my uncertainty.
She came back downstairs in a black tank top, and soft-looking denim shorts. She looked just as good as she did in the bikini, but with a touch of softened, feminine class, previously overshadowed by the generous shape of her figure. I grabbed the shaker and asked if she was ready for me to pour her one. She looked down at my hands and nodded, as her lips formed an approving smile. Her eyes gave me a flirtatious wink as I placed the glass beside mine at the table. She sat down next to me so close that our elbows touched. I felt like kissing her dreamy looking lips, but still not knowing who she was made it seem too risky. Or was that just an excuse? Why wasn't I able to do what any man would so badly want to do with a wife that looked like 1 in a billion? She took a couple of quick sips and looked at me as if she were studying the back of a wine bottle. In her magical gaze, reflected the look of acceptance for everything I was, yet denial of everything I was not. The gaze of her soft blue eyes seemed to whisper to the loneliness I felt inside, and in return I shared no knowledge of the woman. She was a stranger, and her voice was a whisper; too quiet to be taken in consciously. Yet, she was a woman to admire, physically. I sensed that a kiss might capture a small part of what was missing from my memory of her. Yet I feared that once I did, I would be crossing a bridge; a bridge that pulled me into a different life; one that could never be as rich and meaningful as the one I thought I knew before I saw the woman gracing my pool deck for the first time just moments earlier. Once I went there I could never come back. I took another sip of the martini and tasted nothing. I felt nothing, but a distant ringing sound. I tried to push it aside as the woman looked into me again, this time as though she were looking into an empty water glass, turned upside down. Her inquisitive glare chilled my soul with the emptiness of all that she could see. She said something to me, but I couldn't make out the words. Was she speaking? There was more ringing in my ears, and I felt nothing from the martini. Just ringing...ringing; and becoming more distinct. The pretty woman's face began to fade with my own realization that she didn't know who I was. There was more ringing, and some pain; then more loneliness. I was empty, and afraid of the bridge. I must avoid the bridge. I could never come back. The ringing was more intense, and the pain almost comforting from the awareness of the reality that began to emerge with my drifting, pseudo-conscious state. I picked up the martini glass, and it fell from my hands. I let go. There was no longer a bridge before me, and just as simply as she came, the woman was gone.
I opened my eyes my eyes and looked up at the ceiling. My left arm dangled over the couch and a coffee thermos and car keys lie on the floor alongside the coffee table. "You were out cold and I let you sleep", said the woman. She came back into my view, this time with silky brown hair, and radiant emerald eyes that instantly rekindled my soul. Her appearance, more beautiful and truer than before, instantly recharged my consciousness with the recognition and memories I thought I had lost. Her face was no longer a story book painting, but truth's own version of astonishing beauty. This woman was the most attractive thing that I had seen all day. It was no contest. She bent down to kiss me, and when her lips touched mine, reality never tasted so sweet. With my head aching dully, and ears ringing in truthful discourse, I was deliriously happy. The woman led me up from the couch and towards the kitchen where she had saved a dinner plate for me. My drowsy eyes peered through the kitchen window where the evening sun gracefully revealed the call of day's end. Under darkening hues of burnt orange and through groggy eyes, I cast one glance at the swimming pool below as it blended into the fiery orange sky and disappeared into the night. What was left of the day was the memory of an extraordinary woman. Yet, one that fell short of my dreams: The woman I already had.
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