Same Time Next Year
I run around the suite with a trashcan disposing of used condoms then pack all our stuff, putting our wet clothes in plastic bags before stuffing them in our suitcases. I was so busy that the hour flew by and Chad’s knocking on the door. I open it and he takes our bags. I follow him out and get in the golf cart. We make small talk. He asks if I enjoyed it, I said yes and before we know it we’re pulling up next to the ‘vette and Brian is already there. He’s smiling… that’s a good sign.
Chad unloads our bags and says his goodbyes. Brian closes the lid to the trunk and looks at me.
“You get it?” I ask.
“Of course,” he answers smugly with his Cheshire cat grin.
I smile back at him and move to get in the car. He grabs the back of my pants and pulls me to him. I turn around and he kisses me. A passionate kiss… the kind I get lost in with tangling tongues and heavy breaths. I hum into his mouth and wrap my arms around him, kneading his back and his shoulder blades.
His hands go to my head, playing in my hair. We’re both lost, I lean against him, he stumbles and our bodies crash against the car, but we don’t break the kiss, we just ‘hrmph’ and keep kissing. The hairs on my legs stand up and chills march up my back. It just feels so good… I love kissing him.
After a few minutes, he reluctantly pulls away and I moan. “Damn,” we say together at the same time and that heat flushes across my cheeks in a blush. I blink twice because I think my mind’s playing tricks on me. I could have sworn that his cheeks turned a little pink, just for a second.
I kiss his neck and let out a chuckle. I push off of him and wipe my saliva off his lips then lick my fingers. That always gets him.
“Don’t,” he says shaking his head.
“Don’t what?” I tease. He pushes me toward the car door and walks around to the other side. We open our doors at the same time and watch each other as we get in. We’re both smiling.
Doors shut, seatbelts fasten and with the turn of a key, the engine roars to life signaling the end of our weekend.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He puts his right hand on the back of my seat and cranes his neck around to see out the rear window so he can back the ‘vette out of the parking spot. He steps on the gas and swings the car out into the driveway, then pauses to kiss me before he turns back around and slips the gear stick into ‘drive’. We smile at each other kind of goofily and I flash back to a time when my family went on vacation to St. Louis for my parent’s tenth wedding anniversary. We were leaving the hotel and my dad turned around the same way, kissed my mom just like Brian kissed me and they smiled at each other with these goofy looking grins then turned around and looked at me and Molly. I was probably only about nine at the time and I distinctively remember thinking, ‘Ewww’ and ‘Give me a break’.
And now, here I am in this weird, cosmic, deja-vu moment and I’m not thinking ‘Ewww’ or ‘Give me a break’… I’m thinking… this is right… I like it… oh, I don’t know what I’m thinking…
We start off down the dirt road to get back to the highway and Brian informs me that he’s going to have to wash the car when we get back. I don’t comment; the current state of his precious classic automobile is the last thing on my mind right now. I’m looking out the window, watching us get further and further away from the retreat and I’m really kind of sad. We didn’t do anything remotely resembling an adventure like skydiving or snowboarding or seeing one of the Seven Wonders of the World, but I had a good time.
I’m going to miss it. No pressure from the outside world. No political wars to fight against. No family problems to deal with. No money or career or school issues to face. Just me and Brian. Alone, together. It was just a business trip. But it wasn’t.
“You’re pouting,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I’m not pouting,” I snap back on the defensive. There is nothing wrong with feeling whatever you feel about things, but for some reason, Brian always makes me feel like what I’m feeling is wrong. Or a bad thing. Or stupid. Or something. I am sad, but pouting? Nuh uh.
“Are so.”
“I had a good time,” I tell him as if that would explain my mood.
“You did?”
Uh! Couldn’t he tell? Ah, he frustrates me sometimes. “Yeah! Didn’t you?” And he better not lie.
He gives off a long sigh. “I guess.”
That annoyance that I feel about him sometimes creeps up again. I know he had a good time and I hate that he can’t or won’t admit it. I shake my head and turn back to face the side window. I just don’t want to deal with him right now.
“Hey.”
I continue to not face him and in a very disinterested sounding voice, I answer, “What?”
“Here.” I turn to see and he’s holding out a small piece of paper. I take it from him.
“What is it?”
He shrugs his shoulders but doesn’t look at me. He’s driving which means his eyes are watching the road. As usual. I open it reluctantly and find the retreat’s logo across the top. Right under their name the word CONFIRMATION is written in all capital letters. I shift my eyes to him and he’s grinning.
“I thought maybe you’d like to go back.”
“I would,” I practically beam, giving him one of my big smiles. “What about you? You wanna go back?”
He half shrugs. “I figure, why not? It wasn’t overly syrupy and romantic. I’m still alive, so it didn’t kill me.”
I knew he had a good time! “And your dick didn’t fall off either,” I say sarcastically. He huffs.
“So what are we going to do next time? I mean, you know, you can only have one honeymooooon.” I let the ‘moon’ part pucker up my lips as I draw it out in a croon-like, sexy kind of way. He glances at me with his usual disapproving frown. I laugh and decide to quit pestering him. I’m just happy that he wanted to go back of his own free will. Not for a business trip, but because he wanted to spend time, like this, with me. I quickly ask, “Decadent Dungeon?” while wiggling my eyebrows. I already know that’s what it is.
“No, uh uh,” he shakes his head and my jaw drops open. “I was thinking more along the lines of the Barbie one.”
“You were not,” I tell him laughing and rolling my eyes.
He looks over at me in confusion. “No, I was.” I’m shocked and can’t think of anything to say. He continues, “She’s blond…” he pauses and looks at me. “…like you.” I furrow my eyebrows and give him a scowl. “And I’d make a good Ken. Don’t you think? Good-looking, successful.”
Okay, he had me going there for a minute. He’s kidding. “And now who’s full of themselves?” I ask. I wait for a smile or a grin or something. I don’t get one. “Stop it! You’re freaking me out.” I’m not laughing anymore and I’m still waiting for him to cave. He shrugs his shoulder. My smile fades. Still nothing. “No fucking way! I am not playing Barbie and Ken with you!” I panic and turn back to the reservation slip in my hand.
It says, DD-1. A feeling of relief washes over my body. “Yeah, right. Asshole.” I punch his arm. Then, finally, he laughs.
I read the rest of it and I see the date. It’s this same weekend only next year. I’m a little bummed that we have to wait a whole year before we come back but then it hits me and I smile so big my cheeks hurt.
“Brian?” I’m about to bust wide open.
“Hmmm?”
“It’s the same time next year.”
“Wasn’t that a movie? Neil Simon, I think.”
Oh, he’s so annoying! “Yes. No. Errr, I don’t know.” I’m shaking my head and waving my hand in the air. “That’s beside the point.”
“And what’s the point?” He waves his hand in the air just like I did. I bat it away then lean my head back against the headrest and look at him.
“The point is… it’s for the same time next year. This same weekend.”
“Really?” He shrugs his shoulder again, half-heartedly, and moves his head around in small circles like he’s clueless. He’s not clueless. “I didn’t notice.”
“Yes, you did.”
His lips join in on the rest of his facial features, trying to throw me off. They push out and pull in and push out. He licks them. I don’t buy it. Not for one second.
“And what’s the significance of it being the same weekend?” he asks, straight face, looking straight ahead.
He’s baiting me. “The significance is…” His eyebrows go up in anticipation of my predictable response. “…it’s the same time next year. Duh. Like, we have an anniversary now.”
His eyes shift my way just for a second then return to the highway ahead of us. “Don’t,” he says in a fake menacing tone. Uh huh.
“Don’t what?” I ask in response, like I always do. I blink my eyes at him.
He ignores it and lets it drop. After a minute or two he breaks the silence. “Anniversary, huh?” he asks trying to be innocent.
“Yep,” I answer smugly.
His lips curl up just a little on the sides. He’s cracking. I move my hand wanting to touch him.
My fingers walk around the gear stick, across the edge of his seat, up the side of his leg and over his thigh… slowly and determinedly making their way towards… His hand comes off the steering wheel and connects with the back of my hand with a hard smack. I jerk it away in retreat and let out a huff, but I still have a smile on my face.
“We need to get a new car,” I tell him matter-of-factly. His smile gets bigger. I turn back to face the front and watch the road in front of us. The highway markers breeze by in a blur. I count them or try to count them. “Maybe a Hummer,” I think out loud. I hear him laugh.
His hand reaches across the center console and rests on my thigh. I glance at the dashboard clock. It’s only been seven minutes since we pulled onto the highway. That is definitely a new record.
