No More Sweet Sorrows

Gingerly, I exited the car and folded down the seats. Just as gingerly, I slipped off my jeans, then climbed in back with Kelsey. Just like old times. Well, not just like it but close enough. She was the same old Kelsey in a good way, the way she kept herself, slim, trim and healthy. But hey, I looked pretty good myself for age seventy. My washboard abs rocked. I wasn't totally bald and, as I mentioned, vestiges of my youthful spirit remained, enough to give this middle-age gal something to take back with her to Seattle.

There was enough room for good old missionary, for Kelsey to lift her dress to her waist, and then for me to take top and slip between her firm legs. She cried out, "Oh my, Jon, can you believe we're doing this?"

"Yes, but don't wake me up if I'm dreaming," I said.

There WAS a sense of surrealness to all this, meeting up with Kelsey after five years and then humping in my Honda while parked in the Davies's driveway. It was something I had fantasized about over those five years (sans the driveway part) but never thought it would ever happen. No longer did I have to only think about "the things we used to do," as that old Bobby Darin hit went. No sir, I was doing it--doing it and loving every part of it, from the sensuous feel of her smooth, youthful skin against mine, to her moans and heavy breathing, Risky business, to be sure, but when you slide into your seventies, your sense of mortality kicks in big time and you realize that there isn't a whole lot of time left. "You only go around once and you've got to grab all the gusto you can." Okay, I agree, it was a corny ad line, though I'd bet that Schlitz sold lots of beer from that long-ago TV commercial. Besides, there was more than a grain of truth in it.

Kelsey might have been thinking the same thing. If she felt any inhibition at all, she sure didn't show it. "Yes yes! Ohmygod, yes, that's it! Ooo, baby, I'm on fire!" She carried on as if we were back on that parking lot where we used to fool around after group rides. I suggested she modulate her tone, least we give ourselves away. She did. At least until she climaxed, when her decibel level shot up once again. As for me, I went easy on the sound effects when I climaxed seconds later. Lucky for us, all remained dark and quiet on the Western Front.

I grabbed some tissues from the center console to clean up. Then, with our clothes back in place, we held each other, traded light kisses and talked. "What a special night this has been for me," I said. "Maybe we can..." I stopped there, stopped from suggesting a meet-up before another year or another five years passed, because I knew that it wasn't in the cards for us. I was willing. Yet knowing her, I knew she couldn't commit to something ongoing, and it had little to do with the geographic distance between us.

She snuggled closer to me. "Maybe we can get together in the not too distant future is what you were about to say, isn't it?" My silence answered for me. She book-ended my face in her hands. "Look, I'm going to miss you, miss you something terrible, I imagine. What a special night...yes, for me too, Jon. Pardon my clichés, but it's a night I'll preserve in amber, keep under my pillow. My life, without going into details, has been a long series of sweet sorrows, and our parting will be one more. Don't take it personally. You're one hell of a guy. Of course, I always knew that."

I didn't push the matter. It would have spoiled the mood. Instead, I tried to lighten things up. "Okay, Kelsey, so the meaning of life is...fill in the blank."

She placed a hand over her chin and leaned forward. "Hmm...let's see. Okay, so the meaning of life is to hook up with a former cycling buddy you haven't seen in five years, a buddy that you fell in love with--but didn't tell him at the time--then make love with that buddy in his Honda Crosstour while parked in the driveway of another former cycling buddy who hosted the best party she's been to in a long time." She swiped a hand across her forehead and blew out a heavy breath. "So, how'd I do?"

"You did great, couldn't have done better myself," I said.

"Thanks. Of course, it's all subjective. But that's my meaning at this moment. Now you."

She grinned, as if she enjoyed shifting the "pressure" to me.

"In twenty-five words or less?"

"In as many words as you need."

I had it, or at least the best I could do then. "The meaning of life is to be happy, to be there for the people you love, accept people as they are and not try to change them. There. I'm not the Dalai Lama but there you have it."

"Hey, you did fine," she said, patting me on the back. "Words to live by, I'd say."

I drove her the short distance to her rental vehicle, a red Chevy Cruze. Then we said farewell with more necking and vague plans to stay in touch. She gave me a final wave before entering her car. I sat in my Crosstour right behind her Cruze, waiting for her to drive off. And waited and waited. Close to a minute after she turned the ignition, she was still sitting behind the wheel. I was about to leave my car to ask if she was okay, when she cut her engine, then ran around to my passenger side and signaled for me to let her in. When I did, she said, "I've been thinking, thinking and crying at the same time. Ever do that?"

"At the same time, no," I said. "I'm not that well-coordinated."

She managed to chuckle while wiping her eyes. "Anyway, I was thinking," she continued, "thinking that I don't want to wait another five years, another year or even until fall before I see you again. So, can you come to Seattle later this summer?"

I didn't think there was much that could surprise me anymore, but she had just proved me wrong. "Of course," I said. "What changed your mind?"

"Nothing, really. I guess I'm just sick and tired of sweet sorrows, of walking away from potentially good things long term. Preserve this night in amber, keep it under my pillow...it's all so much bullshit, a shield against being hurt, along with some misguided notion of what romance is supposed to mean, what love is supposed to mean. I want to live in today, not in some Victorian poem or novel. I was sitting there behind the wheel, crying my eyes out because I missed you already, thinking about the plane ride home and god knows when I'd see you again, if ever."

The idea of seeing Kelsey again within the next few weeks sounded like a very exciting prospect indeed. She appeared to be sincere. Still, given her history, I let a healthy dose of skepticism curb my enthusiasm. "Sounds like a plan," I said. "Can we go atop the Space Needle? I've never been to Seattle but always thought I'd like to do that if I ever get there."

"Yes, we can go atop the Space Needle. In fact, we can have dinner up there at Sky City. I think you'll like my little house. Cozy, comfortable and it sits by a lake. And maybe, depending when you come, we can go to a Seahawks exhibition game. And yes," she grinned, "you can even wear your Ravens jersey."

"Kelsey, you make me want to pack already," I said. "Just please don't change your mind."

She wrapped her arms around me. "With the way I feel? Not a chance. I'm good with it. More than good, I haven't been this excited about anything for a while. Besides that, I love you. No more sweet sorrows."

No more sweet sorrows. Her words ran through my mind as I watched her return to her car.

"Kelsey, I hope you make good on that," I said to myself, watching the red taillights of her Chevy Cruze fade into the cool night.