Sand to Love on Dog Beach

It wasn't the meal that was giving her distress. It was that her parents and two sisters were going to be here in a couple of hours for dinner.

She paused and wiped her hands with a kitchen towel. "Why don't you watch some football? I'm even more nervous with you watching me."

"I'm trying to give you support." I pushed myself out of my seat, thankful that the effects of the cortisone shot were fresh and working well. I took her in my arms and kissed her. She kissed back and relaxed in a deep, lingering hug.

"I love your hugs," she said, relaxing in my arms until she pushed me away. "Now go watch some football and let me do this. I'll be fine."

Her parents showed up first, a half hour early to be exact. Just like Janine expected they would.

Her mom wrapped me up in a big hug right away and without hesitation. She got personal in a heartbeat, taking up my cheeks in her hands. "I heard about your family. I'm so sorry. You poor boy. Nobody should lose their momma like that."

Janine scolded, "Mom!"

Her mother turned to her and scolded back, "What?! It's true." Then her tone went all friendly, "You're right. He is really cute."

Her father was up next, a big guy with a preceding belly. He gave me a firm handshake and said, "An artist, eh?"

Janine piped in again, "A really good one, Dad. Go look around."

I gave them a tour of my place which seemed to surprise them. Her mom went to join her in the kitchen leaving me with her dad. I let him know that the Ducks were killing the Bruins and turned the TV back on, much to his approval.

Out of earshot of the women, in a roundabout way he let me know he approved. I was glad, I liked her parents immediately and was happy for Janine. I got us both a beer and then sat and watched some football, remembering doing the same with my father a lifetime ago.

Then her sisters showed up. Late.

It was the opposite of her parents. They seemed to disapprove even before the proper introductions. Suspicious even. It mattered not, I was warned and treated them as I had been coached. I could do this.

Of course, I would do anything for Janine.

At one point, Dad was camped out and cheering on the Ducks, Mom was snooping around my home and studying the artwork on my walls, and I joined Janine in the kitchen.

"Your sisters need a refill," I said as I poured some more wine.

She smiled at me, "Another 15 minutes on dinner. I'm finally free to join you." I poured her a glass and we went out to the balcony together to bring the drinks out to where her sisters were admiring the view.

We obviously arrived unnoticed.

"I'd fuck that nerd myself if it meant I could wake up to this every day," said the eldest.

"You mean the koo koo," Jessica corrected her.

"No! I mean fuck. Not the koo koo, you gotta fuck to score all this. Little J is smarter than we gave her credit for, right?"

Her sisters noticed us simultaneously, our hands full of wine glasses and wide-eyed expressions.

Janine looked at me with a desperate expression, "That's not true! I'm not like that!"

I smiled back, knowing. "I know."

Janine turned to her sisters, smoke almost visibly flowing from her ears. "That was so rude! I love this guy from the bottom of my heart. He's the best, kindest man I've ever known, and he loves me. Really loves me."

Her sisters looked dumbstruck and embarrassed. "Apologize." Janine asked, and then demanded, "Apologize!"

I got a simultaneous, "Sorry." It felt real from Jessica though she hadn't been rude at all. It felt fake from Janet, but I didn't give a shit.

Janine said she loved me.

Did anything else matter?

*

Hand in hand, we strolled the waterline of the beach. Sometimes, ankle deep in Pacific saltwater, alternating with squishy wet sand as the seawater gently lapped back and forth.

There's this magic moment when low tide is at its lowest, just before it starts to change its mind to come back in. The wave action is almost at full pause. I remember Beach-girl relishing in those moments, Herbert walking with her, just savoring the feeling of the wet sand under her feet.

Me admiring from afar.

Now, at the continent's edge, we were together. She stopped and turned to me, taking up our free hands together.

"My parents like you," she stated.

"I like them too. You're really lucky to have them." I tried to hide my emotion behind that.

She nervously thanked me before getting serious, barely illuminated by the moonlight. I cut her off. "You're right, you know? I do love you. So much."

She smiled, "I know. I've known for a long time. I just . . . didn't want you to hear it from me like that. Not that way. Leo . . . I love you. I really love you."

I just responded with a kiss. One that was returned in earnest. Deep, filled with passion.

Meaning.

*

"This is what's going to happen," I said with my serious, journalist-like tone. "That guy with the tattoos over there on the rock is going to get sprayed with water and then scream like a little girl."

She chuckled, "Yep. I see it. Going to happen."

We watched as a few waves gave up some light sprays, the guy in total oblivion before a big wave crashed against the boulder and knocked the unsuspecting guy off his feet, him shrieking in the process.

We both sat up with concern until it looked like he was unharmed before we broke into laughter.

"You called it," she complimented.

"Anyone could have," I returned.

"Leo." Ooh, that tone. I braced myself. "I was thinking. Um . . . what if. What if you got that surgery."

Our chairs were turned towards each other on our new double sized blanket. I was drawing her while she bravely wore just her bikini bottoms and a sweatshirt-hoodie. She looked so cute. The beach was mostly empty.

I ignored what she asked. As if I could wait for the question to just go away, lost to the ether.

Without a lot of inflection, she brought it up again. "Goddamnit. Did you hear what I said?"

"Hmmm?" I cleverly returned.

"You doofus." She looked carefully to her left and then her right before pulling her bottoms aside to fully expose her pussy. "Get it right."

I grinned back at her, turning the page of my sketchbook to a clean sheet.

"OK, I see I have your attention now." She switched gears and went into full command mode. "I checked with your doctor's office. They could get you on the schedule for surgery at the end of May."

Because of what she was asking, I retaliated by giving her no warning that Old Lady With The Mean Face was approaching from over her shoulder.

The old lady stopped and scolded Janine who frantically covered her puss back up. "I'm glad you two finally got together, but you don't have to be nasty about it."

The lady walked away and we looked at each other, first in shock and then when out of earshot we burst out hysterically laughing.

I was grateful for the distraction, not wanting the conversation to resume but I couldn't be that lucky. She looked around again but more carefully before exposing herself again.

"I know what's bothering you," she unfortunately resumed, "you can't manage the recovery alone. I love you, you know, and I'm telling you that you wouldn't be alone. I'll be off for summer break and I'll take care of you."

I continued to sketch, rudely pretending she hadn't said anything.

"God, I love you but you piss me off sometimes." She covered herself back up.

I sighed, "You don't know what you'd be signing yourself up for. I wouldn't do that to you."

"Bullshit. You were there, your doctor told me exactly what your recovery issues would be like. I'm in." She paused. "Please let me help you. I love you."

I wasn't going to get out of this cleanly, I knew that. Only maybe prolong it for a little. "Will you let me think about it?"

She smiled victoriously, "Yes. That's all I'm asking."

"And will you let me finish this drawing?"

She looked around again, pulling a blanket around her legs and then taking her bottoms off completely. The blanket at ready to cover herself up if needed, she exposed her sex to me again with a smirk on her face.

My pencil wasn't the only stiff thing while I finished my sketch.

*

I came home the next night relatively late. Janine had left a note on my counter that read, "Missed you today. Hope you are OK. Text me and let me know you got home. I love you."

So I texted her, "Just got home. Thanks for the note. Had an errand. Missed you too."

I followed it up with a heart emoji and an, "I love you."

She 'hearted' that back and I sat in my chair and thought about what I planned on doing. It was either going to change my life and for the better or torpedo it and ruin everything.

My phone pinged again. She texted, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

I answered, "Absolutely."

Just after I sent it I realized this had been the longest time I had not seen her in, I don't even know. I just wished it hadn't taken all day to find what I needed, but it had to be perfect.

*

I almost chickened out. No, I need to rephrase that. I wasn't afraid of what I was about to do, and I wasn't afraid of getting my heart broken. Oh, to hell with that. I was afraid of getting my heart broke.

What was really killing me was that I loved her so completely, would I be OK with fucking up her life? Could I forgive myself? She deserves so much better.

Only, I want her. I need her.

I'm being selfish.

I closed my eyes. I tried to refocus on the waves. The tide was coming in with some violence. My emotions were doing the same.

"Earth to Leo." She broke me out of my internal fuckedupitness. "What the hell?! I've never seen you wound up so tight. Are you OK?"

I answered honestly, "Not really." I looked over at her next to me and had to immediately look away before I gave myself away.

She got up and positioned herself in front of me, criss crossing her legs on the blanket and took my hands. "Now. What is it?" She nudged, with a soothing gentleness.

OK. Moment of truth.

"I thought about it."

She smiled, knowing. "And?"

"I'll do it."

She leapt up off the blanket and wrapped her arms around my neck. In between kisses saying, "I'll take care of you . . . You'll do great . . . This will be so good for you . . . I'll be right there holding your hand."

She slowed down her wave of affection, realization breaking through that I was still as tight as a locknut.

She backed up, resting tall on her knees between my legs. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath. She tightened up her own self at that and waited.

"I, uh, yeah. I'll get the surgery. And you realize that I'm going to ruin a year of your life while I recover. So, um, I want to ruin the rest of your life even more."

Oh shit, that's nothing like I wanted to say. Still, she got a wide-eyed smile on her face and I knew she was already a step ahead of me. I had better be quick about it.

"Beach-girl, would you marry me?"

She nodded her head and mouthed 'yes' before a tear fell from each eye. She kissed me deeply. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a ring. She had to clear her eyes with the backs of each wrist to look at it.

She held out her hand for me to put it on her finger, and that's when I ruined the moment. "I want to get married before the surgery."

She pulled back. "Wait. What's that all about? Do you want this because you love me or is there something else?"

I had to get this right but knowing her, she already knew. "I want to spend every day and every night for the rest of my life with you. I love you with all of my heart."

She sadly shook her head and said out loud what I hadn't said, "But if you don't survive the surgery, you want me to have everything."

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

She stuck her hand out again. "You're such a doofus. Yes, I'll marry you, and before your surgery, tomorrow if you want me to, but I'm going to prove you wrong. You're going to be stuck with me until you're a little old man. You'll see. Now stick it on my finger, it's never coming off."

*

She moved in with me the very next day though to be truthful, she had been moving stuff in a little at a time for weeks. Progress stalled on that a little, because she was suddenly very busy as she went into action. Putting more of her energy into my surgery than the wedding. There were doctors' appointments, blood tests, insurance to deal with, and a shitload of red tape.

One day she got into such a fight over the phone about the surgery date being pushed out (again) that she left me home and drove downtown to kick some ass. She returned home and simply said, "It's back on. Same day, same time." She reminded me a little of a prize fighter after winning, only bruised and bleeding all over the place during the acceptance speech.

This woman meant business.

We got married on our beach, on our exact plot of sand even. Surrounded by just immediate family and the beach regulars. To the disappointment of her mother who wanted a big, fancy church wedding, but she got over it. I think her dad was secretly over the moon the way it played out.

I finally put a bullet in her Skylark. We were going to get her a new car but couldn't get around to it, there was so much going on. She took over the Subaru until we could. I certainly wouldn't be driving for months after going under the knife.

I did keep one secret until just after the ink was dry on our nuptials. I pulled out the fire safe and showed her the books, what she was now worth, and our emergency funds of cash on hand. It was a good thing she was sitting down.

Everything happened so fast, before we knew it, it was like the calendar had been rolled up like one would a newspaper and beat us with it.

For me, it was another surgery, add it to my album of scars. For her, she tried and failed to hide her rising anxiety that built upon itself every day leading up to the moment they put me under.

Even still, I so admired her for her strength and tenacity.

I tried to tell her that at the last minute but I don't think it came out that way before I saw Herbert in the sand next to my gurney. I felt a little sick that I didn't have a carrot for him but he licked my face with extra slobber to tell me I was forgiven.

*

Things were kind of muddled and foggy but I think I had experienced a few false starts before consciousness finally stuck. I tried to blink my eyes to focus, and when they finally did, there she was, sitting beside my hospital bed. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

Only that perception slowly started to change. Her hair wasn't tied up, but in total disarray. Her eyes were puffy and red. She looked at me expectantly. In an almost tentative but surely nervous voice, "Leo?" She rose from her chair which I noticed had a wastepaper basket pulled next to it, overflowing with used tissues. "Leo, honey? Are you really awake?"

Tears started to flow and pulled on my heartstrings. She ran a handful of fingers through my hair. "Why are you crying?" I sort of mumbled.

She whimpered through a string of concerns. Infection, fever, and a load of unexpected complications that were more than she bargained for but were everything that had been at the back of my mind all along.

She wiped her face with a wadded up tissue from the hand not occupied with my hair, "I thought I was going to lose you." A fresh set of tears, her saturated tissue was worthless now. "How are you feeling, honey?"

I didn't have to think about my answer, "I'm OK." Only I wasn't really sure. I don't know if I felt anything at all beyond concern for my wife. "I guess you win the bet. You really are going to be stuck with me until I'm a little old man."

Her face went into several emotions as she processed what I had said until a smile formed and she sort of laughed, shooting snot and more tears. She had to retrieve a fresh tissue to clean herself up.

I could see the emotion drain from her body, leaving only a caring smile. She resumed running her fingers through my hair. "You're such a doofus sometimes."

I smiled back at her but keeping it on my face started to take effort as I started hurting. Like everywhere. I couldn't hide it anymore and completely lost focus.

She ran from the room, coming back with a nurse and then a doctor. He asked me some questions that I'm not sure I answered just right until whatever they loaded up into the saline drip bag attached to my arm made my disposition on the world change dramatically.

The only thing I saw clearly after that was Herbert. He had his front paws up on my bed, his tongue sticking out in front of rapid breathing as he was wont to do. "Hi, Herbert. What do you think of all this?" I said to him, I think. "After I get out of here, I'm going to ask her if we can get a puppy."

I got a big slobbery kiss in approval.

"I need you to do something," I said next, after I got his attention. "Take care of our Beach-girl until I get back."

*

Five full days in the hospital later I was at home, Janine already helping me to wean off of the painkillers. Strong acetaminophen helped, it was the opioids that concerned us. Her even more than me as she was now aware of the depths of how they affect me. "You get kind of weird," she would say.

I was getting better every day but was still sore as hell and had limited mobility. Janine was there for me every step of the way. She helped with all of the ugly, and as embarrassing as it was in regard to human functions, her attitude was serious and clinical at those moments.

I couldn't have existed without her during that time. And she didn't make a single complaint.

I was a different story, I bitched about everything.

Especially when she would take me to physical therapy. That was the worst.

I couldn't pick up anything heavier than my sketch book. I couldn't do anything. She did everything for me.

Her mother checked in on us throughout the summer. Janine wouldn't even let me alone if she had to go shopping, despite my insistence she have everything delivered online (she had to 'feel' the produce, being her primary argument). So she'd have her mother 'babysit' me whenever she had to go out.

That wasn't actually bad at all, her mom was really cool and we had some interesting conversations. She reminded me a little bit of my mother and I was glad Janine had a loving childhood when growing up like I did. Only it was when I was alone with her at some point she turned The Mom on to level 11 and scolded me for all my pissing and moaning, that it was weighing heavy on my wife, which was unfair given the level of care she tirelessly gave me. She was absolutely right, I made a solid effort to turn that around.

To Janine's surprise, I even ate all my vegetables when she prepared dinner that night. She raised an eyebrow at me and said, "Hmm. I bet Mom had something to do with that."

A few weeks after the surgery, we had started walking. At first, just turns around the hallway between units in my building, always hand in hand. As the weeks went on, she progressively added distance and worked-in the physical therapist's exercise regimen. We'd even take the elevator to the ground floor and make turns around the building, and after that, the cul de sac in front. Weeks later, we still hadn't been to the beach but we added one flight of stairs in the building.

We spent a lot of time in the pool together and she'd help me do exercises as had been recommended in PT. Followed by time in the hot tub, and if nobody was around, all I'm going to say is, well, we got handsy.

Of all my PT and exercising, which sucked, there was one thing I thoroughly enjoyed. Janine called it 'sexercising'. It started out tentative and she treated me like I was so brittle that I would shatter into glass shards at any moment, but over time it grew into sweaty, passionate moments that I will cherish forever. As I recovered, we added elements that I could have never done before. I'm going to credit those activities to being the most critical elements of my recovery. Janine laughed at that, saying it was my motivation that made it work in all truth.