Sand to Love on Dog Beach

*

One day we got a delivery during the recovery, a new chair for the patio. Janine was excited and extolled its features, "It will support your back firmly. You can sit out here and look at the beach and the ocean. It's wide, so you can sketch in it comfortably. And the best part is that it's roomy enough, when you feel a little better, I can scootch in next to you and cuddle."

It didn't take long before she proved all that to me in spectacular fashion.

She rearranged the patio furniture to have the loveseat face the condo, it's back to the ocean and moved my new chair to be right in front of it. A large canvas paper I sometimes would mount to a board was leaning to, within reach, as were all my pencils. She asked me to sit and take up the medium.

She stood in front of the loveseat and dropped her robe. She hadn't been wearing anything underneath. She got a wicked grin and took up a familiar lounging position on the loveseat. I just looked at her in shock and admiration.

In the smokiest sounding voice, "Draw me like one of your French girls."

I had to smile, recognizing the line from the scene. "That's from Titanic."

"Mm hmm," she responded.

"I thought you hated that movie."

"I do," she responded. She chuckled at my confusion. "Listen, I'm married to a brilliant artist, who even before he knew my name, drew me in the nude and in sexy ways. Without me having a clue. Now, like Kate Winslet's Rose, I want to know what it feels like. But for real. I can see the lust in your eyes, I can feel the love you have for me in your heart."

Almost breathlessly she added, "Please. Would you?"

I answered by starting to sketch. She smiled and let out a big, contented sigh.

My pencil seemed to move on its own. It might have been the greatest drawing I had ever made. It's framed and hangs in our bedroom, giving me a smile every single day.

*

It was on our one year wedding anniversary that I had circled loudly in our wall calendar when we put my new back to its fullest test. I was feeling a lot better, still sore from time to time, but I felt like a new man.

We walked down the steps hand in hand and found our plot on the sand, spreading our blanket and chairs to all smiles and even some applause from the regulars.

I was immediately at peace.

I couldn't believe how much I had missed it. Janine could tell and was feeling it too, she hadn't stepped onto the beach since the last time we were on it together, before the surgery.

"Well?" She asked, knowing.

"It's awesome," I replied.

She chuckled, "No. It's fucking awesome."

She leaned over half way and I covered the rest, no longer fearing it would send shocks up my spine, and we kissed. After, I wished her a happy anniversary and told her I loved her, she replied the same.

It had all been worth it. It had all been made possible because of my Beach-girl. I told her so. And I would for years to come.

Before I knew it, the sun was low on the horizon. "Well, Art-guy?"

"Yes, Beach-girl. I would agree."

We packed our gear and made our way to the base of the stairs.

I took a deep breath and looked over at her. She smiled and put her arm around me which I returned, there was a magic kind of sparkle in her eyes. It said, 'you can do this.'

I softly counted them out-loud as we ascended, "One, two, three, . . . ," finishing at the top. "One-hundred, forty-one!"

We had made it to the top without me even leaning on her. OK, well, maybe just a little, but largely under my own power.

She guided me off of the sidewalk at the top, out of the way of any beachgoer foot-traffic, just onto the adjacent little plot of grass. "How do you feel?" She asked.

"I feel fine." I responded.

Then she started to weep into both her hands. "Hey, hey," I moved in and rubbed her back, "What is this all about."

In between sobs, in a soft undulating wail, "I know it upsets you when I cry. It's just . . . I'm so happy for you. For us. So proud of you."

I wrapped her up in a full embrace. "It's all because of you. Go ahead and cry. Happy tears are OK with me."

She eventually calmed down and tightened her embrace. "God, you give great hugs."

*

Epilogue

*

When she revealed herself, she looked radiant. It was the first time I had ever seen her in a formal dress, and she took my breath away. I told her so.

"Why thank you, kind husband." She looked me up and down, her smile turning serious. "What's with the tie?"

I looked down at it draped over my neck and back up at her, "I couldn't tie it. I've tried 15 times." Evidence being that it was all wrinkled and sort of mangled up.

"Oh, my gosh. We watched almost an hour of YouTube videos on that. Let me help you." She stepped behind me and reached around to give it a try and struggled. "Why do you have to be so tall?"

"Why do you have to be so short?" I turned it around on her with mirth.

She sighed and gave it a couple more attempts. "OK, new plan." She pulled it from around my neck and tossed it on the chair before adjusting my collar. "No more ties for you. I'll never ask you to wear one again. That's not you anyway. I don't know what I was thinking."

She was still adjusting my collar when she frowned, "Leo! You still have sand on you. Quite a lot behind your ear still."

"We spent most of the day at the beach, remember?" It was a weak defense. I knew where she was going to go with it next.

As predicted, she scolded, "You took a shower, right?!"

I chuckled, "You know I did. You were there, remember? I . . . I just forgot. I was kind of . . . distracted at the time." I gave her my naughtiest grin, remembering that our trysts in the shower were now a regular thing, not remotely possible before the surgery and during early days of recovery.

She laughed, "OK, you. That's enough. It will only get you all worked up and we don't want to be late."

I moved in and embraced her, "So what if we're late."

"Stop it." She said softly and pushed me away, smiling, I knew she was thinking the way I was and on the verge of giving in. I waggled my eyebrows at her and she mock slapped my arm. "Come on. Everyone we know is probably already there."

"Fine."

We made our way to the art gallery in La Jolla that was showcasing my art. It was opening night, and Janine was right. Everyone we knew was already there.

We made our rounds, saying hello to her family, her teacher friends, and even some of the people I occasionally work with at the museum downtown. My neighbors were there too. I was glad to talk football with the twins and told them how thrilled we were to watch them play on TV for Cal all last season.

At one point Janine and I got separated as I had to spend some time with the gallery director and a potential buyer, and even one of my old professors who had butted in. I excused myself to seek out my wife, finally finding her with her parents. When she spotted me approaching, she gave me a beaming, loving smile.

She excused herself from her folk's side and asked me to help her find some more champagne, though I knew better. She was drinking sparkling grape juice, and though not pregnant, her IUD was removed and she wasn't taking any chances, even though a couple of drinks would have been just fine.

Her body molded into my side, our arms linked, she said slyly, "Everyone here knows that the woman in all your paintings is me."

I looked briefly around at the walls. My paintings typically had three subjects; beachscapes, beachscapes with her in the foreground or background, or paintings that focused just on her. Mostly nude, though tastefully done, not too explicit (well, I mean, most of them), and her face usually obscured or only partially shown.

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

"It should, right? Only, it doesn't. It is the hottest thing ever and I can't wait to get you home and do the koo koo."

"Ahh. Now you know there's a method to my madness."

She pulled me away to a semi-private corner by the bar and wrapped her arms around my neck. She got a serious sort of look, "Leo. Will I always be your muse?"

"Of course," I assured her.

"What about when I'm old and gray?"

"You will always be beautiful to me, and you'll always be my muse. I love you."

She smiled in a show of relief, but it really was all for show. I understood her enough by now that she knew it all along, she just liked to hear it. "I love you too."

I could feel it in her kiss. She broke it too soon but out of PDA sake in a crowded room, I understood. We embraced each other, her face buried into my chest. She asked, like she frequently does, again, wanting just to hear me answer her as I always do, "Will you always hug me this way?"

"As long as I live and breathe, Beach-girl. And forever after that."