Waltz Through the Corridors of Time

When I was able, I rolled onto my back and waited for the room to stop spinning.

"You sure make it hard to say goodbye," I gasped between breaths.

"That's what I wanted to do," she admitted while stroking my hip next to my groin, "people always remember the start of things, but endings pass unnoticed. I want this ending to be memorable.

"With a bang rather than a whimper?" I said recalling T.S. Eliot.

"Freaking English major," she giggled.

"Shrink," I replied before grabbing another kiss.

We spent the night in each other's arms, and I'll remember our last meeting as beautiful.

The week was hot, the house was not air conditioned and the nineteen year olds had shifted to a 'drink all night, sleep all day' schedule. My house became a portal to hard rock Hell. In the heat the weird aroma of grass and stale beer suffused the house.

The following Sunday, I was eating a bowl of cereal over the sink in the kitchen when my phone rang. The music upstairs boomed too loud so I stepped out on the back porch to hear better.

"I can hear you now. My idiot roommates refuse to turn down the racket."

The voice on the phone began again.

"This is Vani. Are you still willing to move into at my house if I accept your terms?

"Yes."

My simple answer must have taken her aback.

"Er, how long before you can move in?"

"Three hours."

I must have knocked her off balance again

"Uh, yes, that would be perfect. I'll see you then."

It took me ten minutes to gather up my clothing and books. I left a note on the refrigerator that I had moved out. My house mates deserved less, but the prospect of a night's sleep without bass notes rattling through me put me in a generous mood. I spent the rest of the time loading my work tools into the bed of my pickup.

I pulled up to the two story, peeling clapboard house three hours later almost to the minute with my truck full of equipment. The last ten years had been tough on Vani's house. There was no evidence that anyone had tried to maintain it during that time. I could almost hear it whimpering. Whipping it into shape in twelve weeks would be a challenge. With my military style duffel in hand I clomped onto the porch.

"Alan, welcome to my world."

Vani gave me a pretend curtsy that didn't go at all with her short shorts and Detroit Tigers t-shirt, still it was a much nicer outfit than she had worn the last time. At least this time I could see her amazing legs.

"Your world needs a lot of work. It's a good thing my world needs a place to stay. "

I surveyed the porch lingering on the rotted floor boards and the peeling window trim.

"Pretty bad isn't it?" she asked looking at the tired house beside me.

"I can see a week's worth of work from here," I turned to her, "I need a place to store my wood working equipment and tools," I gestured toward the bed of my truck.

"There's plenty of room in the garage," Vani pointed up the driveway.

She escorted me into the house and led me to my room. I tossed my duffel on the bare mattress and surveyed my new digs. The walls, left unpainted since the early sixties, were a lipstick shade of coral that set my teeth on edge, the floor needed to be sanded and polyurethaned, and I could see air gaps around the window. This was going to be a big freaking job, but not a single guitar wailed at full volume. I was happy.

"This'll be heaven if you don't blast your stereo twenty hours a day."

"I don't own a stereo," Vani replied.

I wanted to kiss her, but I got down to business instead.

"The roof is the first thing you need. Let's go into the living room and talk about it."

We sat at opposite ends of the ancient brown couch, the only furniture in the room and the first piece she needed to replace judging by its smell. It needed burning, but only on a day when the wind was blowing away from the house.

"If you hire a roofing company, it'll probably cost five grand. I can do it a lot cheaper provided you purchase the tools I'm going to need."

"What are those?" Vani asked.

"I'll need a square mouth shovel to pop off the double layer of shingles up there, and an air nailer. We need to rent a roll off box to dispose of the old shingles, I've got all the air hose I need and the air compressor. The roof looks like a 6/12 pitch so I may need to buy the brackets for a chicken ladder, and of course, I'll be replacing rotted wood under the shingles on the front side. I have a hard working friend who is willing to help me for twenty-five dollars an hour. I figure he'll work for two days. I can do the project myself for about three grand. Do you want me to do it?"

"Why should I buy your tools?"

"You don't have to. If I hand nail the shingles it'll probably take me and my helper another day. Those wages will cost you way more than the air nailer. I leave it up to you."

"Labor always cost more than tools, I'll buy them. When can you start?"

I relaxed a little. She may be controlling, but she was rational. I still saw no reason to marry her though. Artorix may be horny, but I wasn't.

I glanced at my watch.

"How about as soon as I move my woodworking tools to the garage? Let's go to lunch. I know a great Mexican restaurant near the lumber yard where you can pick out the shingles."

"Who's buying?" Vani asked.

"I am since I invited you, unless you think that's too much like a date. In that case, we split the bill."

We returned to the house two hours later with the bed of the pickup full of drip edging, tar paper rolls, two air vents, an air nailer, and a square mouth shovel. She accepted what I said we needed with equanimity. She trusted me enough to not question whether I needed everything I asked her to buy. She was beginning to look better to me. She did hesitate for a moment before she filled out check for the nine hundred plus dollars to pay for the shingles though.

I changed into work pants and boots and climbed onto the roof kicking down old shingles as I pried them from the roof with the shovel. Vani went inside.

A hour later she stepped out into the late afternoon glare carrying a tray.

"I've made iced tea," she eyed the ladder like it was covered in spiders, "would you like me to bring a glass up to you?"

I shook my head.

"No way would I let anybody in flip-flops climb a ladder. It's time for a break. I'm coming down."

I'd taken off my shirt, and my sunburned skin glistened a sweaty pink in the harsh afternoon sunlight. Vani pressed her finger into my shoulder.

"You're burned. Let me get SPF 50 on you."

She walked back into the house and returned with a squeeze bottle of sun block.

"Turn around," she ordered.

She smoothed the lotion across my back. Her soft hands stroking my back took me to places far more pleasant than the roof. When she was done, she spun me around and applied lotion to my chest and stomach.

"I hope I caught this in time," she muttered applying lotion to my forehead and cheeks in a business-like fashion, "how do you get sunburned on your chest and stomach when you're kneeling all the time?"

When she was done, she rested her hands on my shoulders. She was looking better and better. Nothing grabs a man's attention like a woman fussing over him.

"Men don't pay enough attention to their skin, and that's a shame when some men have amazing skin like you."

She dropped her arms to her side looking a little embarrassed.

"Thank you for the tea," I took a big gulp from my glass, "it's hot up there. The only thing that makes it doable is that breeze and this ice tea. I should have this half of the roof stripped by the end of the day and have tar paper down. After that, I don't care if it rains."

"How do you know how to do all this stuff?" Vani wiped the sweat off her forehead, "the shade does nothing to ease this heat and humidity, does it?"

"The U. S. Air Force sent me to school. At the end of my training cycle, my sergeant pulled me from line and sent me to the maintenance sergeant at the base. They had looked over my tests and discovered that I scored high in mechanical aptitude. They sent me to electrical school, plumbing school, and construction school. For the next three years I maintained the barracks, office buildings, and the base housing. I got pretty good at repairing anything that could go wrong with a building."

I took another gulp of iced tea.

"At the end of three years, I decided to go back to school."

"Is that why you're older than me even though you're a sophomore?"

I nodded. No sense in getting into the unpleasantness at the end.

"It's also the reason why I had to get out of that house I was living in. Those nineteen year old stoners spend their days drunk while blasting their music way too loud. It's hard to get writing done with that head banger music and rap blasting twenty hours a day."

"You're a writer?" she asked as her eyes got bigger.

"I'm trying to be. It'll be a while before I make it," I smiled, "I will make it though."

"Have you sold anything?"

I nodded.

"One story."

I drained my glass.

"Vani is an unusual name. Is it short for Yvonne?"

"Actually my full name is Vanessa, but my parents call me Vani. It's the name of a Hindu goddess. They wanted to give me an American name but keep a bit of the old country. I thought they did a pretty good job. Their names are Dilip and Lakshmi."

I nodded.

"It sounds like your family might be old fashioned."

"They are. When my aunt brought home a white boy, the family labeled him 'paradeshee' which means foreigner in Hindi. My grandmother kicked up such a fuss that my aunt stopped dating the guy, but it drove a wedge between my aunt and my grandmother. When my aunt married another paradeshee, she didn't invite the family," she looked me in the eye, "my family lost a member because of that fuss. I'm not sure they would want to lose another. Maybe they learned something."

"Are you old fashioned?"

She shook her head.

"I'm third generation," she pointed at herself, "I'm as American as beer and pizza on Friday night."

"Now why isn't a good looking woman like you, Vani, in one of the sororities up on campus?"

"I pledged Beta Beta Beta, the woman's business sorority at the start of my sophomore year, but I got blackballed."

"Really? Did they say why?"

She bit her lip, and paused long enough to indicate that the memory was still raw.

"They never tell you outright, but a friend of a friend told me. They considered me too bossy to be a good fit for their sorority," she peered into my eyes, "look, I know I have a prickly personality and RBF. There are certain people that I have no desire to associate with, and I do like to be in control. But, come on, is that a reason to blackball me after I went through all that initiation crap? I thought they would consider me an asset because I would boost the sorority's grade point average."

"What's RBF?"

"Resting bitch face."

I shook my head.

"Did those lovely ladies call you that, too?"

She nodded and painted a silly grin on her face to keep it from falling into the scowl that the subject deserved. When a woman tries that hard it melts my heart.

"As far as I'm concerned, and from a male point of view, I see no indication of RBF. You do have a serious face, but the room lights up when you smile. I think they were intimidated by your exotic good looks," I asserted being careful to keep my tone matter of fact.

She searched my face for even the hint of an ironic smirk.

"Thank you," she replied when satisfied that I was sincere.

We had made a connection, and she was getting prettier by the minute. You guys know what I'm talking about. A plain woman fussing over you looks downright beautiful. I don't know how the connection works, but it's real. It amazes me more women don't understand that. Vani was far from plain when we met, and her care made her gorgeous.

"Well, screw 'em if they can't take a joke," I held the ice tea glass to my forehead, "you're better off without them. I've watched those privileged idiots parading around campus and wondered where their sense of superiority came from. They're no prettier than anyone else nor are they smarter. Their only claim to superiority is that their parents make enough money to afford the cost of their child joining a sorority or a fraternity. I'd find a fraternity deathly dull. I have no desire for other people to tell me what to think or how to dress. It's a big wide beautiful world, and I'll go where I want and think what I want, thank you very much."

"I joined for the friendship," Vani admitted in a small voice.

How lonely these past two years must have been for her. I wanted to hug her. Unlike me, she needed friends around her. The Hindi population on campus had to be small, and the third generation Hindi population had to be smaller still.

I stretched.

"I better get back up there. It isn't getting any cooler."

She watched me climb the ladder then disappeared into the house, and I resumed my hot, sweaty work.

Once I had kicked all the old shingles off the roof, I rolled out a sheet of tar paper and began stapling it down with my hammer-stapler. The trick was attaching the paper without tearing it. I worked across the roof stapling the black paper once every square foot.

Damn, Vani was beautiful, the weird part was that she had no idea how pretty she was. Convincing her that she was a beauty was one job I would not charge her for. She had amazing legs that went on forever, and a bust line that looked ample in a t-shirt.

I stopped to catch my breath. Roofing is never an easy job, and doing it alone on a sweltering day is harder. I had to roll out two more lengths of tar paper and I'd be done.

I took a moment to straighten up and work a few kinks out of my back. Over the house's peak, I could see the road in front, and scanned for a yellow VW beetle as I often did. Crazy Amy was out there looking for me. The last time I had moved to get away from her, she had driven every street in the city to find where I had moved to. I lived outside the city now. Perhaps that would protect me. My white pickup looks like every other white pickup on the road (thank you Detroit) and I had it parked behind the house on the lawn to keep it out of sight. Amy would find me. The best I could hope was that Vani liked me and trusted me before Amy screwed everything up.

Two hours later I walked into the house still shirtless, poured myself another glass of iced tea, and sat at the rickety kitchen table. The air wasn't moving at all making it seem hotter inside than it was outside.

"The back half of the roof is prepped. The drip edge is down, the tar paper is up and the frost guard is in place. I should be able to strip the front half and have everything ready to go tomorrow. It'll take a little longer. There's rotten wood up there that needs to be replaced. The shingles will be delivered on Thursday, and your new roof should be on by Saturday."

"You still think the project will come in around three thousand dollars?" Vani asked from the stove where she stirred something that smelled delicious.

"I do as long as I don't end up replacing half the boards on the front side. You never know what you're into until you strip off the old shingles."

I tried hard not to check her out. It had gotten so warm in the house that she had changed into a low cut top and lost her bra too. I don't think I did a very good job. At one point, she wiggled her shoulders. I liked when she wiggled her shoulders.

I drained my glass, the ice cubes clinked as I set the glass down on the table. Where my old house was noisy, this house was quiet. Quiet enough to contemplate the exotic beauty in front of me, a very pleasant task by my way of thinking.

"I've checked out the above ground pool in back. It's sound, but it needs a new liner. Why don't I make that pool and a deck my next project. It's going to be a hot summer, we need a place where we can cool off."

"How much will that be?"

I shrugged.

"Liners cost around a hundred dollars. The rest will be chump change, the cost of the water and pool chemicals. I'll replace the sand in the sand filter as well. The deck will be more depending on the size you want. The whole project should cost three or four hundred dollars."

"I would like that," she smiled at me, "my check book is starting to scare me, but I agree we need a little bit of luxury in our lives this summer. By the way, I'm making dinner tonight. It's five o'clock. Can you be ready by six?

"For a home cooked meal?" my surprise and delight was genuine, "I could be ready in ten minutes."

I padded off down the hall into my bedroom whistling. I wouldn't be eating fast food at the end of the day like I often did. The shower started out as brown water trickling from rusted pipes. Everywhere I turned there was work to do. The water cleared a few seconds later and built enough pressure to let me soap up and rinse myself. After I stepped out, I toweled myself off, wrapped my towel around my waist and stepped out into the hall as Vani turned the corner. Her eyes grew wide.

"I'm sorry," color rose in my sunburned cheeks, "I thought you were in the kitchen."

With that I strode to my bedroom and closed the door.

At six o'clock I appeared in the doorway in a t-shirt and cargo shorts. Vani looked up and smiled.

"Alan, you're right on time."

She motioned for me to sit down at the rickety dining table while she scraped the stir fry into a serving bowl at the scratched up counter by the ancient stove.

"That looks delicious. What is it?" I asked as I dished a large helping onto my plate.

"Chicken tikka and stir fry vegetables."

"Is this Indian food?"

"Sort of. I held way back on the spices since a non-Hindi was dining with me, and the stir fry vegetables are Chinese by way of America. Chicken Tikka is the crack cocaine of Hindi cooking. It's the first dish that paradeshee get hooked on."

"Do you still wear saris and stuff?" I asked trying to imagine her in one.

"I wear them for family functions like weddings and funerals. The fabric is so airy and light that I almost feel naked when I wear one," she blushed at her admission.

I nodded.

"You don't get much paler than me. I'm Irish and Norse. I envy you, I wish I had something in my background that made me a little more exotic. Me, I'm plain old mayonnaise on white bread."

Vani took her serving and we began to eat.

"Thank you for feeding me, but you don't have to," I held up a forkful of deliciousness.

"My father owns a building company so I know when men are working hard on a big project, you keep them fed, hydrated and stay out of their way. I like being around hard working men, they're so different from the self-centered, whiny, overgrown man-children that college is full of."

I admit it, she was starting to look sexy as hell. I wanted to run my fingers through that glossy, full, black hair.

"I'm sorry about surprising you in the hall. I thought you were in the kitchen."

"It's no problem. We're both adults, but why don't we make a house rule that we have to be dressed in at least a bathrobe when we're out of our bedrooms."

"That's fine for you, Vani you're all slender and everything. I outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds. I'm not sure I can sit around in an uncooled house on a day like this without at least being able to remove my shirt."

I pointed at the growing dark spots on my t-shirt in the armpits and across my chest.

"I'm sweating through the t-shirt I put on after my shower."

"I don't think I can budge on this, Alan. We must remain dressed if we're to maintain a healthy landlord-tenant relationship."

I consulted my phone.

"I understand why you want that rule, but it's 91 humid degrees outside at 6:30 in the evening. Maybe we could relax the rules enough for me to remove my shirt on days where the temperature is over 90 degrees?"