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though. Car. What about her car?
It’s Thanksgiving. Everything
will be closed. No batteries,
and even if there were, I have
to be at the station. Really soon.
I could pick her up after work,
but I know she’s anxious to get
busy on the duckurken thing.
“Get dressed. You can drop me
off, then take my car. Just don’t
forget to pick me up later, okay?”
I swear, relationships are labor-
intensive. All about compromise.
Yada. Yada. But when Nikki
comes into the bathroom, all
mussed from sleep and our
early morning rendezvous,
she looks at me in the mirror,
and her eyes hold so much love
that every ounce of resentment
melts away like butter on a hot
griddle. I relinquish the sink,
go into the bedroom, slip into
the jeans lying on the floor.
They’re a little wrinkled, but
clean enough and worn to
the point of real comfort.
A whole lot like the bond
between Nikki and me.
FOR A REFRESHING CHANGE
