Page 56 of Midlife Crisis

I love her.

It hits me hard, right in the chest as I stare at her across a greasy garage and through a dirty window. I love that woman, and I want to make all her dreams come true because I know she’s a dream come true for me.

First, I need to make this appointment. I have just enough time before my shift at the crisis center.

+ + +

The night is slow, and sometime around midnight, I decide to call Midge.

“You still up, baby?” I speak softly into the phone.

“Hey, yeah. You okay?” I love how she detects in my voice I might not be all right.

“Whatcha doing up so late, little lady?”

She yawns. “Working. I’m so close. I just want one more design for Pendelton.” I hear the smile in her voice, and my shoulders relax. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been since the DNA test. Doc swabbed the inside of my cheek. Like an expectant parent, I’m nervous, anticipating the results. Within seventy-two hours, my entire life will change—one way or another. I could be a father.

“I like the sound of your voice,” I admit. I close my eyes, imagining the curve of her lips and the hint of her grin.

“That’s sweet, honey.” My heart skips a beat. She hasn’t called me names like this before. “Slow night tonight?”

“I think I’m the one who needs to talk.” I doodle on the edge of the desk calendar, scrolling out the design of music notes. I haven’t played in years, and my fingers twitch, shifting the pencil to a drumstick and tapping lightly on the pad of paper.

“What is it?” Her concern makes my eyes close again. The rapping beat of the pencil increases, the tap-tap growing louder.

“Can I ask you to go somewhere with me on Sunday, but not tell you where or why yet?”

“Sure.” She doesn’t hesitate, and the pattering pencil in my hand stops.

“Don’t want you to worry, though, okay?” Taking her with me on Sunday will be a big step in our relationship. I’m asking a lot of her without telling, but I don’t want her thinking about anything other than her interview in a few days.

“Okay.” Now, she hesitates.

“Promise me?” I tease.

“Yes, I promise.” The breathy sound ripples over my skin, and I’m the one who smiles, blushing at the thought of things I want to do to this woman.

“You okay?” she asks again, and I pick up the pencil, twirling it around, a rhythm forming in my head.

“Much better now. How are the boys?” I listen as she talks about her kids. She’s so proud of them, concerned for them, loving them. I let my mind drift, lulled into the comfort of her voice for several minutes. Hearing her stifle another yawn, I suggest I let her go, assuring her I’m much better since we spoke.

“I didn’t say anything. I just rambled.” She laughs.

“I could listen to you ramble for the rest of my life.”

“Hank,” she exhales lightly.

“Sweet dreams, cupcake.”

“Of you,” she says quietly before the phone goes dead, and another smile crosses my lips.

23

Getting things off your chest…or just getting off

[Midge]

I stare at the image, wondering what I’m missing. I’m cutting this design too close, and it reminds me I miss a team of designers.