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“Mmmmh, umph! This is delicious, Clara,” he said rewarding me with another look that said he wouldn’t mind doing more than eating my sweet potato pie. I looked away, careful not to entertain any thoughts about John getting me in bed. We had so much further to go before that would even be a consideration.
“Thanks,” I said blushing again. I had been blushing so much around John that I seemed to be stuck on giddy. I took me some time to realize John and I spent years of our lives longing for times such as these, and I was deserving of every smile he put on my face.
“Umph, thanks to you for being such a talented cook and sharing your culinary skills with me,” he said. My eyes nearly glazed over with joy as he scrapped up the last piece into his mouth a few minutes later.
“You’re more than welcome, John. Do you want some more?”
“Oh, no, that was plenty,?
? John said as he wiped the sides of his mouth with his handkerchief and stood up.
“Are you about to leave?” I asked, jumping to my feet as well.
“No I was just about to come around and give you a hug for making such good food,” he said on a laugh. “But if you’re ready for me to go, I could always…” he said with a raised brow and hope in his voice.
“I’m not particularly ready to be alone, just yet,” I said, honestly. “I would love it if you would stay for a while longer.”
“I hoped you would say that,” John said.
“I was thinking we could listen to some good old jazz and talk about old times, again,” I said. “I enjoyed our talk the other night.”
“That would be nice. What records do you have?” he asked.
“I’m sure I have some John Coltrane I could dust off and spin,” I said with a smile.
We went into the living room and I found an old Coltrane album. Of course, it needed to be wiped down before I opened my Crosley record player and blew the dust from it, as well. I gently placed the vinyl record on the player and dropped the needle on the outermost part. Soon, the sultry blend of Coltrane’s My Favorite Things filled the room.
When I turned to look at John, his expression was serious. He was holding his hand out to me for a dance. I gave him my hand and he immediately began to waltz around the room while holding me close. I allowed the music to carry me away as I followed his lead.
With each step I traveled back a year, until I was back in 1972 kissing John for the very first time. My youthful innocence of yesteryear froze me in place as his lips inched slowly toward mine. Once his soft, tasty lips connected with mine and parted, I moaned against the gentle assault of his tongue. I remembered the moment so vividly. I fell in love with him right in that moment as time froze, and I was doing it again as we both stood in the middle of my living room, kissing ever so sweet and gently to the sounds of Coltrane.
“Clara,” he said as his hand slipped low around my waist and pulled me closer to him.
“John,” I replied as my hands went around his neck and eased up the nape of his neck and into his hair.
“I have something to give you,” he said, as he sprinkled kisses across my lips. He kissed me long and hard against my lips once more before removing a package from his jacket. It was a medium sized envelope that he’d handwritten my name on.
“What is this?” I asked as I took the envelope from him.
“There are so many things I want to say to you that I don’t have the heart to say, especially since finding out I left you with my child growing in your belly,” he said as if the thought of not being there for his child pained him to no end.
“John, it was my fault for not telling you.”
“Either way, it pained me to know I didn’t do the right thing by you and my child back then. I just feel so blessed to be able to do the right thing now.”
“What are you saying, John?” I asked as he walked over and turned down the volume on the record player.
“Read the contents of this package. I wrote them in seventy six when I was feeling the brunt of losing you. My thoughts and feelings were all over the place and I didn’t know what to do, so I wrote a letter every time I felt lost. Some of them are short, but I wrote a lot.”
I unraveled the tie at the top of the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers that were bound together by ribbon. “Wow, this looks like a mini novel, John.”
“I had a lot on my mind,” he said on a laugh.
“Well, I guess you did,” I said, joining in on his laughter.
I sat down on the sofa and began reading the first page. There in vivid detail John began to chronicle everything from the moment he came to tell me he was moving away to the day he moved into his dormitory at Yale to the day he married Tammy. I read about how Tammy comforted him in a time when he was grieving the loss of our relationship. He sat silent as I read page by page. The passage on the last page read:
Nothing in my heart will let me part with the ring I bought for Clara, the woman of my dreams, my heart, and my love. Clara, I will hold on to this ring and remember your beautiful smile, your wonderful glow and the lovely way your body holds mine in place from so many miles away. I will always love you, until we meet again in body and/or spirit.
