Page 36 of Beach Bodies


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“Remember, I’m a nurse. If you have something I haven’t seen before, I’ll kill it.”

After they ate, he drove to a big grocery/department store in a neighboring town that was open all night. They bought groceries for a week: milk and bread, lunchmeat, salad stuff for Shelly’s lunches, even chicken and a beef roast for dinner that Shelly would cook for him.

“We’re shopping like I’m never leaving,” she said, pushing the cart with him at the side, adding whatever appealed to him. “Are you inviting me to stay?”

“I guess I am. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t even know where you live.”

“I live with my mother and father,” she said. “I’ll have to stop by there tomorrow to get some clothes. I work three twelve-hour shifts a week. Is that going to mean I’ll be spending too much time alone in your place?”

“No. My life is an open book. What do you do when you’re off?”

“I run on the beach, beachcomb, read, see my friends. Does that sound too sociable?”

“I asked you to stay, didn’t I? I don’t expect you to live like a monk.”

“What are your hours like?” she asked.

“Pretty much what you’d expect. Twenty-four seven. I’m getting sick of it, too. I’m ready to get a life.”

“And what would that be?”

He took her hand as they walked along. “A serious girlfriend, maybe a future with her, exercise; you can see I don’t get any.” He held his arms out at his sides.

She smiled; Alan was tall and lean with not an ounce of spare flesh.

“Something to look forward to on the weekend besides a bar stool, and I don’t even drink.”

“Did you ever live with a girlfriend? I mean, if I may ask.”

“I lived with my last one, but it wasn’t for long. She had a child, too.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

“What did you think of being a daddy?”

“I want it. What about you?”

“Me, too. I want to be a mommy. Probably talking about the biological clock is not the smartest thing to do on the first date, and this isn’t even really a date, is it? It’s an after-wedding hookup. Anyway, I’m not getting any younger.”

“How old are you?”

“Do I have to be specific?”

“No. Generally, how old. You can probably tell I’m in my forties. Ha! Is that specific enough?”

“Oh, well. What do you think? How old do I look?”

“Mid to late twenties? I say that because I know you probably graduated from college when you were twenty-two, and you said you’ve worked at the medical center for a few years.”

“Aw, you’re really a nice man. I’m over thirty. I got a master’s degree in nursing right after I passed the boards, so I was in a little longer than usual. I suppose you were one of those guys who like a woman to be young enough to be his daughter.”

“No, not at all. I like you just the way you are. Plenty of time to procreate.”

“Well, not too much time. I don’t want to be an old mother.”

“Ha! It’s too late for me. I’ll be an old father if I’m lucky enough to have a family.”

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