One More Time Takes Two

ONE MORE TIME

  Takes Two

  Second offering in the One More Time serial

  David Lee Howells

  Copyright 2013

  A SECOND DATE

  It was still Sunday Morning. Elsie Partlow had stolen all the corn muffins made by Sam Carney, who had fooled her into believing that their second date would turn out to be a tractor pull and monster truck exhibition.

  It was all for fun; the growingly complicated system of rules and penalties for infractions, making the infractions on purpose to enable the fun of penalties to be applied. More often than not, said rules enabled one or the other to hijack more of a shared goodie plate than would be considered as equitable distribution.

  Elsie and Sam were widowers. If Sam were to have put it in his auto sales vernacular, they were both for sale, one previous owner. They were next-door neighbors, which was a mostly good but still mixed blessing. Their close proximity was a daily reminder of the happy marriages both had before, and that each was a best friend with the other’s deceased mate. Add all the components together, and the sum total was ‘awkward’.

  Considering their second date while sipping coffee and nibbling corn muffins (Elsie would set one on his rocker chair arm from time to time), both aging friends felt the old comfortable and easy relationship suffer both excitement and discomfort as they sought to redefine their relationship.

  “Elsie, it’s my choice on what to do today. Yesterday, all the choices were things I thought I’d like, though I never dreamed you’d choose ALL of them. Thanks to you, I put in an extra scoop of grounds for today’s brew. So, what to do? I don’t know. We DID it all yesterday, and more since you helped out that car deal.”

  “Sam, you have a duty, now man up and put some starch in your girdle. Men are visually oriented. Visualize something.”

  Rocking and taking the occasional sip, Sam thought about it. They were talking about a path to marriage, but how would that work? There were so many things to consider, to overcome, to change. Two houses…which would they live in? One, both, neither? He could still function in his long-held world of used and new cars, but she was constrained from her hair-styling salon career, thanks to a non-competition clause on her formerly-owned salon. That put them on unequal footing, and that was a risk factor of dissatisfaction that could sink things. He couldn’t do anything about that for now…but what COULD he do? Sam had never taken a course in psychology, but he had used it every day in his career. He learned to ‘shrink’ on the street and the lot. He thought about it all, and smiled a little. Elsie warmed up his cup, and he smiled some more.

  “What’s got you smiling?”

  “One corn muffin toll for revelation before the activity.” The toll was paid with the last muffin. She had been keeping it in reserve just in case. “Dearest friend, I propose we spend the morning doing just what you said I was supposed to do. Visualize. Now, maybe we’ll wind up just as we are now in the long run; best friends only. But if we find ourselves wanting to launch a shared life, then let’s visualize it together. I choose window shopping for a house.”

  Elsie stopped rocking. “Sam, we have TWO houses already. We’re used to them as homes. Why go for something different?”

  “Dear one, it’s because we’re used to them. This is and probably always will be Sam and Gracie’s place. We’re next door to Elsie and Raul’s place. A married couple taking up two houses? That’s too Hollywood for sun-setters in the boonies like us. Let’s make a list of all the things we’d like in a house, and I’ll call in a favor from one of my real estate sales customers.”

  “OK, Sam. I’m willing to give it a try, but it’s hard for me, Dear.” It didn’t surprise him to hear her say that. Women were home makers from the time when Mrs. Og swept out the first cave. That may be a sexism, but all creatures made by God had habits assumed more by one gender or the other. Hunting, nesting, nurturing, courting all had customary genders that had the lion’s share of activity initiation. Humans had managed to blur the lines on many male/female roles in the last century, but that was a very short period of time to counter many thousands of years of ingrained behaviors. There was more, though still incomplete, progress regarding equity on income production and with child nurturing as well. Men were even preparing more meals and spending more on their hair styling. Change was a two-edged sword.

  Together, they came up with a list of qualifications to look for. Both recalled thinking of things they had wished were part of their homes during their marriages. Both also made note of what their homes had that they wanted to keep in the mix. The list they came up with was as follows: fireplace, one floor, basement with workshop, adequate electrical outlets, away from the city, view of either the lake or mountains, garden area with good sun exposure, two-car garage, main bedroom with a guest bedroom, gas stove, cooking island in the kitchen, breakfast nook with eastern exposure, easy access to the attic, thermopane windows for temperature stability and easy cleaning, front porch with a western exposure, low traffic street or a cul de sac, wood floors, sewing room, fenced-in back yard for a pet something or other…Sam and Elsie were taken aback at how fast the list grew, and how big.

  “Sam, were we that unhappy with our former homes?”

  “Since you used the word ‘former’ in your question, maybe so. Well, let’s give it a whirl. What could it hurt?” Sam went inside and brought back his little black book. This one was for favors owed him. No potential dates could be found in there…well, there was one, but she was kind of ‘off the wall’ and clingy, and by chance he had heard she hadn’t hit menopause. That made her impregnable, and that wasn’t as in ‘fortress’. The thought of producing a son or daughter younger than his grandchildren was just too much to, well, conceive of. So that made that particular divorcee auto customer’s subtle hints easy to side step.

  “Here. Henrietta Quintz. She’s with ReMax. Good kid, lots of experience. Saved her a bundle over at Farraday’s Honda and Suzuki.” Sam dialed. Elsie watched Sam as he appeared to cloak himself into character.

  “Ah, Henrietta. Sam here. How’s the Acura running?

  “Really? I’m happy. Anytime. Now, how’d you like to help this old man out?

  “No, not someone else. Me. Me old man.

  “No, Tarzan didn’t retire. Look, wise gal, I got a potential client with some pretty specific tastes and requirements.

  “Yes, like you. Got a pencil? Here goes…” Sam read off the list. Three quarters of the way through, he had to interject that no, he was NOT through.

  Finally, “Yes! That’s all of it. Now, the best way to relieve writer’s cramp is to exercise them on your MLS system. Time frame? This morning would be nice.

  “Henrietta, is that any way for a lady to talk to a respectable elderly gentleman?

  “That couldn’t have been me you’re referring to. Must have been my brother. What brother? You didn’t know I had a brother? Fred Carney. Nice guy. My, my. Imagine that. Well I’ll just wait here on your call back. I know it’s Sunday. It’s a day of rest. I’m resting. You can take your turn resting when you’re done. Bye dear.”

  Sam brushed off the corn muffin crumbs from his shirt and took the empty coffee cups, carafe and serving plate back indoors. Elsie had a momentary urge to go inside with him, but something held her to the rocking chair. The window of opportunity was there, but she realized that it was true…what Sam said. That was Sam and Gracie’s house, not hers. To walk in there, now that things had taken a turn for a new direction, was to invade her old friend’s memory, to enter a place that was Gracie’s home that was a tribute to all she did for a good man and two good sons. Sam was right.
Short of razing the two houses, or even giving that program ‘Extreme Home Makeover’ a call, a future between Sam and her was not destined to be in these two houses. As long as they lived there, they’d always be ‘widowers’, not a married couple. Well, not completely.

  She had some books by Gibran, and one of them spoke of houses. The wise central character said that a home starts off as a servant, then was a guest, then became a master. Repair bills had confirmed that, as the Partlows and Carneys had paid their share of tribute. Sam and Elsie’s home-masters were turning out to be powers to guard what used to be against what might be. May be a condo would be better, she mused. If you didn’t own a house, maybe it wouldn’t own you in the end. A leased home might only lease you back. Was that any better?

  Sam poked his head out the door. “Pitch the last of the pot?”

  “I think so. We need a better breakfast than that before we go snooping in other people’s homes. Beltway Diner?”

  “Sounds good. It’ll be maybe another hour or two before Henrietta calls back.”

  Two houses were buttoned up, and Elsie took her turn at the wheel.