Chapter 12

Toni

So they weren't going to let each other go. They weren't going to leave each other. That was wonderful to know, but it was approaching the land of weepiness, so Toni took herself in hand. She drank off her juice and sprang to her feet. "I haven't given you the nickel tour yet."

"I guess you haven't," 'Berto said. "So take me on the tour, and you'll get a nickel."

"This way, then, sir," she said, and headed down the hall. She gestured him through the bedroom door. "This is the bedroom, where couples frequently..." What she was about to say she could not say, and she couldn't, for a moment, think of another way to put it. "It's where couples frequently care for each other. And of course they sleep here too – though some are more zealous about making the bed than others." It was true; in her haste that morning she'd merely tugged the covers back into a semblance of neatness on her side of the bed, and his side was still a wreck.

She turned and led him back the way they'd come. "This is the living room. Oddly enough, people do live here. They watch TV, and they drink juice, and they sometimes hold hands or cuddle on the sofa. Only the most superior men, of course, cuddle." She gave him a mischievous grin, and led the way to the kitchen.

"In here," she said, "people cook. Usually the smartest member of a couple does most of the cooking, as I do in this house." He'd been smiling since the bedroom, and now he was very nearly laughing. "Also people eat here ... and sometimes play footsie under the table."

'Berto did break out laughing here, and she joined him as she remembered her shy advance the night before, when she'd timidly touched his foot with hers. She'd intended to keep them off of weepy ground, and so far she was doing well. She took his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder, and felt him kiss the top of her head. Straightening up, she led him through the kitchen door.

"This is the utility room. In here a woman can wash an unexpected guest's clothes, as well as her own clothing. There is a washer and a dryer, and a truly intelligent man will learn to use them. There are shelves along the wall—" she pointed "—on which to store soap, bleach, things like that."

She flipped the deadbolt and opened the back door. She still had 'Berto's hand, and she led him down the two steps into the backyard. There was a chair beside the steps, one of the plastic affairs you can leave outside because the weather won't harm it. She dropped the tour guide act, now, and was simply herself. "I like to sit out here in the evening and watch the night fall. It's so peaceful. The only neighbor is on the east; to the west is Washington Street, and over the back wall there's a trail and then Hahn Arroyo, and only then are there more houses. The grass needs cutting, or will need it in a few days. The mower's in the utility room. Maybe you saw it while we were there."

"I think I did, now that you mention it." He took a deep breath. "It is peaceful out here."

"I'll have to get you a chair, but for now you can sit here and I'll sit on the steps."

"No, Toni, you don't have to do that."

"It's all right, 'Berto – I don't mind."

"Well, if you insist. But why not sit on my lap?"

She tilted her head to look into his eyes. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course, Toni. I wouldn't offer if I didn't."

"All right then, my lord – I'll sit in your lap."

The chair was to her right and he was to her left, so he released her hand and stepped in front of her to the chair. He sat down and took her hand, pulling her toward him. She stood before him for a moment, looking into his eyes – looking down, now, into his eyes. They were gray eyes, she realized, just a shade too pale to be blue. Then she took a turning step, and was sitting on his knee. She wiggled about for a couple of seconds, and was comfortable. "Are you all right, 'Berto?"

"I'm fine, Toni. You don't weigh anything."

She knew that wasn't quite true, but she also knew that she was a small woman, who wouldn't be the burden someone else might be. She slipped her arm around 'Berto's waist, and leaned her head against his chest. "I hear your heart beating," she said.

She felt his breath catch. "What is it saying?" he asked.

Her voice was a whisper. "Toni, Toni, Toni..."

"That's exactly right."

"I could understand it, because my own heart is saying, ''Berto, 'Berto, 'Berto.'"

"We do seem to be a lot alike."

"No, there aren't any irreconcilable differences here..."

It was a moment before he replied. "We're not married, Toni..."

"I know. But we're together, and we always will be ... won't we?"

His arms came around her, and held her tightly. "If I have anything to say about it, we will be."

"We're agreed, then..." She let her voice trail off. The evening was indeed falling upon them, and the air was taking on that violet tinge that marks all the best sunsets, even if you don't see the sunset itself. I have never been more content, she thought. Not even with ... not even then was I happier. It was a new thought to her – she was having nothing but new thoughts today, it seemed – and a pleasing one. If I've got to bear this burden, I at least can have some compensation for it. I can at least be happy for a little while in the midst of my desolation.

She turned her head and kissed 'Berto's chest, the cloth of his shirt just slightly rough against her lips. Her right arm was already around his waist; now her left arm reached up and around his neck, pulling him to her, matching the hold of his arms on her body. Her left hand moved, stroking his neck, and his throat, and his cheek, and smoothing his hair away from his temple. She didn't see what she did, but it seemed that her sense of touch was so acute that she might as well be seeing it. I could almost love this boy, she thought, her mind moving lazily. And for once, in her contentment, she didn't slap herself down; the thought remained, and began to work its way into her heart.

'Berto

It wasn't the most comfortable chair, and as slight a burden as she was Toni was becoming heavy. But Roberto didn't care. What was important was that this girl trusted him enough, cared for him enough, to snuggle into his lap and, it seemed to him, almost go to sleep there. He'd never known a woman who would sit in his lap, and be happy just being there. Nor had he ever known a woman who could make him so happy simply by sitting in his lap.