"Sandburg? You coming out of there anytime soon? I'm hungry!"
"Cool your jets, Ellison! Jeez! I'll be there in a minute!"
"Your minutes are usually half an hour," came the grumble through the slats of the French doors.
"Oh, stop," I groused, adding softly, "it's not like the friggin' restaurant's gonna get up and walk away."
"I heard that!"
"There's a shock—oh, hey—found it."
The journal was right where I'd left it—beneath the futon. I blew a herd of dust bunnies off its cover and placed it on the bedspread. Still kneeling on the floor, I opened the pages, flipping through them until they fell open naturally with the weight of a small, folded slip of paper.
"Achoo! Sandburg, what the hell are you doing in there?"
I grabbed the brittle piece of paper and carefully stuffed it in my back pocket, then tucked the journal beneath the bed. Jim was just reaching for the knob when I came through the door, flying past him to grab his jacket from the hook and toss it to him.
"Let's go!"
Jim rolled his eyes as he wordlessly pulled the jacket on and followed me out of the apartment.
"So what's the deal, Chief?" he asked twenty minutes later as we got comfortable in the back booth at Di Cicco's.
Unaccountably, my throat chose that moment to close up. Everything was still so new, so fragile between us—which is kinda funny, when I thought about it. Four years together, but only a few weeks—well, together, together. So, everything was new—and not new.
God, sometimes I make my own head hurt.
I gave Jim a little smile and shook my head, taking a sip of water to buy some time. I'd told him last night that I was buying dinner—and after he'd finished clutching his chest in mock surprise, I'd told him why.
At first, he'd looked puzzled. "Anniversary? For what?"
I could tell he was trying to count backwards and come up with the date we'd, uh, figured it all out, but the numbers weren't adding up.
"Just never mind," I'd laughed as I wrapped my arms around his waist and drew him close. "You're getting a free dinner out of it, anyway."
It had seemed like such a great idea, until I realized I hadn't seen that one thing I really needed to mark the day. But now it was in my hip pocket and Jim was watching me, a half-smile gracing his face.
"The deal is," I started, then shook my head. "Hold on."
I reached behind me and gently extracted the paper. I held on to it for a little bit, then handed it to Jim.
His long fingers pulled the folds apart, but his eyes were on mine with a funny, tender expression. That's when I knew he recognized what I'd handed him.
I scooted closer until we were shoulder to shoulder. Jim got the paper unfolded and spread it carefully in the little expanse of white linen between our two place settings. We stared at the little list, both of us recalling a time when I was ready to walk away—and he wouldn't let me.
Jim turned his head until his mouth was just inches from my ear.
"How is Naomi?" he murmured.
I ducked my head, smiling. "Oh, she's fine. Currently somewhere deep in the Pennines, I think."
"Good place for her."
I jabbed him lightly in the ribs with my elbow, both of us knowing his smart ass remark was strictly pro forma. He faked a flinch, then tapped the next line on the list.
"Dave still looking to buy the Volvo?"
I dropped my hand to the curved seat between us. "Yeah. Calls me once in a while. I tell him no every time, but he—"
"He's probably more interested in its owner." Jim slipped his hand down under the table to weave his fingers with mine.
"Hunh? Dave? No way."
"Look, I only met the guy once and even I could figure that out."
"You're so way off base."
Jim tapped the list with his knuckle, then reached for his glass of wine. "Whatever. What made you keep this thing in the first place?"
I shrugged and started to pull my hand away, but his fingers tightened.
"Well, it's kind of like a good luck charm."
Jim tilted his head and smiled at me—and I lost track of whatever I was going to say next. I know for a fact that Jim really has no idea how breathtaking he can look sometimes. Aside from the meticulous care he takes with his workout, he's oblivious to how, well, good-looking he is. Like tonight, for instance—he never pays that much attention to what he wears so he threw on a navy blue shirt over black slacks. Now, here in the subdued candlelight of the restaurant, his normally pale blue eyes had deepened to heartstopping indigo. His cheekbones were thrown into sharp contrast by that same light and I had to remind myself that now was not the right time to touch—because I really have a thing about Jim's cheekbones.
A quick squeeze of my fingers and my hand was released as the waitress approached with our salads. I started to reach for the paper but Jim got to it first, folding it up and sliding it into the breast pocket of his jacket.
Dinner was great, but then it always is at that place. We've eaten there so often that where once we used to place two different orders and then split them at the table, now the waitress divided them before she served us. Our conversation was general for the rest of the meal and we walked home, sharing a warm feeling of contentment and an even warmer feeling of anticipation.
We made love almost immediately after getting home. Still in the process of learning what pleased each other, every time was like the first time. Tonight it was me taking the lead as I used everything I'd learned so far so to drive Jim wild. Sometimes, he'd let me take us all the way and sometimes he'd gently take over, but it never mattered in the end. His joy was always my primary goal—as mine was his.
Hours later, I lay naked along the bare line of his back, my head resting comfortably between his shoulder blades. Jim had my hand curved inside his own palm, his lips nuzzling softly at my fingertips.
"Hey," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his neck, "be sure and give me that list back, ok?"
"Why?" he responded, mouthing the skin of my wrist.
"Wanna keep it."
"How come?"
"Because it reminds me—it reminds me of a new beginning, a second chance."
Jim didn't say anything at first. I didn't need him to, but just when I thought he'd drifted off to sleep, he said quietly, "Know what it reminds me of?"
"No, what?"
He tucked my hand beneath him, so close to his heart I could feel it beating.
"It reminds me how close I came to losing you. How screwed up we'd let everything get and how—how I knew that even though leaving might be the best thing you could do, I couldn't let that happen."
My breath hitched a little. "The best thing I could do?"
"No, Chief, don't misunderstand me," he said levelly. "At the time, I wanted to convince myself that you'd be happier away from me, away from the all the sentinel crap, the job, the violence. But something inside me knew that wasn't the answer—you and me, being apart. It never was."
"It never will be," I whispered, amazed one more time at the depth of emotion this man touched in me. Even before we'd become lovers, Jim had always been able to fly me higher—or bring me lower—than anyone else in my life, even Naomi. Now, with his love and our future together secure, I knew what I said was more than the truth—it was a vow.
Jim handed me the list the next morning after fishing it out of his jacket pocket. Instead of sticking it back in my journal, I found an old document frame and placed it inside. We hung it next to the computer in my old room where we both can see it and remind ourselves that there once was a time when leaving had seemed like the only thing I could to do to make things right.
Now we both know that staying together will always be the first thing on our to do list.
In July of 1999, To Do List by Aubrey Robin was posted on the Internet. This sentimental snippet was written because the author considers that day—and the events leading up to it—nothing less than a small miracle.
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