CHAPTER EIGHT
Three hours after their arrival in Chilton and a half hour after dinner with Ruby and Henry, Carl and Connie climbed into their car for the drive home to their place in Appleton, just twenty-five miles to the north, right up Highway 57 to the town of Forest Junction, then west for fifteen miles to their home. The cold air settled on the ground the instant the sun went down and left no doubt that winter would make a good run of it in Wisconsin that year.
Before they pulled off the curb, Carl had the convertible top up, but the windows were down on Connie’s side so that they could yell out their goodbyes to Ruby and Henry, who stood just ten feet back. A couple of minutes later, they were pulling out of town with Carl accelerating to sixty as quickly as possible to get the full flow of hot air coming through the vents. Within five minutes, the heater was running on full fan and maximum heat, which made for a very toasty ride home. Forty-five minutes after waving goodbye to Ruby and Henry, Carl dropped Connie off in front of their apartment building on Drew Street and then drove around to the back of the building to put the car into the garage for the night.
It was a peaceful, tree-lined neighborhood, only a few blocks north of the Lawrence College campus, at the edge of the Fox River. Mostly made up of big old Victorian homes, there were a couple of small apartment buildings and corner mom and pop grocery stores scattered within a twenty-block area. None of the apartment buildings had any more than eight apartments.
Carl and Connie’s two-story building was one of the biggest commercial buildings, with its eight apartments, and theirs was in the northeast corner of the second floor, overlooking the small, grassy yard that separated the building from a garage that was sectioned off into eight stalls. This time of the year, the grass had already been killed off by the frost, and there were very few leaves sitting on the ground. Most had been raked every weekend by the building’s only maintenance man, a college student named Earl, who lived in a room in the basement and got a warm place to stay in exchange for keeping up the property.
With the car parked for the night, Carl bounded up the back steps two at a time and entered their apartment through the backdoor, which opened into their kitchen. The door was unlocked. Connie had already unlocked it, turned the heat up, and was waiting for him in their bedroom—exactly where he wanted her to be. They were in bed together within minutes of Carl’s entry, but it wasn’t sleep they had on their minds; that would come later.
Thirty minutes later, after a frenzy of turning and rolling and more turning, with arms and legs entwined in uncountable ways, punctuated with grunting, humming, heavy breathing, and laughter too, and exhaustion from a fun and passionate round of lovemaking, Carl and Connie, naked, lay still, like spoons, herself engulfed in Carl’s big, strong arms. Carl’s head was bent forward, slightly behind hers, putting his lips behind her ear and losing them in her long, flowing, disheveled, blonde hair. He maximized his coverage of her body, his arms around her, coming together in front of her, encasing her arms and folded over her breasts, his legs entwined with hers, making himself perfectly aligned with her entire body, creating between them as much contact from head to toe as two bodies could have. It was perfect architecture. They lay still, connected, sharing the perfection of the moment, warm and secure, under a goose down comforter, which trapped the intensity of their closeness.
“Whatcha thinking, baby?” Carl whispered softly behind Connie’s ear.
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t, so silent in her contentment and love for him.
“You’re thinking how much I love you… aren’t you?” His voice was barely audible as he sent the warmth of his breath around her ear, increasing her indescribable sense of wellbeing.
She nodded once, barely, but enough to be an answer, as a tear of joy welled up in each eye.
“I do, you know,” Carl softly whispered, very softly, aware that his lips were brushing the rim of her ear. “I love you very much.” He paused, knowing that she was listening. “You’re my everything.” He paused again. “You’re all that matters to me.”
She nodded again, once, but it was enough to communicate that she understood him. A tear broke free and trickled to the side of her nose and then stopped. It was the only movement in the room, that and the pounding of their hearts. She was tuned into Carl’s heart, his chest pressed up against her back. It was so strong, so steady. It pulsed as if it were inside of her. He felt so vital and so powerful. For her, this was as good as life gets. A chill ran down her spine, and her body tingled as Carl’s lips moved along her ear again, his warm breath washing over it and across her cheek. She loved the way he smelled when they were close like this, like the musky sweetness of an old cotton shirt that had been worn a couple of times in the forest, almost earthy, but fresh and clean like a warm current of morning air. Nothing else meant anything in these moments of infinite intimacy.
He whispered again, “I love you, baby,” and then he hummed softly in her ear, “mmmm mmmm mmmmmmmm,” like he does right after he puts his nose up to Ruby’s freshly baked bread and inhales its delicious warmth and contemplates its promise of perfection.
His lips tickled her ear a bit, a sensation that created a slight smile on her lips. “How,” Connie thought to herself, “could she be so lucky to have a man love her so, a man she loved so much?” She pondered this mystery for a fleeting second and sighed, thinking about how perfect life can be. And then she closed her eyes and surrendered to sleep. Carl fell asleep too, with his Connie in his arms. They would sleep like that, together, for hours and then in the morning come together again.
There’s no feeling like the feeling of being in love. It fills the cup of life with contents so luscious and divine that we never forget their taste, contents that are heavenly and sweet on the lips from the start, carrying the promise of immeasurable warmth and joy. And the best part about it is that when you’re in love, the cup is never empty, no matter how much of its contents are consumed.
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A Love Story with a Little Heartbreak Page 7