Love in Maine

by Connie Falconeri

  She pulled back the heavy fabric curtains. They looked like they’d been hand-sewn many years ago, weighted down with a thick liner to keep out the cold in winter and the heat in summer. Like so much in Janet’s house, it reminded Maddie of the lyric from that Neil Young song. Old but good.

  She lifted up the horizontal metal blinds as quietly as she could, and voilá . . . there was a dark window into Henry’s apartment, about fifteen feet away, across the air above the driveway. For all she knew, it was only the stairwell or a closet window. She kept staring at it, hoping it was his bedroom.

  Ping. The light flicked on and Henry walked into his bedroom. How had Maddie gone a whole week without looking into this guy’s apartment? The light in her room was off, but he must know she was there. Or maybe not. She saw him look out his window toward the first floor of his mother’s house, probably seeing the telltale flicker of the television and assuming Maddie was down there with Janet. Maddie watched as he paced back and forth at the end of his bed a couple of times, then raked his fingernails through his buzz cut. Maddie felt it deep in her core. She had touched that hair, and the muscles beneath it, a few hours ago. She wanted those hands on her again.

  Was she really going to sit in a dark room and watch a grown man get undressed? Was it really wrong? Or just pervy?

  She sat down slowly on the end of her bed, which happened to be conveniently located by the pervy window. Maddie slipped off her sneakers quietly and then reached under her shirt and unhooked her bra. She was just getting ready for bed.

  She slipped the straps down off her shoulders, then pulled the whole bra off without removing her shirt. She wasn’t going to get naked and roll around alone while she watched Hank get undressed. That would have been so porny. She was going to leave her clothes on.

  Henry looked across at his childhood bedroom. He thought he’d seen some movement in there, but the light was out and it looked like Maddie and his mom were downstairs watching television. He stood at the window for a while, trying to perceive the imperceptible in the yawning darkness behind the open window of Maddie’s room. He pulled his T-shirt off, crossing his hands in front of his chest and peeling it over his head. He stood there by the window, holding the shirt in his hand for a few seconds, staring into the darkness. He shook his head at his own idiocy and turned to put his clothes into the laundry basket. He left the bedroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, then came back after double-checking the lock on his front door and turning out the lights in the living room and kitchen.

  He turned on the bedside lamp, then went back to the switch by the bedroom door and turned off the ceiling light. The evening air was cool and he wanted to feel closer to Maddie somehow, if he was being honest. He went back to the window. He stood there in his boxers, listening to the fleeting night sounds of Maine that had always soothed him.

  Henry touched the dog tags that still hung around his neck. He didn’t feel like they were representative of any great experience he’d had in the Army, but after ten years it just felt weird when he didn’t have them on. Like he’d forgotten to brush his teeth or something. The light from the television disappeared from the downstairs window, and Henry waited for the back porch light to turn off a few minutes later. Which it did.

  Despite complaining about his mother’s crazy idea to take on a boarder, Henry knew Janet could take care of herself. He wasn’t going to be some weird serial killer who lived in his mother’s basement—or garage, for that matter—well into his forties, but it worked out for both of them to have him here for these few months after he returned from active duty.

  He waited a few more minutes, hoping that Maddie’s light would turn on. He could hear the final sounds of his mother getting ready for bed, then both houses settled into total silence. Yet he kept standing there.

  Maddie must have been in her room that whole time, watching him get undressed before, he thought. He smiled and took off his boxers. He heard the tiny gasp across the small distance that separated them.

  “Sleep well, Maddie,” he called quietly out the window.

  He heard her giggle, and it was a great way to end the day. He crawled into bed, enjoying the feel of the sheets against his naked body. He turned off the bedside lamp and turned into his pillow. Life wasn’t all that bad.

  Janet left for her job at the library at eight o’clock Saturday morning. Henry was surprised that he’d slept so late, when the sound of her car’s engine startled him awake. The type of work he did meant that he worked five days on and five days off. He’d been thinking he might head up to Millinockett to do some backcountry canoeing. But—

  The light knock on his door interrupted his thought. He pulled on a pair of loose shorts and walked through his apartment to answer it. Maddie was standing at the top of the wooden stairs, holding two cups of steaming coffee.

  “Hey . . .” She didn’t look like she’d gotten much sleep. Good, thought Henry, served her right.

  “Hey,” he answered, without moving aside to let her pass.

  She extended her arm, offering him one of the mugs. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.” He took the mug from her and stood his ground. She was beginning to get distracted by his bare chest. He watched as she took a sip of her coffee and kept her eyes peering over the rim without meeting his eyes.

  He took a sip of his coffee. The hot comfort of that first contact made him close his eyes for a second. “Good coffee,” he said slowly after he opened his eyes and saw that Maddie was mesmerized, staring—gawking really—at his lips.

  “Are you going to invite me in?” Maddie asked, without looking at his eyes.

  “Why? You can stare at me just fine here.”

  She smiled and looked him right in the eye that time, then reached out her slim fingers and touched his chest. “But I don’t want to look,” she said. “I want to touch.”

  “Jesus, Maddie.” He pulled her into his apartment, doing a quick double take out the front door to see if any nosy neighbors were watching.

  She put her mug down on the kitchen counter. It was a marine wood, maybe teak or mahogany, that had been shellacked to a high sheen. “Wow, nice kitchen.”

  “Did you think I lived in a shed?”

  She turned slowly to face him. “Don’t be churlish. I came all the way over here, all forward and timid—”

  He barked a laugh. “Timid my a—”

  She smiled, then punched him lightly on the arm to stop him from finishing the sentence. “I might look all confident and fabulous, but it still takes a little gumption to walk up those steps and knock on that door. Admit it.”

  He set down his coffee cup. “Maybe I need more convincing . . . about how shy you are . . . Like would you let me do something like this?” He reached around her waist and pulled her flush up against him. She gasped at the loss of air, and from the feeling of being so close to him. She inhaled him.

  “I just about died in that movie theater last night,” she whispered into his bare chest. She kissed the muscled skin across his pecs. “You smelled so good. I kept trying to take little hits of you. It was awful.” She breathed deep again, her nose against his neck. “You are amazing.”

  He reached his hand into her pajama bottoms and pulled it quickly out when he felt her bare skin. “God, Maddie, are you naked?”

  She smiled up at him after kissing his clavicle. “Aren’t we all? Under our clothes, I mean.”

  He pushed her back toward the countertop, putting his palms on the wood behind her and creating an inescapable perimeter around her. She was wriggling in the confined space, kissing him and trailing her light touch all along his ribs and his back.

  “How about a few ground rules?” he asked.

  Maddie’s hands slowed. “I should have figured you’d be a rules guy.”

  He smiled and kissed her neck, then pulled away. “Rules are good.”

  “Debatable,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to trail her tongue around the edge of his ear.

  “Maddie!�
� he groaned, then grabbed her long hair into a tight knot in his fist and swept his mouth over hers. He could feel the tips of her fingers trembling against his back and pushed the kiss deeper than he should have. She made him crazy, with that combination of bravado and tenderness.

  He stepped away from her after a few minutes or hours, he had no idea. “Hot damn, Madison Post.”

  She smiled at him, all moist and open like she’d been the afternoon before, when his mom had nearly walked in on them kissing by the refrigerator.

  “You were saying something about rules.” She reached for the hard plane of his stomach. He swatted her away and stepped another few feet out of her reach.

  “Yeah.” He stretched his neck right and left, then put his hands on his hips. She pictured him doing that in his Army uniform, with dust and sun and slow-motion chaos all around him. Then she looked into his eyes and they were stormy in a way that almost frightened her.

  Almost.

  “What is it?” Maddie asked, standing up straighter.

  “I don’t want to sleep with you—”

  Maddie stiffened. “Oh, well, okay—”

  “Jeez, Maddie. I meant I don’t want to sleep with you right away. Let’s just hang out and get to know each other better for a little while, okay?”

  Her face cleared. “Yeah. Okay. I just thought, you know, that you didn’t want to sleep with me . . . ever.”

  “You’re like every man’s friggin’ dream come true, why would you think that?” He had pulled her into a tight (damnably platonic) hug, so she couldn’t see his eyes when he said that part about being his dream come true . . . or every man’s, or whatever. She hugged him back.

  “No reason,” she said into his chest, and started hugging him tighter and moving her hips in a little inviting—

  Henry laughed and set her away from him again. “I was thinking of going canoeing this weekend. Want to go?”

  “Canoeing?” Maddie asked.

  “Yeah. Canoeing. You know. A boat. With a couple of paddles. Maybe a few beers and sandwiches and a tent and—”

  “Ooh. I like the tent part.”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Post. I am trying to be a good guy, here. Doesn’t every woman want a man who wants to get to know her before he slams her into bed?”

  “Slams?” Maddie whispered with wide-eyed hope.

  “You are impossible. Do you want to go camping this weekend or not?” He’d reached for his coffee cup and was waiting for her answer while he took a sip. “Or would you rather get a mani-pedi or something on your days off? Chick stuff. Maybe the paddling will be too hard-core for you.”

  He smiled as he sipped his coffee and watched her face go from dreamy seduction to competitive ferocity. “Too hard-core? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

  He shook his head no. “But I’m sure I’m about to find out.”

  She pointed at her chest. “I am one of the top five rowers in the NCAA Division One rankings.”

  “Is that where you all pull at the same time and someone calls out from the front of the boat? Sounds like synchronized swimming compared to crossing the English Channel.” He shrugged his shoulders. She was so easy. He watched her violet eyes darken and the pupils tighten.

  “Synchronized swimming? I bet I could kick your ass—”

  He looked down at his muscled torso then across at her lithe, sinewy abdomen.

  “Not in a fistfight, you jerk!” she exclaimed. “Endurance. Something that would really compare apples to apples.”

  He stared at her breasts through the thin, ribbed tank top she was wearing. Her naked breasts. Naked under her clothes, he amended.

  “Look at me,” she demanded.

  “I am looking at you.” His eyes slid slowly up from her breasts to meet her tempestuous eyes. “Right. At. You.”

  “Ugh! Men are impossible. All right. Fine. I’ll go on your manly canoeing expedition. And I’ll kick your ass. Down in front in twenty, soldier.” She pivoted to grab her coffee cup and stormed out of his apartment.

  Twenty minutes later, she came out of his mom’s house in another pair of those too-short khaki shorts and a clean black T-shirt.

  “How many of those black T-shirts you got, Post?”

  “None of your business. I’m at a bit of a disadvantage since I only have my duffle bag. Would it be cheating if I asked to borrow a backpack so I don’t have to hike into the backwoods of Maine with a useless piece of luggage over one shoulder?”

  “Sure. And it’s not a competition, you know? We’re just going camping.”

  “Yeah, whatever, Henry.”

  He laughed as he went up the stairs to get a backpack. He was back in a few minutes and tossed Maddie the old blue one he’d used as a book bag in high school. She held it up. “Is this from this century?”

  “You know what they say about beggars and choosers, right? Maybe you want to stick with your duffle?” He reached for the blue pack, and she pulled it out of his reach.

  “Never mind,” she grumbled. “Thank you.”

  She started pulling a couple of T-shirts and underwear and her bathroom stuff out of her duffle and transferring it into the small backpack. In her rush to get ready, she had forgotten to zip up her cosmetics bag and a strip of six condoms fell out like a tiny accordion, the shiny metallic wrapper catching the morning sun.

  “Maddie!”

  “What? I might meet someone while I’m camping.” She reached down and grabbed the packets. “Best to be prepared, my mom always said.”

  He burst out laughing and went back to organizing the camping gear in the backseat. He’d pulled the canoe out of the garage and set it into the flatbed of the truck, securing it with some rope and bungee cords.

  “Done packing, Post?”

  “Yes.” She threw the blue pack into the backseat, then picked up the empty duffle. “Let me put this back up in my room and leave your mom a note. She’ll be fine if we’re gone when she gets home from work, right?”

  “Are you kidding? She’ll be thrilled. She’ll have us married with children by Monday morning.”

  Maddie kept walking toward the house without looking back. She was mildly disconcerted by how Henry had said “married with children,” as if it were the most laughable prospect imaginable. She tried not to let her mind wander into the strange paranoiac minefield of thinking about whether he was opposed to married-with-children-with-anyone or married-with-children-with-Maddie. As if that would ever be her problem. She shook her head and jogged up the stairs to the second floor to toss her useless duffle into her closet, went back to the kitchen, jotted down a quick note to Janet, then locked the back door. She walked around to the front door and double-checked that it was locked too.

  “All set,” Maddie said. “Let’s hit it.”

  Hank was leaning against the cab of the truck with his arms folded across his chest, watching her move with all that restless energy.

  “Come on!” She snapped her fingers up close to his face and he grabbed her hand before she realized he’d even moved. He pulled her fingers to his lips. “Relax, Post.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

  He kept her hand in his. “We’ll work on it together. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She stood there for a few more seconds. “But, we should go—”

  “Get in the truck, bossy boots.” He opened the door and kept her hand in his as he helped her into the driver’s side of the truck and she slid across to the passenger’s side.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Within a few minutes, they were out of Blake and on I-95 heading north into the wilds of central Maine. The trees. That was all Maddie could think about. The trees. The trees. The trees.

  “There are so many trees.” She must have said it five times already.

  “Yeah,” Hank agreed for the fifth time, not even making fun of her. “There really are.”

  He had a satellite radio hooked up to his car and it was tuned to some classic rock stati
on. He reached to change it, expecting Maddie to want some alternative rock or pop, when an old classic came on.

  “Wait! Do you mind? I love that song. I love that they make it to Mexico. Is that wrong of me? That they rob that guy and get away with it?”

  He turned to face her. Their windows were rolled down and she was lounging against the opposite side of the seat, sort of sprawled out with her back in the space where the seat met the door. She had kicked off her sneakers and her long legs were distracting, one beneath her and one near the suspension ridge in the floor.

  “Who wouldn’t want them to get away with it?” Hank asked.

  “Probably the guy they killed while robbing?”

  Hank laughed. “Hey. They only shot him. They never said he died.”

  Maddie laughed. “An optimist. I like it.”

  “But you’re right, maybe that guy. But everyone else wants them to get away. It’s like a modern day Robin Hood story. Chicks love that shit.”

  Maddie stared at his hard jaw and his cocky smirk. “You are kind of a jerk sometimes. You know you like the song—” She shook her head and stopped talking so she could keep listening to the final chords. The song timed out, and another song came on. Another California ’70s kind of rock song.

  “Go on,” he prompted. “You were going to say how chicks don’t love Steve Miller?”

  “No, I wasn’t going to say that. I was just going to say that you didn’t have to try to belittle everything to be cool.” She stopped looking at him and forced herself to look at more trees out her window.

  “You think I’m cool?” He prodded her thigh with his right hand. “Admit it. You think I’m cool.”

  She repressed a smile. He didn’t deserve it. Yet. “I’m just saying . . . if one were to think you were possibly cool, it wouldn’t be necessary to be all judge-y about everything to solidify that opinion . . . of your coolness.”

  He stifled a laugh and kept his eyes on the road.

  “Well?” Maddie asked.