Do All Things With Love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Romance
Adam and May learn what is most important in their lives.

Submitted: August 03, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 03, 2019



Do All Things With Love


“Adam!” I yell with the indignant rise of my blond eyebrow as I hold up my phone near my mouth while on speaker. “What do you mean, you’re going to be late again?!”

The common but irritating habit of his annoys me to no end after I take pains to make supper from scratch of his favorite meal of homemade pizza.  My man can’t say no when his boss often asks him to do some menial task at the last second before quitting time, which needs to be done before the next day.  As a result, Adam rarely comes home on time.  I should've known better that it would be no different this time out of a thousand!

Sounding tired and very defeated, my boyfriend says, “You know how it is.  I’m on my way home now, May.”

Well, I’m not having any excuses this time as I glare up at the clock.  “That’s not the point.  You should have been home fifteen minutes ago!  Dinner’s ready!”

“Oh, yes, it is,” he replies with a bit of irritation.

“No.  Them always imposing on you is,” I snap with the shake of my head.  “And you just let them walk all over you as usual.”

“No, I don’t!” he defended firmly.

“Yes, you do!  I mean, really!  It’s not fair, and you damn well have a life outside that stupid office!”

“Gosh, they know that, May,” he acknowledges in a monotone because it was the same old excuse flying from his lips condoning the whole business of abuse on his time.  “They trust me to get things done right the first time.  I call that job security.”

“I call that stroking your ego!” I accuse with my fist on my hip.

Adam pushes out a sigh.  “Gotta go!  Bus is coming!”  The call ends to my shock.

Another first, my boyfriend of two years, hangs up on me!  With a slack mouth, I stare at the cellphone in disbelief.  When I try to call Adam back to cuss him out, he won’t pick up.  I text him some choice words, and he doesn’t answer that either.  The more I brew in my stew of anger, the more I know I’m going to kill him the moment he walks over the threshold.  Okay, what I really mean is, I will make him wish he was dead!

An hour passes as my rage paces with me like a caged tiger.  No Adam.  Another 60 minutes arrives and departs following another and another.  This is unusual behavior by my man.  We fought before, but that never prevents him from coming home to me. 

Biting my nails, I begin to fret while muttering to myself.  More time skirts by without a word from Adam.  My anger lines the surface, of course, but is overridden gradually by other emotions.  Review of my phone shows no new calls or texts.  I continue to reach out to Adam without a response.  I almost wish for a tracking app, so I would know where he is. 

Minutes tick by without change.  Fear dominates my rankled mood because Adam has never been so late as it nears midnight, regardless of the arguments we have.  Did something happen?  Anxious tears rise to my eyes at the scenarios spinning in my mind of him being mugged by a thief or injured in a random shooting.  Would the last conversation I have with him be about something as stupid as Adam working overtime?  No time during the day do I even say that I love the sweetness of his countenance in giving the shirt off his back to a stranger in need.  His genuine helpfulness I cherish because he doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The jingle of keys accompanies the unmistakable rattle at the front door.  I spring to snatch it open.  There, my boyfriend, Adam, stands with his courier sack around him.  He’s pale, with wide eyes in surprise.

His voice comes out in a croak, “May, I—”

I cut him off, throwing myself at him and kiss his face in the relief that washes over me at seeing him alive and well.  When Adam pulls away from me as if in a daze, I notice the red blotches that speckle his dress shirt.

“You’re bleeding!” I cry with swelled eyes. 

“It’s not mine,” Adam explains with a grimace.

“Not yours?  What?”

“It’s a long story.”

I touch his chest so happy that I can.  “I don’t care.  Tell me, anyway.”

Swallowing with difficulty, Adam shares with me that the bus he caught after hanging up on me was in a horrible accident.  Some poor soul rode their bike without any reflectors after sunset.  The woman was struck when she entered the bus lane as the monstrosity pulled into traffic.  It wasn’t the driver’s fault.  The bicyclist cut in on the driver’s blindside and bam! 

Being the last person to enter the bus after a run, Adam saw it all.  The collision of flesh and metal forced the woman through the air right in the path of the bus wheels.  The cyclist’s startled cry as her whole body disappeared under the rolling bus he never wanted to recall again.  The awful crunching and grind of metal and jolting bump sickened him.  The bus immediately stopped with a chorus of screams from the passengers on board. 

Adam ran off the bus, followed by the ashen driver.  People halted their cars in the middle of the street in their rush to help pull the mangled woman from under the massive wheel.  Other traffic flowed around slowly with rubber-necking individuals.  There wasn’t much to be done.  The police and an ambulance were called, yet Adam surmised neither of these would make it in time. 

The injured woman was conscious, reaching for Adam.  Her blood-stained hands touched Adam's shirt before he gripped her hand in both of his.  He trained his eye on her face and not her contorted body.  She struggled to breathe with bubbles of blood popping from her mouth.  The light faded from her eyes as she gasped and gargled trying to speak.  Adam tried his best to soothe her with the assurance that help was coming.  Nonetheless, the bicyclist expired in the street as the wail of sirens drew closer.

“Oh, Adam!” I gasp and shake all over with my hands cupping my nose and mouth.  “I’m so sorry!” 

Tears fill Adam’s eyes.  “All I can remember are the eyes of the unfortunate soul.  They were so blue…just like yours.”  My boyfriend stares at me with a spooked look.  A tremor goes through his body.  With cold hands, he pulls my hands away from my face.  Tears drop from my eyes in sympathy and horror.  Adam kisses me like his life depends on it. 

Both his hands cups my cheeks with the stroke of his thumbs as he says in earnest, “No, I’m so sorry about our fight, May.  Nothing in the world matters more to me than coming home to you.”

Adam kisses me with the passion that fuels him to prove what he says.  Huge tears fall from his eyes as he does it and when he lifts me into his arms and carries me to our bed…  Wow!  The way we connect is unlike it ever has been before.  Adam’s love pours into his lovemaking, and I cry with him.  His conviction and actions so move me, especially his story and reaction to it. 

Also, I forget my anger.  What I discover while waiting for him is that none of the petty stuff matters.  I am just elated that my man is home safe.  It could have been him run over by that bus today and me weeping at his lost life.

Laying in the lap of the man I adore while we lounge on our bed, a new day has come.  I feed Adam a slice of cold pizza from last night’s supper.  For breakfast, it’s my favorite meal (next to an omelet made by Adam’s capable hands).  He takes a bite looking lovingly down at me as I grin up at him in contentment. 

“I love you,” I confess with a sigh.

The grin spreading across his face seems to imply that he reads this in my bright eyes.  “I love you, too.”

How soft his lips are against mine!  How alive!  I could never get tired of his sensual kisses or him.  Warmth radiates through me even at the belief last night for the first time that I might not ever see Adam's handsome mug again.  I’m so glad to be wrong as I reflect on this with him this morning after we get up. 

As Adam does, I realize that we can never take each other for granted. The memory of his sad story is so fresh in both our minds.  The scar will remain embedded in us for all time. 

With the stroke of my face, Adam swears, “From now on, I will do everything with love because we never know from one moment to the next when we’ll take our last breath.”

As we take a joint bite of the same cold pizza slice, I nod because I couldn’t agree more!

© Copyright 2020 Amy F. Turner. All rights reserved.

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