a perfect evening . . . spoiled

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


A Perfect Evening . . . Spoiled

by Don Hanle

 

This . . . was perfection.  This lying on the couch at the end of the day, watching TV with my head in her lap, her fingers caressing the back of my neck and head . . . perfection!  As I thought on it, it hit me that I had never been more content than I was at that moment . . . with her.  She was the difference; she was the change in my fortunes; and she was my everything. 

Before her I was mostly alone.  Before her, I trusted no one.  Before her, I thought good food came out of a can.  Now, lying here being caressed by her fingers, I could smell the aroma of her magic in the kitchen – most especially at this moment, roasted chicken!

My belly growled and she leaned forward to pat it and tease me.  “Oh my! Is my poor honey getting hungry?”  I responded by snuggling down to encourage her amazing fingers to begin again.  Yes, she was my everything.  “And I was her every . . .” my thought was interrupted.  “Wait . . . was I her everything?”

Until recently, I thought I was.  But now . . . there was him.  He moved next door a short time ago, and although I was wary, he kept his distance for a while.  But then one day I found her peeking through the blinds in the dining room, watching him intently as he mowed his grass.  When she saw I has caught her, she shrugged and giggled self-consciously, and then teased me about it, “Oh don’t worry, silly!  You’re my best and only true love!” Despite this reassurance, her interest in the man next door continued to grow.  I sensed it with every fiber of my being, and I did not like it.  I did not like it one bit.

Still . . . there were moments like this one; one where I was the focus of all her attention and affection, and it helped me to forget, at least for a while.  Yes, I needed to be on guard, but she would never be so loving and kind if she did not truly care for me.

Then, I heard it.  The scuff of a shoe and then a footfall on the front porch.  Before I could react, there was a playful rap on the door.  Without hesitating she brusquely pushed my head off her lap and – clearly unable to hide her excitement – literally bounded to the door. 

Perhaps it was my stupor from relaxing so deeply into her lap, but I sat up ponderously on the couch and was still there as she opened the door.  There he was, standing on the porch, some flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.  His fleshy, pudgy face beaming with expectation, he pressed the flowers towards her.

She had this thing about shaking hands or doing anything through a doorway.  She thought it brought bad luck or some such nonsense.  So, she pulled the man into the living room as she took the flowers from him. 

It was then our eyes met.  He was clearly surprised to see me as his eyes widened, but it was the pursing of his lips and the upward movement of his eyebrows that informed me of his fear.  “Good!” I thought, “it will make this next part so much easier.”  You see, I had decided right then that his attentions to my lady would end, immediately and permanently.

As he absorbed the reality of my presence and perceived my intent, he leaned slightly back from me.  It didn’t matter.  I was close enough, or so I thought.  As I lunged for him, I realized the soft cushions of the couch had absorbed much of the spring and energy of my legs as I pushed forward.  Instead of reaching his pudgy, fleshy face, I fell . . . and fell hard, flat on my face and about two feet short of him.

The man yelped in terror, and as I regained my legs and began to stand, she intervened with the sharpest tone she had ever taken with me.

“Rusty! Stop that right now!  You’re a bad, bad dog.  Now go to the kitchen!”


Submitted: August 05, 2022

© Copyright 2022 don hanle. All rights reserved.

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Comments

olive tree

"you can only truly have something by letting it go" - Thich

It wasn't true love; you riled yourself to vengefulness over jealousy and envy; the mistake is all yours; the wife and neighbour are blameless; leave if you're unwanted---find someone who wants you. How's that for an idea? True love is hard to find. Be patient. In the mean time try not to be a crybaby about it.

---oli

Fri, August 5th, 2022 10:23pm

Author
Reply

Yeah, but Rusty the dog isn't able to think quite so abstractly, right?

Sat, August 6th, 2022 5:05am

HOUDINI

Good story from the doggies point of view!

Fri, August 5th, 2022 10:24pm

B.J. Vancheyson

Loved this! I wasn't expecting the end :)

Sat, August 6th, 2022 3:43am

Author
Reply

Thank you. I wrote this a long time ago when I was stationed in Saudi Arabia back in the 1990s. I had planned on sending it in to a contest for short stories with a surprise ending, but duties got in the way, and it has been languishing in my documents queue ever since. I am glad to finally get it out there and delighted you found it such a good read.

Warmest regards to you!

Don

Sat, August 6th, 2022 8:54am

olive tree

No doubt! Suppose the dog's owner, capable of transcribing abstract thoughts into legible words, thought that way...

Sat, August 6th, 2022 6:03pm

charlamaye

It's a masterpiece someone would say I have a poem called I think you're beautiful door is but in the best way ever because it's about the love that i feel for someone in the connection that

Sun, August 7th, 2022 9:55pm

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