realized was that you could be poor but deliriously happy at the same time. Every night when I heard him take the stairs three steps at a time I’d shiver a little bit. We’d meet in the doorway or out in the hall and he would hold me like we hadn’t seen each other for weeks. As soon as the apartment door was closed, he’d feel my backside or wherever he could get with his hand under my dress (I didn’t make it too difficult for him). In a few minutes Roxy would have him pinned down on the floor, fishing through his pockets for her prize.
I put Roxy to bed early. She was coming down with the sniffles. Besides, tonight was going to be a super special time. Mom and Dad were reading The Kinsey Report on human sexuality and were trying out something a little kinky. I mean stuff that twenty or thirty percent of the people were already into.
There was a little something else going on too. I skipped a period every now and again and usually it wasn’t cause for alarm.
Candlelight on the card table. La Bohème on the record player. I’ve wanted it back so many times, Gideon. Where did it go? Jesus, we were so happy.
I served him wearing a knockout front-button sweater. He stared at me so adoringly, I blushed. For a long time I’d wondered why Gideon married me. I was on the tall side, blond, with a terrific pair of tits. I knew it made him feel good when I was at his side. He was proud of me, my college education, my old man being an Admiral. Through me, Gideon was thumbing his nose at something in his childhood. He wouldn’t talk about it, just as he wouldn’t talk about the war.
We talked about everything else. We couldn’t wait to be alone and talk. He was a very funny guy when he got a little tipsy and he knew something about everything going on in the world. A lot of times we’d talk without words. He’d put his arm about my shoulder and lay my head on his chest and we’d listen to those secondhand records and sip vino.
“You’ve been looking awfully beautiful lately, Val.”
He unbuttoned the sweater front and did all those nice sweet things to my breasts ...
“We pregnant?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Hey, how about that! I wouldn’t mind another little girl.”
“How come?”
“Little boys have to be little men the minute they’re born. The pressure is on for them to be tough—don’t cry—look how strong he is—he’ll be a hockey player, that one.”
“But I want your son.”
“But I don’t want my son to go to war,” he said. And I knew this came from way back and very deep.
“I’ve been thinking, honey. I can take a few brush-up art courses. You know, I really don’t have that many credits left to get my teacher’s certificate,” I said.
“There’s a ten-dollar pay raise coming and I’m getting an extra fiver a week as the union shop steward. Let’s try it this way for the time being.”
Roxanne ran a little temp and had a bad dream. I took her to bed with me and Gideon sacked out on our paid-for couch. During the night when she was restless and woke me I could see Gideon, his eyes open staring at us, so filled with love.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he answered.
“Squeeze in with us, honey,” I told him. I pushed my backside against his tummy and his arm went around the both of us. When Roxy’s fever dropped, I wished for an endless night.
G IDEON AND I had this crazy notion about living in Marin County, over the Golden Gate Bridge, even though it meant a long bus ride to the city. We would spend his days off driving around Marin, fantasizing that our dream house would appear.
Mill Valley was a sweet, cuddly little town with redwood stands, woodsy trails, running brooks, zillions of flowers, and an artsy village center.
Henry Perkins was a real estate salesman who worked the poor side of the tracks. He had long deduced from our Model A that we weren’t going into the high-rent district.
The house Mr. Perkins found for us was actually an abandoned weekend
I put Roxy to bed early. She was coming down with the sniffles. Besides, tonight was going to be a super special time. Mom and Dad were reading The Kinsey Report on human sexuality and were trying out something a little kinky. I mean stuff that twenty or thirty percent of the people were already into.
There was a little something else going on too. I skipped a period every now and again and usually it wasn’t cause for alarm.
Candlelight on the card table. La Bohème on the record player. I’ve wanted it back so many times, Gideon. Where did it go? Jesus, we were so happy.
I served him wearing a knockout front-button sweater. He stared at me so adoringly, I blushed. For a long time I’d wondered why Gideon married me. I was on the tall side, blond, with a terrific pair of tits. I knew it made him feel good when I was at his side. He was proud of me, my college education, my old man being an Admiral. Through me, Gideon was thumbing his nose at something in his childhood. He wouldn’t talk about it, just as he wouldn’t talk about the war.
We talked about everything else. We couldn’t wait to be alone and talk. He was a very funny guy when he got a little tipsy and he knew something about everything going on in the world. A lot of times we’d talk without words. He’d put his arm about my shoulder and lay my head on his chest and we’d listen to those secondhand records and sip vino.
“You’ve been looking awfully beautiful lately, Val.”
He unbuttoned the sweater front and did all those nice sweet things to my breasts ...
“We pregnant?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Hey, how about that! I wouldn’t mind another little girl.”
“How come?”
“Little boys have to be little men the minute they’re born. The pressure is on for them to be tough—don’t cry—look how strong he is—he’ll be a hockey player, that one.”
“But I want your son.”
“But I don’t want my son to go to war,” he said. And I knew this came from way back and very deep.
“I’ve been thinking, honey. I can take a few brush-up art courses. You know, I really don’t have that many credits left to get my teacher’s certificate,” I said.
“There’s a ten-dollar pay raise coming and I’m getting an extra fiver a week as the union shop steward. Let’s try it this way for the time being.”
Roxanne ran a little temp and had a bad dream. I took her to bed with me and Gideon sacked out on our paid-for couch. During the night when she was restless and woke me I could see Gideon, his eyes open staring at us, so filled with love.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he answered.
“Squeeze in with us, honey,” I told him. I pushed my backside against his tummy and his arm went around the both of us. When Roxy’s fever dropped, I wished for an endless night.
G IDEON AND I had this crazy notion about living in Marin County, over the Golden Gate Bridge, even though it meant a long bus ride to the city. We would spend his days off driving around Marin, fantasizing that our dream house would appear.
Mill Valley was a sweet, cuddly little town with redwood stands, woodsy trails, running brooks, zillions of flowers, and an artsy village center.
Henry Perkins was a real estate salesman who worked the poor side of the tracks. He had long deduced from our Model A that we weren’t going into the high-rent district.
The house Mr. Perkins found for us was actually an abandoned weekend
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