Abs brought few items of clothing here with her, most donated. She’s relaxed a bit on the style and gone for comfort. Her red hair is soft and straight, and she’s got no makeup on, a cup of fresh coffee in her hands.
We’ve had so much fun together, these past weeks. Went antiquing knowing she’d come home empty handed. Abby says she’s done buying stuff she doesn’t need. I teased her, “Does that include books?”
She swatted at my chest, and her hand went right through me. It gave us both pause, and I looked at my very-much-alive wife from under my eyebrows wondering how she’d react to the reminder that as the Beatles said, I’m not the man I used to be.
Green eyes darkened before she smirked, “I need books. Don’t ever threaten the absence of books again.”
I understood the double meaning. She was partly referring to me. “Your books aren’t going anywhere.”
Abs and I have one point of contention, reading fiction. I’ve never gotten into it and she’d love to change that.
Will never happen.
And I’m here for eternity.
Hiked Minnewaska, too. Abby swam under the waterfall and of course I joined her. I tried to take off my clothes and we were both surprised I couldn’t. It was an awkward second or two before I joked, “Guess you can’t fold ghost jeans and leave them on a boulder.”
Abby pointed to my sneakers. “At least those will never get soggy.”
“I hate soggy sneakers!”
“Me too!”
She disrobed, ignoring goosebumps from the chilly air, and jumped in the deeper section of the natural pool, water copper-colored from local minerals. I told her ponds weren’t like this in Ireland, they favored green, and she asked for every detail I could remember as she swam on her back and kept repeating, every time I asked about her goosebumps, “It’s not that cold. Stop mothering me! You remember how it is — you get used to it!”
I was half in the water with her under that waterfall, but I couldn’t feel a thing, everything about me appearing dry as always. I went under and didn’t have to hold my breath. Abby waited until I reported back, “The fish can’t see me.”
“Really? You’d think animals and…fish…would be able to see.”
“Guess not.”
“Are there any snakes around?”
“Yes. About a half dozen.”
“What?!” she screamed.
I cracked up, “You should see your face!”
“Are there six snakes or aren’t there?!”
“No,” I laughed, hardly able to speak it was so funny. “Zero snakes, baby, I would’ve told you to get the fuck out the water.”
So beautiful staring into a seemingly endless shower that nature provides. Sure, it’s more potent after winter, so the stream was not as majestic as it sometimes is. We weren’t complaining. Nothing to complain about anymore.
However one tiny thing has been bothering me, and it’s on my mind as I gaze at our lush property while she sips steamy caffeine. “Look at this place. The best thing I ever did, besides marrying you, was buying these acres.”
Abby agrees, “It's very beautiful.”
I side-eyeball her. “You always hated to come here. Now look at you — ordering delivery and hanging out with me for almost a month.”
Throwing me a you-really-want-to-go-there look, she removes the green sweater, freeing her arms while she argues, “I did not hate it. That's too strong a word.”
Humming an I-don’t-buy-it-for-a-second, I cock my head, “Hrmmm.”
She folds the sweater to gather patience, jaw ticking before she admits, “Okay, it wasn't my favorite thing to do.” She throws out her arms, “But the drive!”
“It's two hours!”
“Of me white-knuckling it while you drive the speed of light! Not comfortable!”
I start laughing, and she starts giggling.
Because who really cares about stupid shit like that anymore.
Who has time to fight?
She takes a sip from her cup.
“I miss coffee.”
Abby frowns, sipping more. “Oh that's good. Mmmm. That's real good.”
“That's it, live it up.”
It takes her a second to get my pun, and she laughs, but the laughter fades as the sad reality hits her.
That wasn’t my intention.
But it’s hard to ignore sometimes.
I am no longer a man.
I drank my last coffee.
Among other things.
I return to the view until my wife asks with gentle curiosity, “Have you seen a light?”
The question has plagued me for months. “Not yet. Think that means I'm going to hell?”
Abby looks me in the eye. “I don't believe in Hell. I think ‘Hell’ is living on Earth without you. And I don't recommend it.”
I feel this, and ask with all seriousness, “But you believe in lights?”
She blinks against the dappled sunlight as it temporarily blinds her through our vines. “A lot of people have seen them.”
I’m not one of those people, and I don’t want to be, not if it means leaving Abs again. “What do you want to do today?”
She thinks about it until she gets a weird look on her face that worries me, finally revealing her big idea with a sneaky smile, “You want to come with me to a bookstore?”
“Oh shit.”
She cries out, “Now you have to come!”
With equal albeit opposite feeling, I inform her, “I don't have to do anything. I'm not tethered to you, woman. I can stay here and look at the pretty trees if I wanna!” Which is exactly what I’m doing now. But she’s so quiet I’m curious why. Side-eyeballing her, I notice Abby sliding down the straps of her jumpsuit, blue cotton falling over her breasts until they spring free, perky nipples saying, hey Max, what’s up?
I nod, “Bookstore it is.”
Abby yanks up the straps, claps her hands triumphantly, “Yay!” and jumps off the loveseat to change clothes.
Hiding my grin I call out, “But you're driving!”
Chapter 21
Abby
Inquiring Minds Bookstore feels like a second home from my visits over the years. Privately-owned, New Paltz is the smaller of two locations, created with a lot of love by its private owners. It’s filled sky-high with both new and used books sharing the same space. Antique couches and chairs are coupled with iron, antique lamps, and hand-scrawled signs show you the way.
Walking these familiar aisles with Max right now, I’ve never been more content. He’s talking to me, not looking at the books, but that’s fine. He’s here.
Can’t believe I haven’t visited.
Not since moving.
Why didn’t I?
Perhaps I suspected how good it would make me feel.
Depression is a seductive bitch.
I truly do not understand how my husband doesn’t value books. Getting inside other people’s minds and hearts. Visiting alternate worlds. ‘Seeing’ things you’d never otherwise have experienced. Sure they’re fictional, but are they? Every good story has universal themes of humanity and truth in them. You’re basically jumping on a ride the author made for you, letting go of the safety bar in your mind and yelling, No hands!!