Angst and Cheesecake
He arrived at Mary’s house about a half hour before scheduled because he just couldn’t wait any longer. He brought alcohol and groceries, as their typical Christmas tradition involved drinking, watching television, and eating semi prepared food throughout the day. He had learned years ago that she didn’t do presents at Christmas and showing up with one, despite her instructions not to, were usually detrimental to his health.
She greeted him at the door, still in sweats and invited him in. As she walked away, he noticed something and laughed out loud. She had strung red and green garland around the rings of the fixator on her leg, and there were ornaments hanging from it.
“How drunk are you, and why didn’t you wait for me?” He laughed
“It was easier than getting out the tree.” She answered as the both plopped onto the couch.
They turned on the television and easily settled into their usual roles. It amazed Marshall how they could go through what they just had, and yet nothing between them changed. As he sat in the hospital those many days, he realized how miraculous the rescue was. They had not discussed it themselves, beyond the initial questioning about how he found her. They realized that when she had slammed the phone down in frustration it hit something and redialed the last number she’d called at the exact moment that a brief bit of cell reception was available. He had heard bits and pieces of what she had thought were going to be her last words. It all just seemed too implausible after that and they didn’t talk about it.
He couldn’t handle the idea of losing her again, and while he wanted to use the experience as impetus to finally be more than just partners, he was concerned that the near-death experience might make her even more wary of going down that path.
“Hey Doofus, quit thinking about whatever it is you’re pondering over there and go get me another beer.” She tapped the empty bottle against the fixator as a reminder that she shouldn’t be the one walking around, and he obeyed.
Upon entering the kitchen he noticed a medium sized box in wrapping paper and a bow sitting on the counter. He approached it carefully, concerned that it might explode. There was a note next to it that read:
“Yes, dumbass, it’s for you. No, it won’t explode. Promise.”
He pulled off the bow and cautiously opened the box. It was an entire pumpkin cheesecake from their favorite bakery on Third Street. All he could do was stare at it. Did this mean what he hoped it meant?
“What’s taking you so long? That beer ain’t gonna walk itself in here.” Was bellowed from the other room.
He grabbed two beers from the fridge, removed the caps, and carried them and the cake back into the living room. He put the cake down on the coffee table and handed her the beer. He just looked at her as she took a sip of beer and regarded the package on the table.
“I thought about a few things while I was in that field.” She started quietly, “And I realized that you deserved way more than a little slice, even before you saved me.”
Marshall’s brain couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. She was sitting on her good leg, facing him with the bad leg dangling off the side of the couch. They both placed their beers on the table next to the cake. He turned and faced her, and suddenly found his hand on her cheek with her hair tangled in his fingers and no idea how it got there. He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers.
“This could get messy.” He warned, afraid that she’d realize what she had just said and change her mind. “And you heard about the deal with the hit man. Stan officially made you my witness. What if…”
She had to cut him off, “Hey brain-trust, Stan slept with his first witness, remember? I don’t think he’ll be one to freak if he finds out.”
“Oh. Yeah.” The feel of her breath on his lips when she spoke stopped all conscious thought.
“We gonna do this? Or am I eating that whole cheesecake by myself?”
He smiled and silently giggled. This had to be the best metaphor ever. He leaned forward and kissed her.
The End.