The 13th
Anticipation sends goose bumps up and down my skin. I know what day it is and he knows what day it is yet I’m always nervous he won’t show. He’s never missed a date in over four years although there have been reschedules and repeat shows on both our parts. Slowly I sit down on the edge of the tub and wait for the clock to change hands. At the stroke 1 pm, I start the water in the tub.
We started this ritual on the 13th of every month by accident. My lover walked in on my bathing ritual one lazy summer afternoon and stopped to watch instead of interrupting me. I’d been whistling in the tub when I heard his breathing and saw his eye in the keyhole. Out of fright I screamed and he bumped his head on the old metal knob. Before he could finish yelling out his “Sorry Babe” I was up and out of the tub ready to smack him again. After nursing his bruised ego, he confessed how much he enjoyed the show. So I welcomed him back for a repeat performance and we haven’t had a cancellation yet.
The ticking of the clock and the light in the window reminds me to move ahead slow. I look over my shoulder as I shift the towel down my back, as I turn to face the door, I’m certain he’s ready. The brilliant sunlight glints on the gold of the door and creates flecks of green in his eye that seems to smile as the towel falls past my waist. Slipping into the tub, I make sure to face him and match his gaze. I love watching him watch me. As I play with the bubbles I motion him to join me at last.
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