A Good Man (42 page)

She’s not going to let this go! “Yes. It was an outstanding dream. Um, I don’t like coaches who think they are the team and take credit for what the team accomplishes.”

“I hate it when announcers only say an athlete is articulate if he’s black,” Sonya said. “They used to write that about me. ‘Sonya Richardson, the articulate captain of the Houston Comets.’ You never hear them saying, ‘That Peyton Manning is sure articulate, isn’t he?’ Or, ‘He’s from a good family.’ I’ve never heard someone talk about a white athlete that way.”

“And what’s up with always showing a black athlete’s mother in the stands?” John asked. “Especially when there’s clearly an older black man standing right beside her. Why don’t they zoom in and identify him?”

Sonya rubbed his hand on her leg. “So I woke you up, huh?”

My hand is extremely happy. I now know that her pocket is empty. “You woke me in the nicest way, only you weren’t there when I woke up so I could thank you.”

Sonya’s hands became still.

“I’m sorry,” John said. “I’ve said too much.”

“It’s all right,” Sonya said. “I was pestering you.”

And now there’s some cricket silence. I don’t like this at all. “Um, do you have a problem with athletes who thank God in interviews but don’t lead holy lives?”

“Yes,” Sonya said. “I have a problem with hypocrites in general. I’m glad you’re who you say you are.” She slid closer to him, her thigh pressed into his. “I’m also glad you answered my question.”

“You mentioned a dream, too,” John said.

“I did.”

“May I ask about it?” John asked.

“You may.”

“Will you answer me if I ask?” John asked.

“I might.”

“Did your dream end … happily?” John asked.

“Yes.”

“Um, how happily?” John asked.

Sonya grazed his jeans with the nails on her left hand. “Uh, one thing I cannot stand is when they break into one of my favorite TV shows with some announcement that can surely wait. Last winter they broke in with weather updates when we had only had some flurries. I know it doesn’t snow in Charlotte that often, but to interrupt Law and Order for some flurries?”

“We get hurricane and tornado warnings in Burnt Corn,” John said. “I don’t mind getting those kinds of warnings at all. Did you wake up, Sonya?”

“Yes.”

“You, um, you only had this dream once?” John asked.

“Just last night, as a matter of fact,” Sonya said. “I was too excited about our date to sleep, but when I finally fell asleep, I immediately started dreaming.”

“In some cultures,” John said, “a dream dreamed twice will come true.”

“I hope I dream it again soon,” Sonya said.

And I hope it’s a reality soon. Man, now I’m heating up again. I need to steer us back to calm. “Do you, um, do you use your right or left hand to work the remote?”

“My left.”

“You’re left-handed?”

“No,” Sonya said. “My snacks are in my right hand.”

“Do you need to look at the remote anymore?” John asked.

“No. I’ve got that bad boy memorized. It’s fused to my hand.”

“Kind of like your hand is fused to mine now, huh?” John asked.

“Yeah.”

This is safe. This is calm. This is cool. “I lost my remote a few years ago. I have to get up and hit the buttons.”

“You need a new TV, man,” Sonya said.

“Yeah.” This is safe. This is good. “Um, what’s your favorite Bible verse?”

Sonya sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I have so many favorite Bible verses.”

“What’s the verse you rely on most, the one that kick-starts you, the one that pops into your mind the most?” John asked.

“That’s easy,” Sonya said. “Proverbs three-five. ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. ’ This verse has saved me thousands of hours of frustration and worry. When things go wrong, all I can do is trust in Him. What’s yours?”

Psalm 43:5 has practically been my mantra for the last fifteen years. “‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.’ For I shall yet praise him. I’m kind of praising Him right now. Look at that scenery!”

Sonya leaned forward and looked out John’s window. “Yes, the ocean is so beautiful. I love the way it crashes on the rocks.”

“I’m not talking about that kind of scenery.” He glanced at Sonya’s face.

“Are you farsighted, John?” Sonya asked.

“Yes. I see things near to me very well.”

“Are you liking what you’re seeing?” Sonya asked.

“Yes, the scenery is beautiful. I hope I don’t dream of this scenery tonight, though.” He slipped his hand out of hers and put his arm around her.

“You don’t?” Sonya asked.

“I’d rather have … you next to me when I wake up.”

So … would … I, Sonya thought. This flirtation is fast turning into seduction. I didn’t know he had it in him. I didn’t know that I had it in me. If he only waved his hand over butter right now, that butter would bubble and hiss. If he rubbed my back, I’d probably purr for real.

“I love the smell of the ocean,” Sonya said.

“It’s why I wear Old Spice,” John said.

“I like it. Not too strong. Just right.”

A man has his arm around me while I rub his thigh in an orange and rust pick-me-up truck with no working radio or AC and we’re talking … just talking … Oh, and flirting … yeah, lots of that … Funny, I can’t seem to flirt as much with him while I’m holding his hand. Why is that? Is it because I’m finally holding him in some way? I have to do an experiment.

“John?”

“Yes, Sonya?”

“Um, when we were in the water in your dream, were we really close?” Whoa. His thigh is definitely heating up. It’s like a lie detector. “I mean, really close?”

“We were one flesh, Sonya,” John said softly.

And now I’m sweating. My own hand is on fire. My shoulders are hot. Say something! “In my dream, we, um, were one flesh, too.”

“Where were we?” John asked.

Don’t tell him, don’t tell him … “On my couch at home.”

John laughed. “What were we watching?”

“Each other, of course.”

“Oh,” John said. “I thought we’d be watching TV for some reason. Man v. Food or something like that.”

“Is this your way of saying you’re hungry?” Sonya asked.

“Yes, but not for food.”

I am suddenly feeling extremely edible right now. Whoo! “Are we there yet?”

John squeezed her shoulder. “I think we’re very close.”

So do I.

Any closer and we’d be having puppies.

John pulled into Morro Bay State Park.

Now that is a serious rock! Sonya thought.

For the next few hours, they explored the rocks. They saw otters, sea lions, and humpback whales. They held hands as they kicked off their shoes, rolled up their pant legs, and walked along the shore.

It’s as if I’ve been here before, Sonya thought. It’s not déjà vu but something … correct about all this, something foretold. I can’t explain it. I’m standing ankle deep in icy-cold water looking at huge rocks and holding hands with John. I’ve been here before, I just know it.

An elderly couple approached them with a camera.

Oh no! We’ve been spotted! Hide!

The man handed John a fancy digital camera. “Would you mind taking our picture, young man?”

John took the camera as the couple posed, the massive rocks in the background. “Say … mozzarella.”

The couple laughed.

John took the picture. He turned the camera around and showed them. “I think laughter is better than smiles any day, don’t you?” He handed the camera to the man.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “You two take care.”

Sonya watched the couple walking away hand in hand. “They’re still holding hands.”

John took Sonya’s hand. “And so are we.”

“I meant,” Sonya said, “that they’ve been together for probably half a century, and they’re still holding hands.”

“And recording every moment of their journey together,” John said. “We need to get us a camera.”

They got back into the truck and found a Rite Aid pharmacy, where Sonya bought a disposable camera. John drove them to Bayshore Bluffs Park, where they took silly pictures, some cheek to cheek, others of each other leaping into the air.

“You can kiss my cheek if you want to for the next picture,” Sonya said.

John held out the camera, moved his cheek close to hers, and snapped the picture. “You hungry?”

“Yes.” She kissed his cheek. “Very.”

“For food?”

Sonya slipped her arms around his neck. “Not really.”

“Me neither.” John pulled her close, kissing her forehead. “But I made a reservation, so …”

Sonya put her nose on his. “You could kiss me.” Right now. Hard on the lips.

“I’d rather kiss you during the sunset,” John said. “If that’s all right.”

And that would be … the perfect kiss. “Yeah. That would be all right.”

At The Galley just up the beach, Sonya tried to pay her half of the date, but John wouldn’t have it.

“It’s my treat,” he said.

“But it’s so expensive,” Sonya said. “Please let me help.”

“This is a real date, Sonya,” John said. “And I am paying.”

The Galley wasn’t as expensive as Charlie’s was, but it would still put a dent into anyone’s wallet. They shared pan-seared scallops for their appetizer, ate mixed greens for their salad, and chose Naked Fish—Hawaiian Ahi for their main course. While they ate Slice of Heaven pie, apple pie with ice cream, they looked out onto Morro Bay.

“Sonya,” John said, “I have a confession to make.”

This pie is so good. “It wasn’t a red bikini, was it?”

“No, it was red,” John said, turning red. “And see-through.”

And this restaurant is heating up. “Did you like what you saw?”

“Oh, yes.”

I like the way he says that.

“Yeah, um, and that’s what I have to confess,” John said. “I have some bad habits, and I feel the need to confess them to you before we go any further. We … are moving further, aren’t we?”

Can’t you hear my heart banging in my chest from where you’re sitting? “Yes.”

“Good. Um, as you’ve noticed, I have a very active, um, dream life.”

“How’s that a bad habit?” Even the crust of this pie is good!

“It’s not,” John said. “I mean, I can’t help having dreams, right? It’s dwelling on my dreams and thinking about my dreams and, well, telling you about my dreams—that’s the bad habit.”

“It’s not a bad habit to me,” Sonya said. “I hope you can always tell me your dreams.”

“I plan to.”

I can’t wait to hear the play-by-play.

“Um, Sonya, that’s not my only bad habit,” John said.

“I have plenty of bad habits, too.” Which I’ve never confessed to anyone. Of course, I’ve never had anyone to confess them to.

“I’ll bet you have three at most,” John said.

Try triple digits, man. “Many more than that.”

“We’ll see,” John said. “Um, I pick my teeth with anything handy. Edge of an envelope, my fingernail, a credit card, a key once. I can’t stand to have anything stuck in my teeth.”

“I suck my teeth,” Sonya said, “but only when I’m agitated.”

“I haven’t heard you do that around me.”

“You don’t agitate me.” You worry my loins, however. “Um, I pop my gum.”

“I chew gum too loudly,” John said. “I also sometimes wear clothes more than once. Not drawers, though. I always wear clean ones.”

“I have been wearing the same pajamas for the last week. I shower before I go to bed, but still.”

John smiled. “You wear pajamas?”

“Yep. SpongeBob. What do you wear?”

“Usually only my underwear and a T-shirt, but since I live alone, and I sometimes don’t get to the laundry soon enough, I, um, wear nothing.”

“Oh.” And there go my loins again. “Interesting. You, um, you haven’t done that at the mansion, have you?”

“No. Justin is my roommate.”

“Oh, right.”

John took a sip of ice water. “I do make my bed every day, even though I don’t truly see the point.”

“Me too.”

“Have you ever, um, gone natural to bed?” John asked.

“No. Shani’s in the room with me anyway.”

“Oh, right, but I meant when you’re home alone in Charlotte.”

What a question! “No.”

“Oh. You should, um, try it once, just to see.”

And I might do just that tonight … for a few minutes. Just to see. “Let’s see. Oh. I watch entirely too much TV.”

“Same here,” John said.

“I just don’t have … anyone to do things with, you know?”

“I know.” John sighed. “And if you did … have someone … to … do … things … with …”

And now we’re back to sex. Amazing how quickly we can do that. “I have had someone to do … I mean, if I had someone to do things with, I wouldn’t be watching TV nearly as much.”

“The TV might still be on,” John said.

“I wouldn’t be paying attention to it,” Sonya said.

“Neither would I,” John said. “Um, what do you eat while you’re watching TV?”

“I must have pork rinds, Rolos, and peanut M and M’s.”

“I have to have any kind of cola and pretzels,” John said.

“No chocolate?”

John leaned forward. “I love the taste of chocolate,” he whispered. “I really like hot chocolate.”

Whoo. “With the little marshmallows?”

“Yes. It’s, um, frothier.”

Oh … my.

“Sometimes I eat Peppermint Patties,” John said. “They give me some extremely vivid dreams.”

“Make sure you eat a couple tonight,” Sonya said, “so you can tell me about your dreams tomorrow.”

John leaned even closer. “I don’t want to dream about it anymore, Sonya.”

“Neither do I.” She laughed. “Listen to us. We’re talking about food while we eat.” And sex, too. There must be a connection between sex and food.

“And we talk about TV while we’re watching TV, church while we’re at church,” John said. “We are a peculiar people, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” We’re two peculiar people made for each other. “Are you getting enough sleep, John?”

“No, not at all,” John said. “Are you?”

“No. I don’t get enough sleep in general.”

“Me neither,” John said. “I can get by on four hours’ sleep most of the time.”