They've developed a routine. Not surprising, so much of Pam's life has depended on repetition (motion, action, thought). She shattered the conformity of her movements when she finally got the courage to envision a new life, but old habits die hard, and even though he's her best friend, she needs some stability upon which to rest unsure feet.
So, they've developed a routine. When they (finally) found their way to each other, she shook at the relief of it, but was terrified she'd destroy them. She begged him to be okay with her her need to move at a glacial pace. He had smiled, laughed; pulled her to him and embraced her, held her; kissed the top of her head, her nose, her mouth; told her that if she needed years, he'd survive it, then begged (entreated) her to forget he ever made that statement.
They started dating. Lunches out, hands held over the table, (feet mingling under). Dinner out, comedy shows, bowling, mini-golf, museums, book stores, at least three nights a week. They never stayed in. Staying in wasn't glacial (safety found in public places).
Initially, he came to her door to pick her up, but after a few weeks, his temptation to linger, and (conversely) her desire to drag him inside by his shirt front became too much for each of them, and he began waiting for her in the car. He would turn off the engine and never summoned her by horn, but by cell.
Initially, he walked her to her door at the end of each evening, but after a few dates and goodnight kisses that ended with her back against her door, his thigh high (tight) between hers (her toes barely skimming the ground), hands in hair and sliding down, down, down to pull hips closer (whimper and gasp), he stayed in the car and watched until she was safely inside. He left the engine running and waited for her to pull back the curtain and wave goodnight.
Thirty-seven dates after he stopped picking her up at her door, she stopped fighting herself. They are at dinner when she decides. That night, as always, he had waited for her by the car and opened her door; he had held her hand and guided her through downtown crowds, leading her to an independent showing by local artists. He had taken her to a tiny restaurant lit by miniature oil lamps on each table whose tinted globes cast stained glass reflections over hands and faces. They talk, whisper and laugh (always laugh).
They overhear a couple at a table near them confide to a waiter that they are celebrating decades of wedded bliss. Husband and wife sit side by side, rather than across from one another, and after the waiter leaves she sighs and, for a moment only, rests her head on her husband's shoulder.
Pam smiles at this sight and turns her attention back to Jim. Flame shifts in their lamp and his eyes glow indigo. She catches her breath at the expression there and knows she is (already) his (wife) choice (and has been time after time after time).
Outside her home, he parks and smiles at her. He tells her he loves her and that she has pretty hair. She laughs because she didn't expect a compliment then (she should have). She leans forward and kisses him (not chaste); a sound deep in his throat vibrates breath. Her hand slips under his sweater and he grips the back of her head. He pulls back (eyes closed). She twists the key to turn off the car (permission).
His eyes (fly) open. He whispers her name (it sounds like prayer). He brushes hair from the side of her face and tells her he doesn't expect anything from her; he wants to be certain she's ready. (She's unbelievably ready.) She loves him so much she's dizzy and doesn't recall ever feeling anything as strongly as that emotion.
She says yes and he tells her to hold on, (then) he's crossing behind the car and opening her door. He reaches his arm inside and offers her his hand (she's a lady and a princess). They climb stairs to her door; his hands don't leave her (waist, back, hip) and he stands so close that if he were anyone other than him, it would be invasive. (She wants him closer.) Keys are in her (shaking) hand, but she can't guide it into the lock until his hand covers hers (her constant). Skin contact (electric) shocks them into stillness for a moment, then urges them just to get the (damn) door open.
She walks out of her bedroom (shy) with never-before-seen-by-any-man peacock blue satin slipping over her chest, stomach and thighs. (She wants to be beautiful to him). His back is to her, but he (senses) hears her and turns around. When he sees her, his head tilts to the side and his eyes close; something that sounds like disbelief leaves his throat. (Unbelievable.) With no words he tells her (just like always) she's the most beautiful (loved=lovely) thing he's ever seen (known).
They halve the distance between them and meet in the middle of her front room. He's staring at her like he never wants to look away, like she's the most (only) significant thing that has ever existed. His hand trembles when he reaches for her and she wonders how she could have ever felt uncertainty about them. He is hers (soul-mate, friend, protector) and she is his (soul-mate, partner, love). What they have is rare and precious (exquisite). After all, they were made for one another.
