ADMIN PASSWORD: Remember Me

gabriel
Love and ferrets and pretending to be a writer.


flowers

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The ferrets are: drinking Maui's water. Sebastian is under Gregg's desk, waiting for him to leave his socks unguarded. Tazo came back in and started trying to take his socks off.


Weather: rainy alternating with showers


Reading: Montana Sky, Nora ROberts


Knitting: a green sweater for me



Gregg walked in the back door, and I felt the air pressure change and heard his light step and bit my lip against the silly smile as usual when I knew I'd get to see him in a moment. He'd greet the dog first - I never could beat Maui to the door, so I'd given up trying - and then he'd come find me and say hello in that way he has. I can tell he's tired, he's glad to be home, he's glad to see me. Especially that he's glad to see me. He doesn't say a lot, he's not the romantic sort as far as using actual words goes, though he's eloquent in other causes. No, he's not given to flowery phrases or --



Whoa up. Flowers? I see them before I see him. I mean, I see him, all right, but with flowers. They're wrapped in grocery store style, a crinkly green and clear plastic bag encasing them. I see white and purple and pink, all the best colors. The roses are pink and the carnations are white and the purple stuff, what is that? Statice? I don't remember what it's called, but it looks pretty all together with the carnations and roses.



His hello sounded as usual, endearing, sweet, the "o" part drawn out a little bit, said on a sigh. He held the flowers out to the side as he one-arm hugged me and kissed me a few times, some of those quick little kisses we trade regularly. "I got you something."



"I can see that. They're pretty." I sniffed at the nearest carnation. "Thank you, Schweetie. What's the occasion?"



"Oh nothing in particular," he said. Was he not quite meeting my eye? He was in just-home mode and pressed the flowers into my hand. I turned away and took them to the sink and got the kitchen scissors out of the drawer to get them unpackaged, the rubber band clipped off. I busied myself with getting them into some water and poked around just right. It didn't mean anything that he didn't meet my eye. He often didn't, or maybe I didn't meet his. When did we get in the habit of not looking at each other?



I stirred the stuff on the stove - that's what we call it, stirring the stuff. "While you're up," one will say as the other still sits in front of their book or game, "will you please stir the stuff?"



The stuff was about ready and I got plates and forks out and pushed them into Gregg's stomach when he next passed through. I lifted the pan off the fire and dumped the stuff into a serving bowl, then set the pan back on the stove. "Gregg?"



"Hmm?" he asked. I didn't say anything else and he looked over at me then and raised his eyebrows and shrugged. I crooked a finger at him and he came around the counter, a little twinkle in his eye. He anticipated kisses as much as I did, I realized then, maybe for the first time.



I put my arms around his neck, and he placed his hands on my waist, or what passed for a waist nowadays. I looked up at him under my eyebrows. "Thank you for the flowers."



"You said that," he said.



"Gregg? Sweetie pie? What are you up to?"



He laughed and pretended to push me away. I hung on. "What? Do you think I'm having an affair?"



I gave him a little shake. "Well, are you?"



"When would I have time? You keep me too busy, doing this and that and harrassing me every time I turn around. I just thought you'd like some flowers, and - Oh, I don't know."



I scrunched my mouth around and narrowed my eyes, flared my nostrils and said in what I hoped was a low and dangerous tone, "What did you buy?"



He froze for just a second, then said, "Busted."


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