Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen:  Every Day With You Girl Is Better Than The Day Before

What A Beautiful Day

Spring had finally arrived, not all at once, but in small, undeniable ways. The air felt softer. Mornings carried birdsong instead of silence. Windows stayed open a little longer. Life, after all the motion and wonder of Italy, had slipped back into its familiar, comfortable rhythm.  Mark pulled into Wawa just as Allan’s car eased into the spot beside him.

“Great timing, Dude,” Allan called as they stepped out.  Coffee cups in hand, they leaned casually against Mark’s car. Allan took a sip, then paused—just a fraction too long—and smiled.  Mark waited. Nothing.

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, brother. Give it up. Something’s about to burst out of you.”

Allan laughed. “Who, me?”  Mark didn’t blink.

“Alright,” Allan said, chuckling. “But I promised Sally we’d tell you and Kimmy together. You guys gonna be home the day after tomorrow?”

Mark smiled. “There’s always time for wine on the back porch.”

Allan clinked his cup. “Seven o’clock then.”

Mark walked into the house just as Kimmy emerged from the bedroom, stretching, the oversized shirt riding up to her belly button. He stopped and smiled openly.  “Well,” he said warmly, “look who’s joined the world. And can I just say—you are as beautiful this morning as ever.”  Kimmy smiled, shaking her head as she headed for the coffee.  This man… she thought. I’m starting to believe he’ll never stop seeing me this way.  Mark set the coffee and paper neatly on the table, crossword already smoothed open.  “Your morning is ready to begin,” he said proudly, heading for the porch.

“Oh,” he added over his shoulder, “Sally and Allan are coming over Thursday for wine. Something big’s happening.”

Kimmy spun, coffee mid-air. “What—what’s up?” Her eyes sparkled.

Mark shrugged. “Promised Sally you had to be there.”

He reached the door, paused, and turned back. “Hey…”

Kimmy looked up instantly. She knew that tone.

“What, baby? What did you forget?”

He smiled. “Have I told you I love you lately?”

She beamed. “Never get tired of that.”  She blew him a kiss, and another ordinary morning began.

Later, between pickleball games, Sally leaned in conspiratorially.  “I say go for it, girl.”

Kimmy hesitated. “You really think so? You think Mark will like it?”

“Oh, he’ll love it,” Sally said without hesitation.

Kimmy nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow before you guys come over. Seven-ish, right?”

“You’ll find out everything then,” Sally said, giving her a hug. “Be brave.”

Kimmy tried to read her face, but Sally gave nothing away.  

The next morning at Wawa, the cups clinked again.

“Seven,” Mark said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Allan replied.

At home, Mark set the coffee and paper down as usual. Kimmy emerged dressed for the day.

“No pickleball?” he asked.

She grinned. “Big party tonight. Big surprise today. Be back in an hour or so.”

Mark watched her go. “What is that girl up to now?”

Later that morning, Mark sat at his laptop when he heard the porch door open.  “Hey baby,” he called without looking up.

“I’m back,” Kimmy said brightly. “Look, honey. Look.”  He looked up.

“Oh!” he blurted. “You… cut your hair.”  The smile vanished from her face instantly.

Tears welled. “Oh. You hate it.”  She turned and ran down the hall.  Mark sighed, rubbing his forehead. Bad reaction, man. Really bad.  He found her on the bed, crying.

“Honey…”

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” she sobbed. “What was I thinking?”  He sat beside her, lifting her chin gently.  “Hey. Look at me.”  She did.

“First,” he said softly, wiping her tears, “always and forever—you are beautiful. You could get a mohawk and dye it red—like a Miami Redskin.”

She laughed through tears. “Stop. That’s not funny.”

“Honey,” he said sincerely, “you just surprised me. Let me really look.”

She brushed her hair back, nervous. “Be honest.”

He studied her carefully, one side, then the other.

“Stop teasing,” she said. “What do you think?”

His face broke into a smile. “It’s adorable. Really. I loved your hair long and always will—but this? This is the cutest.”  She burst into tears again, this time laughing, throwing her arms around him.

“Surprise,” she said weakly.  They both laughed.  

That evening, Allan and Sally arrived.  “Oh WOW,” Allan said immediately. “Kimmy, your hair looks so cute!”  Mark squeezed her. Sally hugged her tightly. “I knew it would. It’s so you.”  Later on the porch, wine poured, Mark leaned back.

“Okay. What gives?”

Sally looked at Allan.

“We wanted you two to be the first to know,” Allan said, beaming.

Kimmy leaned forward. “What is it?”

“We bought a new house.”  Cheers erupted. They talked excitedly about the three-bedroom place just up the road, on the same creek. More wine. More laughter. More plans.  The night settled around them, warm and full.

Time of Our Lives

Morning arrived gently, filtered through soft spring light and the slow rhythm of breathing beside him. Mark woke to find Kimmy curled into his side, her head tucked against his shoulder, one arm draped across his chest as if she’d reached for him sometime in the night and never let go.  He lifted a hand and brushed her newly cropped hair back behind her ear, smiling to himself.  I still can’t believe I made her cry yesterday, he thought.  And it really is the cutest cut.  He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, lingering there just a second longer than necessary before easing out of bed.

Outside, the morning was bright and fresh, the kind that carried promise in the air. As he drove toward Wawa, he passed Allan and Sally’s new place. A bold SOLD sign stood proudly in the front yard.  Mark smiled. That’s going to be good.

At Wawa, Allan was already there, coffee in hand.

“Hey,” Allan said. “How you doing today?”

Mark laughed softly. “Great. Made Kimmy cry yesterday. Felt terrible.”

Allan blinked. “What happened?”

Mark explained, ending with a sheepish grin. “Recovered, but man… bad moment.”

Allan chuckled. “Close one, dude.”  They leaned against the cars, steam rising from their cups.

“I’ve driven past your new place a few times,” Mark added. “Never really noticed it before. It’s going to be great. And when it’s time to move—whatever you need—we’re there.”

Allan nodded, touched. “I know. Thanks, brother.”  They clinked cups and headed their separate ways.  Back home, Mark set the coffee and paper beside the laptop, the Mickey and Minnie figurines smiling up from the corner of the desk.  “Morning, baby,” came a sleepy call from the hall.  

Kimmy appeared in the shirt, ruffling her new haircut as she walked in. “Not nearly as much up there now,” she laughed.  He smiled warmly. “Honey, I’m really sorry about yesterday. Truly. It’s so adorable.”  She planted her hands on her hips and struck a mock runway pose, chin high.  Mark laughed. “Yes, baby. Every bit of all that.”

She walked over, kissed his cheek. “Thanks for the coffee. And I overreacted. But that’s a woman’s right when she changes her hair.”  Mark headed for the porch, shaking his head with a grin. If that’s not one of the great truths of mankind…

Later at pickleball, between games, Kimmy and Sally chatted.  “The hair reveal,” Sally said, shaking her head. “Men.”

Kimmy laughed. “To be fair, they never know what to say.”  They clicked rackets and jogged back onto the court.

Late morning, the porch door swung open.  “Hi honey, I’m home!” Kimmy called.  Mark smiled from his laptop. “I have a plan. Will you go out with me? Dinner date.”

She skipped over. “I love date nights. Where to?”

He pointed to the screen. “Little Italian place that just opened. Says it has an ‘authentic Italy’ vibe.”

She smiled. “Sure. That sounds fun.”

That evening, they sat side by side in a softly lit booth, wine glasses catching the glow of candlelight. Murals lined the walls — stone streets, fountains, warm-colored buildings.  “You kind of get that feeling,” Mark said quietly.  Kimmy nodded, pointing toward a small fountain near the entrance. “That’s a nice touch. Brings back pictures… Rome. The Colosseum.”

“And Pompeii,” Mark added. “Those ruins.”

“And Tuscany,” she smiled. “Those mornings watching the sunrise over the vineyards.”

“Lake Como,” he said softly. “Just you and me. The wind. The water.”

She squeezed his hand. “But the best… the best was the gondola ride in Venice.”

“And Venice,” he smiled.

“Yes,” she sighed. “Venice.” She tipped her glass to him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Rome,” he teased. “That last night…”  She blushed slightly, leaned in. “You don’t have to be in Rome for that, you know.”

Later, the Netflix movie People You Meet on Vacation faded to black, the couple onscreen kissing as if the world were complete.  Kimmy sighed contentedly. “I love romance.”

Mark smiled. “Most guys won’t admit it. But I do too.”  She lifted her head from his shoulder, kissed his cheek, then took his hand and pulled him up.  “Come on you,” she said with a sly smile. “I’m asking you on a date. You know… a date.”

Hand in hand, they disappeared down the hall.

Don’t Stop Believin’

Days passed.  Then weeks.  Summer unfolded in its ordinary way—morning coffee, open windows, evening breezes drifting across the porch. Kimmy’s hair, once freshly cropped, had begun its slow return, brushing her shoulders again, as if even time itself knew where this story was headed.  One evening, Mark and Kimmy sat side by side on the porch, the sky fading into soft amber and blue.  “We need to add a few things for tomorrow,” Kimmy said, pen poised over her list. “Allan and Sally, and our big Antarctica meeting. What should we get, honey?”

Mark leaned back, considering. “Well… everyone loves your spaghetti. That’s a given.”

She looked up. “Really? Again?”

He smiled. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, baby.”

She chuckled. “Okay. Pasta, hamburger, sausage, tomato sauce…” She scribbled as she spoke.

At the store the next day, Kimmy pushed the cart with purpose, checking items off, tossing them in with practiced ease. Mark followed behind, content to trail.  Near the last aisle, he stopped short. “Ooooh. Ice cream, sweetie. We have to get ice cream.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What about ‘being good’ until our trip?”

He pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“No,” she said, smiling as she turned down the aisle, “but I am the boss of the grocery.”  She pecked his cheek and kept walking.  Mark muttered just loudly enough, “And boss of the kitchen… and boss of the remote… and boss of the—”

“I can hear you,” she called back, laughing.

The following evening, the house filled with warmth and familiar voices.  “That was great, as usual, Kimmy,” Allan said, standing. “Let me help you bring the wine out, buddy. You girls get settled on the porch.”  Outside, the fire pit flickered to life as Mark and Allan returned carrying glasses—two whites for Mark and Sally, two reds for Allan and Kimmy.  Mark and Kimmy sat close together, Allan took the rocker, and Sally pulled up a chair from the table.

“So,” Kimmy began, “we should probably make a list of all the cold-weather gear we’ll need. Huge coats, insulated everything…”

“And that’s going to add up checking extra bags,” Sally added.

“Nope,” Mark said calmly.

Kimmy turned. “I’m not going to Antarctica in my regular jacket.”

Allan flipped open the packet. “Says here—Viking provides a parka, inner jacket, insulated pants, and boots.”

“And,” Mark added, “you get to keep the inner jacket.”

“WHAT?” Sally exclaimed.

The boys nodded.

Kimmy laughed. “Okay, then let’s talk about what they don’t provide.”  The list grew: thermal underlayers, gloves, hats, thick socks.

“Okay,” Mark said finally, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out three pens. “Next up.”  Kimmy shook her head, laughing. “Oh my God. Coach Love is in the house. Class is officially in session.”  Laughter rippled around the fire.  Mark handed out papers. “Medical forms. Viking requires these before we’re cleared.”  A quiet focus settled in as they filled them out, the seriousness of the adventure momentarily grounding them.

“That’s about all we can do right now,” Mark said at last.  Kimmy smiled. “One more wine. Then you guys have to tell us about the new house. All unpacked yet?”  Allan and Sally laughed.

“Well…” Sally said, “some of it.”

“And the rest?” Kimmy pressed.

“Still living in boxes,” Allan admitted.

Sally leaned forward. “We were thinking—since you guys always host—we do one last official meeting at our place, about two weeks out.”

“And,” she added with a grin, “I will cook.”  “Ohhh WOW,” came the chorus.  More laughter. More wine. The fire crackled low as the night slowly faded.  And somewhere between the lists and the jokes, the ordinary once again made room for the extraordinary waiting just ahead.

Here Comes the Sun

Mark surfaced from sleep with one eye half open.  2:12 a.m.  He felt her warmth first, the familiar curve of her body pressed against his side. He closed his eye again—until he felt the clutch.  It came before the sound.  A soft moan.

“Ooooo…”  Then sharper. “Ooow… oh… I’m trying…” whispered through sleep.  He was awake instantly.  Even as she clutched him, he could tell—this wasn’t pain, not really. A nightmare. He turned toward her, slid his hand up to her hair.  “I’m here, honey. It’s okay,” he murmured, smoothing her hair back.  The grip loosened. Her breathing evened.  He lay there a moment longer, watching the ceiling.

What was that about? he wondered.  

6:37 a.m.  “Close enough,” he thought. “Coffee time.”  He swung his leg slowly toward the side of the bed——and felt her clutch him again.  “Not yet, baby… please stay for a little bit,” she whispered.  He smiled, settling back. “Sure, sweetie. You okay?”

“My back’s sore,” she said through sleepy humor. “Too much pickleball.”  He began massaging her back, shoulders, then her neck—slow, practiced, instinctive.

“Oh yes… oooo… right there… oh, that’s good… stay there…”  He smiled to himself.  Is there anything better than making this woman happy?  And instantly, unbidden, the movie theater in his head lit up—Kevin McAllister standing in the grocery aisle in Home Alone, hands on hips, declaring, “I don’t think so!”  He grinned.  Fifteen minutes later she shifted. “You either have to do this all day or go get my coffee.”  He laughed, kissed the top of her head, and was gone.

At Wawa, Allan stood holding two cups.  “Dude, I was about to give up on you,” Allan said. “You look wiped. What’s up?”  Mark took the coffee gratefully. “Kimmy had a nightmare. Then her back was sore.”

“What was the nightmare about?”

“She wouldn’t know. Never remembers her dreams. But if I were guessing—eye shot day. She gets more anxious about it than I do.”

“Oh. That’s today?”  “Yeah. Four more months after this one.”

Allan nodded. “Sorry, man.”

“Tomorrow,” Allan added, checking his watch, “steaks on the grill. Antarctica meeting. Our place.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Back home, Mark set the coffee down just as the porch door opened.  “I’m out here, honey—did you get my paper?”  He brought both cups and the paper outside. Kimmy sat curled on the porch sofa, blanket over her lap, still in the shirt.  “It’s kind of cool today,” she said. “But not bad.”  He looked out at the late-October trees, their colors deep and warm, grateful for the Indian-summer feel of the morning.  They sat close, his laptop open, Kimmy pouring over the puzzle in the paper, coffee steaming, exchanging small talk and quiet cuddles.

“How’s the puzzle today?” he asked.

She held it up proudly. “Got most of them. Want to help?”

“Always.”

“Okay… 69 across. Eight letters. Blank–L–blank–V–E–blank–blank–U. Clue: what should be said to a wife every day.”  He shot her a sideways glance. “I love you?”

She giggled. “I made that one up. I love you too.” A quick peck. “Okay, seriously now… is there a desert in Austria?”  He blinked. “What?”

“Austrian desert. Seven letters.”

He laughed. “Dessert, baby. STRUDEL.”

“Well duh,” she said, laughing. “I of all people should know that.”

“What else?”

She paused. “47 down. Ten letters. B–blank–S–S–blank–N–blank–blank–T–E. Little sleep spot.”  He thought. Then—

“Oh. Bassinette.”

“Yes!” she said. “You are so smart.”  He smiled, then added quietly, “Remember—after pickleball, my eye thing today.”

She squeezed his arm. “I know. I’m sorry, honey.”  

Later, she pulled into the drive as he stood holding his eye.  “How you doing?” she asked, hand on his leg.  “Not great today,” he admitted. “Need to lie down.”  She guided him to the bedroom, careful and gentle.

“Need anything?”

“No. I’ll be okay.”  She kissed his cheek. “Call me if you need me.”  The door closed softly.

He lay there thinking, I hate seeing her scared. What was that nightmare about?  At least she doesn’t remember…Sleep took him.

That night they watched A Walk in the Clouds.  Mark lay with his head on her lap while she rubbed his shoulders.  “Good movie choice,” she said. “Makes me think of Tuscany. How’s your eye?”

“Better,” he said. “Thanks for this. I wish I didn’t tense up so much.”

She said softly, “I hate it when you have to go through this.”

He turned his head toward her. “Small price to pay to see you every day.”

The next morning, Mark dropped Kimmy at pickleball.  “Pick me up in a couple hours?”  “Sure. I’m getting Allan. We’re buying steaks.”  

“And don’t let him pay,” she warned, smiling.

“Yes, boss,” he saluted.

She bounded away. “Hey Sally! Ready for me to kick your butt?”  He laughed to himself.  While waiting later, Mark noticed the noise from the nearby roller hockey rink. He wandered over and leaned on the boards.  Eight-and-under rec league.  Parents shouted encouragement. Kids tumbled, scrambled, laughed, skated harder.  

“That’s my boy!”

“Great shot!”

“Oh, what a save!”

Mark smiled.

Kids are fun to watch, he thought. Even better watching the moms and dads.

“Ready, baby?”

Kimmy jogged over, wrapped her arms around his neck. “Whatcha doing?”

“Watching these kids play. See number nine? He’s pretty good.”

They watched a few more minutes together before heading home.  That evening at Allan and Sally’s, the creek shimmered softly beside the porch.

“I love this place,” Kimmy said. “Same vibe as ours, right?”

Mark nodded. “You were lucky. Feels like a forever home.”  Allan and Sally exchanged a glance.  Later, as the fire pit burned low, Sally spoke up.

“I have a question about Antarctica.”

“Shoot,” Mark said.

“I watched a video about crossing the Drake Passage,” she said carefully. “The woman said she was sick for hours.”

Kimmy’s hand flew to her mouth. “WHAT?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah… sometimes it’s calm. Sometimes it’s… an experience.”

“Allan asked, “Anything we can do to prepare?”

Mark shook his head. “Patch, maybe. But honestly? You go through it once—and you’d do it again to see Antarctica.”  “The penguins,” Kimmy said, smiling. “How fun will that be?”  “They say,” Allan added, “you can’t imagine the ice. The glaciers. Not until you’re there.”  The fire pit crackled softly as the conversation drifted, the night settling around them.  Something vast waited ahead.