Into the Fire

From my Work in Progress:

Chapter 19

I almost ran to the back door when the knock came. I swung open the door and, let me tell you, my eyes are not my best friends when it comes to women because they don't play nice by any rules. They quickly gave her the once over, the lurid traitors capturing all the "right" places. And they almost swooned in delight. I know: over the top. That's what she did to me in her black cargo shorts and white tank top with black low-cut sneakers. 

     She rushed in, apologizing immediately for her assumption that I wouldn't need her until later in the day and how foolish she felt for that assumption. Even asked for forgiveness and promised it would never happen again. And I felt like an ogre, a salivating ogre because her legs and the way her clothes fit her drove me crazy. I took her hand and walked her to my couch and gently pulled her down beside me, still holding her hand.

     "This is all my fault, Sara. I haven't had a schedule other than getting the books in on time for many years. I can't expect you to stay chained to the house while I fiddle around with my writing and you not knowing if and when I might need your help. It's totally unfair. Listen, I want to put some order to my chaos. For me, but mostly for you. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

     She nodded, and I saw she was holding back tears which only deepened my wound for how I'd caused this. I calmly let go of her hand and stood, walked around the coffee table to protect her from me wanting to pull her as close as I could get her. 

     "Again, Sara, my fault." I paused, gathering gumption to elaborate on what I'd said last night. "I've been more honest with you than anyone I can remember, not that there have been very many individuals in my life where I chose to be. Frankly, Seth was first, Savvy second, my mom much later in my life, Tim O'Brien, and now you. I'm not proud of the fact that I've stretched, eliminated altogether, or omitted the full truth from most people I've known. But not you. 

     "I'm sorry for worrying you with my call, and I'm willing to bet I sounded angry which I was not. Truth is, I sort of panicked. I don't know why. Not knowing where you were caused all sorts of stupid thoughts even as far as wondering if you'd gone, left, had decided this really wasn't for you when the guy you work for knocks on your door with who-knew-what-kind-of-intentions. 

     That last comment made her give me a small smile.

     I shook my head in wonder. "I must've been saving up all these words over the years for a conversation I never expected to have. I truly haven't spoken this much to anyone in too long to remember."

     "i'm glad you're speaking them to me," she said softly. 

     If I wrote erotica, it would be expressed in the thoughts which bounced through my brain. I wanted her in my arms, and I knew beyond what I could fully understand I had to maintain control of myself. Because, I grudgingly admitted, it was the right thing to do.

God, apart from you, I can do nothing. You've watched over me my entire life – even when I never had your divine protection coming. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.