He awakens with a start. He’s been dreaming something that had him in its grip, but now he can’t remember what. It’s just as well— his palms are sweating and he can feel his heart’s wild rhythm in his chest. He breathes deeply to calm down and stares out the window at the stars in the night sky. It’s freezing outside— he sees the fragile etching of frost against the periphery of the panes. Oh, I don’t want to get up, he thinks— I’m too old to be working nights anymore. But his obligations are so many.
He reaches for the familiar form of his sleeping wife, and wraps an arm gently around her. He pushes his face into her white hair. Every every day, he tells her she is much more beautiful than she ever was. It’s hard to say whether or not she believes him— she will smile and blush a little, and then change the subject. It’s true, though. She is more beautiful now, and their love, too, seems far better than it did so many years ago when they first married. She stirs, turns to face him, and smiles. “ I guess it’s time to get up,” she says.
He moans. “Not yet,” he says. “ Let me sleep a little more. I’m tired. It’s so cold. Let me call in sick.”
“And who would take your place?”
She is right. He sits up on his side of the bed. How old is he? He has forgotten.
His wife goes to the closet and puts on a faded red robe. “What would you like to eat?” she asks.
“Spritz cookies,” he says, “and a few of those Russian tea cakes. And some pinwheels. And some eggnog.”
She frowns at him. “You get enough of that. I want you to stay warm and awake. So what will it be?”
“Surprise me,” he says, and goes into the shower. When he comes out, he is feeling a little better. He calls his chief of operations.”How’s it going?” he asks. The voice on the other end shouts to be heard above the background din. “Everything is fine, we’re almost done. I just need to check the weather to see what route might be best.”
“Good,” he says.”Do that, and map it out for me. I trust you. You only need to call me if you run into problems.”
He hangs up and goes into the dining room. His wife has set out his coffee in his favorite mug. He takes a drink and sighs. She makes good coffee. She is a wonderful woman. She comes in carrying a huge bowl of soup.
“What kind?” he asks.
“Vegetable,” she says,” and I want you to eat it all!” She returns to the kitchen and brings out bread and butter and a bowl of applesauce. All the food is soft, to accommodate his chewing problems. Lately he’s began to think he might need dentures, and he’s afraid it will affect his image. Never mind his age; a man has his pride.
He does eat all his soup, and then he checks his watch.
“Gotta go,” he says to his wife. “Will you wait up for me?”
“What a question,” she says. He knows what this means. It means yes, I will. It means, of course I will. It means, always and forever I will. It means, you are all I ever wanted.
She helps him on with his coat and his boots, and straightens his hat on his head. “0h, I almost forgot,” she says. We just got this this morning.” She hands him a letter.
“I don’t have time to read this now,” he says. He hopes it isn’t a bill. The gas bill lately!
“Read it after you’re settled,” she says.
He goes out into the night. The cold air feels like metal against his forehead—he is temporarily breathless. He thinks about how, later, he and his wife will fly to someplace warm, and she will be sitting beside him, staring straight ahead, her old hand on his old knee.
His chief of operations comes out of the warehouse to meet him.”You’re all set,” he says.” “Stick to the GPS and you’ll be fine. Don’t get creative. You know what happened last time you tried that.”
”Yes, yes, I know.”
“Have a good trip, “ the chief says.
He smiles, and halfheartedly waves goodbye. He climbs into the driver’s seat and begins his journey. Five minutes from home, his reluctance leaves him. This is truly where he belongs and no matter how grueling the job can be, he loves it. He settles back against his seat. The air seems gentler now, and the view of the land below him is lovely. He never tires of seeing the earth look so whole and sensible. He feels the edge of a certain kind of contentment moving in. It is the kind of happiness that comes from doing exactly what you want to do. He pulls the letter his wife gave him from his pocket.
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