Work in progress

The evening was unseasonably warm. By this point in October one usually needed a light quilt to sleep under while the windows remained opened. However on this evening, with the full moon brightly shining, no coverlet much less a quilt of any kind was needed.

It was well past midnight and I searched for that particular spot on my pillow. That one particular spot that is cool and comforting, ushering in peaceful slumber. My search was in vain; perhaps another bath would aid in my body reaching the point of not caring about the temperature of the pillow.

With purpose in my steps, I walked to the bathroom and turned the shiny knobs. A cool bath would be best, so, I did not bother to move the one marked “H” much at all. While the cast iron tub was filling, I decided to pour myself a glass of ice water. “Refreshment second only to Coca-Cola”, I thought to myself.

The tub was now ready and so was I. Lowering myself into the cool water, I took a deep breath as small goose bumps suddenly appeared on my arms. Maybe I hadn’t noticed the change in temperature but my body sure had taken notice. “It’s just like swimming in the creek. It’s just like swimming in the creek”, I repeated to myself getting used to the bath.

What a night it had been! The dancing was particularly lively down at the Magnolia and the entertainment even more so. Clyde Cobb and his group sang and everyone demanded an encore. The boys were gracious and obliged the club with three more songs. I had spent the evening with Robby Brown.

Robby was visiting from Florida. The stories he told were breathtaking. Alligators! Why would anyone decide to jump on the back of an alligator and hang on for dear life just to wrestle the animal into submission? When I asked him that very same question he smiled and whispered in my ear, “It’s practice for wrestling a woman into submission.” I knew that I had blushed. Hopefully Robby thought that it was because of the wine that I was drinking and not from what he had just whispered. At any rate, Robby Brown was a handsome man. To be honest, he was everything that I had hoped to find but none of the men around me ever quite fit the bill. All of my life my friends and family commented on how “picky” I am about the men that I date. Why should I lower my standards? Why should I accept just anyone’s offer of dinner, dancing, or a movie?

With those thoughts spiraling round and round in my head, I slid under the water.