No picnic

BLUES DAY

 

It's a lovely Sunday morning, nice enough to go to the beach. The sun is not yet high but it rides thru an azure blue sky like a knight about to slay a dragon. I call up to my boyfriend, Bobby, 'Get up Sleepyhead. You're wasting our beautiful blue sky morning.' Bobby and I live together, love each other, but are marriage shy. This way we still have our independence, can share or not, go or not, do or not. It's been working perfectly for this entire year.

 

Bobby comes bobbing down the stairs, gives me a hug, and a so-so kiss.
'Want scrambled eggs and ham, Dr. Suess?' I ask. With no hesitation Bobby replies, 'No thanks. All I want is you. How about coming back to bed with me? ' I explain that he tempts me but have decided on something else for a change. 'Come on. Bobby. I'll fix sandwiches, a jug of ice cold lemonade and I'll slather you, you can slather me with sun protection. Then we can lie on the warm beach and do nothing at all. Come on. Coffee and O.J. are ready. I can butter a croissant for you and warm it through. I'll fill our wicker picnic basket with goodies. OK? I sense his lack of interest but he gives in with a soft 'OK.'

 

After his breakfast he brings the lemonade jug and picnic basket up from the basement. I finish the lunch prep. Bobby gets his swim trunks, lotion, towels and I put on my new black bikini. Together we get everything set inside the car and take off on the half hour drive to Ocala that is west of LA. We both need sun glasses as the sun is brilliantly gold and the sky a dazzling cloudless blue. Bobby presses his hand against my leg while he's driving and I slap it, move closer to the door. He laughs and warns me to keep a close watch on his hand. 'I'm quick,' he says. We laugh and I tease him, squeeze his thigh. 'That's not funny, Liz, I darn near side-swiped the red Corvette that just sped past us.

 

I turn off the AC and open the windows, feel the breeze, smell the salty ocean. It's heavenly. Bobby finds a parking meter close to the beach path, drops two quarters and two dimes in the slot. The meter does not register and the coins are not returned. 'We'd better move the car, Bobby. How much more change do you have?' He has one more quarter and I only have a couple of dimes, two quarters and far too many unusable pennies. 'You stay here, Bobby. I'll go across the road to the diner for change.' As I close the door, I hear him crack his knuckles, know he's spitting angry.

 

It takes less than ten minutes to get back and am face to face with a police car and it's occupant. The officer may believe Bobby that the meter is broken but insists he move the car. 'What about my money and all the other money people are going to waste in this broken meter?'
'Send us a bill,' the officer laughs and pulls away.

 

We drive in circles until Bobby maneuvers our car into a very tight space, one that leaves only my side as a possible exit. I reach what I can from the back seat and floor but can't lift the lemonade jug. The picnic basket is too big to get out, too, so I reach in and grab the sandwiches, squeeze them into my purse and wiggle out the door. Only by crawling over the wheel, banging his knee does, Bobby manage to get out. 'What a lousy kettle of fish this is, Liz.' 'Don't get so upset, Honey. I have change and we can get cold drinks, ice cream bars from the stand near the water fountain. Come on, let's go enjoy the rest of the day.'

 

The sun at noon has become an orange ball of flames in a perfectly clear blue sky. The sand is warm but not yet hot. We spread our towels out and begin to get comfortable. Boom! Boom!, a tremendous clap of thunder rumbles, shakes the earth. Not one flash of lightning mars the blue sky. As suddenly as the thunder hit, rain tumbles down on both of us and our sandwiches. My bikini and Bob's swim trunks never reach the ocean. It feels like the ocean is coming to us. Everybody is watching the strange sky and running to their cars. The whole lovely day is already a disaster. Getting back into our car is tougher than getting out. Bobby grunts, blaming me. 'It was your fault, Liz.' He kisses his hand and puts the kiss on my wet leg.

 

As soon s we get in the door, throw all of our wet paraphernalia into the kitchen, Bobby takes both of my hands and guides me upstairs, talking and winking as we go. I did what you wanted, Liz, now do what I want. He's right and I don't offer any argument.

 

I climb into bed, snuggle close and hand him seventy cents to cover his meter loss.