Lone eagle

He knew the address, and he said he'd be there in thirty minutes.

He was there in fifteen, with two big oozing cheeseburgers in a white paper bag, just the way they both liked them. She hadn't had one like that in years, and as they dripped and dropped ketchup all over the place, and licked their fingers, they laughed at each other as they sat at the kitchen table.

“You're a mess,” he said, as he watched her. And she giggled, and sounded seventeen again.

“I know. I love it.” She handed him a stack of paper napkins, and eventually they both cleaned up the mess.

And she offered him ice cream from her freezer. It was just like the old days, when he was staying at her parents' house in Boston, and afterward in New Jersey. She had missed that, although she had fun with Andy. Joe was like a giant bird who swooped down, and then settled in for a while, and after that took flight again and disappeared. But she had enjoyed seeing him again. She had forgotten what good company he was, and how much they liked each other. He loved her stories, and she made him laugh at silly things. She was good for him. She always had been. He had been good for her too, once upon a time, but she had worked hard to forget that. It had taken years.

After they ate, they watched TV. She was wearing sandals, and he kicked off his shoes, and she teased him when she saw there were holes in his socks.

“You're too successful to wear socks like that,” she scolded him.

“I don't have anyone to buy me new ones,” he said, trying to make her feel sorry for him, but she didn't.

“You like it that way, remember? Have Hazel do it.” But his secretary had other things to do, so he never got them. He just wore the socks with holes.

“I don't like it that way. I just don't want to get married so I can have decent socks. That's a high price to pay for socks without holes in them,” he said, as they sat on the couch and the TV chattered in the background.

“Is it, why?”

“I don't know. You know me. I'm afraid to be tied down. I'm afraid I'm going to miss something, or someone will take too much from me.

Not money. But me. A part of me I don't want to give them.” He had always been afraid of that. It was the real reason he hadn't married her. But he wasn't afraid of her now. For some reason even he couldn't fathom, he finally trusted her. It had taken a long, long time.

“No one can take what you won't give them,” Kate said calmly.

“They can try. I guess I'm scared I'll lose me in the process.