Epilogue
Xander
Two months later
“Get it, Michelle!”
I cheer across the breaking wave in order to be heard as Michelle stands up on her surfboard. It’s a gorgeous late summer day with cloudless skies and perfect rolling waves. Seagulls cry out from above as they glide toward shore seeking any tasty morsel, they’re lucky enough to encounter. Further out a pelican dunks into the sea to pluck a wayward fish.
We’d been coming out to the beach as often as our time would allow, and in less than a handful of lessons, one would neverknow Michelle hadn’t been surfing regularly all her life. She took to it quickly and efficiently, using her honed skills of balance and patience.
We each had a weekday available, with Michelle’s clinic schedule being light and my band deciding to take a break for a few weeks. And since it was nearing the Labor Day Weekend, we took full advantage of the time when fewer people crowded the beach. The temperature is still plenty inviting at eighty-five degrees, and a gusty wind is blowing across the ocean and onto the shore. There are those out flying colorful kites, a few fellow surfers, and a handful of others taking a leisurely walk across the sand.
Since that fateful night we met two months ago, we’ve practically been inseparable. I introduced her to my mom and her husband, along with my nieces and nephews, and of course they all fell in love with her. Not long afterward, Michelle and I took a cruise in the Camaro one weekend over to St. Petersburg in order for me to meet her parents, and we got along great.
After some discussion, Michelle opted to sell her condo and we decided to move in together into the building next to the bar. Made sense in order to be closer to the bar as well as Michelle’s work. Some thought it hasty, but when you get to be our age, there’s no time to waste. Not saying we hadn’t talked it through and certainly not saying either one of us are even close to kicking the bucket. But we’ve lived long enough and experienced plenty in our lives to know a good thing when it happens and grab on with all we have.
Hell, we have more than a good thing. Meeting Michelle is the best thing to ever happen to me and I couldn’t be happier. And I know she feels the same because she tells me often enough. Not that I’ll ever get tired of hearing it. The woman is spectacular.
What I always referred to as the apartment consists of the entire top floor, encompassing a thousand square feet. Aftercreative furniture placement and the addition of a few dividing walls, we have our bedroom with an upgraded bathroom, a storage room, and an open living room leading into the kitchen area. It more than meets our needs, but I’m not discounting the idea of purchasing another place at some point in the future. As for my tiny house, it now serves as an Airbnb rental which means an added income for me. Between gigs and record sales, working at the bar, and healthy investments, I’m doing just fine.
It still amazes me at the ease in which we fell into a routine. Although it shouldn’t. Michelle and I are as comfortable with one another as if we’d been together for much longer than a few months; sharing similar views and discovering even more interests we have in common. Like volunteering at local organizations to nurture our altruistic side, along with purely selfish indulgences like randomly picking a new city in the U. S. and taking the time to get away every other month.
In August we drove up to Savannah to enjoy three days of savory food and historical sight-seeing. For October, I suggested we go to New Orleans for their Halloween Bash Celebration, but Michelle admitted she was not a fan of Halloween. She asked if we could go to Leavenworth in Washington State because she’d read about the quaint town and their Oktoberfest celebration. She then promised she’d agree to anywhere I chose for December.
And boy do I have a surprise already planned which consists of a trip to New Hampshire for a true winter wonderland experience. It’ll include staying at a resort and hanging out with Adam, Kevin, and their families. They’d taken the time to visitTheDive Barin early August for an impromptu jam session, delighting the lucky patrons who’d been hanging out that day.
And yeah, in the short span of these two months, we’ve recently told each other those three little words….I love you. I’ve never said them to another woman and meant them inthe way I do with Michelle. Sure, my mom and Dina have heard them, but that’s family. With Michelle, it’s soul-searing, heartfelt, and sometimes overwhelmingly emotional love. Man-card be damned. The kind of love Michelle fills me with makes me feel like the luckiest man on earth. I love how open and honest we are with each other, knowing those qualities are key in a relationship.
I look over at the joyful expression on Michelle’s face as she balances on her board while negotiating the wave. She’s radiant. And smoking hot in her bright red bikini, showing off her tan, fit body.
Jesus!Have I said what a lucky man I am?
Catching the next wave, I ride the crest until it starts to flatten before jumping from my board into the shallow water. I scoop up my surfboard and tuck it between my arm and side as I join Michelle on the soft sand. She smiles brightly as I reach her side and I lean down to give her a quick kiss.
“Go again?” I ask.
“One more time,” she says with excitement. “Then it’s time to feed me.”
I laugh. There’s no doubt Michelle loves to eat, and I love seeing she has a healthy appetite. Between yoga, biking, and now surfing, she’s happy her metabolism is still kicking, allowing her to remain energetic and in fantastic shape. Not that I’d love her any less should she start to slow down or add more pounds to her frame. But like me, Michelle is going to defy ageism as long as possible.
She once teased about the time when she’d eventually slow down and turn into an old woman, but I lovingly told her she’d forever be my hot momma. I’d earned one of her uninhibited laughs that never fail to warm my insides.
We race out into the water for one more run at the waves. After catching the perfect one, we ride in together about twenty feetapart, laughing and whooping it up. Once we reach the shore, we slide into our flip flops and gather our few items before heading up to our place.
Our place.
So freaking surreal.
We put away our boards, take a quick shower, and walk over toThe Dive Barfor dinner before the actual dinner crowd arrives. Michelle pulls me outside to the patio and brings us to a table where Vikki is setting out her artwork. After many compliments not only from Michelle but other patrons about her origami art, Vikki had begun making various designs she’d randomly place around the bar. She’d either insert weights or dangle them from glasses so they wouldn’t get blown away. She’d tell patrons they were free for the taking and it garnered a little side business that had blossomed for her.
Tonight’s designs were frogs in all shapes, sizes, and colors. The craftsmanship is exquisite and Michelle squeals over the bright green frog on our table.
“You know I still have the lotus you made me,” Michelle tells Vikki. “It suffered a little bit of… scrunching,” she chuckles. “But I managed to save it and it’s found a home on my bookshelf.”
“I’m so happy to hear that, thank you, Michelle.” Vikki beams. “This little frog will look mighty fine next to the lotus.” She winks before walking away to work on our dinner and drink order.
“I love you,” I say.
