I unearthed my remote that I hid in a drawer in an end table, resumed my seat next to Tack, grabbed my plate and sat back, eyes pinned to the TV and started the movie.
Fifteen minutes later, Tack muttered, “Jesus, Red, what is this?”
“The Color Purple,” I answered, not looking at him.
He said no more and I didn’t either. I finished my pizza, finished my beer and started another one and, as usual, got lost in one of the most devastating, most beautiful movies of all time. That was, I got lost in the movie until I started crying. When I started crying, I became acutely aware of Tack’s presence. I didn’t want Tack to see or hear me crying so I pressed my lips together and tried to breathe steady in an effort to control my tears as I kept my eyes glued to the screen.
This didn’t work and I knew it didn’t when I suddenly felt his fingers at my chin and he forced my face in his direction. I tried not to catch his eyes but this was difficult because I liked the way they roamed my face with that warm look in them. Then as suddenly as his fingers took hold of my chin, they let it go, his arm went around my shoulders, he pulled me into his side and again lifted his feet to put on the coffee table. He slouched, taking me into his slouch so I had no choice but to slouch with him. I did actually have a choice but I told myself I didn’t and lifted my legs to rest my heels against the armrest as my side and back settled into his side and my head settled on his shoulder.
I knew I shouldn’t lie like that. I knew it but I liked it. His body was warm and hard, his arm strong and the movie inspired a variety of deep emotions. It was good to have a warm, hard, strong body close when watching it. I’d never done it but I liked it so I did it.
When the credits rolled, I wiped the new tears from my face, twisted in his arm, placed my hand lightly on his chest and tipped my head back to look at him to see he was already looking down at me.
“What did you think?” I whispered.
“She shoulda cut his throat with the razor,” Tack replied and I grinned.
Definitely scary biker dude.
Then I said, “She didn’t have that in her.”
“Right,” he muttered.
“And if she did, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to learn how to be a better person and find absolution.”
Tack stared at me intently for a few beats. Then he repeated quietly, “Right.”
“So did you like it?” I pressed.
“Not really a movie you like, Red,” he answered.
“I think it’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“Not sure you understand the concept of beauty, darlin’.”
“Truth, honesty, perseverance, strength, love of all kinds and forgiveness are all beautiful, Tack. The most beautiful stories ever told are the most difficult to take.”
For a few more beats he again stared at me intently then he said, this time on a whisper, “Right,” and his eyes didn’t release mine.
I liked him looking at me like that. I liked him being like this. I liked pizza, beer and sad movies with an easy-to-be-with Tack. This was what I thought I’d found a week ago and here it was, in my living room.
God, what did I do now?
“You got any movies that don’t make you cry?” Tack asked and I blinked up at him.
“Yeah,” I answered.
He shifted me off him, lifted his legs off the coffee table, got up and went to my TV. He ejected the DVD, crouched in front of the cabinet and then dug through it, pulling out DVDs at random and totally ruining the alphabetical organization of my films. Then he opened a case, slid in another DVD and came back to the couch. He grabbed the remote from the end table and then he settled in again.
And when he settled, he did not slouch. He did not put his feet up on the table. No, he laid down flat on his back, ankles crossed, head on a toss pillow on the armrest. While he did this, he arranged me tucked into his side with my back to the back of the couch and my front plastered down his side.
Oh boy. Maybe it was time for me to start being smart.
I lifted up with a hand in his chest and looked down at him.
His eyes were on the TV and his arm with the remote in his hand was stretched out and aimed at the TV.
“Tack –”
He didn’t even look at me when he muttered, “Relax, Red.”
I started to push up from his chest and his arm around my waist got tight as his head turned my way.
Then he whispered, “Relax.”
I stared down at him. He turned his head back to the TV, hit some buttons and then tossed the remote on the coffee table. His arm curled me deeper into his body as his other hand went behind his head.
Speed started on the TV.
“Tack –”
“Relax.”
“Um –”
Another squeeze and his head turned to me.
“Baby,” he said softly in his gravelly voice, I felt that one word in my belly and it felt nice. “Relax.”
His eyes were warm, his arm was tight and his body against me was hard.
I bit my lip.
Then I made another decision and relaxed.
An hour later, I fell asleep with my cheek to Tack’s chest, my arm curved around his gut and my legs tangled in his.
* * * * *
I woke up confused.
It was dark and I was trapped in some kind of comfy cocoon. I sluggishly surveyed my situation and it hit me that I was sleeping on the couch with Tack. My head was cushioned on his bicep, my cheek pressed to his chest, his forearm was wrapped around my shoulders, his other arm resting on my waist. My arm was draped around his, my leg was hitched over his hip and his leg was cocked and resting between mine.
Okay, damn, this felt nice. Beautiful. Special. Perfect.
Maybe I wasn’t wrong a week ago because this felt right.
Really right.
Dreamy.
I snuggled closer. Tack’s arm around my waist tightened unconsciously before it went loose again and a second later, I fell back to sleep.
* * * * *
I was being lifted and I opened my eyes to see weak light in the room.
It was dawn.
My arm automatically slid around Tack’s neck and I whispered, “Tack.”
“Sh, baby,” he whispered back, walking and carrying me.
I pressed my forehead into his neck and sighed.
Then I felt myself going down and I was in my bed, head on my pillow. I turned to my side and my eyes slid to him to see Tack standing beside the bed pulling the covers over me.