A Dream in Big Moon - Chapter One

Chapter One

Marne Brint awoke warm, wet and ready. She slammed the snooze button and fought the urge to slip her hand into her pajama bottom. The ringing cell phone of her dream was just the damn alarm, waking her at an unlucky moment; a moment she wanted to get back to. Marne lay still, breathing fast, surprised at the pace of her heart. She couldn’t remember the last wet dream she’d had, but then she couldn’t remember the last time she and Jerry had sex. Or made love. But he would be home tonight. Back off the road again after another two week sales trip. Marne could wait another twelve hours and let her anticipation gather momentum as the last Sunday (the last day!) of the Minnesota winter ticked away. Still she wished she had never set the alarm.

She stared at the ceiling, dim in the diffuse light of the March morning. She spent a millisecond feeling the guilt of sin. Then it was guilty pleasure as she reflected on the sexy dream and the fact that her subconscious lover wasn’t Jerry at all, but Cole Black. No surprise there. Cole had been on her mind a lot these past few weeks.

She smiled as she rolled out of bed. Dreams are always weird but she wished hers hadn’t included a large oak tree with cell phones for leaves, that decided to ring right before...well, it was coitus almostus. She tossed her blue flannel pajamas on the bed and wondered what it would be like to sleep in the nude again, like she did when she and Jerry were young lovers, getting to know the ins and outs of their bodies and desires. She thought the pajamas came on when her belly swelled with her first child.

Her pillow head hair-do disappeared under the hot jets of the shower. She washed herself with only her hands and the bar of cucumber Dove. Her hands ran over her breasts, still okay despite 46 years of gravity, but then she really didn’t have any breasts to speak of until she was 14 so that would make it 32 years of gravity...Jesus, her newly acquired technical education was affecting even her simplest thoughts. Then down her flat stomach, the victim of thousands of sit-ups at her gym, which she had named “Our Lady of Perpetual Youth.” She adjusted the water temperature down just a little and arched her face into the pulsing flow. Now her hands slid over her hips to her butt - her best feature according to Jerry. She wondered if Cole was an “ass man”. Then she wondered why she wondered that.

There was enough daylight to set her solar chime tinkling in the bedroom window. The thick warm towel felt good as she dried her black hair. She thought the gray at her temples gave her an air of wisdom and authority. She wished she hadn’t dyed it for her interview a month ago.

In the kitchen the clock on the digital weather station said 6:45 a.m., outdoor temperature 29° Fahrenheit, indoor 71°, wind out of the SSW at 7 mph, barometer rising. The weather station was a BI product. During her interview at Black Industries she had commented on the one in Cole Black’s office, and when he escorted her on a tour of the factory he had taken one from the stock shelves and gave it to her as a gift. “Batteries included,” he had said.

The coffee was done dripping when she returned from the curb with the Sunday paper. She sat at the granite breakfast bar instead of the oak kitchen table with the four empty chairs. Her seat had always been the one facing the patio door. Jerry sat across from her. Jenny sat to her left, Brad to her right. The number of sit down family meals decreased at an exponential rate as the children got older and Jerry’s sales job required more time out of town. This past year’s Christmas dinner was the last she could remember. Marne retrieved a pad of paper and a pen from a kitchen drawer and made a list of the things she needed for the romantic evening she had planned.

A good Cabernet, home made lasagna, fresh greens – a meal that always seemed to finish with sex for dessert. Jerry used to call it her sex initiation, or foreplay, dinner. If he called today she would mention it, giving him time to anticipate the post dinner treat. Marne finished her list and poured herself another cup of coffee. Over a bowl of Grape Nuts and skim milk, she read the Sunday paper.

* * *

In the pasta aisle at Sven’s Market, Marne studied the lasagna noodle selection. She preferred a meatless, spinach recipe with whole wheat pasta, but Jerry liked it with meat and traditional noodles. She went traditional, not wanting to give him anything to bitch about..

“Marne, how are you?” Annie Mott, her bleached blonde hair pulled tight in a pony tail, rolled her cart next to Marne’s.

“Hi Annie. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Good. Missed you at the meeting Thursday. The Big Moon Friends of the Arts isn’t the same without you.”

“I’ll be back. It’s just been a busy week.”

“Getting ready for the new job, no doubt.” Annie looked in Marne’s cart. “I buy frozen dinners, cheap wine and beer and you have ten buck chuck and the fixings for a home made meal. What’s the occasion?”

“Jerry’s getting in this evening. He’s been out of town again, another two weeks on the east coast, and I thought I’d surprise him with his favorite meal.”

“Two weeks? I think the dessert may only last a minute.” Annie winked at her long time friend. “Remember, if it takes him a while to get off, he’s been getting it on the road.”

Marne gave Annie a look, then checked to see if anyone was in earshot. “Annie, I have no reason to suspect he’s been unfaithful. He’s usually very attentive after his business trips.”

“You told me once he fell asleep watching the Vikings after one of his trips.”

“That was a while ago and just once.”

“Have you invested in a battery powered buddy yet?”

“A what?”

Annie put her hand on Marne’s shoulder, narrowed her eyes and, in a stage whisper, “A vibrator.”

Marne fought off a blush to no avail. “No. And I’m not about to.” She thought of her dream this morning. “Who uses those things anyway?”

“Single women, married women – northern Minnesota women. Why do you think battery sales skyrocket here in the winter? What’s a gal to do when her man is perched over a hole on a frozen lake trying to catch a fucking walleye when it’s ten below and she gets the urge to merge?”

Marne rearranged the items in her cart. She looked up at Annie and smiled. “I could have used one this morning.”

“Oh?”

“I had an...um...interesting dream about Cole Black.”

“Do tell. What happened? Was he good?”

“Unfortunately my alarm went off before I did.”

“Damn. But lucky you anyway. I only daydream about him. You didn’t feel guilty did you?”

“For about a second. I really wish I hadn’t set the alarm. Anyway, what’s it like working for him?” Marne moved her cart to the side of the aisle.

“Black Industries is great. Cole treats people really well. The hard part, for me at least is concentrating on work when Cole walks by. I keep thinking how nice it would be to be invited into his office and have him lock the door, turn me over his desk and have his way with me.”

“That your favorite position for a quickie?” Marne teased.

“Not really. He could take me any way he wanted. I just don’t look my best grinning ear to ear.”

“I thought he was married.”

“Divorced two years now. If he’s serious about anyone he’s keeping it a pretty good secret. I’ve got my feelers out but no one seems to know if he’s seeing anyone. Hey, I remember you had a crush on him in high school.”

“Who didn’t? I don’t think he knew I existed. I had some interesting freshman fantasies about several of the senior jocks.”

“Didn’t we all.” Annie sighed. “So tomorrow you start, huh?”
“Yes, and I’m really nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’ll do fine.”

* * *

Jerry’s plane was due in at six. He should walk in the door at about seven. Marne washed the romaine and dried each leaf with a paper towel before breaking them into a clear glass bowl. The lasagna noodles were done and she assembled the entrée with care. Their favorite red, two bottles, sat on the patio cooling to cellar temperature. Marne put new candles in the dining room candleholders. Earlier she had cleaned the family room and washed the rugs and throws. They still made love in front of the gas log fireplace on special occasions and Marne thought tonight qualified.

Everything seemed perfect for a night of passion, or at least twenty minutes. The telephone rang as Marne slid the lasagna into the oven. She smiled when she picked up her phone and saw it was Jerry. “Hi honey.”

“Hello Marne.”

“You didn’t call me all day. I was getting worried.”

“Had to spend the day with a customer. You know how it goes sometimes.”

“Did your plane get in on time? Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

The phone went silent for several seconds. “I’m still in New York, Marne.”

“What? Why? What happened?” Marne’s voice rose with the gut punch of disappointment.

Again Jerry was silent for a moment. “I won’t be coming home tonight. I won’t be coming home at all. I want a divorce.”