Mirage: 2040 …Part 6 …Joining Forces
So many nights like this—
Let's take a lover's vow
And then seal it with a kiss
—Burt Bacharach / Hal David
Golden Girls
Something about darkness magnifies everything—shadows seem more menacing, sounds more threatening, fears more heart-pounding.
But lying awake in the grey light of dawn and seeing Creed curled up on my couch with the pup at her feet banishes night terrors and stirs fantasies of domestic bliss—the ritual of morning coffee, and even waking up to a morning kiss.
I feel a tongue caress my ear and open my eyes to the pup's innocent eyes. He needs to go out, so I reluctantly drag myself up and open the back door to a bone-chilling cold mist.
So much for visions of domestic bliss.
"Did you sleep well?" a soft voice enquires.
Creed is pushing back luxuriant locks that have spilled across her forehead.
I want to stop her—she looks lovely with hair dishevelled, even lovelier déshabillé, but I immediately tell my mind not to go there.
The scene reminds me of a painting, Nude in my Montreal Apartment and a Leonard Cohen poem by the same name...but Creed is chastely gowned and my senses ragged at dawn.
"It's actually the first good sleep I've had in a week since this Emergency began."
"Same here," she laughs. "I pride myself on being independent but sometime you just need a man"
She realizes what she said and blushes, "that was awkward—not what I meant."
I smile and hold up my hand to stop her. "I know what you meant—it's had for me to admit to being scared, but I was so grateful you were here...and the pup, too."
"Where is she?" she asks, glancing about the downstairs.
I slap my hand to my forehead. "Oh, I let her out—it's freezing out there."
I hurry to the door and she's sitting waiting patiently. "I'm so sorry, Pup, I'll have to heat your food to warm you up."
Creed shakes her head and chuckles. "I think we're both smitten by that gaze."
I nod and inwardly muse, as I'm beguiled by yours.
I feed the pup and Creed makes us breakfast. Bacon, eggs and home fries.
Fortunately, I purchased several pre-cooked bacon packages on sale, figuring I could quickly microwave them-—and the home fries were leftovers from the oven-roasted potatoes I had with the roast beef the night before.
The temperatures have been low enough to keep food in the unheated garage. It's that weird feeling again, like I'm backing into becoming a survivalist, but I'm just trying to get by as I did during the pandemic with its various food and material shortages.
"Do you go into work at the university?" Creed asks over breakfast.
I nod, "Fortunately, the local gas station has a back-up generator so they're able to pump gas—I'm trying to stockpile some but I've run out of portable gas cans."
"I have two in my garage—you're welcome to use them."
"That's great—thanks!"
"If you're going into work can you drop me off at The Star so I can touch base with my colleagues and get an update on the Emergency?"
"Sure, and I can pick you up again at five and give you a ride home."
"I think this team approach is really going to work, " she enthuses.
"So do I," I grin and tell myself it can go forever as long as we're together.
It feels like we're already a couple...with a fuzzy, fur baby as well.