The Face In The Mirror by Barbara Stewart Page A

he took his shirttail
and wiped my nose. Hysterical laughter had me doubled over on the rug,
laughing, and then Mitchell joined in. By the time I regained my composure, my
belly ached.
And I knew then that Mitchell Donovan really was the only one for me. I’d
known it before, but my path in life took a detour and once more I wondered
why. But I knew right then that a man who will wipe your nose with his t-shirt,
and then laugh about it was a keeper.
He pulled me closer, kissed the top of my head and I turned in his arms to
whisper in his ear. “You mentioned fireworks earlier…”
“Come with me,” he said.
    Lying in bed later, curled into Mitchell’s arm, he kissed me and spoke softly
against my lips, “Jesus, Renie, you’re going to make it awful hard to leave you
when this weekend is over.”
“Let’s just enjoy now, OK?”
n
    I found that sex with Mitchell wasn’t only amazing, earth shattering and
mind-blowing – and it was all of those things - it was comfortable, too. I wasn’t
freaked out about getting naked. I wasn’t worried that I wouldn’t do something
right or not please him; I knew what he liked. I knew what he wanted.
    It dawned on me that the sex I’d had in the last nine years was never even
close to what Mitchell and I had shared. I realized that I had compared every
experience to what I knew, and no one else ever measured up. This was what
had been missing – this man.
n
    Friday morning I woke early and slipped from the bed to start coffee. I
thought about breakfast, and remembered seeing some sausage and more of the
frozen biscuits in the freezer. Sausage biscuits sounded like good southern
comfort food. While I waited for the coffee, I wandered around and decided
what I needed to tackle before we headed home.
    When he finally rounded the corner, Mitchell was singing. “The best part
of waking up is Folger’s in your cup. Good morning!” he said in an obnoxious,
chipper voice.
“It’s Dunkin, dork,” I laughed. “What are you all happy about?”
    “I made love to a beautiful woman last night. What’s not to be happy
about?” he replied, and then wrapped his arms around me.
He went to the kitchen and poured the coffee that had just finished
brewing. He fixed both cups and handed me mine, just the way I liked it. I
smiled because he remembered.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“I thought I’d make sausage biscuits. There’s still plenty of good stuff in
the freezer. I took inventory and we have stuff for dinner meals the next
weekend we come.”
“The next weekend?”
“Yes, Mitchell. I don’t know that I can be here without you,” I replied.
“What’s the plan after we eat?” he asked.
“Box up some of the office stuff and take it with me. I’ll go through it
when I can. I have to make a dent in there. I need to remember to bring a
shredder next time, there’s already a box of stuff that needs shredding.”
“I don’t have one at home, I’ll run out and get one, and I’ll shred while you
sort.”
“Deal,” I said.
We spent three hours in the office, having what Mitchell called an ‘Enron
party’ as he shredded documents. He made mimosas with orange juice that I’d
discovered in the freezer and a bottle of Asti that he found in the pantry. We’d
already filled three trash bags with shredded papers and junk.
Suddenly, the alarm on his watch sounded. “What’s that for?” I asked as I
looked up from the pile of papers I was sorting through.
“Break time,” he said. “We’re going for a swim.”
“Seriously? I’m in the middle of…”
“Nothing that can’t wait. I’m having visions of fuchsia. Come on,” he said
as he reached for my hand. “We’ll swim, come back and have some lunch, and
then work a couple more hours.”
    We went to the pool and enjoyed a swim, and then relaxed in the sun a bit
before going back up to the condo. I returned to the office and dove into the
filing cabinet drawers. Around six that