The Table

THE TABLE

Loose gravel crunched under her car wheels as Meg turned off the dusty rural route and followed the driveway to its terminus in front of Josh's house. She parked and killed the engine but remained in the car staring out at the old bungalow she'd shared with Josh for almost five years. The house looked exactly as it had when she'd moved out six months earlier: sagging stairs leading up to a lopsided front porch, crooked chimney rising from a sway-backed roof bordered by loose eave troughs and swaths of paint curling away from grey, weathered cladding.

"Jesus Christ on a fucking bike," she said, shaking her head as she surveyed the dilapidated structure. "Did I really live in this shit-hole?"

Josh had inherited the house from his uncle Lee, a chronic alcoholic who had lost interest in the upkeep of his home during the last decades of his life, and it was in its current derelict state when Josh asked Meg to move in with him one night as they lay side by side in his bed.

"I know the place is pretty run down, Meggie," he'd said as he idly rubbed the nape of her neck. "But I got plans for it. Big plans. I promise you, this dump is gonna be a goddam palace when I'm through with it."

Meg, then a smitten nineteen-year-old deep in the throes of first love and flushed with afterglow from their recent love-making, insisted that the building's dire condition didn't matter to her.

"I don't care if you fix it up or not, Josh," she'd declared fervently, rolling onto her side to press her naked body against his. "I don't need to live in a palace. I just want to be with you."

Josh had apparently taken her at her word because as was so often the case with his promises, nothing came of his "big plans" to renovate the house and every year it had sunk a little deeper into ruin around the couple.

As she gazed out the window at the ramshackle dwelling, second thoughts about seeing Josh again crept into her mind and she had an urge to start the car and escape. A few miles down the road, she would send him a text saying that something had come up and she needed to postpone the visit, maybe indefinitely.

But before she could act on her impulse, the front door of the house opened and Josh strode onto the porch. He lifted his arm and waved a hand wrapped around a bottle of beer in her direction.

With her chance to flee gone, Meg stepped out of her car into the hot, mid-day sun and returned his greeting.

He had changed as little as the house but was in significantly better condition. Ten years her senior, he was still lean and fit-looking, and dressed in the wardrobe he'd always favoured: scuffed cowboy boots, faded jeans held up by a belt sporting a shield-sized buckle and a sleeveless t-shirt that showed off his muscular, tatted arms. Uncombed, curly black hair crowned a tanned face with deep-set blue eyes, high, chiseled cheek bones and a thick moustache in need of a trim. Despite her resolve not to let Josh get under her skin, she felt a prickly warmth low in her belly as the man she'd once considered the handsomest, sexiest male on earth sauntered down the stairs towards her.

"Hey there, Meggie," he drawled. "How're you doing? How was the drive up from the city?"

He moved in close to hug her but Meg deftly avoided his intended clinch and, taking a small step back, offered him her hand. Keep it friendly, she reminded herself, but not too friendly.

"I'm alright, Josh, and the trip up was okay," she answered. "How've you been?"

Grinning bemusedly at her artful dodge of his embrace, he clasped Meg's hand in his. "Just fine, Meggie. It's good to see you. Tell you the truth, I was a little surprised you decided to come up. I kinda figured you'd wrote me off for good."

Meg ignored the pointed sub-text of his last sentence and told him that she was glad he'd reached out to her.

"Yeah, well, I know you told me you didn't want anything from the house when you left. But like I said in my email, I made that table 'specially for you and it only seemed right I should check in with you to see if you wanted it before I chucked it."

"I appreciate that, Josh," she said earnestly. "I really do."

Meg had been wary when his email popped up in her inbox the week before. After the break up, Josh bombarded her with a barrage of messages so rancorous that she'd started deleting them without reading their content. He'd finally gone silent but Meg wondered if this email were a sign that he was remounting his attack. Full of trepidation, she began reading his words.

Hi Meg,

How are you? Big changes up here. I sold the house and I'm moving

to Arizona to start a new job. I need to clear all the furniture out

before the end of the month. It's mostly gone but I hung onto that

table I made you for your birthday a few years back. You always

said how much you liked it and I thought you might want it. If you do

you need to come up and get it. I'm too busy here to bring

it down. I'm around most days so anytime that's good

for you works for me. Let me know and I'll make sure I'm here.

Hope everything is going good for you down there, Meggie.

Josh

Relief swept over her as she realized his message was not another scathing rant. On the contrary, Josh's tone was surprisingly civil and conciliatory, as though in his way he was telling her that he had finally moved on and accepted their split without animosity. The table was the perfect peace offering, she thought, signifying as it did a memorable high-point in their relationship and that part of Josh's character that she had loved the most.

She had desperately wanted to end her relationship with Josh on good terms and his message suggested this was now a possibility. Seeing Josh again to accept his kind offer of the table would provide, as she saw it, an opportunity for closure and peace of mind for both of them. And because he was leaving soon, it was probably her last chance to end things on a positive note.

But was she ready to see Josh again, she wondered? She had never doubted that leaving him was the right move and remained resolute in her decision to live her life without him. But as much as she hated to admit it to herself, she still harboured feelings--physical and emotional--for Josh that, while diminished now, were still potent enough to make her miss him intensely at times. Josh had always known exactly how to press her buttons to get what he wanted from her and if the real intent of his offer were to try to persuade her to come back to him, she worried that she might still be too vulnerable to withstand him.

After much reflection, she decided that the chance to finally bring her relationship with Josh to an amicable close was too tempting to pass up. She would have to be on guard and take care not to succumb to the powerful chemistry that had existed between them since she had first met Josh shortly after graduating from high school. She would be pleasant but careful not to encourage his advances or lead him to believe there was any chance of reigniting a fire that, as far she was concerned, was best left extinguished. Confident that she could stand her ground no matter what Josh might have in mind, she messaged him to say that she would come for the table the following Saturday afternoon.

Now, standing face-to-face with Josh who still held her hand in his, she couldn't deny the feelings he aroused in her. But she refused to let her desire override her convictions. I've got this, she told herself. He has no power over me, no matter how thick the fucker pours it on.

"Let's get out of this sun, Meggie," Josh said, finally releasing her hand. "What can I get you? Soda? A beer maybe?"

"A glass of cold water would be great," she replied. "But I have to use the little girl's room first. It was a long drive up."

Josh nodded and led the way up the rickety stairs and across the porch into the living room, now empty of all furniture except the familiar ratty old couch they'd made love on countless times. "Go ahead, Meggie," he said, gesturing towards the bathroom. "You know where it's at. I'll get the drinks."

Meg relieved herself and returned to the living room to find Josh on the couch holding her water and a fresh beer for himself. The lack of seating options in the barren room left her no choice but to join him on the couch. Sitting as far away from him as possible, she accepted the glass and took a deep swallow of the cold water, conscious of his eyes on her as she drank.

"You're looking good, Meggie. I like your hair short like that," he said, referring to the spiked, trendy do replacing the long blonde curls that had cascaded down her back when he'd last seen her. "Looks like you got a whole new style going on for yourself. Don't remember you wearing dresses much before 'cept for special shit. Suits you. You always did fill out your clothes real nice."

Josh's comment and the way his eyes drifted over her curvy form made Meg squirm. What had she been thinking, she wondered, when she'd chosen to wear her new yellow summer dress for this visit? Low cut in front and sleeveless, it fit snugly across her flat belly and large breasts and flowed freely from her waist midway down her long, shapely legs. She suddenly felt exposed and uncomfortable under Josh's lascivious scrutiny but reminded herself that it was her right to wear whatever she wanted. If her dress got him all hot and bothered, well, that was his problem.

"So you're going to Arizona?" she asked, changing the subject. "That's a big move."

"Yeah, it is, I guess. Not much work 'round here these days. What with all those home reno videos on YouTube, folks are doing everything for themselves and I'm getting way less work than I used to."

Meg hid a smile. For as long as she had known him, Josh's carpentry skills were in hot demand all over the county and beyond. But he regularly turned down work offers and seldom stayed long at the few jobs he did take, preferring to spend his time fishing, fixing up old junker cars and drinking with his buddies at a tavern in town.

It was the money she had earned from her waitressing job at a local diner that consistently put food on the couple's table, even after she enrolled in a paralegal training program at the nearby community college. When she had complained about the burden of carrying their financial load while studying and acting as his maid and cook, Josh either turned a deaf ear or become indignant and enraged.

"Hey, I'm looking for work, okay? There's just nothing out there for me right now. And don't forget who's putting a roof over your head. You got no goddam business telling me what to do!"

By the time she graduated, she'd had enough. After applying for jobs at several law offices, a large firm in the city offered her an entry level position with a monthly salary three times what she'd made at the diner. She accepted the job the same day she told Josh that she was leaving him.

"Go ahead and leave, Meg," he'd shouted as she loaded her belongings into her car. "You'll be back. You need me a hell of a lot more'n I need you and don't you fucking forget it!"

But there was no trace of anger in Josh's voice now as he talked optimistically about his future in Arizona. "It's a real big project. They're practically building a whole town out there in the desert--luxury retirement homes, golf course--the whole nine yards. I'll just be heading up a framing crew at first but there's a lotta room for advancement."

'That's awesome, Josh," Meg said. "It sounds like a really good opportunity for you."

Josh nodded and took a pull from his bottle before he spoke again. "Look, Meg, uh, I got something I been wanting to say to you."

"Okay," she said. "What is it, Josh?"

He looked down at the bottle he dangled between his knees as he collected his thoughts.

"Well, it's like this..., uh, I'm sorry about the way things went down at the end there, between you and me, I mean," he said in a subdued tone. "I was pissed off when you left 'cause I figured you thought you were too good for me now that you been to college and got to be a lawyer and all."

"Not a lawyer, Josh," Meg interjected. "A paralegal."

Josh ignored her and went on.

"But after awhile I saw it a whole different way. You worked your ass off to make something of yourself and took off to a new life and all and I was stuck here in this dump doing the same old bullshit and going nowhere. You were right. I needed to get the fuck off my ass and make some changes, like you did. That's why I reached out to my buddy in Arizona about a job. What I'm saying is...well, I never would of got my shit together if it wasn't for you. I should of started listening to you a long time ago 'stead of always shutting you down the way I did."

He paused and let the last sentence hang in the air before speaking again.

"Truth is, I wish I'd treated you a whole lot better, Meggie. Maybe...maybe I wouldna lost you."

Meg could not have been more surprised if Josh had spoken to her in Swahili. In her wildest dreams, she couldn't have imagined him saying these words that she had yearned to hear for longer than she cared to remember.

"That...that means a lot to me, Josh," she said with a lump in her throat. "It really does."

Josh locked eyes with her and shifted his body slightly towards hers on the couch. An unexpected wave of tenderness and affection for her ex-lover swept over her. All the words she had prepared to say to him in order to bring gentle, overdue closure to their relationship fled from her mind and she felt a powerful urge to let the moment unfold in the direction he clearly desired. But she caught herself and got to her feet.

"Uh, why don't we take a look at the table," she said unsteadily. "It's a long drive back to the city and I have something on tonight. I don't like to rush but..."

A look of disappointment crossed Josh's face but he nodded and rose from the couch. "Well, okay. Sure. I didn't get around to taking it apart for you yet. But it won't take long. Comes apart easy enough."

Meg nodded and followed him into the kitchen where the pair stood shoulder to shoulder looking at the table.

Josh ran his hand along its slick surface. "Shined it up a bit with a little lemon oil," he told her.

"It's beautiful," she said. "It looks just like it did the day you gave it to me."

Josh nonchalantly placed his hand on the small of Meg's back just above the curve of her buttocks. Her body tensed and she almost pulled away but told herself that it was just an innocuous, affectionate gesture appropriate to the moment and nothing to worry about.

"You were pretty damn happy that day as I recall," Josh said. "Both of us were. You remember that day, Meggie?"

Meg nodded dreamily as vivid memories of the morning she had first seen the table flooded into her mind.

As she had neared her twenty-third birthday, Meg was no longer the starry-eyed naif who had been so keen to move in with Josh four years earlier. Besides her growing frustration with Josh's chronic laziness and tendency to treat her like a servant, she had come to abhor the decrepit house and its furnishings: the threadbare, stained rugs, rickety chairs, grubby sofa and, above all else, the wobbly kitchen table with its cracked, painted top scarred with burns along its edges where Josh's uncle had perched his lit cigarettes during meals.

She had covered its blighted surface with a table cloth and stuck bits of cardboard under its feet to steady it. But as her father would have said, it was like putting lipstick on a pig and she continued to detest the table even when it was covered and relatively stable. Josh became surly whenever she made her grievances known to him and they had no money for new furniture anyway so she kept her hatred of the table to herself. Or so she had thought.

On the morning of her birthday, she'd awoken to the touch of Josh's hand stroking her hair. She opened her eyes to find her shirtless lover sitting on the edge of their bed smiling down at her.

"Get up, Meggie," he whispered. "Got something to show you."

Yawning and still half-asleep, Meg put on her robe and obediently followed Josh into the kitchen where he stood beside the table gripping the edge of the cloth that covered it.

"Happy birthday, darlin'," he said before whisking the cloth away with both hands like a magician dramatically revealing the finale of a magic trick to his audience.

Meg's eyes widened in astonishment when she realized that the table beneath the cloth was not the dilapidated wreck on which she'd served last night's dinner. No, this was a beautiful new table with sturdy but gracefully tapered legs and a polished wood surface gleaming brightly in the morning sun that poured in through the kitchen windows.

"Oh my God, Josh!" she exclaimed as she walked towards the table. "Where did this come from?"

"Built it nights after work at the shop," Josh answered, referring to the small cabinet-making business he worked for at the time. "Found some nice old maple at the lumber yard over in Bixby and Tommy let me use his lathe to turn the legs. Came out pretty decent, I think."

"Oh, Josh," she said, tracing the flowing grain patterns on the table's immaculately finished surface with her finger tips, "it isn't "pretty decent": it's beautiful!"

"Yeah, well, better'n the old one for sure. Always seemed a shame to eat your fine cooking off that disaster. Anyway, I know you won't miss it, much as you hated the damn thing."

Meg turned to him in surprise and stammered, "How...how did you know I hated it?"

He chuckled and put an arm around her shoulders. "You never said nothing about it but I could see what you were thinking by the way you looked at that piece of junk sometimes when you were cleaning it off after dinner, like you wanted to chop the fucking thing up and burn it."

"Was it really that obvious?" she said.

"Oh yeah, Meggie. Pretty obvious for sure."

She had never loved him more fiercely than she did at that moment. His rare display of sensitivity and thoughtfulness brought happy tears to her eyes and all her doubts and complaints about him and the house vanished. She threw her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. Her unbelted robe fell open and Josh's bare chest pressed against her full breasts as their tongues explored each others" mouths. Lost as she was in her passion for Josh, Meg hardly noticed when he slipped her robe from her body and lifted her effortlessly onto the table. She loved the feel of the table's smooth, sun-warmed surface against her back as she stretched out and smiled up at Josh.

"Happy birthday, babe," Josh had said as he fumbled with his belt and bent to kiss her belly.

Looking down at the table now, Meg fondly remembered the details of what had followed that intimate kiss, not only their passionate, fiery sex, but the renewal of her feelings for Josh that his loving gift had provoked. The joy Meg felt that morning would prove to be short-lived: less than a year later she decided she had no choice but to leave Josh. But now as she stood before the table with Josh at her side, her reasons for making that decision seemed vague and cloudy.

Josh moved closer to her as his hand glided up her spine. She caught a note of his familiar scent--a blend of light sweat, sawdust, beer and something faintly sweet and organic that she'd never been able to identify. That ubiquitous aroma permeated his clothes and skin and he had brought it with him into their bed so often that she had unconsciously come to associate his unique smell with imminent sexual pleasure.

"Do you, Meggie?" Josh asked again. "Do you remember those days? Not just that morning but all the good times we had back then?"

His hand caressed the back of her neck as he spoke. He turned his head and leaned towards her until his face was inches from hers. The sensory overload of his scent, the touch of his fingers and warm breath against her cheek as he spoke to her in his low, husky voice suddenly made her swoon and she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. Somewhere in her mind, a panicked voice shouted a warning, but the growing roar of her desire for Josh drowned out its cautionary words. Incapable of speaking, she answered his question by letting her body sag against his.