I stood up and walked over to the pool. I dipped my foot in, wondering if I should suggest a swim, but we’d just eaten, and besides, wasn’t that just another excuse on my part for avoiding making a decision. Did I love Timothy? It all rested on that. Did I love Timothy enough to deal with all the ramifications of being with a pooka?
“No decision is necessary now, Penelope,” Timothy said. Let’s just see how the week goes. Then after you return to your apartment — if you decide that’s what you want to do — you will have a long time before you need to make a permanent commitment. We can just continue to date – if you’ll allow me to take you out. You do trust me that much, right?”
I turned to face him. “Yes. I would like that, Timothy, because I think I’m falling in love with you, and inside I feel like I’m an oatmeal porridge of indecision. Does that make sense?”
“I think I’d be in trouble if I laughed, but your description is a little over the top, wouldn’t you say?”
He jumped up from his position and strode towards me with all the force of an el torro bull seeing red. I stood my ground, and when he embraced me with arms that made me want to surrender myself to everything he offered, for a moment I relented and allowed the comfort. Our lips melded, but it was only for a brief respite.
“You are falling in love with me? Now I understand completely. I’ve turned into porridge, too, all warm and gooey with delight. I am yours my darling. How ever much you are willing to offer, even if it’s just tiny tastes of happiness, I’ll accept them.”
Another kiss was needed to seal that tender offering, and perhaps it would have traveled further, but a man’s voice suddenly coughed and cleared his throat.