The Perfect Sunset

Harry's Hangout

Hours:

Opens about an hour after sunrise.

Closes about half an hour before sunset.

What the fuck shit is this? Where am I supposed to get a cup of coffee on this god forsaken island?

I kick a small drift of sand. I look up at the sky. It is gray and overcast, but the sun is definitely up. I try to think about how long it has been light. I look at my watch. I woke up 42 minutes ago. It was already light enough to see my room then. It has to be pretty close to an hour by now.

I sit on the steps and think about how I got stuck here.

I am a quant in the city. I am very good at it, make a lot of money for my firm, and they pay me well for it. Apparently, my co-workers think I have been getting agitated more easily with them. Fuck them. They always annoy me. I don't suffer fools.

But the partners of the firm came and talked to me and insisted that I take two weeks off. Apparently, they were afraid I was facing burnout or something. My assistant planned this trip, asking me only "Beach or mountains?" before handing me plane tickets and telling me it's a lovely little beach community where I could relax. She didn't tell me it was an island with only one ferry a day off. The same one that brought me here last night.

And that there is only one restaurant. And they are only open when Harry isn't fishing or jerking off or whatever he is doing when I want my fucking coffee. And no stores to even buy any groceries. Or coffee. And no god damned cell service.

This isn't relaxation; it's exile to a gulag somewhere that no one has ever heard of.

A woman with wind blown hair appears, carrying an easel, paint supplies, and a canvas. She steps past me and opens the door. I assume she came from the beach.

"Were you hoping for breakfast?" she asks.

"And coffee if that is available on this god forsaken island!"

"Well, I won't have the kitchen up and running for fifteen minutes, but I can start the coffee as soon as I set this stuff down. You can come in and sit if you want."

"Do I look comfortable out here?"

She rolls her eyes and sets her stuff in the corner and goes through a door into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, she comes out with a pot of coffee and fills the cup sitting in front of me. And leaves me in peace to sulk over my coffee.

About ten minutes later she comes back out. Momentarily, she looks at me with a delighted smile. She has swapped out of her paint covered smock for an apron and pulled her hair back, maybe even brushed it. Her face is windblown, but I would guess she is about thirty, my age. She is not an unattractive woman.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"What do you have?"

"Pretty much all the diner usuals for breakfast. It's probably just you today, so eggs are easiest on me, but I can make pancakes or french toast."

"Do you think you can handle two eggs, over easy, whole wheat toast and three slices of crispy bacon?"

"I have always managed to do so before," she snaps back at me. To be honest, I can't blame her for getting snippy with me.

When she brings out my food, I ask her, "Where do I get groceries around here?"

"Around here? You can't. Take the ferry across at noon. There is a general store next to the dock. You have an hour and a half to shop before the ferry departs again at 3:30. Don't miss the boat or you are stuck there until tomorrow."

I guess I am spending all afternoon on a boat. The eggs are perfectly cooked at least.

After I have finished, she comes back to grab my dishes.

"Thanks, that was actually good."

"Don't sound so surprised!"

"Well you don't have any competition, you could have the worst food in the state and it wouldn't make much difference in your business around here."

"People do things for reasons other than money."

"In my world, in the real world, not really."

She rolls her eyes again and carries my dishes away. I sit there for about fifteen minutes, waiting for my bill. I finally go up to the kitchen door and knock.

"Whatcha need?"

"The check?"

"I assume you are paying by credit card?"

I nod.

"How long are you here for?"

"Two long weeks."

"Then I will run a tab. It saves me on credit card fees."

"What if I stiff you?"

"Are you going to?"

"No, but -"

"Then, I don't need to worry about it."

I shake my head in disbelief and walk the few hundred yards to my cabin. I put on my swim trunks. And head towards the beach. I stick a toe in, but that water is cold.

Harry, or whatever her name is, sticks her head out the window and yells to me, "Mighty cold for swimming. And there is a nasty current."

I take my foot back out of the water and go for a walk on the beach. An hour and a half later, I am back where I started. I have an hour and a half to kill before the ferry. I go up on the porch of my cabin and sit in the rocking chair. I watch the water for a few minutes. There is no way I am going to spend two weeks sitting in a rocking chair watching the fucking waves.

How do people live like this. Why would they?

I decide I am not going to get any lunch if I don't eat now, so I head for an early lunch.

"Back so soon?"

"I figured I better get some lunch now because I won't have a chance later."

"I'll be closed by the time you get back, you know."

"But I will have food I can cook by then."

"Can you?"

"Can I what?"

"Cook. You said you can cook."

"Of course I can cook."

"Lots of rich guys like you can't. New York, right?"

"Yeah."

"I grew up there. Hate New Yorkers. Especially rich ones. But how often do you cook?"

"Maybe once or twice a week. I eat out the rest of the time."

"Wouldn't change much if you ate out one or two more times a week, would it?"

"No, not really."

"It's why I wondered if you could actually cook. You are in the Potter cabin, right?"

"What is the Potter cabin?"

"The red one up the beach you came out of. You had to talk to one of the Potters to reserve it."

"I didn't talk to anyone. My secretary made all the arrangements. I am not sure what I did to piss her off like this."

"If you hate this place so much, what are you doing here? And for two whole weeks?"

"My partners told me I had to take a vacation. They were worried I was burning out. My secretary made all the arrangements to exile me."

"So, Mister Caruso, what would you like for lunch?"

"What is the best thing you make?"

"Probably my meatloaf."

"I will have the meatloaf, then. And a cup of coffee."

"I don't have any meatloaf."

"But you said -"

"You asked what was the best thing I make. That is meatloaf. But I only make it on Wednesdays. There is usually leftovers on Thursday, sometimes all the way through to Saturday, offseason like now."

"Okay, if you want to play that game, what is the best thing you can make me for lunch today?"

"How about a bacon cheeseburger and fries?"

"Fine, I will have that."

"Lettuce, tomato, onions and pickles?"

"Just lettuce and tomato. Thank you."

"You are welcome."

When she brings out my lunch, I ask, "Are you Harry?"

"That's a rather personal question to ask isn't it? I don't shave all the time and I am not telling you where."

It's my turn to roll my eyes. I point to the sign that saysHarry's Hangout.

"No, that Harry was my grandfather."

"What should I call you?"

"You can call me Katherine."

"Is that your name or is this another meat loaf joke?"

"That's my name."

She turns and walks back into the kitchen to do whatever she does in there. On the six days a week she does not cook meatloaf.

Just as I finish my burger, an elderly couple walk in. Katherine calls out, "Hi Sally. Hi Tom. Usuals?"

"Of course."

A minute later she is bringing out two glasses. I would guess an iced tea and a diet cola. She asks if I am done with my dishes. I nod and she clears them.

Sally turns to me and says, "Staying long?"

"I'll be here for two weeks in the Potter cabin," I reply.

Tom says, "That's probably the nicest cabin here."

I hear a boat horn and look at my watch. Time to hurry to the boat dock.

As I leave, I hear Tom asking Katherine, "Didn't know he needed to bring groceries, did he?"

On the boat ride over, I try to think carefully about what I need at the store. I sure as hell don't want to make this trip an extra time. And then I think about what I am going to do with myself. I guess I will look for a couple of books at the store.

At least I don't get seasick.

I realize I can only realistically buy two bags worth of groceries. So I need to plan more carefully. I decide I will need to make one more trip late this week to get me through the two weeks. I will probably eat lunch from Katherine every day and some breakfasts. But I need to be able to feed myself dinner every night.

And I can't get anything frozen and have it make it back for the two hour ride. One of the other two passengers was bringing a cooler. I assumed it was for a picnic or something, but I bet he was going shopping.

The general store itself is pretty small, but I manage to find enough to cover my needs. It does not take anywhere near ninety minutes to shop, so I sit on the bench near the dock and get my phone out. I have bars! I check on my texts and my mail.

My assistant had sent me a text checking that I had made it. I reply to her:

Safe and going off my rocker

Back on mainland briefly for groceries

Why did you do this to me?

The ferry horn sounds and I get back on. Sure enough, the passenger with the cooler is back on, with four bags in a cart as well.

Our third passenger from the trip to the mainland does not return, but there is a young couple carrying some small suitcases. Honeymooners, I am guessing. They can't keep their hands off each other.

When we make it back to the island, I see Katherine setting up her easel not far from the dock. It is just about sunset. I guess she paints every sunset and every sunrise.

I make myself a nice Coq au Vin for dinner. That should feed me tomorrow night too. I enjoy a couple of glasses of wine with it. I clean up from dinner and then look outside. The moon is roughly at three quarters. I hadn't noticed earlier, but the sky has cleared. I go out and look up. I walk down to the beach to get away from the light still on in the cabin.

Despite the bright moon, the stars are gorgeous. I have lived in a city all my life. Pittsburgh, then Boston and now New York. I have never seen stars like this.

I am watching the sky when I see a light go on in a cabin up the beach a little ways. It is upstairs at Harry's. Katherine has the shade pulled down but I can see her outline clearly. She is taking her clothes off. I shouldn't watch, but I do. She disappears and a second window is lit up. This one is distorting her image. It must be a bathroom window with the obscuring glass. I think she is taking a shower. The bathroom light goes out and she reappears outlined in her window. The light goes off, replaced by a dim glow. I assume she is lying in bed now, with a bed side lamp. I don't think she put on any kind of nightgown.

I go back in my cabin and have another glass of wine before bed. Every time I close my eyes, I see the outline of Katherine's naked body. I finally decide to go with it and jerk off to the image. I don't masturbate often back home. But I usually have female companionship on Saturday evening, sometimes through to Sunday morning. It's been a week since I have had sex and it will probably be two or maybe three more till I have relief beyond my own hand.

I sleep in later than I usually do. It might even be time for Harry's to be open. That gets me thinking about Katherine and I suddenly have a raging boner. I take a shower, trying to ignore it, but eventually give in, thinking about her outline again.

I am definitely going over for breakfast this morning. I get dressed, at least as much as a beach community expects, and make the short walk over to Harry's. I am disappointed to see the closed sign still up. I look around to see if she is coming from the beach again, but she is already inside and flips the sign to open about two minutes later.

She sees me standing outside, opens the door and says, "You were welcome to come in and sit down."

"But the sign said closed."

"That just means I am not ready to cook for you and don't bother me. We are kind of one big family on the island. Everyone knows everyone. And their business."

"How many people live on the island?"

"Officially, forty seven. But I think there are only thirty two residents here right now. Only about twenty of us actually live here twelve months a year. In season, there are maybe sixty visitors here at a time, but I think there are only ten of you here right now."

"Counting the two honeymooners that came over with me yesterday?"

"Haven't seen them yet, so maybe twelve now. I bet they are in the Simmons place. It's on the other side of the island. Did they have any groceries with them?"

"Didn't look like it."

"Then they are probably going back over to the mainland today. Maybe they won't come up for air in time and just go hungry tonight. Have to survive on love, I guess."

I laugh.

"You don't sound much like a romantic. I thought painters were supposed to be romantic."

She laughs now. "Young naive love doesn't do much for me. But I still have a romantic streak in me. Did you manage to cook yourself dinner last night?"

"I made Coq au Vin."

"Ooh La La. Sounds too fancy for the island. So what would Mr FancyPants like for breakfast this morning?"

"Yesterday's was good. Let's try that again."

As she turns to walk away to the kitchen, I watch her hips swivel, her backside sway. Neither her painting smock nor the apron is particularly flattering, but she is an attractive woman. Not in the flashy way that women try to get noticed in the city. More of a girl next door way. And she has nice legs too.

I have a raging boner again. I slide my chair right up to the table and try to arrange a napkin in my lap. I am trying to look as nonchalant as I can, when she brings my food out.

"I knew you enjoyed the eggs yesterday. I didn't know they were that exciting," she says, looking at my lap and smirking, before she walks back to the kitchen.

I can feel myself turning bright red.

I finish my breakfast and leave before she comes back.

The only books they had at the store were romances and detective stories, so I bought one of each. I need something to do other than sit in Harry's and embarrass myself. I read about a third of the romance before I am thinking about Katherine. Reading a romance is not distracting me from thinking about her.

Maybe I can think about a problem from work. I remember the optimization problem I was working on when the partners came for that talk with me. The one that ended with me exiled to this island for two weeks.

I take a loop around the island again and then decide it's time for lunch. If I am too obsessed with Katherine, I can think about the problem. That should help.

Tom and Sally are already at the same table when I walk in. I say hi to them. They return the greeting and then smile knowingly at each other. Katherine brings out a scoop of tuna salad on a bed of lettuce for Sally and a burger for Tom.

She then comes over and asks, "Do you want a burger again today?"

"I want to try something different. What is your second best thing you can make me today?"

"A burger."

"I thought that was my best option?"

"Yesterday it was, Today's special is lasagna. That's better than the burger. But I didn't have it yesterday, so the burger was the best choice yesterday. For someone who thinks they are smart, you get confused pretty easily."

"Am I that smug about being smart?"

"To be blunt, yes. So do you want the lasagna?"

"Yes."

"And the garlic bread? I recommend it, too."

"Then yes, I think I will have that as well."

"And still coffee?"

"Is there something that is better?"

"A nice glass of chianti would be better."

"Can I have a glass of chianti?"

"I don't have a liquor license, so no."

I roll my eyes before saying, "Then I guess it's coffee again."

"Coming up."

Katherine brings the coffee over and pours me a cup, then disappears into the kitchen.

Tom and Sally finish up, call goodbye to Katherine in the kitchen. They say goodbye to me on their way out, then look at each other and giggle.

A moment later Katherine brings out a big slab of lasagna and a small plate with garlic toast on it. She was right. This was better than the burger.

She is about to disappear back in to the kitchen when I say, "Why don't you take a break and sit with me. With the level of traffic you have, you cannot possibly be that busy back there."

"Okay, for a few minutes."

She sits down across the table from me.

"So what is the island's only gourmet chef cooking for tonight?"

"Just left over coq au vin. I can't really cook for just one, so I will eat left overs more than half the dinners."

I take some more bites of the lasagna.

"This is really good, by the way," I say. "And I have two questions for you. First, why do Tom and Sally giggle to each other whenever they talk to me?"

"Oh, that is just them being themselves. But I get to ask a question now. How are you feeling about your exile on your second day here?"

"Weird. This is the first day that the market is open that I haven't worked in years. I am itchy to do something, but not as badly as I thought I would be."

"Are you a trader?"

"No, I'm a quant. A quant is -"

"I know what a quant is," she says, a little snippy sounding.

"So, time for my second question. How did a girl from New York City end up running a diner on an island in the middle of nowhere. You are obviously clever."

"What makes you say that?"

"You are clever enough to regularly run me around in circles. And we already established that I am smart."

"No, we established that you think you are smart. That is not is the same thing at all."

"Well, I am taking it as a given that you are clever. I have enough people in New York who think I am smart to be comfortable with my self assessment. So how did you end up here?"

"I told you. It was my grandfather's."

"No you told me it was named for your grandfather. Maybe you just liked him and named it for him when you started it."

"Now who is running whom around in circles? Well, it was my grandfather's. He had been a mechanical engineer originally. A very good one. He designed those cannons that got mounted on the sides of the helicopters in Viet Nam. He was watching the news coverage about the war and saw people being shot up with his gun. He quit and moved here and opened the diner."

"How did you end up in New York, then?"

"My mother was eleven when he moved out here. And her mother died of breast cancer a few years after they moved. I think she wasn't happy before, but she hated the island after that. It is not exactly an exciting place to be a teenager."

"She left for college and basically never came back. Never wanted to. She met my dad in college and they both ended up in New York. So that is where I grew up."

"But you hated it."

"I hated it. When I was sixteen, I spent my whole summer here with my grandfather. I loved it here. I spent the next two summers here, helping him run the diner. But at the end of my sophomore year, he had a stroke. The school was very accommodating. I moved here to the island and I took all my exams remotely. I took a year off from college to care for him and keep the diner running. But he died and my parents made me go back to college to finish my degree. He had left me the diner and some money in his will."

Her eyes are starting to water.

"I came back the summer after my junior year and opened the diner for the summer. And then opened it permanently as soon as I graduated. My mother was kind of pissed at me."

She wipes her eyes and then says, "You were right, by the way. I did name it for my grandfather. He had called it 'Sea Shore Diner'."

Just then the honeymooners walk in. She pops up out of the chair, pastes a smile on her face and says, "Feel free to take any table you want."

"The sign says you close before sunset. Is there anywhere we can get dinner?" the new husband asks.

"Nope. You have to cook your own dinner on the island."

"But we don't have any food to cook?" the wife asks, almost desperately.

"You've missed the ferry today. Tomorrow, you need to take the ferry back to the mainland and buy some groceries. For tonight, I can pack you up something to go that you can heat up later."

"Thank you so much!" the wife exclaims.

The new wife turns to me and says, "You were coming back with your groceries yesterday on the ferry weren't you."

"Yeah, I just got to Harry's yesterday in time for Katherine to tell me about the ferry before it left. I am not sure she would have had as much pity on me."

"You'll never know what I would have offered you for dinner last night, will you?" Katherine says, taunting me.

She adds, "By the way, there is a solution to your leftovers problem, you know."

She is hitting on me now.

I finish my lasagna and my garlic toast. As I am leaving, Katherine asks, "Breakfast tomorrow?"

"We'll see. I was intending on eating some of my breakfasts at home."

"Oh, your cabin in exile is home now, is it?"

"I will see you tomorrow at some point."

"Bye."

I am pretty sure she was telling me to invite her to dinner. And her crack about what I could have had for dinner last night. And now I am re-thinking her joke about not saying where she was shaving. Has she been hitting on me for both days here? After I was such a grouch when I first met her? I don't get it.

I read some more of my book and think about my problem and then eat my left overs. I sit on the porch for a while. I turn the lights off tonight, so I can see the stars again. After a while, I decide to take a stroll on the beach. I pretend to myself that I am walking randomly, but it is no accident that I end up smack in front of Harry's.

I try not to just stare at her bedroom window, but I mostly do. And the light comes on. The shade is not down tonight! I am much closer than I was last night and there is no shade in the way. As she undresses I can see her naked breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra. I will have to check more closely tomorrow.

Her breasts are firm and not particularly large. It's not like they would bounce around wildly. And the apron would cover them pretty well. She goes and takes her shower again and then comes back in the room and turns out the light, leaving the dimmer light on. With no shade, I can still see her as she moves towards the bed, nude, at least from the waist up. Show over, I head back home.

Tonight, I don't hesitate to masturbate to my memory of her. I definitely want her.

I do go over for breakfast. I am trying to be discrete about it, but I am pretty sure she is not wearing a bra. I am having my usual breakfast and I get her to sit down with me again.

I ask her, "I know what you do for a living, although you certainly will never get rich at it. But what do the other twenty or so permanent residents do for an income."

"A few of them run charter boats during the season, taking tourists out for fishing trips. Most everyone else is retired like Sally and Tom. Oh and we have three writers. and one real painter."

"You don't consider yourself a real painter?"

"God, no. I took up painting to deal with the loss of my grandfather. He used to go out every morning and every night to look at the sunrise and sunset. He said he was always looking for another perfect one. I am looking for the perfect one to paint. But I have no talent whatsoever. It is all just therapy for me."

The honeymooners come in again and she pops up to greet them.

I just sit and watch her move around. I could sit here like this all day. When the honeymooners leave, she reminds them that the ferry is at twelve sharp.

I watch her bustle, cleaning up their table. She says, "You are getting downright lazy here. I guess your secretary knew what she was doing."

I think that my secretary had no idea what trouble she was getting me into.

I work up my courage and say, "I think I have a solution to my leftovers problem. Would you join me for dinner tonight? After you paint the perfect sunset, of course."

"I would be delighted. I was starting to think you weren't as smart as you think you are."

"Okay, I am going to take my morning walk around the island. Then I will be back for lunch."

As I am almost out the door, she says, "Is that what you do out there walking on the beach. I thought you were doing something else last night."

So she knew I was watching last night. She is always one step in front of me. I am not used to this.

Of course, that also means she intentionally left the shade up for me. I am definitely looking forward to dinner tonight. And I have another raging boner. At least no one else is out on the beach to embarrass me.

I think about my work problem for my walk, getting myself back under control. I am deep in thought about it when I get back to Harry's.

"Do you have a piece of paper I can use? And I guess a pen or pencil, too?" I ask when I get in.

"Let me get Tom and Sally their food and I can go grab something," she replies.

While I am waiting, I hear the ferry toot its horn. A minute later I hear the honeymooners yelling "Wait for us!"

They don't come over into the diner, so I assume they made it.

I watch Katherine as she brings Tom his burger and Sally her tuna salad. I love to watch her walk around, bend, move. Everything about her. And she is coming over for dinner tonight.

She disappears again for a few minutes, reappearing with a few sheets of paper and a pencil for me. She also pours me a cup of coffee while she is here.

I watch her walk away and then start writing out equations and some sketches.

Katherine comes over and asks me what I want today.

"What do you recommend?" I ask.

"I am having a piece of lasagna in the kitchen a bit at a time."

"I guess I will have that then."

"I wasn't recommending it. I just took the last piece."

Damn it. She got me again.

"I guess I will have my bacon burger with fries, unless you have another special today I should try."

"No, the burger's probably your best bet."

She glances over my shoulder at my scribbles on the paper.

"Isn't that just a straight gradient descent problem for eigenvectors? I think we had almost that exact setup on an exam in 18.100."

My head is spinning as she walks away. How did she know that. 18.100, that was my MIT real analysis math course. She said we. Was she at MIT? With me?

I hear Sally say to her, "I think he may be finally catching on, Katie."

Sally and Tom both giggle again.

Katie? Katherine is Katie Levy! "You are Katie Levy!" I exclaim loudly. "You were the smartest person in that class!"

"You finally remembered me, Jaren," she says, turning back towards me with a big grin on her face.

"I thought you were probably the smartest student in the school. That was the only class I ever had with you. I never saw you around my senior year," I say, still in disbelief.

"My grandfather had his stroke with two weeks to go that semester. Your senior year was when I was here taking care of him."

"You were so shy. And so young. But so smart."

"I WAS young. I turned nineteen during that semester. And I grew up a lot that year I was taking care of him. Seeing real life. And death."

I am just staring at her face now. I can recognize the teenager I knew back then. But that once young face is weathered by more than just the wind that constantly blows across this island. I want to get up and hug her. But I will wait to see how dinner goes tonight.

She turns and goes into the kitchen.

I am still sitting in stunned silence when she brings my lunch out.

"What are you feeding me tonight?" she asks.

"I was planning on chicken cacciatore, if that is okay with you. With a salad and some bruschetta."

"That sounds wonderful."

Tom and Sally get up. Sally says, "Sit down with him while he eats."

Katherine follows the advice.

"Do you prefer Katherine or Katie?"

"Either is fine. I guess I prefer Katherine right now from you."

I put my hand towards her on the table. She accepts the gesture and holds my hand while I eat with the other. After all the banter over the last few days, we just sit in silence today.

Another customer walks in and Katherine jumps up, saying, "Hi, Jim. What can I get you today?"

"A cup of coffee and whatever your current pie is."

"One slice of blueberry pie coming right up. A la mode, of course."

I watch her bustle around again. I like just sitting here watching her, my heart doing flips.

But the spell between us is broken for the moment. I finish my lunch and call in to her, "See you later."

And I leave and head back to my cabin. As much as I want to put everything into making the perfect dinner tonight, it's way too early to start cooking. I decide to sit in the rocker and read the ending of my romance. Tonight, it seems pretty fitting.

When the book is over and the new couple has ridden off into the sunset, it is time to start the dinner. I have the cacciatore simmering and the salads made and the bruschetta ready to go in the oven at 7PM.

About ten minutes later, she knocks on my front door. I hurry over to let her in. She is wearing a nice blue satin dress that looks painted onto her, about mid thigh length, with plenty of cleavage. It's the second best look I have had at her body. But much closer range than my voyeurism provided last night. Or does that count as her exhibitionism?

On her way in, she says, "Not what I would have figured you to read."

She has spotted my romance novel, sitting next to the rocking chair on the front porch.

"All the general store had was romances and detective stories. I bought one of each. I hate detective stories more than romances."

"You could have asked to borrow something from me."

I have the lights off in the dining room and a pair of lit candles on the table. Okay, they might be hurricane candles, not elegant long stems, but I wasn't shopping for romance two days ago at the general store.

I have her sit at the table while I throw the bruschetta in the oven. I come back to the table to open a bottle of chianti, pouring us each a glass. I drizzle the dressing onto the salads and bring them to the table. I bring in the entree, still in the pan, and set it on a trivet already on the table. Finally, I bring in the platter of bruschetta and sit down beside her.

I know you usually sit across from your date at elegant dinners, but what's the fun in that? I want to sit next to the woman I am wooing.

The dinner goes well and we are having our best conversation yet. We talk about MIT and her grandfather and my work and pretty much everything else that is important to us. We finish off the bottle of wine after dinner.

After that, I lean over and give her a kiss. We are kissing more and I put my hand on her naked thigh. She leans over and kisses me more passionately.

Then she leans over to me and says, "Hold me."

I wrap my arms around her and hers are around me as we hug each other tightly. Her head is on my shoulder and she is starting to cry softly. I rub her back soothingly and the crying is easing.

I am trying to think of the right thing to say when she pulls back and the real sobbing erupts. She cries out loudly, "I can't do this!" and goes running out of the house.

I rush to the door behind her and watch as she runs to Harry's. I think about chasing after her. It's what the hero in my romance novel would do. But I think Katherine needs her space to work through whatever this is. There is still a lot of pain in there.

I clean up from dinner. I don't even go out on the beach tonight. I would be too tempted to watch her window. And I am giving her space.

I am torn, but I decide to make my own breakfast in the morning. Mid morning, I make my usual walk around the island. I return straight to Harry's.

Tom and Sally are already there, with their usual drinks. We say hi to each other.

Katherine brings out their food and comes over to me. "What will it be today, Jaren."

"I think you said meatloaf was your best item and Wednesday was meatloaf day. So can I have the meatloaf?"

"Mashed or fries?"

"What do you recommend?"

"It's your meal. You should choose."

I look at her oddly. Where is the Katherine I have been talking to for the last three days?

"I guess I will try the mashed."

She turns and heads back into the kitchen without another word.

Sally looks at me, shrugs, and shakes her head.

Tom and Sally leave before my food comes out. When it does come, Katherine drops it on the table. I can see part of a tear streak that must have been quickly wiped from her cheek.

"Can you at least sit at the table with me for a while and talk to me. What is going on? What happened?"

"I think that's a bad idea."

The honeymooners come in and she is her usual cheerful self with them. It's just me that's getting the cold shoulder.

I finish my meal alone -- the meatloaf IS the best of the meals I have had here -- and quietly slip out while she is in the kitchen.

I head back to my cabin, but all I find is the novel. Damned book, puting foolish ideas in my head that we would ride off into the sunset together. I throw it across the room.

I can't stay in the cabin. I will go crazy. I head to the beach and I start running. I run most of the way around the island before I stop. I just sit on a rock and stare out at the waves for a while. I really have no idea how long. I am sure the fitness tracker in my watch could tell me exactly, but why. I run again for a while, then sit again. I lose track of how many times I circle the island.

I realize the sun is getting close to going down. She will be trying to paint her perfect sunset. And I know roughly where that is. I am going to ask her again.

I find her. She sees me coming and says, "I don't want to talk to you."

"But I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. I love you. I have never been in love before. But I love you."

She is crying now, "Don't say that. You can't say that."

She sits down, crying even more.

I go sit near her. "Please talk to me. Why can't I say that. I can't live with just being told to go away. Not to mention that I am not allowed to go away for another ten days."

That last sentence made her cry harder.

"Please, I am begging you. Just explain. We already established that I am smart. I will understand. Just tell me and then I will leave you alone. I will feed myself all my remaining meals."

The crying slows a little bit. "I think we established that you think you are smart and that I can run circles around you."

She smiles for a moment and wipes her eyes and says, "Okay, I will talk to you, but then you need to leave me alone.

"Last night was really two problems. I had a mad crush on you when we were in 18.100 together. I was working on my courage to ask you to have a cup of coffee with me when the phone call came in. And my life changed forever.

"I loved my grandfather so much and I didn't really mind caring for him. And I loved this island, so being chained to here wasn't a big issue either. I didn't really mind taking the year off from school. My only resentment was that I never got to ask you out for that coffee.

"Reliving that anger, that resentment, was the first wave of me crying last night."

"I can understand that," I say, "But I am here now. I certainly have had lots of cups of coffee with you."

"But where will we be in ten days?" she asks. "What happens to us? You hate this island. I would hate being in Manhattan. We don't have a life together.

"There have been some dark days for me over the last decade. And I got through every one of them with the fantasy that you would swoop down and then we would be happy together. But these two weeks are destroying that. There is no life together. And if we love each other, then I don't think I can handle the pain of it. Of what almost was. I have to push you away.

"But you said the three words I feared the most. Words I cannot let myself believe. If we had had that coffee together a decade ago, maybe we could have crafted a path together. Maybe not, but we could have tried. Our paths diverged with that phone call. They may have crossed this week. But that is an anomaly. They will diverge again in ten days. And before you suggest it, I can't survive on your three weeks of vacation you could take a year. I need it all or nothing. And that means there cannot be an us."

"Let's find a way to make our paths converge. I am smart and you can run circles around me. Together we should be able to figure this out."

"Diverging lines don't meet again. Basic geometry. I cannot leave this island. It's who I am now."

"Love is not defined in Euclidean space. I am sure you, with your abstract math degree, understand non-Euclidean geometry. We just need to warp space to our needs. We can do it. If you cannot leave this island, I guess I am staying."

"What about your job? Your life?"

"My life is you now. And if you are here, I guess I am too."

"Do you mean that."

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

She runs over and hugs me. We kiss as the sun sets over the ocean.

I help her carry her painting supplies and we walk back to Harry's arm in arm. We set everything down, then she sheds her painting overalls, and I follow her upstairs into her bedroom. We kiss, standing beside the bed.

She whispers, "Be gentle with me."

And then asks, "Do you have a condom?"

I stop and look at her and shake my head no, feeling a little disappointed.

"There are other things we can do today to explore each other's bodies," I say, "And I will take the ferry over tomorrow and get some."

"And I will call my doctor to get a prescription for the pill. But that will take a while, so get lots tomorrow."

We are back to kissing again. I take a break just long enough to pull her top over her head. I kiss her again before shifting my attention down to her newly exposed breasts. They are not particularly large but they are supple with thick nipples standing straight out. I suckle on one while I grope the other. She moans softly.

I crouch down and kiss my way lower across her abdomen while my hands unfasten her jeans. I push them down just ahead of my kisses. My mouth stops at her clean shaven pussy while my hands continue to push her pants down to her ankles.

I ease her backwards until she is sitting on the edge of the bed. I pick her legs up and pull off her shoes, her socks and finally her pants. She is now sitting in front of me stark naked. I take a moment to lean back and take in her beauty.

I say, "I love every inch of your body. You are so beautiful."

I slide her legs apart and lean forward. I kiss her on the lips again and then, kneeling on the floor, kiss her other lips. I am licking, gently, all around her pussy. Her soft moans start again.

I flick my tongue across her clit and she yelps sharply. I ease away from her clit for a moment and she returns to her previous moans, but not as softly as before. I move back to her clit and she yelps again, with less surprise in it now. I stay on her clit and the yelps continue until they merge into a single continuous loud yowl. I continue on her clit for several minutes before the yowl is suddenly replaced by a loud shriek. Her thighs press against my head. I can feel the muscles in her abdomen tighten. The shriek breaks into a series of short grunts. And then a sigh, as her muscles start to relax.

I pull back and quickly shed my tee shirt and swim trunks. She crawls backwards until she is lying fully on the bed. I climb onto the bed next to her and we kiss again, our most passionate kiss yet.

She finally breaks off the kiss and lies her head on my shoulder and lovingly rubs my abdomen. "That is the first time anyone has ever given me an orgasm. Thank you. I guess you know now that I am not hairy. I shaved yesterday before dinner, especially for you."

She kisses me again and squeezes me before saying, "I wish I could have you in me right now. But I will satisfy you another way tonight."

She shifts around and takes my already rock hard cock in her mouth. She is clearly not particularly experienced in the art, but she has her whole heart in it and I enjoy it immensely. Both the sensation and watching her do it.

I try to warn her when I am about to erupt, but she ignores and tries to take it all. She ends up coughing and my load comes spilling back out over my cock. She is still coughing a bit a minute later.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I absolutely loved that."

"I have only done that a few times and not for years, since MIT. And I had the same problem then."

"We will learn how to please each other. And we will have years to perfect the art."

"You certainly knew how to please me."

"I think I have quite a bit more experience than you. I don't think we want to exchange numbers. You are the only one that ever mattered to me. That said, I want to ask. Are you a virgin? You don't have to tell me."

"No, I fucked a couple of guys my senior year. But I didn't really like either of them."

"They didn't please you?"

"You're right, they didn't. But their big problem was they weren't you."

We hug each other tightly again.

She is now lying with her head on my chest as I speak, "I think I will send in my three week notice tomorrow when I am on the mainland getting condoms. And then tell my secretary that I am extending my stay here another week. I will have to go back to the city for a week then, to wrap things up at work and get my condo ready to sell and find a realtor. And pack my stuff up. Assuming you want me to move back here."

She kisses me again, before replying, "You really are going to move here on the island with me? I wasn't sure I really believed it. What are you going to do with yourself?"

"Other than fucking you every morning and every night, I was thinking maybe Harry's could open for dinner a few nights a week. I can handle the place while you go look for your perfect sunset."

"I think I found my perfect sunset out there tonight."