Weekend Getaway

As if her day hadn't been crazy enough, Jeanine stepped inside her home
and immediately felt as if something wasn't right. It was the noise—there
wasn't any. She should have heard the sound of two ecstatic children gleefully
shifting suitcases and duffle bags from room to room. Upon hearing her open
the front door her husband, Ramone should have been yelling down to her
that the laundry they'd need for their weekend excursion was waiting for her
in front of the washing machine in the basement. And on the dinning room
table there should be plates and serving dishes and silverware and cups all left
there with caked on grits and eggs from the morning's breakfast, which of
course meant that the pots and pans should be piled up in the sink awaiting
her attention.

But there was no noise. And the dinning room table was clear. The
placemats were in place and the backs of the chairs had been wiped down.
The throw rug in the living room had been vacuumed and the pillows on the
sofa were fluffed. Jeanine walked into the kitchen, taking prowler-like steps,
thinking somehow that walking too heavily might start an avalanche of soiled
clothes, old newspapers, and dirty dishes to tumble from the broom closet.

The kitchen looked as if it had been cleaned with a toothbrush. Jeanine
eyed the room to be sure that she recognized the appliances and the cabinets.
The blue cookie jar that never contained any cookies sat beside the coffee
maker and her daughter's latest chalk masterpiece hung proudly on the
bulletin board near the telephone. She was in the right house. Ramone's
voice coming from the second floor broke the silence, "Baby, is that you?"

Jeanine called out to her husband, "What are you doing upstairs? Where
are the kids?"

"I'm getting stuff ready for this weekend. Come on up and give me a
hand."

Jeanine sighed. Ramone had planned this weekend getaway and God
knew she needed it, with her job becoming more and more demanding and
Ramone spending more and more time trying to make something of his
computer repair shop, her stress level was at an all time high. Not to mention
her son Byron's latest and unsurprisingly disappointing report card. The last
thing she was in the mood for was to be up all night cleaning and packing and
washing loads of laundry in preparation of the trip.

"Let me put in a load of clothes and I'll be right up," Jeanine said, wanting
to get it all over with and start their relaxing weekend in the mountains.

"You don't have to," Ramone called back. "Laundry's done."

What in the world is going on, Jeanine thought. The house was clean,
kids weren't making a peep, and Ramone had washed all the clothes. She
reached the top of the stairs and the basket of towels that she'd asked her
daughter more than a week before to put away was gone. Checking the linen
closet, she saw the towels neatly folded and stacked on the shelves. "What in
the world is going on in this house?" Jeanine said aloud while walking toward
the threshold of her bedroom.

"Ramone, what is going…" Jeanine stopped, her mouth hung open wide.
Candles—dozens and dozens of candles, were illuminating the whole room.
They covered the bookshelf and the two dressers and sat atop both night
tables. A fire burned in the fireplace and yellow rose petals adorned their
bed.

Ramone gleamed as he watched his wife's body language speak volumes.
Jeanine opened her mouth, but before any words could come forth Ramone
tilted a glass of chilled Chardonnay against her lips. He then placed the glass
on the floor and lead Jeanine to the edge of the bed. One at a time he
removed her shoes and began to massage her bare feet.

The blouse was next. Ramone undid each button without ever looking
away from Jeanine's eyes.

Jeanine couldn't take anymore. She pushed Ramone's hands away,
"Baby, what is all of this?" she said. "Shouldn't we be getting ready? Our
reservations are for tomorrow at two. And with all of the driving ahead of us
we really don't have time to waste.

Where are the kids?" Jeanine asked as an afterthought.

Ramone had a plan. And it appeared as if Jeanine's inquisitions weren't
going to slow him down. He lifted himself off his knees and placed a
passionate kiss on his wife's forehead. "First things first," he said. "Let's get
you out of those clothes—I've got a hot bubble bath waiting for you."

Jeanine wasn't quite sure what was going on, but she was beginning to
like the prospect of what was to come. And although Ramone began helping
her off with her clothes and she was appreciative, he was not moving fast
enough to suit her, so she took matters into her own hands. By the time
Ramone pushed open the door to their master bathroom, Jeanine was already
down to her birthday suit.

Their sunken bathtub was filled with billions of scented bubbles and
steaming hot water. There were no lights turned on—just more candles. And
the soft tunes of Will Downing filled the air.

"You know that's my favorite CD," she said. Ramone only smiled.

Jeanine felt giddy. First date giddy. First kiss giddy. She hugged Ramone
and kissed him all over his face. Then she let him lead her over to the tub,
stepping directly in and allowing the liquid heat to soothe her tired body.
Ramone placed a rolled up towel behind her head. Jeanine leaned back and
closed her eyes. She wasn't sure what was going on, they'd certainly be late
getting to the mountains, but the water felt good. Ramone's hand caressing the
top of her head felt good too. His lips coming over her and landing on her
temple was irresistible. She wasn't about to ruin her moment.

Ramone began to whisper in Jeanine's ear, "Baby, I've got something to
tell you."

She rose from her reclined position by extending her legs. The towel
slipped into the water. Jeanine looked at Ramone with an I-knew-this-was-
too-good-to-be-true eye. "What?" she asked cautiously. "This is the part of
the story that you tell me you've failed to pay the mortgage for the last couple
of months, opting instead to gamble and drink your income away and this is
our last night in our beautiful home before the bank forecloses on it. Or that
you've cheated on me with my sister and she's having your baby. Or maybe
you've killed our two children and now it's my turn to die."

"No, no," Ramone laughed. "Nothing like that. There's no surprises. No
strange twists. No gory endings. The kids are safe and your sister's not even
my type."

"What is it then? It's not my birthday, our anniversary, or even a full
moon. After fifteen years of marriage and two kids, the average wife would
be a little suspicious at this point, and I've always prided myself on being a
little better than average."

Giving away nothing, Ramone smiled from ear to ear and surveyed the
bathroom's décor—his artistic creation.

"Okay, I get the point. Just tell me what's going on."

Ramone forced his wife's body back under the bath water and retrieved
another towel for her to rest her head on. He used one of Jeanine's thick
sponges, filled it with lather and wiped down her arms.

"This," he said, "is about all of your added responsibilities at work. And
about my demanding repair business. Byron's terrible grades. And anything
else that's been weighing you down for the past few months. This is about
your husband stepping up and making a change. Starting this weekend."

Jeanine tried to sit up again but Ramone weighed her back down with his
hands.

"I've been spending the last few weeks at the shop training Larry to be
able to manage the place whenever I'm not there. He's caught on quickly and
more importantly, I can trust him. So that means no more after hour service
calls for me."

"So, you'll be home evenings now?" Jeanine sat up before Ramone could
stop her.

"It sure does."

"Every night?"

"That's the plan. We'll have more quality time together, and I'll be able to
be more of a presence in Byron's life. Get his grades up." Ramone moved the
sponge to Jeanine's back. "There's more."

"More?" Jeanine smiled.

"I cancelled our reservations for this weekend."

"You did what? But I thought you were looking forward to a weekend of
tranquility?"

"I am. And that's exactly what we're going to have. Only, we're going to
have it right here. The kids are at my sister's. Dinner is being delivered special
for three consecutive nights. A professional masseur will be here tomorrow
afternoon. You're getting the royal treatment this weekend and you won't
even have to step out the front door."

"This all sounds great and everything, sweetheart," Jeanine said. "And I'm
blessed to have someone like you who would go through all of this trouble.
But, I think you've left out one crucial part to the equation."

"Oh no, I covered all bases. This is going to top our honeymoon."

"I know it will, but what about you? Why don't we give each other the
royal treatment this weekend? You're just as stressed as I am."

Ramone moved back, "Yeah, but," he started, but Jeanine cut him off.

"Shut up and get yourself in this tub with me."

Ramone hesitated for a moment, then undressed himself and slipped into
the water opposite his wife. Jeanine leaned back and closed her eyes. For the
next three days she wasn't going to think of anything. No work, no kids, no
stress. Just love. And come Monday she knew that she was going to have a
tough time convincing her friend Phyllis from work that this adventure really
took place.