like hers over Stanley, always dampened her libido. She was more interested in cuddling with Phil this week, which wasn't a problem. They rarely made love on Friday nights, they were both too tired usually. But they made up for it on Saturday mornings, or nights, and then again sometime on Sunday, before he went back to his own apartment, to get organized for the week. She had tried for years now to get him to stay over on Sunday nights, but he said he liked leaving for work from his place on Monday morning. He always felt disorganized at her house, without all his things there. And he didn't like her staying over at his place on a work night. He said that before he went back into the ring on Monday morning, he needed a night of undisturbed sleep, and she was too distracting. He meant it as a compliment, but it disappointed her anyway.
She was always looking for ways to increase their time together, while he found better ones to keep it in check. So far, he was winning. Or lately, maybe losing, in more important ways. His stubbornness about limiting their time together was beginning to turn her off, and made her feel unimportant to him. Although Sarah hated to admit it, maybe her mother was right. Maybe she needed more in her life than Phil would ever give her. Not marriage, since that wasn't on Sarah's agenda either, but at least some weekday nights and occasional vacations. She was beginning to feel as though she was re-evaluating her life, and what she wanted from it, in the few days since Stanley had died. She realized she didn't want to end her life alone, with only money and professional achievements, as Stanley had. There had to be something more. And Phil didn't seem to be it, nor want to be. She was suddenly questioning everything now, in ways she never had before. Maybe Stanley had been right, with all his nagging and advice about her working too hard and not having a life.
“Do you mind if we just order takeout tonight?” Phil asked her, stretching happily. “I'm so comfortable here on the couch, I'm not sure I can move.” He was blissfully unaware of the deep concerns that had troubled her all week. She looked normal to him.
“Sure, that's fine.” She had a stack of menus from places they frequently ordered from: Indian, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Italian. The possibilities were endless. Most of the time she lived on take-out food. She didn't have the time or patience to cook, and had fairly limited skills, which she willingly admitted. “What speaks to you tonight?” she asked, deciding she was actually happy to see him. She liked having him there. Whatever his flaws or limitations, alone was worse for her. His physical presence next to her seemed to dispel some of the doubts she'd had about him that week. She liked being with him, which was why she wanted to see more of him.
“I don't know… Thai?… Sushi?… I'm sick of pizza. I've been eating it in the office all week…. How about Mexican? Two beef burritos and some guacamole would hit the spot. Okay with you?” Phil suggested. He loved hot spicy food.
“Sounds great,” she said, smiling. It sounded good to her, too. She liked their lazy Friday nights, sitting on the floor and eating, watching TV, and unwinding after a long week. They almost always met and ate at her place, and sometimes slept at his. He preferred his own bed, but was willing to sleep in hers on weekends. The advantage of sleeping at her place, for him, was that he could leave whenever he wanted, the next day, to do his own thing.
She ordered the Mexican dinner he'd asked for, with chicken and cheese enchiladas for herself, a double order of guacamole, and tucked herself onto the couch next to him after she'd made the call, while they waited for the food to arrive. He put an arm around her and pulled her close, while they both stared mindlessly at the TV. They were watching a special on diseases in Africa, which didn't really interest either of them, but it was something to
She was always looking for ways to increase their time together, while he found better ones to keep it in check. So far, he was winning. Or lately, maybe losing, in more important ways. His stubbornness about limiting their time together was beginning to turn her off, and made her feel unimportant to him. Although Sarah hated to admit it, maybe her mother was right. Maybe she needed more in her life than Phil would ever give her. Not marriage, since that wasn't on Sarah's agenda either, but at least some weekday nights and occasional vacations. She was beginning to feel as though she was re-evaluating her life, and what she wanted from it, in the few days since Stanley had died. She realized she didn't want to end her life alone, with only money and professional achievements, as Stanley had. There had to be something more. And Phil didn't seem to be it, nor want to be. She was suddenly questioning everything now, in ways she never had before. Maybe Stanley had been right, with all his nagging and advice about her working too hard and not having a life.
“Do you mind if we just order takeout tonight?” Phil asked her, stretching happily. “I'm so comfortable here on the couch, I'm not sure I can move.” He was blissfully unaware of the deep concerns that had troubled her all week. She looked normal to him.
“Sure, that's fine.” She had a stack of menus from places they frequently ordered from: Indian, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Italian. The possibilities were endless. Most of the time she lived on take-out food. She didn't have the time or patience to cook, and had fairly limited skills, which she willingly admitted. “What speaks to you tonight?” she asked, deciding she was actually happy to see him. She liked having him there. Whatever his flaws or limitations, alone was worse for her. His physical presence next to her seemed to dispel some of the doubts she'd had about him that week. She liked being with him, which was why she wanted to see more of him.
“I don't know… Thai?… Sushi?… I'm sick of pizza. I've been eating it in the office all week…. How about Mexican? Two beef burritos and some guacamole would hit the spot. Okay with you?” Phil suggested. He loved hot spicy food.
“Sounds great,” she said, smiling. It sounded good to her, too. She liked their lazy Friday nights, sitting on the floor and eating, watching TV, and unwinding after a long week. They almost always met and ate at her place, and sometimes slept at his. He preferred his own bed, but was willing to sleep in hers on weekends. The advantage of sleeping at her place, for him, was that he could leave whenever he wanted, the next day, to do his own thing.
She ordered the Mexican dinner he'd asked for, with chicken and cheese enchiladas for herself, a double order of guacamole, and tucked herself onto the couch next to him after she'd made the call, while they waited for the food to arrive. He put an arm around her and pulled her close, while they both stared mindlessly at the TV. They were watching a special on diseases in Africa, which didn't really interest either of them, but it was something to
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