The M Word by Beverly Farr

pants and a white tank top that bared his muscled
shoulders and arms. His feet were bare.
    He smiled. “Good morning.”
    Brenda swallowed, unable to say anything for
a moment. She’d had no idea what had been hiding beneath his
ill-fitting boxy dress shirts.
    Marius wasn’t stocky. He was built like
Adonis, with wide shoulders and a surprisingly broad chest that
tapered down to a washboard stomach. He didn’t have the extreme
bulky look of a body builder. He looked more like an athlete -- a
gymnast perhaps. He should have his clothes tailored to fit that
incredible inverted triangle.
    Or maybe not. She didn’t want him to get
mobbed by women on campus.
    “Good morning,” she said, finally finding her
tongue. She noticed that his thick dark hair, slightly damp, curled
back from his forehead. And the dark chest hair that had seemed too
hairy before, now seemed appropriate.
    Maybe she was getting used to it.
    “I've made enough for two,” he said
cheerfully. “Would you like some?”
    It wasn’t scrambled eggs. She was surprised
to see that he had made a lightly golden omelet, bursting with
finely chopped vegetables. It was beautiful, but she didn’t like
eggs in the morning on an empty stomach.
    “No thank you,” she said politely. “I'm not
very hungry.” She took a banana, peeled it, ate it, then poured
herself a glass of milk. She drank standing up, watching as he set
a place for himself at the table.
    She’d never known a man to actually sit down
for breakfast. Steven always ate breakfast on the run, usually
downing a foul smelling protein drink before he kissed her good
bye.
    “Is that all you're eating?” Marius asked
her, then frowned. “Pardon me. That is none of my business.”
    It was none of his business, but she had to
give him credit for catching himself quickly. And she was
determined to start their relationship on a higher plane. “About
last night,” she began awkwardly. “I'm sorry I snapped at you.”
    His hand paused as he lifted a fork from the
silverware drawer. He looked over at her. “No, I should apologize
to you.”
    She wouldn't let him take the blame. “No, you
were just trying to help, and I was in no mood for anything.”
    “Is your headache gone?”
    “Yes. I feel much better now.”
    “I’m glad.” He smiled. He turned back to his
work. She watched as he slid the omelet from the pan onto his plate
and carried it over the table. As he sat down, he looked at her
expectantly.
    Brenda was embarrassed to be caught staring.
She checked her wrist watch. “I've got to run,” she said, then
remembered what she had meant to say the night before. “I’m going
to be wearing a white dress for the wedding, so it would look nice
if you wore a suit. If you have one. But if you don’t, your khakis
would be fine.” She didn’t want him to spend extra money,
either.
    “Would you prefer a tuxedo?”
    “No, there’s no need to rent one.”
    He looked at her calmly. “I own one.”
    The man whose entire wardrobe fit into two
suitcases owned a tuxedo? Marius was full of surprises today.
“Good,” she said finally. “That will be great.”
    #
    After she left, Marius ate his breakfast
thoughtfully. Brenda was a passionate woman, with a quick temper,
but equally quick to make amends. That was good. He would find it
difficult to live with a moody woman who held grudges.
    He had overstepped his bounds last night,
offering to give her a massage.
    She was still emotionally fragile. It would
take time to earn her trust.
    But Marius wasn't worried. He was a patient
man. God in His wisdom had let Brenda become part of his life. He
would be forever grateful, no matter how precarious it might
be.
    He started singing.
    #
    Every day at work, Deborah wanted to talk
about the wedding. Other than a concerned, “Do you know what you’re
doing?” she hadn’t specifically referred to Marius’ immigration
status, which Brenda appreciated.
    She’d also toned down any mention of