Murphy's Law
Chapter One – Don't Put Off Until Tomorrow What You Can Do Today
I'm Murphy. That darkly tanned Adonis over there with peach juice dripping off his chin is the man of my life, Keith.
"Wipe your chin," I told him.
Keith smiled a toothy grin at me and ran the heel of his hand over his chin. "I love these things."
Like I didn't know. I know a lot about Keith. It would be impossible not to after almost ten years together. We are about as close as you can come to Old Married Couple status; as much as any het couple out there. I often think we're so committed to each other because we have had to make more sacrifices to be together in today's world, what with being openly gay and all. Society has made great strides in accepting the gay community, but still, we're careful about touching the 'wrong way' publicly even though we're out.
At that moment, we were totally out. Outside. We were sitting in our favorite park eating the picnic lunch we packed to bring on our bike ride, something we liked to take time to do on the weekends when the weather permitted. I love riding with Keith. We might not be in our twenties anymore, but we still stay active. Sometimes in fun ways, and I'm not talking about bike riding, as fun as that might be.
"You're going to be all sticky," I told him, fishing out a napkin from the backpack.
"Being all sticky isn't necessarily a bad thing," he told me with a sly grin.
See why I love him? Comments like that will get you noticed in the wrong way, though.
I felt a stirring between my legs that I wouldn't be able to deny if I didn't think about something else and fast. But I didn't want to think about anything else.
"This is a family park, Keith," I reminded him. I did my best to hold a straight face, but hell, I was no poker player. He could see right through me.
"I know what it is. What's worse, I don't care."
He let his tongue roam over his lower lip, then pulled it in seductively, suckling it clean of any remnants of peach juice. God, if he wasn't the most beautiful thing I had ever seen right then. His dark hair hung in little sweaty tendrils across his forehead and his cheeks were flushed from the combination of bike riding and August heat. I've always been a sucker for a hot sweaty man, and I was more than enjoying the view of my partner right then. I couldn't keep my eyes from traveling over his broad chest, perfectly defined and outlined by his tight riding shirt, not to mention his equally snug riding shorts, making the view that much harder to resist.
"You're getting something started that we can't finish here," I reminded him with a grin.
"Then let's go home." He immediately crumpled the neck of his lunch bag in one hand and mashed it forcefully into a crinkled ball with the other.
He didn't have to ask me twice. I tossed my crumpled lunch bag into the trash bin after Keith did the same with his and I quickly mounted my bike. I had to take a minute to discretely adjust the crotch of my shorts in order to handle the ride home somewhat comfortably. I tried to think of anything other than how hot my partner was as I watched him peddling in front of me, knowing we were a few miles away from the house.
We got there eventually and I parked my bike in the garage as quickly as I could, tipping it against the wall and tossing my helmet on the handle bar. Keith was putting his stuff away, but he took longer. He has to make sure everything is just so when he does something. Not quite OCD, but sometimes I think he's close. "Meticulous" would suit him.
Me? I'm the exact opposite. Keith says it's because I don't have the patience to do things the way they should be done. I always point out that his way isn't necessarily the way things "should be done". He gets a kick out of that. That's why I don't think he's totally OCD. He doesn't push me to do things his way so much, aside from ribbing me. I get things done but they don't have to be done to perfection according to Keith's definition. After all, my bike and gear were put up just as much as his were.
"Would you hurry up?" I complained at him.
He grinned at me in that enticing way of his that absolutely sends me up a wall. He still makes me crazy even after all these years. I admired the glistening sweat on his skin that left a glowing sheen on his countenance and thought I'd die if he didn't get to me soon. My pants were steadily getting tighter and I was afraid they'd damn near burst a seam if he didn't get moving.
"What's your hurry?" he teased with a smile lighting his eyes.
"My pants are going to rip if you don't come on. Seriously."
His eyes were burning a hole in me as he took slow steps across the garage, grabbing me roughly by the waist when he got close enough and then he pulled me tightly against him. I could feel the pressure from his stiff cock against me and I kissed him back hard. I love it when he takes me that way, like he's laying claim to what's his. His mouth covered mine and he teasingly pulled at my bottom lip with his teeth.
I stumbled on the steps as I walked backward into the house and Keith's strong arms kept me upright.
I could feel his lips stretch into a smile against my mouth. "Careful," he whispered roughly.
"It's your fault for taking too long. You made me over-anxious."
"You have my undivided attention right now," he breathed heavily.
It seemed like a block away from the garage to the bedroom so we ended up stopping in the kitchen since it was right there and terribly convenient. He pressed me backward until I was against the table then he wedged himself between my legs and pushed close to me, his strong arms anchoring his torso as he leaned toward me hungrily. His tongue had a mind of its own and went on a private expedition, searching my mouth while my hands tugged at my biker shorts. My dick was freed but not for long because Keith expertly took it captive in his able hand. My own hands fumbled for his shorts and I pulled them out of the way.
After so many years together, you'd think sex would have become humdrum, but if anything, it is sweeter today than the first time. We are in tune with each other on every level. I love the feel of him inside me, filling me, driving into me, or like on this particular day, taking me deep in his mouth. I lose myself in him each time, awash in euphoria, his every touch sending electric pulses all through me.
God, he felt good! He cupped my balls with his hand, pressing a finger against my rosebud while he took my dick in his mouth. The hot wetness of his mouth enveloped me and his lips slipped firmly up and down my cock; it was enough to send me over the edge in short order after having prepared myself mentally for the moment since we left the park. It didn't take much, I'm not ashamed to say. I closed my eyes and rode the wave of the building climax, shuddering as I came.
I ran my hands over his chest while he sucked me clean then I maneuvered him against the table's edge while I took his place and he took mine. He braced himself as I kissed his neck, nipping that sensitive spot on the right just beneath his ear that raises goosebumps on his arms every time. I heard a sharp intake of breath next to my ear; I had hit the spot, and I smiled against the soft flesh of his neck. I looked up at him as I went to my knees, positioning myself right where I needed to be. I love to make eye contact with him while I suck him off, not only to show him how much I enjoy it, but to know I'm pleasing him by seeing the way his eyes slip away into that dreamy look.
It didn't take long for him to come either, and soon into it his eyes rolled back and his lids closed as his body stiffened and he spurted into my mouth.
He ran his fingers through my hair and said breathlessly, "I never get tired of you."
He's such a romantic. He makes me feel so wanted. I hope I make him feel the same way. "I'm glad," I told him, "because you aren't ever getting rid of me."
"I'd hunt you down like a fiend if you ever tried to leave me."
"Ah, a game of cat and mouse, huh?" I teased. We so like to play.
"Would we need anything extra for the toy box?" he grinned, raising me from my knees. He gripped both of my ass cheeks firmly, pulling me against him until our hips pressed together, skin-to-skin.
"We don't need anything extra. We have vivid imaginations."
And we do. I think that's one reason we have such a strong relationship. We keep it fresh. We also don't have to be joined at the hip, even though we enjoy all our hip-joining activities. I had missed those activities while I was out of town last week for work. Another seminar. It seems like I have one about every six months or so and it had been that time again. Most of my company's seminars are in Washington, D.C., why I don't know, but that's where I was for three days last week. Three long days.
I work for an adoption agency in Richmond that gets government funding. Maybe that's why all our seminars are in D.C., come to think of it. I'm a program director, so it's my job to be sure we're in compliance with all the many requirements to keep the funding flowing. It's also my job to go to all the company seminars. I really do get some good information when I go, sometimes no more than uplifting and inspiring speeches, but all in all, I'd rather read a pamphlet and not be gone overnight. I mean, overnights, plural.
As boring as it was once I got there, getting there was more than eventful enough to make up for it. It all started with the stupid train ticket; the ticket I didn't bother to purchase until the last minute. My dread in going was probably why I put off getting my ticket in the first place, even though trains are the way to go to D.C. Parking is $30 or so a day there, not to mention the horrendous traffic, so driving doesn't make sense. Trains alleviate both of those pains in the ass. It's much easier and cheaper to take an Amtrak to the city and use the Metro once I'm there. I know this but I put off buying the ticket anyway, finally getting it done after much prodding and threatening from Keith about a week before I had to leave.
"Have you bought your ticket yet?"
"No."
He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Murph, you need to get that ticket. I've reminded you every day this week."
He's so patient. He does have his limits, though; that I know without a doubt. You know what they say about opposites attracting? Well, I lack as much patience as he has.
I huffed in exasperation. "Keith, I'll do it." He crossed his arms and gave me Keith's One and Only Original Patented Glare. "I will! Right after dinner."
"I'm telling you right now, Murphy, you'd better have bought it before I hit the bed tonight because if it isn't done by then, there are going to be consequences tomorrow."
Great. Consequences. When the clock strikes midnight is when Murphy turns into a pumpkin if the ticket isn't purchased, compliments of my partner, Keith. Actually, it would have been when the clock struck 11:00 because that's when Keith and I go to bed.
"I *will*, just relax." I brazenly shrugged him off, hoping if I made light of it, he'd lighten up as well. He didn't.
"You're pushing it, Murph," Keith replied calmly but using his best warning tone. "You should have done it days ago, rather than waiting until you're down to the wire before consequences are necessary."
"I really hate how you refer to it as consequences."
"Fine," he smiled. "Before I have to spank you. How's that?"
"On second thought? I like 'consequences' better," I said, raising a chuckle from Keith.
I swore to myself to do it after dinner like I told him I would. I really should have done it right then, but I swear, I just didn't want to. I'm a procrastinator of the worst kind for one thing and I didn't want to go for another. My motto: why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? Answer: because tomorrow you'll be a pumpkin or at the very least be consequenced.
I really should have done it earlier like Keith told me to but instead, I waited until the gauntlet was thrown. But the gauntlet involved a specific deadline, so I technically wouldn't be late until the deadline was reached. That meant I had the whole evening to get it done. Not the *whole* evening, just until bedtime. I wasn't the least bit surprised he drew a line in the sand. I knew an ultimatum was coming all week and it had finally arrived.
In our relationship, we have ultimatums for certain things. One is for me procrastinating, which is how I knew an ultimatum was coming. If I didn't get caught in the act of procrastination, Keith would still address it if the results thereof smelled of intentional dawdling on my part. In other words, if something bad happens because I procrastinated, something worse will happen when Keith figures it out after the fact. He tries to head off trouble where he can like giving me a deadline in this case, but he's not omniscient. He can't always see it coming, and sometimes it's not obvious until after the fact. Anyway, I know the rule and he shouldn't have to tell me or pull me off the ledge. I know that.
I'm late a lot because of my tendency to procrastinate – well, I'm not late so much anymore but I could easily slip back into that pattern. Easily. Being late drives Keith batty, and I'm willing to bet he won't let it become a habit again. I'm never late because I oversleep or anything like that; it's just that I'll get sidetracked easily or get caught up doing something I'd rather do than get my butt in gear. Like in the morning, I might run late because I spend too long watching TV and sipping coffee before I decide it's time to go to get ready. I'll wait until the very last minute if Keith lets me sometimes.
He just didn't understand, you know? I explained to him early in our relationship that that was just the way I was and that I'd be late for my own funeral. Further, I advised him he might as well get used to it because I had been that way all my life and I doubted seriously that I'd ever change. He patiently assured me he would never get used to it and that I *would* be on time for my funeral because he would see to it that I not only made it on time, but would be there early. I thought he was kidding until he ultimately followed through on his threat to kill me the next time I was late getting to work. We had my funeral right there in the den that day. You know what? He was right. I was on time for my funeral.
It's not like I ever do it on purpose. Like I said, I get sidetracked, that's all. Just like with the train ticket. After dinner, I went to my computer with every good intention of purchasing my ticket. I went to my inbox first for a quick look at what mail I had, knowing that of the ten new messages Yahoo reported, eight of them were probably spam. I was right and while I was in there cleaning house, a friend of mine popped up in IM. We started chatting about this and that and that and this and before I knew it, it was time to go to bed. I hadn't thought twice about the ticket while I was chatting.
Keith had been sitting beside me on the sofa the whole time while we watched Criminal Minds, never bothering to remind me of his earlier warning even though I was preoccupied on the laptop. He wouldn't do that anyway. He never does. Keith isn't the type to tell me how to do what I should do. He just tells me what needs to be done, what he expects, and then it's up to me to follow through. If I don't, he will. It's my responsibility to do what I'm supposed to and I appreciate him giving me the latitude to do that. Besides, he knew as well as I did if he kept reminding me I'd just get testy about it.
His warning earlier before dinner was my reminder; the proverbial line in the sand. He didn't say a word even when I shut down the computer except to ask me if I was ready for bed, which looking back, was sort of a reminder in itself. I missed it though.
"I'm more than ready," I said as I stretched and yawned.
My eyes were blurred from staring at the computer for a couple of hours and my mind had nothing on it but going to bed. Nothing. I personally blame the laptop. I'm convinced it sends out some sort of cyber waves that kill brain cells one at a time. It had effectively targeted and killed the ones responsible for reminding me to buy the damn train ticket.
We trudged up the stairs together and got ready for bed, going through the motions we went through every night. I crawled in ahead of Keith as he was still in the bathroom finishing up with his turn at the sink brushing his teeth. I settled into the cool crisp sheets with a contented sigh and closed my eyes, absently listening to Keith gargle then spit. By the time he came to bed, the brain cells I took for dead gasped then burst to life, having simply been sluggish and not really dead after all. My formerly closed eyes snapped open just as Keith clicked off the bedside lamp and was getting into bed. How had I forgotten!
Technically, my feet hit the floor before Keith hit the mattress, so I was going with having beaten the deadline. Maybe he had to be asleep before it counted. I was hoping Keith was looking at it that way but I wasn't ready to ask just yet.
"Forget something?" Keith cunningly wanted to know as he pulled the comforter over himself.
"You're not asleep yet," I pointed out. He wasn't, so I reckoned I was still ok. "I can buy those tickets in record time before you can get one 'z' out."
I darted out of the bedroom and took the stairs two at a time on my way back to the living room to boot the laptop up again. I flew through the Amtrak screens, my clicking finger flying and tapping, as I searched for and found the early train for Tuesday morning from Richmond. It took no time to purchase the ticket since I knew exactly when I wanted to leave and return and on what days. I was back in bed in record time.
"Still awake?" I asked him hopefully.
"I am."
"Told you so."
"I believe I said you needed to have it done before I got in bed tonight, not before I went to sleep," he commented, rolling over to face me.
"Semantics, Keith," I replied hopefully.
He didn't smile. "I'm serious, Murphy."
My heart sank. Did I cut it close enough to incur consequences? Was it 'over the line' close? I certainly hoped not. It had been a long time since I had been consequenced, probably a few months. I got consequenced a lot when we first got together, but after so many years, there seemed to be longer time spans between incidents. I think it almost makes it worse. I mean, it's bad any time, but when you've gone for a long time without a consequence, it's almost more devastating when it happens.
"Are you mad?" I asked, trying to ignore the nervous niggling inside.
"I was a little annoyed when you waited to begin with but then you pushed it past the limit by waiting until I was in bed to buy the tickets."
It sounded like he was mad to me with that comment. I looked at his face. It was not a happy face; it was rather serious. I knew why he was annoyed. Even though I wasn't intentionally pushing it that night, waiting until after the time limit was like flying in the face of his authority. He didn't have to say it for me to know it.
"I didn't do it on purpose," I explained, even though I knew it wouldn't be an acceptable excuse. "I was distracted."
"All week?"
"I bought the ticket. No harm done." He didn't say a word, but the look in his eyes cut straight through me. I sighed, feeling horribly in danger of consequences, but I still wasn't sure. It was going to be close; dangerously close. "What are you going to do?"
"Right now, I'm going to sleep."
"You're going to make me wait to find out?" I was stunned. How could he just go to sleep with unfinished business on the table?
"Waiting doesn't usually seem to bother you, Murphy. Go to sleep."
Wonderful. My procrastination just came back to bite me in the ass. I glared at him, challenging him to a stare down, but he wouldn't play. He just closed his eyes.
"Turn your light off and go to sleep," he muttered around a yawn.
I switched off my lamp and crossed my arms over the comforter as I stared into the night wondering what my fate would be. I hated discussing things later, except for the fact that it left the small hope that Keith was undecided. As long as he was still thinking, there was a chance for a reprieve. That meant there was also a chance *not* to get one, but definitely an opportunity to get through the situation unscathed.
I was up first and already finishing my second cup of coffee when Keith came downstairs the next day, his face scruffy with new stubble. He yawned as he poured his coffee then tore off the edge of a Splenda packet, dumping the contents into his mug.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked me as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
I nodded and swallowed to calm my nerves. This was it. I was about to find out how far over the line I went the night before. Keith seemed oblivious and not thinking about it at all, but I wasn't fooled.
"Did you?" I asked him.
He nodded. He might have looked disheveled in his wrinkled pajamas and mussed brown hair, but he was awake and sharp.
It didn't take him long to cut to the chase. "I did some thinking about what happened last night," he told me.
Here it came. The verdict. "And?"
He shook his head sadly but never lost eye contact. "And I don't see how I can ignore it, Murph. This is something we've worked on our whole relationship. I gave you reminders all week and a deadline last night. Which you missed."
Consequences. The sad part was I couldn't even argue with him. He was right and I knew it. "I don't know what to say, Keith. I really meant to do it last night after dinner but then I got on IM and forgot."
He nodded and made this clicking sound with his mouth, almost like a tsk but not quite. "And that's why you need a reminder. I'll leave it up to you as to whether we do it before work or after."
My insides knotted and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as my face burned in embarrassment with the reality of pending punishment staring at me eye-to-eye. "I hate that, Keith," I complained. "I can't make that decision. I don't *want* to make that decision."
Either way would be a loser. If I "procrastinated" and waited until after work, it would be hanging over me all day and that sucks in a major way. It's very distracting and runs as an undercurrent to everything I do knowing what's coming after work. It puts me in a foul mood, too. My poor co-workers would catch it all day. If we did it before work, I'd be remembering it all day, but at least it would be over with. But then I also wasn't in a hurry to get on with it. Procrastinator.
"Then I'll decide for you." He scooted his chair back away from the table and held his hand out to me.
My eyes widened in alarm. "I changed my mind," I back-peddled. "I'd rather wait."
"This is all about you waiting," Keith stated matter-of-factly. He waggled his fingers at me, beckoning me to him with his palm still outstretched toward me.
I stood up to go to him but hesitated. I couldn't believe I had crossed the line and gotten this far, all because I didn't want to buy that stupid ticket. I knew once I had gone too far there was no turning back, not now, and I was seriously wishing I had paid more attention before it was too late. Speaking of late…
"But I'll be late for work."
"It won't take long enough to make you late. Come on."
He wasn't budging. It felt surreal. Each step to him felt like I was walking in wet cement, every subsequent step more difficult to take than the last because it brought me a step closer to my comeuppance, a.k.a. consequence. Months without consequences or not, I quickly remembered how horrible it was. I tried to swallow a nervous lump that was busy holding back gurgling stomach acid from two cups of percolating coffee. I reached him and mechanically lowered myself across his lap and rested my palms against the kitchen tile, trying not to think about what was happening. Even so, I was acutely aware of Keith lifting the tail of my t-shirt then swiftly lowering my pajama pants. There's nothing like getting your ass bared to put your mind square in the middle of the here-and-now.
The skin on my butt prickled with the cool air across my cheeks combined with the apprehension of what was coming. I couldn't believe this was happening. How could I have forgotten! I was as mad at myself for putting off the ticket as I was nervous about what was about to take place. I knew better! You'd think I'd have learned by now, but no, I needed reminders.
"I think we've been over this enough times in the past for you to know why we're here, haven't we?"
"I guess," I replied.
"You've been playing it too close to the line this whole week, Murphy. Playing it close to the line is one thing, but when you decide it's ok to play over a line I've set, that's too far and I can't overlook that. It's over."
Hardly. He hadn't even started.
Unlike me, Keith didn't procrastinate. Waiting until morning to discuss the situation wasn't procrastination; it was Keith still thinking. After sleeping on it, he had made a decision and was about to follow through. He commenced to make toast of my rear and didn't stop until he was sure I was clear that procrastinating still wasn't tolerated in our relationship, especially when it involved disrespecting your partner. That never had been acceptable and never would be. I had taken every inch of rope he strung out to me all week until I had plenty to hang myself, and hang myself I had. The rope was tightening around my throat, a throat already sore from choking off the tears I was holding back as I tried to take it like a man.
That didn't last, it never did. It became more difficult with each strike of his hand to my butt until I totally lost it. My head was pounding with the combo effect of hanging over his lap and boohooing. I always fight crying, which didn't help with the headache. I never win that fight, but there's something innate that makes me feel like I shouldn't cry. By the time I'm at the point I throw in the towel, I don't care anymore and let it go completely. I was a sniveling mess by the time his right arm went still. It hurt. Bad.
I was sniffling and wiping my face to beat the band, trying like mad to get myself together while Keith's voice broke through with comforting comments. I wasn't really listening to the words – I was a little preoccupied – but the tone was soothing. I pushed myself off his lap and carefully pulled my pants back into place over my scorched backside. He stood up and hugged me tightly, wiping my face with his fingertips before kissing my wet cheeks.
"Planning ahead is not a bad thing," Keith said gently, cupping my face with his hands. "Waiting until the last minute is often a bad thing. Waiting this close to when you leave could have easily meant no available ticket, then what would you have done?"
"Drive," I choked roughly. It wouldn't have been pretty, but I would have done what I had to.
"And I'd have had to listen to you bitch about the high parking charges and traffic," he joked mildly. "You can take the train for less than the parking and gas to go up there and back."
I didn't say anything. I knew he was right, but I was feeling… consequenced. That doesn't exactly leave me in the mood to talk. I just nodded and let him hold me while I tried to take my mind off my wounded rump and pride. With my luck, I was sure he was right. I'd have missed out on the available tickets and ended up driving in that hellish mess they dub Washington, D.C. had I waited much longer.
"You ok?" Keith pulled me away from him to see for himself. He brushed my hair off my forehead gently. It was hard to believe those hands that had such a tender touch were the same ones that just caused me such stinging pain.
I nodded and tried to control my jerky breaths. "I'll be fine."
"Why don't you head up to shower and shave. I'll fix something for breakfast."
He kissed my cheek then sent me on my way. Now that it was over, I was glad Keith decided to do it that morning. I would have been sick to my stomach all day if I knew I was going to be facing that later. I could deal with the aftermath much easier.
It was all pretty much forgotten by the time Tuesday morning came around, but I remembered why I had procrastinated so much in buying my ticket. It locked me into the trip even though I didn't want to go. I liked my bed. I didn't like having to stay in a hotel for two nights but I had to go. I was up at 4:00 so I could pack and Keith got up at the same time. He was driving me to the station so I wouldn't have to leave my car, which was very nice of him, considering he didn't have to be up that early.
"Did you remember everything?" he said as he came out of the bathroom in a towel.
"I think so." I grabbed his arm as he passed by and fingered off a little dab of toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. "I'm going to miss you."
"I'll miss you, too. We'll talk every night."
"It's not the same. Plus, I have to eat that crappy hotel food or go out alone."
"What about Michael? Doesn't he live near a Metro stop?"
"Yeah, I told him I would be in D.C. and we might try to get together." I poked through my suitcase to take inventory one last time before zipping it closed. I set the suitcase on the floor as Keith went to the closet to find his clothes.
"That'll pass one evening for you," his voice trailed out of the closet.
"I just get sick of these things."
"You enjoy it sometimes after you get there."
He came out of the closet wearing his business pants but still shirtless and sockless. Yes, he did look hot. There's something about a partially dressed guy who's barefoot, isn't there? I love the way his suit pants outline his ass. They hug in just the right places and then fall loosely just at the crest of his cheeks. Standing there dressed that way – or rather, half-dressed that way – while he checked his hair was almost enough to make me suggest scrapping work for the day. I would have if I could.
"I do enjoy it sometimes. I hate living out of a suitcase as much as anything," I told him from the bathroom doorway.
He rubbed a palmful of hair gel between his hands then finger combed it through his locks. "I know," he sympathized. "Did you remember your phone charger?"
"I always forget that in the hotel, remember?"
And I did. I had left at least three chargers in hotel rooms so it was habit for Keith to double-check me on it. He'd probably ask me again before we left, even though I never forgot the charger at home.
"I'll remind you before you leave the hotel, too," he said smiling intuitively as he splashed cologne on his face and neck. I inhaled the woodsy scent of his Burberry cologne and appreciated the tight curves of his body's profile while he put the finishing touches on his look.
"We need to get going," he commented as he pushed past me. "My meeting is going to start at 8 with or without me."
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive myself?"
"No, that's ridiculous. We should have plenty of time to get you to the train and me to work without racking up parking charges at the station."
"But you have to drive across town from the station."
He came out of the closet again, this time buttoning his teal dress shirt, his black tie tossed over his shoulder. He stopped in front of me and kissed me quickly, leaving me with the taste of Crest on my lips. "It's not a problem. I'll be ready to go by the time you put your stuff in the car."
I was so lucky to have him. He was still tucking his shirt in when I hefted the suitcase down the stairs, but true to his word, I was just on my way back to the car with my laptop when Keith trailed me out of the front door carrying two travel mugs of coffee. He's quick.
"Let's roll," he announced, sliding into the driver's seat.
It was still pretty early so we didn't have much traffic to speak of on the way to the Main Street station I usually left from. Still, it was about a thirty minute drive. We pulled into the lot around 5:30 – the virtually empty lot. Something was terribly wrong.
"Where is everyone?" Keith pulled the car to a stop in the deserted parking area.
"I don't know." I couldn't understand it. "I didn't get the departure time wrong, I know I didn't. I always take the 6:00 train."
"Check and see," Keith commented as put the car in park.
I leaned into the backseat and pulled the printed itinerary from my laptop bag. "Yes. Right here. Six o'clock." I thumped the itinerary angrily with my finger.
I turned back around in my seat and Keith took the itinerary from me. "Six o'clock, yes," he read. "Not from the Main Street station, though."
"What?!" I couldn't believe it. What the hell had I done?? I snatched the paperwork from him and looked it over.
Keith said as I read, "Staples Mill Road station."
"Damn it!" I swore. I checked my watch. "There's no way we'll make it."
Keith was already pulling from the lot like a bat out of hell and he sped toward the correct station. "This is what happens when you wait until the last minute and then have to rush."
Like I needed the reminder. "I *know*, Keith. Can you save the lecture for later and concentrate on driving?"
"I can do both at the same time," he commented.
If I hadn't been consequenced already, I certainly would have been after that morning. I screwed up the ticket by waiting until the last minute then not paying attention because I was in a hurry to buy them. I knew it, Keith knew it, and Keith knew that I knew that he knew even before he said it.
"There's no need for a lecture, Keith. I shouldn't have waited, but I did wait and you blistered my ass for it already. Can we call this over?"
He cut a glance my way. "If this had happened without you missing *my* deadline the other night, you'd still be getting your butt blistered. We've covered procrastination before."
"I know," I answered him wearily. "Many times."
"You need to make a mental note of this, Murphy. It's a good example of why I make such an issue of you putting things off."
"Point taken," I told him.
"Good."
"*Now* can we drop it?"
He sighed and looked at me sympathetically as he stopped at a light. Taking my hand, he said, "I'm not trying to beat you up over this, Murph, but I need to be sure you see the connection here."
"I see it. I fucked up and now I'm paying the price."
I was almost glad I missed his deadline the other day. Otherwise, I'd have to wait three days to be consequenced for procrastinating in this particular instance. I would hate to think my homecoming would be marred by having to face consequences.
"You rushed because you had to after waiting too long to buy the ticket. You need to chalk it up to experience and learn from it. Accept it, that's all. You can't change it now but you can learn from it."
I couldn't help but squirm in my seat. It wasn't like it was an ear-burning lecture, but I knew he was right. Acceptance, though? That was sometimes the hardest thing for me to deal with when I messed up, whether it was accepting Keith's consequences – which, believe me, is not easy – or accepting the fact that I had screwed up and had to live with the results, like that day. If I ended up missing the train, I had no idea whether I would be able to get on a later one – God knew how much later – or if I would be stuck driving to D.C. I hoped to hell I made the 6:00 train.
"I know," I told him. He put my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
"Love ya, babe," he said and he meant it. It was enough for me to feel a little better. It said that when all else failed, we had each other.
Meanwhile, it seemed like every car in the area poured into the streets as soon as I realized we were at the wrong station. Why couldn't everyone just get out of our way!
"We're never going to make it!" I barked, checking my watch again.
"I'm doing my best."
"I'm not mad at you; it's not your fault. I can't believe I did something so stupid!"
"Take a breath and let it go," Keith advised in his wisdom. "You haven't missed the train yet."
I tried to do what he said, but I was still wound tight. I wouldn't be able to relax until I knew if I made the train or not. It seemed like we had driven all the way to D.C. rather than just across town to the Staples Mill Road station. You know how it is when you're late. Everything takes longer than it should, or at the very least, feels like it does. Keith tore into the parking lot on two wheels, pulling up to the front to drop me off.
I kissed him quickly. "I love you. I'll call when I get there."
"When you get on the train. Love you, too. Hurry up," he admonished. "I'll wait here until I hear from you."
I grabbed my stuff from the backseat and charged into the building, my heart hammering my chest with the adrenalin rush. My watch said I had two minutes. I could still make it! I searched the overhead informational screens and found my departure platform, then ran like the wind towards it.
I bolted down the long passageway and stepped up to the platform just as diesel fuel filled the air in the wake of the train pulling away.
"Shit!" I exclaimed. I couldn't fucking believe it. I was so close!
A middle-aged woman who stood nearby apparently had an overwhelming need to address me. "Missed your train," she observed with a grin.
You think?! I turned to her, totally fed up and not the least bit in the mood to be meddled with. "How has the FBI been able to function without you all this time? Or do you do work for them with those honed skills of perception? You're under cover, right?"
Her jaw dropped and a wounded look passed over her face. I know it was mean, but at that point, I didn't give a rip. She shouldn't have been so stupid and she shouldn't have butted in. Of course, I missed my train, Sherlock! I didn't need her to clarify the situation for me!
A train station guy was standing nearby as well and he looked at me compassionately. "Just missed it," he informed me of the obvious. Did everyone think I was a total idiot?? "The next one is at 8."
"Eight?!" I almost dropped my luggage right where I stood and jumped onto the tracks to wait for the train. What a shitty start to the day.
"Sorry," he said and sounded like he meant it. "Not another one until 8."
I stalked to the ticket window and thankfully was able to make new arrangements. I worried all the way to the window that they would be sold out. I went to the parking lot and Keith was fiddling with the radio when I walked up. He didn't notice me until I tapped on the driver's window. Why would he? I was supposed to be on a train to D.C.
I saw the look of shock on his face that morphed into realization as he let the window down. "Oh, no," he sympathized.
"Oh, no is right," I growled. "I missed the damn train by literally seconds."
"What are you going to do?"
"I got a ticket for the next one at 8, which is the same time the seminar starts, by the way. I'll miss the beginning of the first session."
"At least you got another ticket."
"I know. I have to sit around here for an hour and a half until it gets here. I'm so annoyed!"
He gave me an 'I told you so' look, which I didn't need right then. "I know it, Keith! You were right. I admitted that last week and again this morning."
"I didn't say a word," he claimed innocently with his hands raised in defense.
"I heard your silence," I told him. I could also hear the bitter bite in my voice and felt a little guilty instantly.
"It's not my fault you got your ticket mixed up. There's no need to snap."
I ran my hand through my hair. "I know. I'm sorry." Thinking about my behavior in the station, I felt bad for the FBI lady. "I was worse to some poor woman in the station."
"What did you do?"
I waved him off. "It's not a big deal but let's just say she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and saying the wrong thing."
He gave me a mildly disapproving glare. "You need to reel it in, and get some perspective," he advised calmly. "It isn't as bad as it could be. You're going to be late, but you're going to get there without driving."
He was so logical sometimes, it made me crazy. But as usual, once I applied his logic, I realized he was right and I felt myself calming down.
I took a deep breath and leaned into the window. "I'm sorry, really." I kissed him. "I'll go inside and watch something on my iPod to take my mind off it and pass the time. I might even apologize to the FBI lady if I see her again."
Keith frowned at me quizzically. "FBI lady?"
I grinned at him. "It's the same woman I was telling you about earlier. I'll fill you in later. You'd better head back across town before you're late, too."
He put the car in drive. "I guess I'd better. Call me when you get there, ok?"
"I will."
I watched him pull away with regret. It had been a hectic start to the day and I was going to miss him while I was away. I hated that the morning was such a mess and hoped it didn't upset his day like it had mine. At least he wasn't going to be late for his meeting.
It felt like the 8:00 train came around pretty quickly since I occupied myself watching old Dexter episodes on my iPod. Podcasts and downloadable video are amazing. I'm still shocked at the fact I can watch TV on something that fits in my palm. Once I got on the train, the trip to D.C. was uneventful. The Metro wasn't packed since I missed rush hour so I got from the train to the hotel pretty easily. Silver lining. I ended up missing two hours of the seminar by the time I dumped my bags off and got there, though.
After a grueling day of fighting to get to D.C. then sitting for the rest of the day listening to speakers drone on, I wasn't in the mood for anything more than room service for dinner. Lunch had been the typical seminar affair of lasagna and some kind of chicken dish, salad with a choice of one dressing, rubbery green beans, boiled potatoes, and pre-made desserts. It's always the same.
I wanted something simple for dinner so I ordered a Reuben sandwich from the room service menu and called Keith while I waited. I kicked my shoes off and flicked on the TV then collapsed on the bed against the propped pillows. The bed felt good, even though it wasn't my own, and hearing Keith's voice felt even better. The stress from the day started to melt away like heated ice.
"So you made it," Keith smiled into the phone. "I miss you already."
"I miss you, too. I swear, I'm whipped. It was such a crappy day."
"I'm sorry you had a bad day. Tomorrow will be better after a good night's sleep."
"I ordered some wine with my sandwich so I'll sleep ok. You know how I sleep in hotels." I usually wake up at ungodly hours in hotels, somehow unable to sleep through the night without interruption. A little wine will typically do the trick.
"Call me if you can't sleep and think you need some company."
"Thanks. I'll be ok," I assured him.
"You could go walking; a little exercise would help you sleep better. It's beautiful up there, lots to see."
"I've done that enough in the past. I've seen every monument several times and everything else closes early, like the Smithsonian. I wouldn't mind wandering around in there if they were open, but honestly, I just want to crash and forget the day," I told him. "I still can't believe how much went wrong on this trip. Makes me worry about the rest of the week."
"If anything *can* go wrong…" he laughed as he led into the age-old saying.
I rolled my eyes. Here we go again with that tired joke. "My parents did *not* name me Murphy because of that. I'm not the poster child for Murphy's Law."
"Ok, Murph. Whatever you say."
I'll never admit it, but I almost thought he was right when I looked back over my life. I really did seem to have a knack for epitomizing Murphy's Law. Trouble followed me, even though I really tried to watch behind me to be sure I wasn't being tailed. I never saw it sneaking up on me until it had me in its clutches.
"I'm going to petition the courts to make new law. Case law," I told Keith. "It's time for a change."
"Murphy vs. the State of VA," he laughed.
"Yeah. Either that or work to enact new legislation." I had to laugh myself. It was that or cry after a day like I'd had and I'm not much for tears unless I'm over Keith's lap. And like I said earlier, even then, I fight it.
"I'll be glad to help in your campaign."
"Thank you, you're hired." That's one reason I love him. He supports me in everything. I know I can always count on Keith and he can count on me.
"Tomorrow will be a better day, Murphy, my love. Cross my heart and hope to die," he swore.
"If you say so."
Keith was right for the most part. Except for a little mishap in getting on the wrong Metro line when I was going to see Michael (that's another whole story, believe me), the rest of the week went pretty good.
In fact it seems like a dream, now. A nightmare, rather, that is fading quickly into the past. 'Fading' might be the wrong word because I'm pushing it with all my strength into the past. Another piece of Murphy history I'm locking away in my own personal Pandora's box. I'm giving Keith the key. Lying here in my campaign manager's arms for a little after sex nap makes it easier to forget the horrid week. Besides, I'm sticking to my vow not to procrastinate on train tickets ever again. At least, never in the near future.
Murphy's Law was going to change. Keith said so.
End
