Love Isn't Silly
by Bill Tope
"You're
silly, Willy," said Mrs. Thurber, spreading
a fresh white sheet across her King size bed.
She said it pointedly, but with affection.
Willy Tubs had been her secret lover for the past
six months and she wasn't yet ready to let him go.
"Why is
love silly?" asked Willy, moving clear of
the billowing fabric.
"I just
don't think you're old enough to understand what
love really is," she reiterated for the
umpteenth time. "I mean," she
went on, "love is about more than just...."
she left the sentence hanging.
"Sex?"
supplied Willy with an innocent nonchalance.
Mrs. Thurber
blushed, nodded her head. "Yes,"
she said, "sex."
"But,"
said Willy, "It's so much fun.'..." and
Mrs. Thurber interrupted.
"Certainly
it's enjoyable," she conceded, afraid he was
missing the point. "But one day sex will be
behind you and then what will you have? That's
the meaning of love, Willy, when you just have
each other. She felt as though this would
seem far fetched to her young lover, who was
still seventeen, whereas she had just turned
sixty.
"But, I
want to marry you, Mrs. Thurber," insisted
Willy with feeling.
"But we
don't know each other well enough yet. Our
relationship hasn't progressed to the point of
making a life long commitment. I mean,
Willy, you still call me 'Mrs. 'Thurber'!"
"I can
call you Lucille," offered Willy.
"With your permission, of course." His
mother had always taught him not to be too
forward with his elders. He had to be
careful here.
Mrs. Thurber
sighed. "That would be a good start,"
she said. She bent to tuck the corners of
the sheet under the mattress. Willy did the same
with the corners on his side of the bed.
"You can even call me 'Lucy' if you wish,"
she said. Now it was Willy's turn to blush.
He hadn't dared get that personal, He only
nodded.
"Why do
you want to get married, Willy?"
"So we
can live together," he replied.
"But why,
are you having trouble at home?"
"That's
not it," he insisted.
She furrowed
her brow questioningly. "Then why would you
want to live with me?"
Willy gave her
a look that said 'Duh!" and spread his hand
over the bed.
"But sex
doesn't last forever, I told you that. When my
late husband was in his mid-fifties we stopped
having sex entirely," she remembered. "And
by the time you reach that age, I'll be...."
"Ninety-eight,"
said Willy,, who was always quick at math.
"That's
correct, Willy, and then where will we be if our
relationship isn't deeper, more profound?"
Willy sighed.
He was all argued out. Casually he glanced
at his Terminators wrist watch, gasped. "Gosh,
Mrs. Thurb...Lucille....Lucy! I've got to
get going. I haven't even mowed your lawn
yet and you know how my Mom gets when I'm late
getting home."
Hurriedly
dressing, Willy halted at the foot of her bed and
regarded the beautiful Mrs. Thurber, clad now in
a chiffon robe. Approaching her deliberately, he
reached for her hand, kissed it softly.
"Till the
next time, Lucille," he murmured.
Mrs. Thurber flushed and sighed sadly as he
turned to go.. As he passed through the
door, she called wistfully after him, "And
don't forget to trim."
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