Night Watch, Part 12

Jade and Olivia pushed aside the coffee table and unrolled Victoria's yoga mat over the hardwood floor in the living room. At first, David continued to resist. Graphite wisely fled the scene; David saw him go out with a smirk on his face. The women quickly overcame David's objections and coaxed him onto the mat. It was the look from Angela that did it: she gave him the if-you-love-me-you'll-cooperate look.

As he lay flat on his back, receiving instructions from both Jade and Victoria, he recalled precisely the occasion when he had first received that look from Angela, but hadn't yet learned how to interpret it. David had a theory that husbands are like puppies: they are trained by their wives to respond appropriately to certain looks, gestures and tones of voice. With advanced training they can even respond to silence coming from another room: they can feel the look.

The particular incident that David recalled was on a trip to see two of Angela's college friends. David and Angela, married only a year at the time, had driven to New Orleans so David could attend a computer science conference. On the way back up north they made plans to detour to Panama City, on the Florida panhandle, to rendezvous with Louise and Sarah, who were attending graduate school at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Panama City had been a favorite hangout of theirs when they were all at Auburn together.

Angela hugged Louise in the lobby of the hotel when they first laid eyes on each other. "I can't believe you guys are married," said Louise, a petite woman who was the daughter of a Vietnamese grocer in Atlanta. "It seems like we should still be innocent undergrads in history class together."

"Instead we're innocent newlyweds," said David.

The other friend, Sarah, walked through the revolving doors at that moment and hugged Angela and Louise. Sarah was a wind-blown, summery-looking blonde tennis player from Boca Raton who had been a computer science major with David. "Angela you look wonderful. Love that top. Is that from New York?"

"Yes, thank you. It was love at first sight. We were just up there visiting family," said Angela.

"David, I think marriage agrees with you," said Sarah. "You have good color in your face."

"You mean, I didn't have good skin color when I was a computer geek at Auburn?"

"Now he's a computer geek in Virginia," said Angela. "But at least he gets out more."

"I try to run when I can," said David.

"But it's more than that," said Sarah. "You're in a comfortable relationship. I can sense these things."

"You should have gone into psychology," said David.

She shook her head. "More money in computer science."

Since it was near the noon meal hour, and a beautiful day, they decided to take a picnic lunch to a beachfront park. Twenty minutes later they were spreading two blankets over a shaded, sandy spot with a view of the deep blue Gulf of Mexico. The shore was a gleaming white strip that stretched for miles.

As they opened bags of food and began to layer pieces of salami and olives and roasted red pepper on slices of sourdough bread, David became aware of two sea gulls hovering just beyond their little circle on the blanket. He poured chilled white wine for all of them and then noticed four sea gulls. And they seemed to be a tad closer.

The conversation rotated around Louise and Sarah's adventures in graduate school to Angela and David setting up a home in Virginia and thinking about starting a family.

"I keep saying there's no hurry," said David. "We should enjoy our time as a fun-loving, childless couple."

Angela rolled her eyes. "He just wants to put off the responsibility. But I can't wait. I don't know what's come over me. I have this urge to be pregnant. Is that, like, sicko or what?"

"I would love to start a family," said Louise. "I have to find Mr. Right first."

"You mean, instead of Mr. Right Now?" said Sarah.

The three women laughed and clinked their glasses. David noticed with alarm that eight birds were now gathered around their picnic. The boldest one hopped even closer and was only a few feet from where he sat. Then two more birds circled over them and settled down just behind Louise.

"What is it with these birds?" said David.

"We're in a movie, didn't I tell you?" said Sarah.

David was in no mood for humor. He picked up a handful of sand and threw it at the bird nearest him. The bird hopped back a few steps and squealed.

"Don't aggravate them," said Angela. Then she gave him the look that he didn't recognize. It was a quick stare with a rush of color in her face, very deliberate, but not unfriendly. He didn't realize that the look was saying, 'just be a dear and focus on the group and forget about the damn birds,' or something like that.

"I can't enjoy my meal with these birds waiting for a handout," said David.

"Don't serve the good wine, or they'll never leave," said Sarah with a wink.

"Mmm, I got it," said Louise. "That party? Where Karen started serving this really expensive Bordeaux that she got from her Dad?"

"I remember," said Angela. "She wanted to be studying her French by nine o'clock but everybody stayed until midnight."

The women laughed again, but David could not take his eyes off the circle of birds closing in around them. He felt they were watching their every move, waiting for a chance to swoop in and snag a morsel of food.

Finally, a bird hopped onto the edge of the blanket. David could stand it no longer. He decided to shoo them all way with a surprise lunge. He grabbed one of his sandals and stood quickly and, with a war cry, charged into the cluster of birds and ran around the picnic spot, waving his sandals and shouting. The birds protested loudly and scattered in all directions. Unfortunately, in his mad dash he kicked a spray of sand onto the laps of Angela, Louise and Sarah, covering the red peppers, salami, olives and artichoke spread with gritty, white grains.

"There," he said. But then he turned and saw what he had done. Now Angela had a different look that he had no trouble identifying. It was called pissed off.

***

Since David prided himself on being a good learner, he cooperated with his yoga instructors. Jade told him to lie flat on his back. She tilted his head slightly so that his forehead was higher than his chin and he was sort of looking over his chest. Jade's hands felt strong and muscular as she positioned his head just so and turned his hands palms upward. Her jewelry rattled and he watched the muscles of her dark, bare arms. His feet were allowed to fall to the sides.

Angela observed approvingly from her perch on the edge of a chair. Their eyes met. He knew what she was thinking. And she knew he knew. She was thinking of why David was tense and filled with stress. It had been building throughout the entire pregnancy. It was the source of much friction, although they usually managed to discuss it rationally. To David, a second child was going to be three times as much work. To Angela it was going to be three times as much pleasure. David was astonished at how much work was involved with raising Tony from infancy to age three: the feeding, the diapers, the sleepless nights, the shrieking, the constant surveillance. You could not turn your back for a second once he started walking. It was pure stress, to David, and the thought of doing it again gave him a sense of dread. But now they were doing it again.

David was shocked to realize that he was still in denial over the impending arrival of the baby. Like maybe it wasn't happening. Angela now watched him relax on the yoga mat. She was reading his thoughts like a book. It reminded him of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the Point-of-View Gun. It didn't work on the female character because, she had said, "I'm already a woman." He wished for a Point-of-View Gun to understand how he and Angela could view babies so differently.