five year plans

"Don't you want anything out of life?"
Out of life? What was she talking about? Why this, why now?

"I want Cosetta's for breakfast. I want a giant slice of pepperoni and one of those chocolate milk things, I think they're Nesquik, but I suppose any chocolate milk would do."

The look she shot across the double bed was exaggerated, designed to make sure I understood this conversation was of greater significance than mid day meal plans. She wanted more five-year plans, more motivation; this wasn't the first time she had attempted to get me to think about the grand scheme of things. On previous encounters, I had been more or less successful in changing the subject, ducking to the bar for another drink, or complimenting her new shoes. This time though, she had outmaneuvered me. We had just finished a lazy Sunday morning lovemaking session, nowhere to be, no hurry, my favorite. As far as I was concerned, nothing existed outside that small double bed in that small apartment in St. Paul. As far as wanting anything out of life, I was already content.

Now she had me trapped in that small content world. We both knew this. She was however, nothing if not subtle, and so she changed tactics on me. She shifted so that she could rest her chin on my chest and gaze up at me with those beautiful dark eyes,

"Tell me your dreams baby." A little softer this time, but the insinuation was the same, maybe I could bluff her.

"My dream is to someday live on a beach, a beautiful, unspoiled beach. Miles away from anything except sand and water and you, and I want to write. I want to write like Kerouac and Bukowski and Hemmingway. I want to listen to good music at full volume and I want to learn how to cook for you. I want a little dog, a mutt. And someday, just maybe, I want a little boy and a little girl. I want to teach them to surf and to write and to listen to good music and to just appreciate the beauty in life."

Her eyes closed slightly, a playful smile across her face. I just might get out of this after all, so I continued.

"We'll walk the beach every morning holding hands, watching our mutt chase seagulls. We'll lead our own lives during the day, but I'll think of you constantly. I'll make you fresh seafood for dinner, afterwards we'll gaze at the stars, snuggled close on our hammock as the waves crash onto the shore…"

* * * * * * * * *
In the next room, a roommate lays on her bed listening through thin walls as a boy describes his beautiful dreams to his dozing girlfriend. Though their love making earlier sounded enjoyable, the roommate stares sadly at the ceiling thinking of the naïve boy, the dreamer. The dreamer who has no idea his girlfriend is also sleeping with her old high school boyfriend, a successful investment banker with a nice car and a solid five-year plan. The roommate sighs and goes back to being the girl on the other side of the wall.