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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1000719
He was robbing the cradle, but she was rocking it.
Bubblegum Romance


He nudged her through the door gently but firmly. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness in the room. "So this is the famous Manuels, eh?"

Ralph raised his right hand, motioned, and said "a couple tall Buds back here Manuel." He maneuvered Ivy into a booth and sat opposite her. The wooden seats were smooth and worn, and the table top was scratched and marked with a hundred so and so loves so and so's.

Ivy smoothed her long, brown hair and looked at Ralph who was looking back at her funny like, it seemed to her. Here we go, she thought as she reached over to check out the tunes on the miniature juke box on the wall where they sat.

"And break it to me gently
Give me time; Oh, give me a little time to ease the pain.
If you must go, then go slowly;
'Cause I'll never, never love again."


"That's a tear jerker. Is that why we're here. You going to break it to me gently?"

"Wait til I get my beer, darlin" he said. "No rush, is there? We just got here."

Ivy began to tap her fingers to the tune, softly, like playing piano keys. "No rush."

It wasn't long before Manuel brought over two beers, placing them on the table with a thunk. "Hey, big buddy. How are you keeping?"

"I'm keeping" Ralph said, reaching for the beer and sucking off the foam. Ivy sipped hers, and licked off the white foamy smudge on her lips.

"I still feel so guilty drinking beer. I expect a free-will preacher to rap me on the knuckles any minute." She grinned.

"Someone ought to rap you somewhere," he mumbled.

Ivy reached into her purse and took out some quarters which she fed into the juke box. She gave Ralph an evil stare as she did so. Soon, Sam Cooke was crooning

"We're havin' a party. Dancin' to the music
Played by the DJ , On the radio.
The Coke's out in the icebox ; Popcorn's on the table.
Me and my baby, We're out here on the floor"


Ivy swayed to the music with her eyes closed. "Love that one."

Ralph continued to sip his beer, eyes cast down now, thinking. Finally, he said "Ivy, I'm almost 40 years old."

"O lord," she said. "Here comes the obituary."

"It's not an obituary, dammit. I'm trying to tell you that I'm too old for you. You're not even 20 years old. People look at me like I'm robbing the damned cradle. And they think all I want to do is get in your pants."

"You are in the cradle, handsome, and you have been in my pants." She laughed.

"It's not funny. I want you to listen to me and listen good."

"I'm listening," she said as she reached for his hand, turning it over, palm up. She lowered her head and began kissing his hand slowly and humming the song at the same time.

"Stop that. I can't talk to you when you do that." He tried to pull his hand away but she held it with both of hers now and continued kissing.

"Shall I lick it?" She looked up, laughing.

"I'm going to give you a licking," he said as he finally withdrew his hand.

The record flipped and Ray Charles started moaning

"I can't stop loving you."

"Ralph," Ivy said impatiently. "You look 30 and who's business is it how old we are? I love you just the way you are. I'm not very old, but I'm smart. You said yourself I'm the smartest girl you ever knew except for that old-maid school teacher in Galax, Virginia." She finally released his hand. "I am no one's fool, and I am not being taken advantage of, and I know who I love. Shit. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me is I'm too damned old for you, that's what's wrong with me."

"Want some gum," Ivy asked as she foraged in her purse and pulled out two sticks of bubble gum.

"No, I don't want some gum," he said. "Jesus." He laughed to show he was teasing.

Ivy popped the gum into her mouth and began chewing, looking up through her bangs at Ralph.

She winked. "Sweet, sweet" she said, chewing slowly.

"Another Bud," Ralph yelled at Manuel and then pounded his hand on the table.

"Now, don't get angry," Ivy said and patted his hand. She pulled his hand up to her cheek and laid her face in his hand, first one side and then the other. "Why do you do this to us," she asked?

Ralph sighed. "What's the effing use?."

"No use," Ivy replied and kissed his hand and put it down on the table. "No use at all."

Gene Pitney began to croon,

"Only love can break a heart. Only love..."

"Ralph, I'm 19 going on 50. I love you. Why can't you see that? I will not leave. You will have to throw me out."

"O hell," Ralph mumbled.

"You know you don't want to do that. You don't want to throw me out."

Manuel put the beer on the table. "How bout some food,?"

"Ivy?" Ralph asked.

"Fries." She licked her lips. "I'd like some fries and thick catsup."

"Fries it is, and keep the beer coming," Ralph said to Manuel.

Herman's Hermits sang

"Every time I see you lookin' my way
Baby, baby, can't you hear my heartbeat?
In the car or walking down the highway
Baby, baby, can't you hear my heartbeat?
When you move up closer to me
I get a feelin' that's ooo-wee
Can't you hear the poundin' of my heartbeat
cause you're the one I love, you're the one I love."


"Can't you hear my heart beat, Ralph. It beats for you. Yours beats for me."

He was silent and just drank his beer, not looking directly at her.

She continued to sing. The fries came and they both ate off the same plate. "You're too skinny," she said, feeding him a large fry. "Too much beer and too little food makes Ralph a skinny Indian." She laughed.

"I'm about one hundredth Indian" Ralph said. "See how you hang on something and won't let go?"

"If that one hundredth made those black eyes and those cheek bones, I'll take Indian any day." She winked.

"Flattery won't work, Ivy," he said but he looked pleased.

"Always has before," she teased.

They continued to spar, back and forth, beer and fries consumed, words spoken, taken back, spoken again.

"Ivy, what will I ever do with you?"

"You'll take me home, Ralph," she said. "Take me home now."

McPhatter sang

"little bitty pretty one"

as Ralph led her out the door, tucked under his arm. He slightly stumbled as she placed her hand around his waist, not knowing who was holding whom up now, but who cared?

"I love you, Ivy."

"I know, Ralph."


© Copyright 2005 Iva Lilly Durham (crankee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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