"Welcome to Chez Maddie" - An Excerpt from Chapter 14 of 'Reunion: Coda'....and Jim, Maddie, and Marty Get the DALL-E Treatment

Jim Garrary at age 35

 

Chez Maddie, or: Interlude in Blue

 

I bask in the warmth of Maddie's apartment, the scent of aged wood and a hint of lavender surrounding me. The living room is a canvas of pastel blues and greens, the soft colors of the couch and chairs inviting a moment of rest. Maddie's digital piano, a Yamaha, sits in silent anticipation of her touch. It's a model that's been around since the late '90s, compact enough to fit in the cozy space but grand in its promise of music.

Maddie had shown me around earlier, her voice a melodic guide through the memories framed on the mantel, the Beethoven bust overseeing our tour with stoic approval. The kitchen, she explained with a laugh, had been upgraded by her father—a housewarming gift that replaced the '60s appliances with ones from the early '90s. I remember how she pointed to the stove where I would later cook pasta al burro, her hazel eyes brightening as she spoke of her dad's thoughtfulness.

Now, hours after our arrival, the dinner I prepared sits half-eaten on the coffee table. The weather outside had been clear that night, the stars barely visible against the city's lights, a backdrop to our evening that now feels worlds away. Maddie emerges from the hallway, changed into something more comfortable, her chestnut hair loose and framing her face like a portrait come to life.

"Jim, this pasta is wonderful," she says, her exhaustion replaced by a soft contentment. "You didn't have to, but I'm glad you did."

I smile, watching her settle onto the couch, the blue fabric complementing the tired yet beautiful lines on her face. "It was my pleasure, Maddie. Anything for you.”

The night stretches before us, filled with the possibility of conversation and quiet companionship, the earlier tension dissolved like the last notes of a song fading into silence.

DALL-E rendering of Marty

The evening has settled into a comfortable silence that only comes after hours of shared space and quiet conversation. It's been over four hours since we stepped into Maddie's apartment, the night deepening outside her windows as the city's heartbeat pulses in the distance. The remnants of our simple dinner, pasta al burro, linger on the plates, the rich buttery aroma still hanging in the air, mingling with the faint floral notes of the rosé wine we sipped—just one glass each, as per Maddie's insistence after her in-flight indulgence.

A variant of Maddie at JFK International Airport, rendered by DALL-E

Maddie catches me eyeing the nearly empty wine bottle, a playful glint in her hazel eyes. "Don't even think about it, Professor. One glass is my limit tonight," she says, her voice a soft chide that dances through the room.

I can't help but chuckle, the sound echoing lightly off the hardwood floors. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of it," I assure her, though the warmth of the wine still courses gently through my veins.

A moment of contemplative silence passes before I venture into the territory of our unintended dilemma. "Maddie, I just realized... I didn't bring anything to change into for bed. The plan was to be at my place, after all.”

Her laughter fills the room, a melody that resonates with the walls of her apartment. "Oh, Jim, I'm afraid I don't keep a stash of men's pajamas just in case. You'll have to make do," she teases, her gaze playful yet tender.

I raise an eyebrow, feigning concern. "Make do? You mean, like sleeping in my skivvies... or in the altogether?"

Maddie's chuckle is rich and warm. "Well, I wouldn't complain," she quips, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "But I'll spare you the indignity. You can borrow one of my dad's old shirts. It's about as close to pajamas as you'll get here."

Relief and amusement wash over me, and I am grateful for the offer's unexpected intimacy. "That'll work," I say, smiling at the thought. "Thank you, Maddie."

As the night wears on, the soft pastel colors of the room seem to glow in the lamplight, and the piano waits patiently for its next moment of glory. For now, though, it's just Maddie, me, and the quiet promise of the night ahead.