I'm not exactly sure when, where, or why it started. But, it did...and it became an ever present trend in our relationship.
We'd find ourselves in a nice, calm, serene moment. Maybe we're lying on the couch in the midst of light conversation.
Then, out of nowhere - it was always out of nowhere and w/o context - Jill would sit straight up, like a prairie dog sniffing the air. (Yeah, that's right.) "Did you hear that?" she'd say w/ a serious expression on her face.
"What? No. I don't hear anything." I wasn't catching on...yet.
"I know. I can't...I can't hear your heart. Is it beating?"
Oh, damn it, here we go...
Jill would proceed to quickly lay her head against my chest. "Nope, I don't hear a thing."
"I'm fine," I'd interject, knowing full well what was coming next (and kinda looking forward to it).
"No, no. I really don't hear anything," she'd say, holding that look of concern on her face. "But, don't worry. I've got it. I'll take care of you."
"Oh, please don't." (Please do.)
That's when Jill would proceed to administer a highly animated version of her own brand of CPR. Hands on my chest, Jilly would rise above my torso, and proceed to quickly bend her arms, coming down as if she were pushing hard against my chest to remove the hidden obstruction causing my (un)apparent cardiac arrest.
She would repeat this over and over again.
And with each and every downward motion, two things occurred...
- Jill's head would come w/in centimeters of banging into mine w/ great force, always causing me to fear a couple's concussion was imminent.
- Jill would scream, "KA-CHUNK...KA-CHUNK...KA-CHUNK!" as if this was even remotely close to the sound created when someone really conducted CPR.