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When Sandy returned to her seat, Bill leaned forward across
the booth curiously and asked, “What did John say to you when he passed? I saw
him say something.”
She smiled and picked up her drink. “At least somebody
remembers my name.” She sipped up a quaff through the long straw and stared at
Bill with a teasing ire.
“That’s pretty good coming from someone who can’t even
remember his best friend’s phone number.”
“Oh? Can you recite his?” she retaliated.
“No. What’s your point.”
She said nothing but smiled at him wryly.
“I can see why he’s starting to take a liking to you,”
Bill said.
“Excuse me?”
“John. That smile, those eyes.”
“His or mine?”
“Funny. He’s available, you know.”
Sandy almost choked on a swallow of her drink. “Is that
what this is all about?”
“Don’t sit there and tell me you don’t find him
attractive. You practically fainted when I asked you to come and sit with us.”
She nervously looked over her shoulder towards the restrooms
and began picking at her napkin once more.
“It’s okay. You’re among friends. Admit it.”
She looked at him disapprovingly. “But he’s a married
man—isn’t he? I mean, that was his wife and children with him at the funeral
today.”
“In the process of divorce. Great kids, not so great wife.
Wouldn’t give him the time of day—or night, for that matter. Her career was
too important to her. Then one night, see, she calls and tells him she has to
work late on a deadline. No big deal. Being the hopeless romantic that he is, he
decides to get some takeout, meet her at work, you know, trying to spice up the
marriage a little, show her he loves her. He drops the kids off at the in-laws,
heads over to the TV station, and he walks in on her lap dancing on her boss’s
Mr. Happy. It was a cliff-fall from there. I actually just found out about it
today.”
“That’s terrible!” Sandy exclaimed. “And those poor
kids.”
“He loves them to death. He’s a terrific father—” he
took a long drink from his Coors “—and he’d make a hell of a husband. If I
weren’t a guy and his best friend, hell, I’d consider asking him out.”
“It sounds like you two are pretty tight.”
“Don’t tell him I said this, but I miss the hell out of
him. So, what do you say?”
“About what?”
“Don’t play coy with me. Would you go out with him?”
“But he’s going through a divorce. I don’t want to be
rebound-girl.”
“Don’t worry, you can’t be rebound-girl because he’s
not even looking for someone to rebound with.”
She grimaced and said frustratingly, “I should have known
that this was all your plan.”
“Don’t belittle the situation here. If you can’t tell
that he’s attracted to you, you’re blind as a bat. He’s a college
professor, for god’s sake. He talks to hundreds of people a day, yet you
reduced him to clumsy babble.”
A demure glow swelled in her cheeks, and she couldn’t
refrain from a grin as she took another drink, her lips tightly pursed around
the tip of the straw.
Just as John re-appeared from the restroom, the next song
began to play on the juke box. Sandy got up from the booth, and John scooched
back into the corner.
“What took you so long?” Bill asked.
John rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Can you
believe it? First time I’ve ever had to wait in line in a men’s restroom.”
“Yeah, the women all scatter when he goes into the ladies
room, so he’s used to having the entire place to himself,” Bill replied,
supplying the punch line.
This time, even John laughed.
To Sandy John asked, “So, did Oprah here give you my life
story while I was gone?”
“You were gone long enough for me to come up with some real
doosies about you,” Bill cut in.
“He just informed me of your high points,” she assured
him.
“That should have taken all of thirty seconds.” To Bill
he said, “You should have told her the low points. It would have made a much
more interesting lie and taken a lot longer.”
“Does he know me like the back of his hand or what?”
John picked up his beer and studied it, avoiding eye contact
as he asked, “Then I suppose Bill told you?”
“About the sex change?” Bill interrupted. “No, I was
going to leave that one up to you. I feel—embarrassed talking about those kind
of things.”
Sandy could tell that John was uncomfortable about it, so she
helped him along. “About the divorce, yes, he told me, and I’m very sorry to
hear.”
“No need to be. It’s been a long time coming, I suppose.
It’s just my children. I worry about them, how they’ll cope.”
“Sounds like you’ve had more than your fair share of
sorrow, lately.” She placed her hand on top of his consolingly. It’s what
she did best, but it was a more special gesture for this man. She added a
special gentleness to her touch to let him know that she genuinely cared. And
when he looked at her with his jade-green eyes, she could not mistake the
welling attraction Bill had spoken of.
She relayed a reassuring smile, and he returned the favor.
“Anyway,” Bill said, “that’s all water almost under
the bridge. Let’s keep the conversation upbeat, okay. This is supposed to be
fun.”
Bill ordered another round for everyone, and John somehow
peeled himself from the back of the booth and found himself inching closer to
Sandy as feelings that had once been dormant were now yawning and stretching,
drawing him closer to her by the minute.
He had been attracted to Barbara’s beauty almost instantly,
but it wasn’t until they had dated for a few months before he even felt—or
made himself believe he felt—what he surmised he was beginning to experience
right now with a woman whom he really barely knew. This was so unlike him. He
was not one to believe in love at first site. He knew nothing about this woman,
save that they had some classes together in high school, and even that, he
barely remembered. He didn’t know her likes, her dislikes, hobbies, favorite
foods—whether she liked children.
But even without any of that he still felt stirrings inside
of him; they were an amalgamation of intrigue, attraction, connection and of
course testosterone, lots of testosterone. Maybe the wounds from a divorce on
the horizon and a loved one freshly put to grave was too much for his emotional
state, and he desperately wanted to cling to someone, anyone, for solace.
Although that might have played a tiny role for his attraction to this woman, he
somehow knew what was happening. For the first time in his life, John felt an
instant emotional connection to a woman, and he wasn’t sure how to grapple
with such a foreign sentiment, though he wanted it desperately. He wanted her
desperately.
Sandy was flooded by a tide of emotions. On the one hand, she
was proud of herself for forcing out her congenial nature when reticence would
have otherwise ruled. That probably was the affect of the rum and Coke, and
certainly these two men made opening up easier, but it was a good start, none
the less.
On the other hand, she wanted to scold herself for what had
become the trademark of her most serious mistakes—falling too easily for
someone she found attractive. She would forever pay the price both physically
and emotionally for those past follies, and she was somewhat reluctant to test
those waters again. The next romance, she’d determined, would be slow and
gentle in the making.
This was a exceptional circumstance, though.
She’d remembered John from his younger days, and he had always been pleasant
if not a little subdued. Now he was a college professor with two adorable,
little twins, and his demeanor matched none of the men who had sparked her
interest in the past. She was effervescent with a feeling that she absolutely
knew was not alcohol-induced. For once she felt as though she was getting better
emotionally. Though still in their infancy, with the feelings that were
beginning to form for John, she knew she must be getting better.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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