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“I thoroughly enjoyed your company tonight?” John mocked
himself out loud. “What the hell was that? She must think you're the biggest
idiot in Pennsylvania.” He looked into the rearview mirror and reciprocated a
hard, angry stare. He had more than enjoyed himself. He had been doubly rewarded
by not only having spent an evening out with the best friend whom he hadn’t
been in contact with for over a year and whose joviality had made him laugh so
hard that his stomach now hurt, but also by being in the company of an
attractive, thoughtful and thought-provoking woman who had taken an obvious
liking to him. Just thinking about her made his face flush.
He had sensed what the awkward silence before their parting
had stemmed from: she was waiting for him to ask her for a phone number or
possibly to meet for lunch sometime, maybe even a dinner date. For Christ sakes
man, she wanted you to ask her out! With a stinging thud John pounded the
steering wheel for his indecision.
“Okay, list: why not ask her out?” he continued out loud
with more than a hint of sarcasm. He thought for a moment. “I’m in the
middle of a divorce, I live out of town, I have two children to take care of,
I-uh-scratch my head allot, I hate country music, I like ABBA , for crying out
loud, I drink Scotch in the middle of the night and I leave the cap off of the
toothpaste.” He rubbed his chin. “Okay, that’s only three of any real
consequence for not asking. Now how many for asking? Can’t stop thinking about
her, doting disposition, can’t stop thinking about her, girlish smile,
stunning legs, can’t stop thinking about her, soft lips (his face reddened
once more), warm laugh, nice fingernails, well-groomed hair, the way she
breathed, the way she walked, she never scratched her head, and probably always
put the cap back on the toothpaste.” He smiled and could hardly refrain from a
quiet laugh.
Actually, he really found no good reason not to ask her out.
All concessions in the divorce had been signed and filed, save the dispute over
custody which he was sure they could work out, and once the paperwork came back,
they had but to wait the mandatory three months for the signed decree. Yes, he
still felt pangs of guilt, but all he had to do was remember back to the day
that brought all this about in the first place. That made asking someone out on
a date seem like child’s play.
John pulled into the parking lot of the community college on
the outskirts of town. Although it looked barren and solitary covered in the
autumn eve’s dark blanket, it was here, among academia, that he felt most
comfortable with decision making. Here, surrounded by great kings and human
abominations, grand civilizations and extinct beasts, world government and
feudalistic societies, algebraic formulas and geometric equations all bound
between the covers of text books, John would resolve to either finish the trek
home and try to put Sandy Ayotte out of his head or turn around and confront her
before she had a chance to go to bed and his confidence had a chance to wane.
He pulled curbside next to the main wing of classrooms with
the car’s headlights shining over the vacant lot and the grove of tall trees
that surrounded it. “Would the twins object?” he asked himself. He had them
to think about, also. What would they think, how would they feel if he went out
with another woman besides their mother? Would they hate him? Would they
understand?
The Nissan’s lights shown across the deserted pavement.
Trees bent in bowing ranks at the far end as the night breeze stirred them, and
dried leaves jumped to life and scurried through the car’s bright beams at the
winds beckon call.
He thought vigorously of all the different scenarios, but
after a long moment of deliberation he knew. “Of course they would
understand.” They already knew about their mother’s new boyfriend. He took
great comfort in knowing that they had already told their mother that they
didn’t approve of him because he didn’t do the things with them that Daddy
did. Abbey and Johnny were a special part of him and he, them. He never
underestimated their ability to reason, and even at the tender age of seven they
showed a remarkable knack for rationale well beyond their years, although
expressed from a seven year old’s point of view. They had seen and sensed the
growing chasm widening between him and Barbara. Even commented upon it. They,
before even John, had succumbed to the reality of the separation of their mother
and father, though they were heartbroken about it. They didn’t understand, but
they accepted.
This was a turning point for John. A new beginning after a
slow and painful withering. Enfin, it was time to get on with his life and stop
feeling sorry for himself. No more excuses. Life after divorce goes on with or
without you, and he finally wanted to get on with his. The twins would
understand that, if not now then eventually.
He struck the steering wheel determinedly. “I’ll do
it.”
His car came to life once more and exited the parking lot,
turning back in the direction of Sandy's apartment.
The late day sky had become overcast with thick, leaden
clouds, so the evening had not cooled much from the sixty-five degree high. But
a stark wind was now coming out of the southwest, bringing with it larger, more
ominous clouds. The somber sky grew even more grim. Stroboscopic lights began
pulsing in the far heavens with low, distant grumblings following behind. A
rare, autumn thunderstorm was brewing overhead.
Sandy put up the collar of her leather coat to help buffet
the sturdy gusts as she crossed the second of five blocks before coming to State
Street Bridge. Her thoughts were on John. Although almost nothing could have
pulled her from her subconscious love making an outside noise intruded on her
thoughts--quick, shuffling steps then silence.
She turned and looked up the onyx-painted avenue as she
stepped up onto the far curb. Only the bare walkway and tortuous sycamore
branches that seemed to claw out in the wind were discernible under the yellow
tint of the sodium-vapor street lamps. All else seemed to disappear into a sable
abyss. She stared intently for a moment, but nothing out of the ordinary caught
her eye.
Dispelling the sound, she continued her mental fantasy.
The billowy, black-gray sky flickered brightly for a moment,
then the bass-bellow of thunder followed closer behind and slightly louder. The
storm would be beating down in a short while. Sandy hoped that she could outrun
it back to the apartment where Sylvester was most likely waiting by the door,
wondering where she was or cowering under a pillow to keep his brain from
liquefying and oozing out its ears from the jackhammer-beat below .
With the abrasive winds now coaxing her, Sandy quickened her
step. She began to think that maybe her idea of deceiving John wasn’t so great
after all. She most certainly would be caught in the storm.
Halfway up the next block as she hurried under the lights of
another street lamp tiny, silver-yellow streams like dangling gold thread broke
from the blackness beyond and pierced the cone of light as they fell earthward.
Larger, more numerous legions of rain drops would soon be falling in their wake.
Then something happened that made her instantly forget about
the approaching torrent. She stepped off of the curb of a crossing alleyway just
beyond the street lamp, and something from the within the oceans of black that
washed up the lane grabbed her by her hair and pulled her into its darkness.
John hurried down the tree-lined avenue, hoping he could
catch Sandy before she retired for the evening. His new confidence had not yet
abated, but he didn’t trust its endurance.
In his deepness
of thought, John hadn’t noticed that an ominous cloud ceiling had descended
over the town. Its tranquil black had turned broodingly darker. Lightning dances
began overtaking the sky, making the ground shadows scatter for more absolute
darkness then reclaiming their territory the instant the light show was over.
The night spoke clearly in deep, bass tones of the trouble that was coming. The
sky’s first sign of life splattered against the windshield, but it wasn’t
yet hard enough to warrant turning on his wipers.
He began slowing down, trying to remember which large house
on which ivy-coated hillside was her apartment. It was coming up soon, maybe
three or four blocks from the bridge.
He strained to see through the windshield out at the lonely
night. Though it was not even eleven-o-clock yet on a Saturday night, his car
was the only one on the streets of the south side of town. He had even noticed
before dropping Sandy off that except for the taverns and ever-busy convenience
store, that part of town seemed deserted--as vacuous as the parking lot he had
just departed.
After finally recognizing her house and pulling over to the
place where he’d dropped her off, John thought he saw someone walking up the
street. They had just crossed under a street light a few blocks up, but he only
caught a brief glimpse. When he turned his full attention to the person walking,
he saw nothing. They evidently must have turned up the crossing alley. In an odd
way he felt relieved that he wasn’t the only person out in the increasingly
dreary night. He hated being alone.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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