happened to change everything. I woke up and couldn’t stand to spend another day in a stale, passionless existence. I moved out and kept asking for a divorce, finally filed the papers a couple of months ago. I was going to give her the house and anything else she wanted, but she said she didn’t want to live in our house by herself. So I started looking for a place for her.”
“It must have been difficult for her.”
“I’m sorry about that, but it was the right thing for me to do. She’s still young enough to have a life with someone who truly loves her and I hope she does. But right now, I want a life for myself.” He took my hand in both of his, holding it, cradling it as if it were precious. “As soon as I saw you, I knew I’d done the right thing. I’d been marking time, just existing, not dating, not seeing anyone. But seeing you proved that I was still alive, that I could still want something. You see, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
I believed him and suddenly, the anger disappeared. Perhaps it was the sincerity in his voice, perhaps it was pure body chemistry, but I found myself leaning toward him, drawn toward him with a yearning I didn’t understand. All I was certain of was that I wanted to hear more.
Then something he’d said made me pause.
“What do you mean, you’d been marking time?”
He sighed. “Let me give you some background, Lisa. I know it’s asking a lot, but I really want you to know.” He sipped his coffee. “It’s cold.”
Strange, but I didn’t feel the same satisfaction I would have felt just a few moments ago.
He signaled the server for coffee and asked her to refill my tea. After our drinks were served, he began again, talking about growing up after his father died in an automobile accident when he was three, and how his mother struggled to raise him. She’d worked in an office, making just over minimum wage.
“She wanted me to get involved in boy things,” he said, keeping his eyes on his coffee, “cub scouts and sports, but they always required extra money. We never had enough—for anything. I went to work as soon as I could, then joined the navy. Unlike most people, I loved it and would’ve stayed in—except I met Betty. Typical story. I was on leave in San Diego and my buddy fixed me up with a blind date. I was young, had too many beers, and next thing I knew, Betty was pregnant. I told her I’d take care of her, so I married her. I honor my commitments, and we’d been married ever since—until a few months ago. End of story.”
“But wait, it’s not the end of the story. If you didn’t love her, why didn’t you divorce later?”
He shrugged. “I’d never had much of a family. My grandparents were all dead, and my aunts, uncles, and cousins were spread over the country. I love kids, and she was going to have mine.”
“So you have children?”
He shook his head. “She had an accident. Some guy hit her car. She miscarried and had to have an emergency hysterectomy.”
“Yet you stayed married?” I wasn’t sure why I was asking all those questions. After all, we would never see one another again. And yet...
“She was really broken up about the miscarriage,” he told me, “so I didn’t want to add to her pain. At that time, it didn’t matter. I went to work, came home, did what I thought I was supposed to do.”
“Were you happy?”
“Happy?” He shrugged. “I didn’t allow myself to think about it, not until recently. If I felt something was missing, I ignored it. Too many things I wanted to do. I worked, got my education, saved money so we could travel. So many places I wanted to see in thi s world. Just not enough time.”
“You keep saying things like that. Why? What did you mean when you said you didn’t have much time?”
“That, as they say, is another story. Right now I want to talk about you.”
Having been so totally immersed in what he was saying, I found it difficult to break
“It must have been difficult for her.”
“I’m sorry about that, but it was the right thing for me to do. She’s still young enough to have a life with someone who truly loves her and I hope she does. But right now, I want a life for myself.” He took my hand in both of his, holding it, cradling it as if it were precious. “As soon as I saw you, I knew I’d done the right thing. I’d been marking time, just existing, not dating, not seeing anyone. But seeing you proved that I was still alive, that I could still want something. You see, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
I believed him and suddenly, the anger disappeared. Perhaps it was the sincerity in his voice, perhaps it was pure body chemistry, but I found myself leaning toward him, drawn toward him with a yearning I didn’t understand. All I was certain of was that I wanted to hear more.
Then something he’d said made me pause.
“What do you mean, you’d been marking time?”
He sighed. “Let me give you some background, Lisa. I know it’s asking a lot, but I really want you to know.” He sipped his coffee. “It’s cold.”
Strange, but I didn’t feel the same satisfaction I would have felt just a few moments ago.
He signaled the server for coffee and asked her to refill my tea. After our drinks were served, he began again, talking about growing up after his father died in an automobile accident when he was three, and how his mother struggled to raise him. She’d worked in an office, making just over minimum wage.
“She wanted me to get involved in boy things,” he said, keeping his eyes on his coffee, “cub scouts and sports, but they always required extra money. We never had enough—for anything. I went to work as soon as I could, then joined the navy. Unlike most people, I loved it and would’ve stayed in—except I met Betty. Typical story. I was on leave in San Diego and my buddy fixed me up with a blind date. I was young, had too many beers, and next thing I knew, Betty was pregnant. I told her I’d take care of her, so I married her. I honor my commitments, and we’d been married ever since—until a few months ago. End of story.”
“But wait, it’s not the end of the story. If you didn’t love her, why didn’t you divorce later?”
He shrugged. “I’d never had much of a family. My grandparents were all dead, and my aunts, uncles, and cousins were spread over the country. I love kids, and she was going to have mine.”
“So you have children?”
He shook his head. “She had an accident. Some guy hit her car. She miscarried and had to have an emergency hysterectomy.”
“Yet you stayed married?” I wasn’t sure why I was asking all those questions. After all, we would never see one another again. And yet...
“She was really broken up about the miscarriage,” he told me, “so I didn’t want to add to her pain. At that time, it didn’t matter. I went to work, came home, did what I thought I was supposed to do.”
“Were you happy?”
“Happy?” He shrugged. “I didn’t allow myself to think about it, not until recently. If I felt something was missing, I ignored it. Too many things I wanted to do. I worked, got my education, saved money so we could travel. So many places I wanted to see in thi s world. Just not enough time.”
“You keep saying things like that. Why? What did you mean when you said you didn’t have much time?”
“That, as they say, is another story. Right now I want to talk about you.”
Having been so totally immersed in what he was saying, I found it difficult to break
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