times over her yearlong engagement and very occasionally in the years to follow, on the heels of a fight with Pete or some small disappointment, like a forgotten anniversary.
There was another time a few years after she’d gotten married, on a train from Chicago to Indianapolis for her tenth college reunion. She’d been seated next to a tall, slim, serious man with piercing eyes, who was part Cherokee, which she had found inexplicably sexy. They had plunged into a deep and serious discussion in that anonymous way that strangers can adopt, secure in the knowledge that they would never see each other again. It was the first time since she had been married that she’d had the impulse to cover her left hand, obscuring her ring finger so that she could be just Maura and not somebody’s wife.
She learned her seatmate was an underwater explosives expert for the navy, and he spoke briefly about depth charges and diving in a factual, not boastful, way that was authoritative and appealing. In this second memorable encounter with an attractive stranger, it had been less about what they said and more about something crackling in the air between them. Traveling solo to her college reunion to inhabit briefly that long-ago carefree attitude, she felt his sloe-eyed gaze as it ignited her feeling of abandon.
There was a moment when the train slowed, approaching the station, and the ride together seemed to demand some kind of mutual ending. When the train lurched to a sudden halt, she fell toward him and made a joke as she moved awkwardly toward a half embrace, a sort of air kiss, while he simultaneously extended his hand, and they had both laughed. She understood then that so many of life’s outcomes swung on a hinge; in that instant one made a choice. This was the moment she could press forward, get his number, or offer to grab a drink.
As he helped her with her luggage in the top compartment, she’d impulsively toyed with the thought of asking for his name and address, her heart like a wild creature in her chest. And then, as he turned to help retrieve an older woman’s bags behind them, she lost her nerve and let the moment pass.
These encounters with strangers had been a sobering lesson about the human capacity to love and the laws of attraction. There was not just one right person out there in the world for you, there were many people, many directions, many couplings that you could make in life and be just as happy or possibly even more so than the random one you had chosen. This thought was at first disorienting and disquieting to her. And when she had returned from her reunion, she’d made love to Pete with a concentrated fierceness, as if to assure herself that she had made the right choice.
As she rose to her feet and brushed off the sand from her clothing, Maura thought about how she had used that knowledge, the choices she had made since then and the unintended consequences of that path. She would barter almost anything she had to scroll back in time with the clarity and understanding she now possessed.
Returning from her trip to the beach, Maura pulled the car halfway up the driveway, and as she walked to the front porch, she observed the bushes and perennials that needed pruning and shaping. She’d inherited her love of growing things from her mother, and usually she enjoyed tidying the yard at the change of seasons. Now Maura tried to summon the enthusiasm required for such a task. They’d need to get pumpkins soon too and put out Halloween decorations.
Maura reached into the mailbox on the front porch and fished out the clump of envelopes, bills, and circulars. Flattened in front of the pile was a blue cardboard coffee cup, with the image of a Greek statue and the words WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE YOU printed on opposing sides in the familiar diner font. Maura studied it with a puzzled expression for just a moment and then her face sagged. The word e-mail was scrawled on the side in pencil, so faint that it would be
There was another time a few years after she’d gotten married, on a train from Chicago to Indianapolis for her tenth college reunion. She’d been seated next to a tall, slim, serious man with piercing eyes, who was part Cherokee, which she had found inexplicably sexy. They had plunged into a deep and serious discussion in that anonymous way that strangers can adopt, secure in the knowledge that they would never see each other again. It was the first time since she had been married that she’d had the impulse to cover her left hand, obscuring her ring finger so that she could be just Maura and not somebody’s wife.
She learned her seatmate was an underwater explosives expert for the navy, and he spoke briefly about depth charges and diving in a factual, not boastful, way that was authoritative and appealing. In this second memorable encounter with an attractive stranger, it had been less about what they said and more about something crackling in the air between them. Traveling solo to her college reunion to inhabit briefly that long-ago carefree attitude, she felt his sloe-eyed gaze as it ignited her feeling of abandon.
There was a moment when the train slowed, approaching the station, and the ride together seemed to demand some kind of mutual ending. When the train lurched to a sudden halt, she fell toward him and made a joke as she moved awkwardly toward a half embrace, a sort of air kiss, while he simultaneously extended his hand, and they had both laughed. She understood then that so many of life’s outcomes swung on a hinge; in that instant one made a choice. This was the moment she could press forward, get his number, or offer to grab a drink.
As he helped her with her luggage in the top compartment, she’d impulsively toyed with the thought of asking for his name and address, her heart like a wild creature in her chest. And then, as he turned to help retrieve an older woman’s bags behind them, she lost her nerve and let the moment pass.
These encounters with strangers had been a sobering lesson about the human capacity to love and the laws of attraction. There was not just one right person out there in the world for you, there were many people, many directions, many couplings that you could make in life and be just as happy or possibly even more so than the random one you had chosen. This thought was at first disorienting and disquieting to her. And when she had returned from her reunion, she’d made love to Pete with a concentrated fierceness, as if to assure herself that she had made the right choice.
As she rose to her feet and brushed off the sand from her clothing, Maura thought about how she had used that knowledge, the choices she had made since then and the unintended consequences of that path. She would barter almost anything she had to scroll back in time with the clarity and understanding she now possessed.
Returning from her trip to the beach, Maura pulled the car halfway up the driveway, and as she walked to the front porch, she observed the bushes and perennials that needed pruning and shaping. She’d inherited her love of growing things from her mother, and usually she enjoyed tidying the yard at the change of seasons. Now Maura tried to summon the enthusiasm required for such a task. They’d need to get pumpkins soon too and put out Halloween decorations.
Maura reached into the mailbox on the front porch and fished out the clump of envelopes, bills, and circulars. Flattened in front of the pile was a blue cardboard coffee cup, with the image of a Greek statue and the words WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE YOU printed on opposing sides in the familiar diner font. Maura studied it with a puzzled expression for just a moment and then her face sagged. The word e-mail was scrawled on the side in pencil, so faint that it would be
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