Flash Lit #2 Then and Again
I was in one of my work fugues at a coffee shop, unsuccessfully imitating a serious writer when someone called my name. I gasped.
“Gary? Good god, it IS you! What the…how did…why are you…” I probably could’ve continued, but I just stood clumsily and threw my arms around this ghost from my past.
The embrace felt way too familiar and comfortable, or at least I knew that I should think that. Too comfortable for my own good, more like it. Still, he smelled the same—clean and woodsy—and his shoulders were still strong and straight. I saw the grey strands playing hide-and-seek through his thick black hair, and of course it was perfect.
He spoke softly through my hair and said, “I wasn’t sure you’d be here. It seemed too easy, but I hoped…” Then he pulled me even tighter and added, “God, you smell good, Kate.”
We realized at the same time how long we’d been embracing and awkwardly took our seats. Sliding back onto the booth bench and closing my laptop, I looked up to find him leaning back in his chair, one arm slung around the back of it, and two eyes boring undeniable truth into mine.
“You can’t be that surprised, Katy. You knew I’d find you…eventually.” There it was, that smile. THE smile that had seduced me the first time our eyes first met at a fraternity party so many years ago. Those eyes and that smile spoke of smoky and dangerous things then, and my body was reacting to them now forty years later the same way.
It was just so easy to give him ‘eyes’ back and say, “For a long time I hoped you would. And then life kinda happened, you know?” The slight clickety-clack of my neighbor’s typing suddenly sounded like dishes falling from a server’s tray. He leaned forward.
“Look, Kate. I know it’s been a helluva long time. More than twenty years, right? I remember seeing you and your husband at the college reunion. That’s when I knew we weren’t finished.”
“C’mon, Gary. You were happily married and so was I. Don’t….”
“I was married, Kate, but hadn’t been happy for years. And when you looked at me the way you did, I just knew. Not that you weren’t happy, but that something wasn’t over with us.”
I felt anger. Shame? Understanding? “Michael died four years ago.” I looked down at my hands resting primly on my laptop.
Then Gary’s hands were squeezing. “I know and I’m truly sorry. Carol told me last week when I called her to get help finding you. And…Hell, Katy. I’ve been divorced for almost fifteen years, wondering if you ever thought of me. If you ever still…”
It was different this time when I looked into his eyes. They were shimmering with tears and his face was blotchy with emotion. No seduction now. Just love.
I squeezed his hands then and let my tears fall, daring to love him back. Again.