“Am I co-dependent or just lonely? I don’t know—sometimes I think it’s a little of both. Oh wait, there’s that song by Dan Seals—let me turn it up.”
The car radio sounded tinny, but that didn’t matter—Marnie was already on some windswept beach feeling a warm breeze blowing the stars around.
Hello, yeah, it's been a while.
Not much, how 'bout you?
I'm not sure why I called;
I guess I really just wanted to talk to you.
And I was thinking maybe later on,
we could get together for a while.
It's been such a long time,
and I really do miss your smile.
Nan rolled her eyes. “Oh boy, you’re hopeless.”
“What’s wrong with being a romantic?”
Nan could think of several comebacks, but only one was necessary—Dan Bleeker. Marnie met him at Sweetwater’s two weeks back.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Marnie pouted.
“Do you now? Well, if you did, you’d run away as far and as fast as your legs could take you. The guy’s a controller and you know it.”
Marnie wanted to stop the car and kick her out. Dan was many things, but he was not a controller. He was one of the greatest guys she ever dated…sort of.
Okay, he did press in a little too hard—a dozen Facebook messages daily, constant emails and always checking with her before going out and getting in.
Still, it was endearing, in a kind of suffocating way.
“Dan’s a bit needy, but that’s only because he was in and out of foster homes till he was sixteen. Why not cut him some slack?”
“I would, if I weren’t worried more about you.”
Nan had a point. In a way, Dan’s behaviour reminded her too much her own and several failed relationships in her past.
“Look Nan, instead of running away, I’m trying to work through this—I see potential in this relationship.”
“Yeah, potential for being stalked,” Nan huffed.
“Let’s just agree to disagree on this one—okay?”
She stopped the car outside Nan’s townhouse and leaned over and gave her a peck on her cheek.
“I know you’re just looking out for me and I appreciate it.”
“What are friends for?” Nan grimaced as she grabbed her stuff from the backseat and got out. “Call me tomorrow.”
Tomorrow was Thursday—Ladies Night at Sweetwater’s.
She and Nan were regulars. They went to take advantage of the free drinks, but had to put up with far too many annoying advances from married guys and businessmen out on the town for a night.
Thinking of business—she would definitely have to put a stop to Dan’s habit of spending hours in and around her office. Her boss didn’t like it and was fast losing his patience.
As she pulled around the corner of her street, she spotted Dan sitting in the windy park on a bench in the darkness…waiting.
Her stomach turned.
Nan was right. This was crazy, over the top.
I can’t let him see me, she muttered to herself.
She pulled into a small parking lot next to the Presbyterian Church and parked in the shadows near the back.
She got out, softly closing the car door and snuck out to the street. Dan was still there staring up at her darkened windows.
A thought struck her—she could go into her building through the delivery dock in the rear and get to her apartment by taking the service elevator.
And so she did.
Once inside her apartment, she moved around in the darkness until she was able to peek out her front window towards the street and the small park outside.
Sure enough, Dan was waiting. He’d probably wait all night.
With a sigh, she slid away from the window and went to bed, undressing in the darkness. Tomorrow she’d break it off with Dan and tomorrow evening she’d be back at her usual Thursday routine—sipping drinks with Nan and living out her quiet desperation.
She awoke to bright sunlight pouring through the window and Smokey, her gray longhaired cat pawing at her face.
‘I’m up, I’m up,” she announced to Smokey, herself and no one in particular.
“Guess you’re hungry, huh?” Smokey chirped like a cricket. “Yup, that’s the prob.”
She slid out of bed, dragging the comforter with her and padded her way into the kitchen. The cat bowls were empty so she filled them up, poured some milk over some Frosted Flakes and sat down with a coffee and her cereal.
She glanced across toward the door wondering if the morning paper was outside in the hall. Then, she noticed it—a small envelope slid under the door and resting between the hardwood and her red Persian rug.
She got up, tore open the envelope and read:
Dear Marnie,
I waited for hours last night to see you. I must have missed you. I wanted to tell you in person, but now I’ll have to say it in writing. I’m not the guy you think—I’m a writer—a quite successful one, actually. Have you heard of the Bleeker Mysteries? That’s me. I wasn’t an orphan or unemployed. I was just looking for something and thought I found it—until today. My wife phoned and wants me back. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to use you; I just was lonely and looking for love. We met on a Thursday and now ironically, we part on a Thursday. I should have known—the fourth day of the working week. Fours have always been unlucky for me. Go to Sweetwater’s tonight with Nan. Meet someone nice and forget about me. I’m sorry if I wrecked your life, but you’re better off without me.
Dan
She crumpled the letter and stared out through the window at the empty park bench.
A line from a song ran through her mind:
I'm not talking 'bout moving in,
And I don't want to change your life.
But there's a warm wind blowing the stars around,
and I'd really love to see you tonight.
A pang of guilt and a searing sense of loss coursed through her body.
He wanted to see me… she whispered, as a huge tear rolled down her cheek.
