What am I doing here? I ask myself the day after my night out with Tana Peel, the new hire.
It's not like I'm thirty again and thinking of a future —hell, I'm twenty years older and soon will be preparing for retirement.
Is this this fling, this damnably dumb thing, fair to her?
I can't believe I got myself into this position and the frustrating truth is each time I look at her, I can't seem to let her go —nor do I want to even consider it.
After wrestling with it endlessly without result, I resolve it's best to let it flame out, which it will inevitably do. I can't see it lasting for more than a few dates before she's on to someone else....probably.
But the 'inevitable' doean't happen. The next few weeks are a blur—a pleasant chaos of lunches spent with Tana visiting umpteen antique shops and sitting by the lake watching freighters go by.
Of course, we’ve talked and I know some of her secrets—her failed relationship with a guy who didn’t treat her as special or make her his treasure—but then, a shocking disclosure…
“I knew you before we formally met,” she says off-handedly one day by the lake.
“You did?”
“Hm, Hm,” she hums between bites of a corned beef deli sandwich.
“I would have remembered you,” I protest.
“In a lecture hall full of Ryerson students?”
I’m picturing my visit on a Careers Day four years ago talking about marketing to a graduating class.
Suddenly, one memory comes flooding back—a young, brown-haired girl with bewitching eyes who cornered me and asked, ‘Are you happy?’
The question unnerved me then, and occasionally returns to haunt me still.
Impulsively, I grab her hand and stare into those golden eyes. “And yes, I am happy,” I whisper.
“It took you long enough to realize,” she laughs softly.
She ties a hemp braid around my wrist.
“What’s this?”
“A friendship bracelet—I bought it yesterday when we were antiquing.”
“It’s different,” I chuckle.
“You can take it off before we get back to the office. It’s really just a gesture.”
I nod, but don’t take it off. It becomes a permanent part of my wardrobe and replaces my watch.
On a few occasions on our lunch hour jaunts we run into people from work. Tess Prynne, our products manager, stops and chats occasionally.
“She likes you,” Tana laughs.
“Who—Tess? I don’t think so.”
“You don’t see much do you?”
I bristle slightly. “I think I’m pretty observant.”
“You think so, huh? Did you notice each time she stops us to chat she gives me hell eyes?”
My stomach sinks. “Uh, yeah—I did notice that. Don’t know why I didn’t register before.”
Her eyes are twinkling. “Maybe you didn’t want it to register—or maybe, you were just having too much fun to care.”
“Probably the latter,” I admit.
She pushes me into a side alleyway and kisses me hard on the lips. “I love you, Lev,” she whispers.
“You don’t love me,” I protest.
Her eyes are shining. “Don’t you love me?”
Damn it! I hiss under my breath.
She stares up at me with those golden eyes, now blurry with tears.
“Okay, busted,” I growl, “but I don’t know where it’s going to get us.”
“How about the rooftop terrace. It’s Mayday—our first anniversary.”
“It’s been a month?” I say incredulously.
“It has,” she smiles. “Our friendship bracelet is getting frayed—I’ll have to get you another.”
“No, this one doesn’t come off my wrist.”
“Maybe I should have gotten you gold,” she smiles coquettishly.
“No—that would scare me.”
“You afraid of commitment?”
“It’s not that—it’s just me…with so many days fled, and you with so much time ahead—it’s so improbable.”
Her eyes soften. “Let’s not scare each other with time, Lev. I love you now and that’s all that matters.”
I nod. I give in…sometimes too easily, but she’s everything I ever wanted.
Needless to say, I don’t make it home by eight. Samantha, my cat, has to be content with kibble.
I'm seduced by a Siren and unlike Aeneas in the myth, I have no crew to lash me to a ship's mast or give me a reason to resist...
Even if I wanted to, which I don't , but like any good captain will continue on, even if it means going down in a storm.
We’re into our second anniversary now. It’s mid-June and we have a month off to spend wherever we choose.
We settle on Anna Maria Island on Florida’s Gulf coast. I’ve rented a cottage just down a short lane from the beach. The sunsets are spectacular, I assure her, made better with wine.
I look forward to the days ahead—this endless summer of our lives.
And yes, we are improbable, but I don’t doubt the feelings we share.
I try hard not to think about where this is going or how it may ultimately end.
We scare each other with time; console ourselves with wine, and lose ourselves in our tiny world.
But what else can we do, but cling to each other and toast each sunset and hope somehow Time will forget us...
Not that Time cares for mortal failings, or concerns itself with the impossibiltties of improbable pairings.
