― Rumi
Proceed With Caution
I could have gone home at the end of classes―God knows I was exhausted from the breakup with Sylvia and the several hours walk last night. But I wanted to stay―to grade papers, I lied to myself―but the in-class writing assignment on Hamlet was short and I didn't have to grade them tonight.
I was drawn to Lorraine as iron to a magnet and my heart longed to see her again if only for a moment as she passed my office on her way home at the end of the day.
And then I realized I had no idea about her schedule or her patterns. I could be waiting for hours. And it was then I knew I was hooked, because I'd wait regardless.
It was past five when she stopped by my office. "Still here? You're not paid overtime."
"Well, that's me," I parried, "always diligent." But about what, I avoided saying.
She smiled at me mischievously, "Are you really dedicated or were you waiting for me?"
"Can't tell a lie. Was hoping we might grab a coffee. You interested?"
"That's a loaded question, but sure, I'm dying for a coffee right now."
We ended up in the local Tim Horton's.
"Can I get you anything to go with your coffee?" I asked.
"I love croissants with strawberry jam."
We sat at a window seat munching croissants and sipping coffee watching as rain started to come down outside.
"I love rain," she enthused, "wasn't the storm beautiful last night?"
"I'm afraid it matched my mood."
Her face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Matt―I forgot you and Sylvia broke up last night."
I pictured the patio with rain pooling in puddles, raindrops making irises, melting and forming again―much like Syl and I trapped in a cycle of pain.
I then realized I had started to cry―a tear rolled down my cheek and though I quickly wiped it away, I blushed with embarrassment.
"Guess I didn't realize I'd react this way," I sighed, "Sylvia and I were not exactly tender―it was more like a business relationship, but we were together off and on the past two years."
"I understand," she sympathized, "but you still cared for her―your tears are nothing to be ashamed of."
I nodded. "You're right, and I'm sure Sylvia isn't shedding any for me, but I still feel something for her―not pity exactky, but sadness that we wasted part of our lives."
She reached across the table and patted my hand. "Is it painful talking about this?"
"No, it actually helps, but I shouldn't be burdening you with this."
"I think we're past the point of politeness, Matt―I like you and you shouldn't be alone tonight. I'd invite you back to my place but I share an apartment with a girlfriend I've known since grade school, Ginny Green, and I should warn you, she likes to talk!"
I smiled. "How about you come back to my place? I rent a small townhouse but it has a fireplace and we could have pizza and wine."
"That sounds marvellous, she laughed, "let me give Ginny a call to let her know I won't be home for dinner and then I'll follow you out to your house."
As we drove through the mist and drizzle I thought about Syl, our struggles and pain.
It almost seemed incomprehensible that I'd have any feelings at all, but I did. I suppose even despite our troubled relationship we formed a bond regardless of how incompatible we may have been.
I didn't hate Syl but despised myself for taking advantage of our arrangement. But even as I waxed sentimental, wishing only the best for her, I knew if she had the chance she'd take revenge on me for my rejecting her offer of the penthouse.
Although it was over in my mind, I knew, It wasn't over by a long shot.