(c) 2005 by Penelope Street
Danielle read the e-mail again. She'd read it a hundred times, but it never seemed to lose its allure.
~~~
Danny,
I'm glad you have the family you always said you wanted.
I know we missed our chance to be together as a couple and I know we both have partners that deserve our respect and loyalty, but it seems ridiculous that we cannot still share something of our lives.
Although I would not want you to imagine the rest of you lacked appeal, it was always your mind I truly coveted. As the traditions of our society go, I do not believe there is any prohibition from us sharing that, at least to some extent; if, or course, you wish to do so.
You must know, however, that no matter how society expects me to feel, I can never think of you as a sister. Ok, maybe one from Arkansas. Seriously though, I need you to understand that part of me still loves you and always will. I'm just a human being and I don't feel embarrassed about admitting the level of affection I still harbor for you.
That said, I do not seek to woo you from your husband. Even if you and he separated, I could never pursue you in good faith without his blessing. Not that it will ever matter anyway, since I have no intention of leaving my fiancee. But that does not change how I feel about you. Though I don't intend to act on those feelings, I have no intention of denying they exist either.
I don't know where to go from here. I'm still surprised by the emotions just conversing with you has stirred within me; I didn't know they were still there. I guess we should just take it slow, get to know one another again, and find a level of interaction with which we are both comfortable.
I know you said in your previous message that you much preferred talking to writing. That's fine, you can call me anytime. My number's below my signature. Don't worry if Judy answers the phone. I've told her all about you. She's not threatened. She has no reason to be; I would never leave my one true love for anyone else. I do hope Ken feels just as comfortable with you and I re-establishing contact.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Yours Always, at least in part,
Craig
P.S.
In my opinion we had a relationship. A very special one. That it was never physical does not lessen what we shared in any way.
~~~
Danielle looked from the monitor to the clock. Four A.M. Her eyes moved from the clock to a bottle, and the two ounces of rum left in the bottom.
A hand began the slow journey to the bottle, but only made it far enough to enter the woman's field of view. Her open palm frozen in mid-reach, she shifted her eyes to the computer screen and the bottom of the message. A second later, her hand was in motion again, but not for the liquor.
Danielle knew the number anyway, but confirmed with care each digit on her computer monitor before pressing the corresponding button on her phone. Then she closed her eyes and held her breath. The line rang twice before a masculine voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Craig?"
"Danny?"
The woman nodded her head, as if anyone could see her. "Yeah. Did I wake you?"
"Yes," Craig replied. "You woke us."
"Oh. Is Judy mad?"
"She's giving me that one-eyed, 'who the hell is that' look."
"I'm sorry," Danielle offered. "But you did say I could call anytime."
Craig released an audible sigh. "Yeah. I suppose I did." He paused to scratch his head. "I just didn't expect you'd take me quite so literally. I do have to work tomorrow."
"I'm sorry. I was just feeling, well, like I wanted out."
"Out of what."
"Life."
Craig snapped upright in bed. "You're not serious?"
"About wanting out? Yeah. I'm serious. About doing it, no. I love my kids and I'd never be so selfish as to do that. But just now, I really want to."
"Give me a second," Craig suggested. "I'm gonna go to another room."
"I can call back."
"No. I'm already awake."
"I'm sorry," Danielle repeated. "I shouldn't have called."
"If you're feeling suicidal, then damn straight you should have called; me and everyone else you can think of, that's who you should call."
"Ok. Let me know when you get where you can talk."
Craig chuckled. "Already am."
"Does Judy hate me?"
"Maybe just this second, but she'll get over it. Especially after I tell her why you called?"
"You're going to tell her?"
"I tell her everything."
"I hope she doesn't think I'm trying to steal you."
"Are you?"
Danielle stiffened. "No."
Craig grunted. Or maybe it was a chuckle. "Why not?"
"Because it'd be wrong. That's why."
"Is that the only reason?"
Danielle considered the question for a handful of seconds before admitting, "I suppose if we were both available, yeah, I'd want to see you. You hear about that sort of thing all the time, people getting back together with old sweethearts."
Craig could not suppress a second guffaw. "I don't know that we were ever really sweethearts. I never even kissed you."
Danielle smiled. "Oh yes you did!"
Craig brought four fingernails to his beard stubble and scratched. "I did? When?"
"Valentine's Day. Our last date."
Craig jaw fell as he recalled the moment, and his spontaneous decision to at last kiss her. "You're right," he mumbled, as much to himself as anyone else.
"I think it was a goodbye kiss," Danielle suggested. "You were already dating Michelle."
"Goodbye kiss, huh? Yeah. I guess it was. Just a peck. Hardly a real kiss anyway."
"Yes it was!"
Craig swallowed. "Ok. Maybe it was."
"Why didn't you ever try for more?"
The man's mouth fell agape, but no words emerged. Two breaths passed his open lips before he at last spoke. "If I remember, I was the one that asked if you wanted to date exclusively, with the prospect of something permanent."
Danielle's mind floated back twenty years. She could still remember his words, and hers. "Yes," she admitted with a sigh. "I should have said 'Yes', but I was young. And stupid. I didn't know you were going to be the proverbial 'one that got away' in my life."
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
Craig grinned. "When did you figure it out?"
"When you walked away after you kissed me. When you said 'bye', there was something about the way you said it; I knew right then it was a real goodbye and not just for the night."
Craig inhaled a sharp breath. "Why didn't you say something?"
"I'd had my chance. I figured Michelle deserved hers."
"You mean all I had to do was..."
"... turn around. Ask me out again. Anything"
Craig's shoulders sagged. "You know, this isn't why you called. What's got you so down?"
"Oh," Danielle sighed. "No one thing. The whole drudgery of being a parent. It just gets so old."
"That's it?"
"Hey! You only had one and you don't even have to put up with him on a daily basis."
"I'd love to put up with him on a daily basis."
"You're right. I have to get past feeling sorry for myself. This tedium just isn't what I expected when I said I wanted a big family."
Craig nodded. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't want kids until after you were gone."
"It's no picnic. Maybe you were right after all."
Craig shook his head. "No. Even though Michelle was a mistake, Josh wasn't."
"So you miss him."
"Everyday. But at least Michelle and I split on good terms. And they just live on the other side of town, so I get to see him a lot more than most divorced dads."
"That's nice."
"Yeah, but you didn't call to talk about my son either."
"No, I guess not. Thanks. Maybe I just needed to vent."
"Are you still feeling suicidal?"
"No. I was never feeling suicidal, just a bit down."
"You said you wanted out of life?"
"Yeah, I want out of my life. But I don't want to die."
"Oh," Craig grunted with a nod. "I see."
"Are you mad I woke you now?"
"No! And promise you'll call me again if you're in trouble, no matter what the time?"
"I will."
"Right then," Craig responded, his head still moving in a slow bob. "I should get back to bed."
"Yeah, uh, me too."
"Ok, goodnight."
"No!" Danny cried. "Wait!"
Craig moved the phone back to his ear. "What?"
"When can I call you again if I'm
not
in trouble?"
Craig tongued his lips but once before suggesting, "Tomorrow night? Or I guess that would be tonight."
Danielle closed her eyes and clenched her empty hand into a fist. "What time?"
Craig shrugged. "Nine?"
"Your time or mine?"
"Yours."
"Make it eight," Danny suggested with a smile. "And thanks for letting me vent."
"My pleasure. Goodnight then?"
"I suppose so."
"Ok. Bye."
"Yeah. Bye," Danielle finished, almost as a whimper. She waited for the click, then leaned forward and hung up the phone. A second later, she collapsed in tears, arms folded atop the desk, her forehead resting on her arms.
Seven states away, Craig wandered to his computer instead of bed. Scrolling through the folder marked 'Danny' he found the e-mail with the subject of 'pics.'
A double-click later he was looking at her. Short. Dirty-blonde hair. Big nose. Bigger glasses. The trim frame of youth was gone, but she was hardly fat.