Hello again, gentle reader! This was something that just kind of sprouted up in between stalled projects, to try and get the words flowing again. This idea came from the saying about "ships that pass in the night," regarding incidental meetings that are never repeated. Well, sometimes, ships don't pass; sometimes they collide and those ships only manage to stay afloat if they help each other out.
As always, I welcome all feedback (good, bad, or indifferent) and apologize in advance for my poor editing skills. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!
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Trey sat sideways at the small table, the ankle of one leg propped on the knee of the other. He rested one hand on his coffee mug. Steam rose from the cup and wafted into the crisp Saturday morning spring air. He inhaled, savoring the cool feeling pouring into his lungs.
Well, at least if I get stood up, I can still enjoy the morning.
He glanced around the cafe patio. Half of the tables were filled with diners enjoying a cup of coffee with their morning paper, couples chatting over their croissants and danishes, or would-be writers tapping away on their laptops. Trey had always liked the Cafe Norton. It was less crowded than any of the nearby chain shops and brewed a better cup of coffee. It was also the kind of place that wouldn't mind if someone sat in the outdoor dining section for several hours nursing their cup. The elderly owner, an immigrant from Italy, preached the virtues of a slower, more leisurely lifestyle.
Proximity to the Royal doesn't hurt.
Trey thought there was very little regal about the Royal Hotel, which lay just around the corner from the cafe. But the rooms were clean and could be rented by the hour, which were the major selling points as far as he was concerned.
A quick stretch of his arms brought his watch in view. He couldn't resist glancing at the time, which showed five minutes after ten. A small smile donned his lips. Scarlet was officially late.
He wasn't really surprised. Tinder was a hook-up app, after all, and he'd been stood up and ghosted before--doubtless when the woman in question got cold feet. It was one of the reasons he often chose Cafe Norton as a meeting place. If his date didn't arrive, he could still enjoy a coffee and something to eat before he got on with his day.
His gaze roamed over the patio again, coming to rest on a couple sitting by the short iron fence that separated the patio from the sidewalk. They two held hands and stared into each other's eyes, smiling and talking in low voices. Gold sparkled on his left hand, gold and crystal on hers. All he could see in their expressions was love and devotion.
A pang shot through his chest and Trey turned aside. The sight of the couple brought Sarah to mind and he fought to keep a sneer from his lips.
Good luck buddy. She'll probably be fucking someone else before their second anniversary.
Trey quickly wrenched his thoughts away from his ex-wife and took a gulp from his coffee, almost draining it.
Neil approached with a carafe. The old waiter had been working there as long as Trey had been coming and seemed to sense, in that psychic way good waiters did, just about when Trey was going to ask for a refill. He gestured with the carafe and, seeing Trey's nod of approval, topped off his coffee. "Ready for that baklava?"
"Not yet. If my date hasn't arrived in the next five minutes, go ahead and bring it."
"Yes sir." Neil wandered off to another table.
Trey couldn't help it. His eyes wandered back to the love-struck couple--though with his second look, none of the venom of before boiled forth.
I wonder where she is.
Memories of the very night Sarah had left lanced through his thoughts: the sudden, stunning blow at her announcement that she was going, the realization that his wife of nine years had been conducting an affair for almost six months, the mix of determination and pity in her voice, and the final flip of her long blonde hair as she'd left him clutching the divorce papers and climbed in the car with her smirking paramour.
It hadn't mattered much to Trey that he hadn't suffered financially from the split. They had been renting, he and Sarah had made almost the same salary, and they'd had no debt. It didn't matter to him when their friends reported that Sarah had married her boyfriend almost immediately after her divorce from Trey was final--a marriage that had lasted nine months before she took off with yet another man. It hadn't even mattered that throwing himself into work as a salve for his pain had resulted in several promotions, leaving him in better financial shape than ever.
No, what had mattered was that Trey had never seen it coming.
I thought we were happy.
He imagined he had been a good husband--protective, supportive, and emotionally available. He always listened and tried to be considerate of her feelings. They talked and spent time together. They'd made love the night before she left and even discussed their upcoming vacation. Sarah had kissed him goodbye that morning with her usual passion and vigor.
His friends and family--and hers--had been mystified and all of them admitted they had not seen it coming either. Trey's brother told him that Sarah was simply the kind of functional sociopath that had been able to put on a facade of caring without any real concern about Trey's well-being or mental health. Trey thought that was probably true.
Doesn't make it hurt any less. I thought we were good. I thought ...
He sighed and shook his head. He still liked the company of a woman. He loved how their laughter tickled his ears, the flashes of mischief and delight he saw in their eyes, and the soft warmth of their bodies as they snuggled into their arms. Their joy, their spirit ... they were hard
not
to like.
But I can't do it again.
He feared it. He feared letting himself be so vulnerable that he'd get his heart ripped out again; thus, he had avoided any real commitment in the three years since Sarah had left. The advent of dating apps had been a godsend. Being tall, good-looking, personable, and in reasonably good shape meant that Trey never lacked for female company. He was able to enjoy the attention of a woman, for a while, and then get on with his life.
It was only in the cold clutch of dark night, when he was in bed and isolated with nothing but his thoughts and memories to torment him, that Trey longed for something more.
No. I can meet a lovely lady once in a while, spend some time, and go my own way. I'm better off this way.
Trey figured if he thought it often enough, he'd go on believing it.
Enough of that.
He reclined his head and closed his eyes a moment. The sun's warmth soaked his skin. He held there a moment and then with a sigh, reached for his phone to see if he'd missed a message from his tryst partner. Movement on the edge of his vision caught his attention. Trey swiveled his head.
She stood outside the patio railing, about twenty feet away. The first thing he noted was her tentative expression. The dark tone of her chestnut-brown hair, bound up in a bun, contrasted with her milky white skin. She clutched her purse in both hands in front of her. He almost laughed at her dated business attire of a slate-gray jacket and skirt, and white shirt.
Like, who the hell wears a business suit to a hookup?
Her eyes locked with his. Trey thought she probably recognized him from his profile picture. She'd had a profile picture without her face and had--in a move he found rather shy--avoided sending him one. Trey assumed she felt more secure and in control of the meeting that way, which he had no problem with. He held her gaze and nodded, expecting her to reciprocate.
