"You're being so quiet. What are you thinking right now?" Liv asked as she stroked my palm with her perfectly manicured nails. "Get out of your head for just a minute and talk to me," she whispered.
The way she softly spoke made my flesh beg for more, but her last phrase, so sweetly and tenderly spoken, hit me in the gut so hard I almost gagged on my own tongue.
Get out of your head.
Though my desire revolted against my actions, I returned Liv's hand to the table and slowly withdrew mine to my lap.
"I think I'm going to be condemned to Hell because of the thoughts I'm having right now."
"Whoa," she said nervously. Her expression changed to one of confusion. "That's not what I was expecting to hear."
"I'm sorry, Liv. I'm sorry. I … I can't do this."
"Did I do something wrong?"
I didn't know how to answer. I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want her to think my refusal was because I found her in any way objectionable, because I certainly didn't. I saw her expression change as her wheels turned. Her brain caught up before mine could.
"Oh. Oh, no. Oh my god," she stammered. "Gary … are … are you … are you still married?"
"Yeah, Liv." I nodded slowly. "I am."
It hurt to see her expression change so abruptly. She'd displayed serenity, desire, confidence, and comfort, then, in an instant, fear, anguish, and mortal embarrassment.
"Oh. Um … oh, shit. I'm such an idiot. Oh god—"
She quickly stood from the table, her chair clattering backward to the floor. She grabbed her backpack which had been underneath it and stumbled away. I noticed numerous sets of eyes watching me all of a sudden as I stood and righted her chair. I tried to follow her until she darted into the ladies' room.
I went back to the table and fumbled through my wallet. I tossed a twenty with a ten onto it and walked out of the brewhouse. I knew it was about a fifty-percent tip, but I didn't give a shit because I had no intention of standing there like a dumbass waiting for change while being tried and convicted by the dozen staring eyes of an ersatz jury.
I started walking toward the hotel when my legs froze. I was a hundred feet from the exit when I was compelled to return. I paced outside on the sidewalk for probably ten minutes before Liv came out the door. When she saw me, she turned and walked in the opposite direction.
"Liv, stop," I pleaded.
She accelerated her pace. Her distance increased to the point where I needed to sprint a dozen yards to intercept her. I grabbed the top strap of her backpack.
"Olivia, please
stop
!"
My actions and outburst caught the attention of several passers-by. I let go of her backpack and held my hands up to allay any provocation of those observers. She turned to face me, and I saw her reddened eyes. I could tell she'd been crying.
"Oh, my god, Liv, I'm so sorry. I really am."
"You?!
You're
sorry? Holy fuck, Gary, what do
you
have to be sorry for?
I'm
the fucking idiot."
She turned and started walking. I followed her.
"You're not an idiot. I'm sorry because … because I enjoyed what you were doing. All of it. I should have raised a flag, but I didn't because I didn't want to!"
My admission froze her in her tracks.
"What are you saying?" she asked.
"I'll tell you this right now, straight up, because you deserve to hear it. It has been a long time since I've drawn the attention of a woman,
any
woman, and I was deeply,
deeply
flattered. I enjoyed it, okay? That's why it's my problem, not
yours
."
"You did, huh?" she scoffed and started walking again. "Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag. I've always enjoyed working with you, Gary. I've always thought you are handsome, but you became even more attractive to me a few months ago when I noticed you were no longer wearing your wedding band."
Oh, my god. My
ring
! I'd taken it off my finger one day when I was repairing the lawn mower and got all greasy. It was very difficult to remove because I'd gained back some of the weight I'd lost before I was diagnosed with diabetes. I'd put it in Samantha's jewelry box and never got around to having it resized.
"When I realized your finger didn't even have the impression, I assumed you were available …
God
! I'm such a
moron
!"
"Would you
please
stop deriding yourself? Liv, this was my mistake, not yours. The error was
mine
. I screwed up by not telling you sooner. Honestly, I wasn't sure what was happening at first, but because of what I was about to do a few minutes ago, I realized I would be crossing a line I could never step back over, but believe me, I really, really came close.
"I also respect you. For so many reasons, I could never use you like that and still live with myself.
"You need to know I've got my own problems right now, and I'm not about to pull you into my shitstorm. It's not right. You're not at fault, Liv. You didn't do anything improper. You assumed I was available, an assumption which was completely valid, because you had no way of knowing otherwise.
"I admit your … advances and your actions and all that stuff you were doing made me feel very, very good about myself again. You have nothing to apologize for. I swear I didn't intend to mislead you, but I did, and I alone own that. I deeply,
deeply
regret embarrassing you. Please, Olivia, please,
please
forgive me."
She stood still for several long moments, looking at me intently.
"You're a bit of an asshole, you know?" she said with a solid stare.
"I've been told."
She stared at me long enough I was surprised when she reached for me and stroked my shoulder compassionately.
"No," she said, "you really aren't. Otherwise, I would never be able to call you my friend. Maybe you're a tiny mouse's asshole."
Her analogy made me laugh in spite of the awkwardness of the situation.
"Liv, are we okay? Please tell me we are."
"Yeah. We're okay. But when you started chasing me down the sidewalk, I really thought about kicking you in the nuts."
"I would have deserved it."
She chuckled and watched the traffic passing on the street for a minute.
"Gary, you deserve better. What's been going on with you? After what almost happened back there, am I entitled to an explanation about the storm I almost sailed into?"
"Yeah. I suppose you are."
"Alright. We barely touched our beers. Can I buy you one at the hotel bar so we can talk?"
"I'd like that, but I'll buy my own and you buy your own."
After we'd sat across from each other at a table, she asked me questions about what was going on in my marriage, and I answered them as best I could. We talked for a few hours over three or four beers. She showed genuine concern, and my answers helped her understand why I wasn't so quick to throw a flag on the field.
She'd been married twice before. She'd been through an awful lot of turmoil herself. Her first husband had died years earlier during a surgical procedure to attempt to correct a heart defect. Her second ex was physically and emotionally abusive. She divorced him after less than a year of marriage. That's when she transferred and moved across country and into my division at work.
After I called the waitress over to get our tabs, Liv asked me a question which made my slightly tipsy self almost laugh my ass off because it was so direct.
"What was the first pass I made that you noticed?"
"Why would you ask me that?"
"I'm only curious. It's okay. You can tell me. I won't judge. Hell, I
can't
judge, can I? I almost got you into trouble, so it seems like the message got through to you at some point, right?"
"Uh … it was at the airport. I saw rose petals."
"You saw what-whats?"
"The rose petals on your … um … delicates. I could see them."
She laughed. "Strawberries, Gary. Not roses, but close enough. You know how major-league hurlers lead with a certain pitch when facing an unknown batter for the first time?"
"Yeah. I don't know what would have happened if I'd taken a swat at yours."
"A swat at the pitch, or my ass?"
"The baseball, Liv!"
We both laughed.
We flew home the following morning.
The next few weeks were only mildly awkward until Liv and I settled back into our friendship the way it had been. The only thing we'd shared were emotions, a few gentle touches, and honest, candid discussion. Nothing else.
Returning to my house every day felt more awkward by a mile. It felt like I'd sunk back, knee-deep, into a tar pit. The respite during the business trip only amplified the feeling. The few months after that trip saw even more distance grow between my wife and me.
There where forty-seven entries made in my record. The times between each entry grew until I made one attempt on our 23rd anniversary. That one scored a five in the rejection column. It was the last time I'd even made an effort in over two months. Her constant and repeated rejections had emasculated me.
Our relationship was broken. My wife had transformed from being my love to being a housemate. We'd become ships in the night.
The final straw landed when I came home from work one evening. She was wearing the same pajamas in which she'd awakened which gave me the indication she'd stayed home all day.
My daughters were sitting at the kitchen table doing their homework. Samantha was sitting in the recliner watching TV. I approached her with my backpack still over my shoulder and leaned down to kiss her temple. She turned her face away from me and put a hand to my chest.
"Please don't. Just … don't."
I stood there, stunned. My own wife wouldn't even look at me.
I'd had enough. I was done.
I went to the kitchen table and kissed my daughters on their heads.
"How's the homework coming along, ladies?" I asked, trying to sound upbeat, even though I was about to fall apart.
"I'm almost done," Anna said.
"How 'bout you, Mandy?"
"Already finished mine, Daddy."
"Good job," I praised, then spoke to her elder sister.
"Anna, since it's Friday, you can finish yours later. I need you to do something. I need you to put your school things into your backpack, right now, and help Mandy do the same. Leave your packs here on the table, then pack a travel bag for both of you, okay?" I said very quietly.
"Why, Dad?" she asked, almost in a whisper, as I had.
"Sweetie, I need you to do what I ask, right now."
She looked visibly confused. I understood her trepidation. Her family was falling apart. Though she wasn't ignorant to it, it probably wasn't obvious to her. I nudged her shoulders, and she did what I'd requested. I quickly packed my duffel, then helped the girls finish packing their bags with a couple of changes of clothes.
