I'm not proud. It was never meant to play out like this. When I moved to town six months ago, fresh out of a breakup and looking for any job that allowed me the chance for a fresh start, I'd told myself that I needed to take some time for myself. I'd focus on making me happy, steering clear of the dating pool until I had my head on right and was ready to dip my toe in the water. Mary had other ideas.
I started to notice her in that way in the early spring. At my new job I'd made an even newer friend, and knowing I could probably use an excuse to get out of the house, he'd kindly invited me out to the pub with some of his pals. I'd hit off with his friends quickly. They were all professional type, maybe a bit too buttoned up, so I quickly became the life of the party. Quite honestly, the bar was pretty low. All the same, I was glad for the company.
There were seven of us in total. There was my co-worker, Chris, and his wife, Mary... Yes, that Mary. As I said, I'm not proud of any of this. There were also two other couples: Kevin and Rachel as well as Mitch and Alice. On Saturdays, we'd meet up at the bar, usually for a couple of drinks, though sometimes more than a few. We'd get loose. Very loose.
It was one of those very loose nights that I'd ended up at the end of the table with Mary. Chris was chatting with Mitch, no doubt about his golf game, and Mary had slid into the booth next to me, announcing herself with a hint of perfume that was silky and light. I don't know much about flowers, but if I had to guess, she smelled like lilies. I turned to see her looking at me over the top of her cocktail as she took a sip, her lips leaving the faint imprint of a red lipstick as she set the glass back on the table.
"You were looking lonely," she said. "Thought you could use some company."
I raised my glass by way of an answer and she gently tapped hers against mine with a satisfying clink.
"To new beginnings," she said.
Later that night, when I was lying in bed alone, I thought about what she'd said. I thought about it a lot -- what she could've meant by "new beginnings." New jobs, new cities, new friendships? I didn't think so. Over the coming weeks, I'd noticed a change in her. She was always beautiful and composed, but under the layer of sophistication, she started to wear clothes that encouraged a little more imagination. She was petit, but she'd wear a dress that accentuated her subtle curves in ways that became difficult to ignore.
But the biggest change was in how she acted around me -- the looks that lingered after I'd finished speaking and the conversation had moved on. The way she never missed an opportunity to touch my arm as she laughed a little harder than everyone else at my joke. I tried to ignore her, thinking that best was to put out a flame was to cut off all oxygen, to suffocate it. But some days the knowledge that she wanted me was too much, and I allowed myself to enjoy holding it over her. Watching her make increasingly bold attempts to win a moment of my attention. One night she wore a skirt so short I felt sure she'd bought it just for me. I pictured her in the changing room, admiring how the sheer black fabric would move up her thigh to show her panties as she got on her knees for me.
It went on like this for a year, and I believed that we'd found a sort of equilibrium. A balance that may not have been fair to Chris, but allowed for us to enjoy the strong attachment to each other while still being able to look ourselves in the mirror each morning. Then, one day at work, Chris let me know he'd be going on leadership retreat that would find him doing team building exercises in a remote cabin for five days. He rolled his eyes, and I laughed, experiencing a strange mixture of dread and anticipation -- on one hand, wondering what Mary would wear for me without her husband's presence. On the other, knowing we could do nothing to disturb the delicate balance we'd struck.
To both my disappointment and relief, that night Mary arrived later than usual in what I imagined was her work attire. She was as beautiful as ever, but to me her tailored pants and blue buttoned-down top signalled that she, too, was aware they had to tread carefully tonight. Then the first round of drinks came. Then another. And another. Before I knew it, we were all red faced and laughing. It was as though with Chris gone, the group had found a new and improved dynamic, with three natural couplings that all worked seamlessly. Nobody wanted to leave, so we didn't, and it got late. For the first time, we closed the bar.
We were all grabbing our coats, shuffling toward the door with smiles on our faces. Mitch and Alice said their goodbyes, then Kevin and Rachel. It somehow didn't occur to me that Mary and I were alone until I turned to find her leaning against the window of the bar, eyes intently on me. "Walk me home?" she said quietly, no more than a lazy whisper
I hesitated. Then I nodded. We walked down the street in silence, a noticeable space between us, but as we moved off the busy brightness of the main road, I felt her drifting closer to me. She playfully bumped into me with her shoulder.
"You're awfully quiet."
"Am I? I think I just had too much," I said.
She reached out and pulled my sleeve to slow me down. I hadn't realized I'd been walking faster and faster, wanting nothing more than to go home alone and rub one out. Pathetic? Maybe. But not as rotten as the alternative. Her hand lingered on me, looking me deep in the eyes before letting her hand drop. We walked on at a slow pace.
"You seem okay to me. You had what, five beers?"
"Didn't realize you were counting," I said
She smiled at this. "Just keeping an eye on you."
I nodded. We had to be getting close to her place now.
"Why are you still single?" she asked.
It was a simple enough question but it felt heavy with meaning. I had a sense that she wouldn't let me off with a canned response, but I opted for one anyway. "Just haven't found the right one, I suppose."
She nodded slowly at this. "You could have any woman you wanted. Every week, I wait for the day you bring some nice girl along to our little hang outs, but it never comes."
"Alright, well -- you want my sob story?" I said, smiling and stopped in the road to face her. Was I imagining that she'd undone another button on her blouse? "I moved here after a bad breakup. I'm not ready to date yet."
She paused, weighing her words carefully. "What happened between you two?"
