The bar tender set the beer down in front of Ryan. He picked it up and stared pensively into the tall glass of gold liquid. He took a deep breath before his first sip, wondering what he was doing here. He spent a considerable amount of time in airport bars, usually passing time while waiting to board to a plane. However, this was the first time he had stopped in one
after
landing. The reason was simple: he wasn't ready to go home to his wife.
Beyond that, it became quite complicated. Why? Because for the most part, he still loved her. But for all intents and purposes, they had basically been reduced to being nothing more than roommates. They never had much to say to one another, not that speaking risked argument or heated discussion; they simply had nothing to talk about. Their sex life had dried up a couple of years ago when they reached a point where they didn't really satisfy each other anymore; they kept it up, pretending for a while and then gradually found excuses not to do it that neither contested. Dinner was much the same; whomever arrived home first started preparing it, but one or the other always wanted to watch something on TV that the other did not while eating, and so, the odd man out dined alone in the kitchen.
Ryan wondered how much longer they could or would continue to endure this absurd existence. He'd considered discussing it with her—and knew he should. But each time he endeavored to accomplish that, he either chickened out or something else conveniently prevented it. He often pondered whether his wife had similar thoughts or feelings.
So lost in thought was he that he ignored the voice speaking to him until the person tapped him on the shoulder. Ryan turned sharply and was taken aback by the beautiful woman standing there.
"I asked if this seat was taken?" she repeated.
Ryan glanced at the empty barstool beside him, and then quickly scanned up and down the bar noticing that all others were taken. "Uh, no. Please." He gestured toward the vacancy.
Reaching for his glass, Ryan took a healthy sip eyeing the woman as best he could with peripheral vision, but he really couldn't see her as well as he would like to; as well as he had in his initial glimpse when she was standing. He did not generally strike up conversations with people in airport lounges, particularly women, because many females seemed to think it a prelude to an attempted pick-up. However, when she ordered a beer with a German name he never heard of, without thinking, he asked about it.
"It's actually a fairly new local beer," she reported. "The name is deceptive. It's really a gimmick to make people think it's imported."
"Oh. I'll have to give it a try," Ryan said.
She leaned closer offering him a glimpse down the top of her moderately low-cut dress as though to speak confidentially, "It's not really that good. The micro-brewery is my client, so when in public . . ."
Ryan nodded his understanding and took another sip of his own beer. He expected there to be no more conversation.
"Where are you off to?" she asked.
"Home."
"And where is that?"
"Here." He lifted his glass. "Just needed a little fortification."
She nodded once. "I think I understand."
"You?"
She snickered. "Well, you might not believe this, but it's the same with me."
"Wow! The possibility of this has got to be against all odds." Ryan was not usually good with women, but there was something about this one. She had a nice easy-going style, she was quite engaging, and then there was her looks: simply ravishing. But he had to remind himself that people who struck up a conversation in an airport lounge were generally putting on a front. It wasn't who they really were. However, for now, the fantasy was nice for the brief amount of time it would last.
"So, things are not good at home?"
"No. You either, I take it."
"Seems somewhere along the way we drifted apart. Not sure why we stay together." Lindsey was in public relations, and as such, was a pretty good judge of people. There was something genuine about this man, something she could probably get to like. But this was just a chance encounter in an airport lounge and she was not likely to ever see him again.
The conversation had taken them through their first beer. Seeing her empty bottle, Ryan pointed to it, "Another?"
"Only if you let me get the next round."
With a nod, Ryan gestured to the bartender, pointing to their empty bottles. Two more beers quickly appeared before them.
"Any idea when the beginning of the end was for you and her?"
Amazed that she was continuing to make small talk, Ryan further realized that they would probably never see each other again, so what did it matter what they discussed? Plus, it was nice to chat with such an attractive woman. "Oh, for us it's been gradual, probably over the last couple or three years."
"Wow, another coincidence. About the same for us."
"Staggering odds." That was intended to be clever, not as flippant is it probably sounded. "I didn't mean that the way—"
She waved him off. "No worries. By the way, I'm Lindsey."
"Ryan."
They shook hands.
"So, what a do you do?" Ryan asked. "Advertising?"
"Public relations, actually. And believe me, with this client—" Lindsey held up her beer bottle "—l earn every penny."
Without thinking, Ryan reached out and took the bottle from her. He took a sip and instantly grimaced. "I see what you mean." He quickly summoned the bar tender, pointed to his glass and held up two fingers. She started to protest, but he interrupted her. "The bar is nearly empty. Your secret is safe."
Glancing around, Lindsey confirmed Ryan's observation and shrugged. She picked up the glass that was just placed in front of her and drank. "Ah, Stella Artois. Very good."
Ryan was impressed. "Wow! You really know your beer."
Lindsey bowed her head in acknowledgment and then grinned. "Actually, it's my usual beer of choice."
"The coincidences just keep piling up," Ryan noted.
"And if you tell me you also work in public relations . . ."
"Actually, I—" he paused for effect "—don't." Smirking over his drama, he said, "I work for a large health insurance company. Once a month, I travel to our various offices around the country to troubleshoot major claims."
"That sounds—"
"Boring as all hell," Ryan filled in for her.
Lindsey chuckled. "Thanks for saving me from lying."
He shrugged. "It pays well. Gets me out of the house periodically."
"Know what you mean. I've really been enjoying traveling the last several months."
"So, what is yours and your husband's story? What caused you to drift apart?"
Lindsey's smile instantly disappeared.
Ryan cursed himself for bringing it up. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."
Holding up her hand, she glanced around. She grabbed their drinks and carried them to an out-of-the-way table in the corner. Of course, Ryan followed. In those short few steps it occurred to him that he had never done anything like this in all his years of travel. He found it strangely exciting.
Once seated, Lindsey leaned closer and almost whispered. "I wouldn't normally tell this to a complete stranger, particularly a man because of the implication—"
"He's no good in bed," Ryan deduced.
A seemingly shocked expression formed on her face, but it was really disbelief that he had guessed correctly. "How did you know?"
"Sex is the root of most marital problems, but many other things get the blame."
"That's profound. That your story too?"
"It's a large part of it."
"Well, I don't want to brag, but for the record, it's not me."
Somewhat stunned, Ryan said, "I don't know how to respond to that."
"Is it you?"
"I'd like to think not."
The bar tender appeared with two more glasses of beer. "Last call," he advised. "We close in twenty."
"But we didn't order these," Ryan pointed out.
"Just trying to help move you two along."
"What do you suppose he meant by that?" Ryan posed after the bartender walked off.
"I'm guessing he thinks one of us is trying to seduce the other," Lindsey surmised.
"Well, for what it's worth, I wasn't," Ryan said defensively. "I've never done that."
"Nor was I."
Lapsing into silence, they finished the beers they were working on and started on the fresh ones.
After a couple of minutes, Ryan couldn't help but say, "I won't lie, though. I have fantasized about it."
"So, have I," Lindsey revealed. "Since I arrived?"
"Maybe," he answered coyly. "How does your fantasy go?"
"Well, that's rather personal," she said in mock seriousness.
However, he took it literally. "We've been discussing nothing but personal things since we've been here. Besides, we'll probably never see each other again, so does it really matter?"
She shrugged in deference. "Nothing fancy. I meet a man, not unlike how we met; we hit it off, not unlike we have; one thing leads to another, we end up in a hotel room and, of course, the sex is incredible."
