The barista slides my iced coffee across the counter and I nod thank you before stepping back and taking a sip. Three straight weeks of teaching summer school to teenagers doesn't have many rewards, so I've created my own. I sigh in relief and Carolyn chuckles before her own name is called for an iced tea. "Was it really that bad of a day?"
"I wouldn't say bad," I tell her, "they kind of bounce off the walls on the last day, especially since they all know they're going to pass and they're really just there at that point to make up the seat time."
"I don't know how you find the patience."
We take a couple of steps back so that we're out of the way of the rest of the customers who are waiting for their drinks. It's about 1:00, the tail end of the lunch rush and everyone behind the counter at this Starbucks looks as tired as I am. Carolyn's got more energy than I do, but I assume that's because she has no other choice--her iced coffee is a mid-day break before showing more houses.
"But that's it?" she asks.
"Yeah. As of Monday morning, I'm officially on break until August."
"Good for you," she says, "Although I have to say I'm going to miss running into you."
Another customer wedges himself between me and the condiment station without a word, and I take a step forward to give him room. She sips her iced tea and I reply, "Well, I live right near here. I'm sure I can stop by every once in a while." Her lips move just a little and I can see approval in her brown eyes.
Truth be told, I was planning on swinging by just about every day even if I don't need the post-work reprieve. A few days into my summer school tenure, she was standing in line behind me and gave me a polite "Hi, Mr. Davis." My "Hi, Mrs. Gibson" was met with a "Please, it's Carolyn" and I responded in kind, telling her to call me Steve. We've actually known one another for five or six years now; Carolyn and her husband Jake had three kids and I was their eleventh grade history teacher. She was in real estate and he ran his family's car dealership, and when I taught their oldest son, Connor, they were regulars at back to school nights and parent-teacher conferences. By the time their youngest daughter, Madison, was in my class, I only saw Carolyn. Not that I was surprised, though. Jake was nice enough to me but I could tell that he reveled in having his last name attached to the Chrylser/Dodge/Jeep dealership up on the highway with its huge American flag and loud radio commercials and that attitude meant treating his son like some sort of heir apparent.
Connor wasn't that much of an asshole; kind of dense, but a nice kid nonetheless. Their daughters were really smart, though, and the minute I met each of them I could definitely tell they were Carolyn's. Both Riley and Madison had her dirty blonde hair, bright smile, and confident attitude. She didn't even need to go to any of the girls' conferences or back to school nights, but she was always at the PTA-sponsored events and always had an appointment to see me. I figure that being a PTA mom had something to do with promoting her business; in fact, she'd asked me a couple of times if I was interested in selling my house. But I also liked to think that she made a point to come to parent-teacher conference nights because she wanted to see me.
Okay, that's presumptuous. A married woman--check that, a married successful woman--interested in me, a guy who has to take on extra work to help pay the bills? Yeah, not likely. Her simply being friendly didn't mean that she was flirting with me. But I don't think she was being nice just to be nice. I like to think that we were friendly acquaintances, especially after seeing one another here every day for the last three weeks.
Another person squeezes by us to get to the creamer and I see Carolyn look at the front door. She waves at the couple who have just walked in and puts her hand on my arm. "Those are my clients, so I have to cut this short. I hope you enjoy your weekend!"
"You too," I say, smiling. She repositions the bag on her shoulder and heads to the front of the store while I take a beat and check my phone before heading to the car. While I drive home, I can't help but think of how she was glad we were going to keep our daily coffee appointment. I won't lie; it kind of turned me on. But I also won't lie; I've been a bit hard up for a while. It's been two years since Mel and I finalized the divorce, and while I've gone out with a couple of women, they were never going to be serious and ended after just a few months. Most of my sex life has been solo, so the thought of a woman like Carolyn--curvy, confident, intelligent, and with a nice smile--paying this much attention to me is good enough to get at least one or two fantasies in my head.
My divorce, by the way, winds up being the topic of conversation the following Wednesday. This time, we've had better timing and managed to snag one of those small tables with the uncomfortable chairs. Carolyn doesn't come right out and ask me about Mel, but in the midst of talking about the couple from Friday--two relatively wealthy clients who are looking for a very nice home in the very nice gated community of Bending Branch and who are being very picky at the moment--I joke, "You should show them my place and maybe they'll be grateful."
"Oh stop. I'm sure it's fine," she replies, "Any luck with talking to... Meg?"
"Mel," I say.
"Mel, sorry. She say anything about putting it on the market?"
"Not lately," I reply, "but I might talk to her again, especially if you're interested in helping us sell it."
"Oh, definitely," she smiles, "By the way, what happened there? If you don't mind me getting personal, that is."
"No, I don't. It just... well, we married pretty young and if I'm being honest probably should have split up about three or four years earlier than we did."
"Why?"
"Oh, we just started fighting a lot at that point. Over money, over whether or not to have kids. But when you've known one another since you were 17, I guess it's hard to let go."
She nods and puts her hand on my arm. "Sorry."
"It's okay," I tell her. And it really is. Of course, I don't tell her all of the details, the most important of which is probably that Mel and I would have stayed together if we hadn't cheated on one another, and that's what led to us finally separating. I suppose the divorce was inevitable, especially when we reached the impasse over having kids. But then she came out and told me that she'd met someone else--a guy she worked with named Peter. Instead of taking the mature route and going into couples therapy or something, I hooked up with one of my colleagues, Jessica, who was leaving our school and therefore was safe for me to use as petty revenge. After I confessed to Mel, she was angry but we didn't have one of our shouting matches. We were just both very quiet and I felt really sad because I knew that was it.
Anyway, I try not to talk about it with women because I don't want to feel pitied. I know, it's a dumb guy thing to do but I think I'm allowed at least a little pride here.
I take a sip of my iced coffee and tell Carolyn that I could probably appeal to Mel by telling her the amount of money we can get from the sale. "She knows I want to move into a smaller place that's not as expensive. I guess she's trying to see whether or not she wants to move in herself. In that case, I'll have her buy me out."
"That's a whole other headache," Carolyn says.
"Yeah, I figure it would be."
"Well," she replies, putting her iced tea on the table and rummages through her bag. She hands me a business card, "please reach out."
I take the card and put it in my pocket. "Thanks, I will. But I don't know if she's going to change her mind anytime soon."
"Well, don't worry about it," she says as the time. She frowns a little. "I've gotta go meet the Bending Branch couple."
"Fun."
