Dense morning fog began to fade, but the sun still hadn't broken through. Gloomy and humid -- silent except for the faint wheeze of traffic over wet streets glowing a silver gray -- the rattle of a commuter train moving jobbers to the office -- zipping past the window with a silver sheen -- the wailing of sirens bringing coppers to the scene...
Social media tells a story then rapidly slips by -- shrouding us in isolation -- giving illusions of inclusion. I wasn't seeking a connection when I first saw her wheat brown hair and sky-blue eyes. But now I was here, thinking of her and a great celebration approaching.
I can easily lose myself in a stream of consciousness when I think about the one I want to be with, but I was never influenced so emotionally until I met Isabel. For the sixteen years Sylvia and I were married, I wanted comfort, and she wanted excitement. She complained when she couldn't leave the house to get her hair and nails done or buy new clothes at the mall. I had never known her to be selfish or neglectful of other people's needs, but the pandemic was a true test of selflessness and we both failed magnificently.
Patience was my strength and my ultimate downfall. In my eternal quest for the proper moment, I routinely waited too long. Happy couples weren't a growing trend during the pandemic, so I had nothing to compare our situation to. Isolation and restlessness revealed the true nature of our relationship and it ended abruptly with Sylvia's departure.
Isabel's encouraging smile helped me realize I was more than a shadow in a crowd of bright people. Maybe other people weren't so special or maybe I wasn't invisible. Business could take care of itself. On this day, I spent my work from home hours looking for an exciting event Isabel and I could share on her twenty-third birthday. But exciting to me and exciting to Isabel were in different realms of the imagination.
I stared at my computer looking for a place to share our first celebration together when Isabel arrived. When I threw the door open, the silhouette of her curves in the dimly lit hallway convinced me my memory hadn't exaggerated. She was as striking as I remember. She hugged me, gave me a kiss and glanced at my laptop on the kitchen table, "Looking at porn?"
"I'm looking for something interesting for your birthday."
"Porn's interesting."
"I don't plan to invite a camera operator and production crew to our private party."
Isabel said, "Maybe I should invite a friend."
I hoped she wasn't serious. I wasn't ready to share her with anyone else -- at least not directly. I asked timidly, "Were you thinking of inviting someone else?"
She shrugged it off. "How about we skip it this time so you can prepare yourself -- but you really should consider it."
I had considered it and it was complicated. Two women meant two of everything -- four of some things. I could see that Isabel's imagination was getting carried away and she blinked as though she had just awoken from a dream, "I should be going. My boss is opening new coffee shops and wants to discuss staffing. We need more Peeps to attract a new fan base."
That's just what I needed, a reminder of the Peeps in the world -- young, attractive men, not married -- at least I shared that last characteristic. But I needed to stop competing and focus on our time together. Isabel believed I had something to offer and it was time I started believing it too.
