Jane and I had been working together for about six months. She was transferred from the Chicago office for a project that was dragging on interminably. She is very effective in her work, approaching everything she does with great initiative and a professional attitude. Her credentials are exceptional - top undergraduate and graduate education, top tier firms on her resume. Really, you could only say positive things about her with regard to work. We worked long hours side by side for the client expected a lot from us and, well, our firm bills by the hour.
Yet, despite the time we spent together at work, I never thought of Jane in any way other than a colleague or a tool, as bad as that sounds, to approach the problems of our client. If you had asked me about her looks, I would say she looked neat, clean, well groomed. 5'7", light brown hair, not even sure of her eye color. Maybe 31 years old. Slim. Athletic. Wore those mod, small frame glasses that women were now. Didn't give her presentation much thought beyond that.
I guess, when I put on the suit in the morning, I enter a different mode. My personal feelings and life are pushed aside and I look at everything with an almost clinical detachment. I guess, given the stress of my professional life, this is a way for me to cope and partition the various aspects of my life so that I can stay focused.
All this has changed, though.
About two weeks ago, Jane and I flew out to Houston to visit the factory of a company our client was negotiating to purchase. As usual, during the flight, we talked mostly about work or typed away at our laptops or checked our organizers. Sure, we would talk about light topics, the weather, etc., but, never about personal life. No wedding band on either of our fingers, perhaps that kept us from probing. Who knows? However, on this flight, something changed. There was something different about Jane. She got up to go to the bathroom and when she returned, I noticed she had taken her hair down and her eyes were a bit red. For the first time, I actually thought I saw her, well, slightly ruffled, or upset. I pretended not to notice her and buried my head in my laptop computer. Read notes. Jane was not working, though. She was not doing anything, except staring straight ahead. Of course, this would be normal behavior for the typical person, but not for Jane. She was always doing something.
Her changed behavior threw me for a loop. I let my eyes wander, while pretending to work at my computer. What was different about her? I looked at her hands set flat against her note pad on the tray back table. Her fingers were, I guess, well proportioned. Elegant? Did she paint her nails recently? Long, blood red nail polish. Wait, that was new, right? How much did I notice about her? I looked down her legs, as they emerged from the hem of her business suit skirt. Long, slim legs. Her hose...Why did I notice her hose? Shiny, with a seam in the back. And her heels, black, tall, and shiny. The toes of the shoes seemed a bit more pointed than before. Were all of these things new? Something compelled me to notice today. Still, I did not move my head up and Jane remained quiet.
I cleared my throat and asked Jane to look at some spreadsheet calculation I had done. That seemed to snap her out of whatever state she was in. From there we just talked about work or read professional journals.
As we drove to the plant in the rental car, I decided to put on the radio. We had a fairly long trip ahead of us. A classic rock station came on. The familiar strain of a Pretenders song , "..gonna use my, my, my imagination. Oh I, gonna make you see your special..."
I looked over at Jane to see if this station were okay with her and found her staring right at me. Her eyes fixed on me. I mean eyes wide open. Lips parted. Shit, I turned away. I didn't know what to say. It was an expression that I could not answer. Did I feel flustered?
"...gonna use my fingers..."
I looked at her briefly, again. Her eyes were still on me....
"gonna use my sassy..."
Could I turn the station? Wouldn't turning it off make as much of a statement as keeping it on?
We went under an overpass, and the reception on the radio went out. We lost the signal after that. Could only pick up country music stations after that.
I didn't speak for a while and neither did Jane. Eventually, I made some comment about the long hours we had been logging for this client. That seemed to break the tension. The plant road was just ahead.
As we left the car, I almost thought I heard Jane sigh.
The day at the plant was uneventful. We just reviewed the operations and Jane was her usual, very insightful self. I think she intimidated the plant managers. She was just so in command of her facts. Again, I looked at her as I usually had and seemed to forget the incident in the car.
We got back in the car and before I had even the left the parking lot, Jane suggested we stop for a drink on our way to the hotel in Houston.
"There is a nice restaurant not far from here. A friend who lives here recommended it."
"Sure," I said. I could use a drink."
We entered the bar of the restaurant, which was starting to fill up with the Friday night crowd. An awkward silence ensued between us as we waited for our drinks.
When my bourbon arrived, I quickly swallowed half of it. We looked at each other. Jane smiled at me and put her hand on mine.
"Relax."
I looked down at her hand.
"Jane, I'm sorry. I know, I am, umm, acting a little uptight. It's just that, back in the car..."
"We don't have to talk about it, now. Okay?"
Now, I sighed inwardly. The alcohol calmed my nerves, albeit temporarily. The conversation took a more personal turn. Jane talked about her family a little bit. Her friends. That wall between us, or that wall I thought existed, seemed to come down.
The conversation and drinks continued. Jane excused herself to go to the bathroom. There was a woman standing off to my right and I couldn't help noticing her. She was dressed in such a way. A black silk skirt, and long, slim black leather skirt. Below the skirt, I could see black leather high-heeled boots descend to the floor. I surreptitiously glanced at her.
"It's not nice to stare."
s--- Jane had caught me as she returned from the bathroom.
"Oh, I'm just tired....nah..I wasn't staring.."
Jane laughed ...
"Sure you weren't...Sure..."
"No, really, honest."
We both laughed this time.
"Okay, maybe I did."
Jane leaned in a bit and moved her stool close to mine.
