"Are these seats taken?" Lauren spoke brightly to some familiar faces.
Hannah Clark's whole family was seated in a row in the center-back of the bustling auditorium. Her sisters and her dad, Mitch, had all been swiping through stuff on their cell phones and her mom, Claire, was reading through the event's program. They all looked up almost simultaneously to see who had spoken.
Lauren couldn't help but make first and direct eye contact with Mitch; when he looked up his eyes were very startled, and his countenance remained stunned even after recognition set in and Mrs. Clark stood and stepped around her husband to give all the newcomers brief hugs and greetings. Mr. Clark stood, too. After his wife had given out hugs, it would have been rude if he had ignored the girls, so he stored his phone in his front pocket and gave the two girls closest to him - one of them being Lauren - awkward side hugs, and the third girl he just gave a little wave. The row was narrow, and it was tricky for his larger frame to maneuver between the seats. He murmured little hellos but otherwise let his wife do the talking.
Mitch had relaxed some. The corners of his mouth now turned up to resemble a smile, although he still looked almost sick, probably figuring out how to act natural even though he felt anything but calm. Lauren was cued into all of these changes in his demeanor even though nobody else was aware of the tension between them.
"Please, sit with us!" Mrs. Clark gestured obviously to the open seats directly to the right of her husband.
Hannah's sisters had already returned their attention to Instagram or whatever was so interesting on their phones. The rest of them sat. Lauren took the seat right next to Mr. Clark, as she knew the family best out of the three friends.
Lauren grasped the chair to adjust her posture in it, and as she did so, Mitch's hand that was at his side, between them, darted instinctively into his lap. He was jumpy and obviously reactive to her presence. He did not want to show any intimacy between them in front of his wife, but he was massively overcompensating beyond the realm of normal human interaction.
After a few moments of processing the surprise of Lauren's arrival and close proximity, Mitch rediscovered some perspective and relaxed his hand back to his side.
Mrs. Clark leaned over her husband to strike up a conversation with Lauren about Lauren's new apartment. Mr. Clark sat politely still as the two talked over him.
"Yeah, I've lived there about three weeks, now," Lauren informed Mrs. Clark. "It's good, but my landlord is a little spacey." Mrs. Clark nodded and rolled her eyes as she absorbed the conversation. Mrs. Clark loved gossip and she always played along animatedly with every juicy tidbit. "He's not incompetent, exactly. He keeps saying he will come over to fix the water in the shower, but it's been a few weeks and nothing..."
"Well what's wrong with the shower?" Mrs. Clark asked quickly and with too much fascination, like it was her own shower that she found out was busted.
"It only runs cold. It's like the hot water isn't hooked up properly or something." Lauren tried to match Mrs. Clark's energy. "We're a little sick of taking cold showers."
Mrs. Clark shuttered in empathy, accompanied by a little giggle. Mr. Clark stared at his hands and fiddled with his fingers.
"Well, you know, Mitch redid our entire upstairs bathroom. New faucets and all. I bet he could fix it if your landlord doesn't get back to you."
Mitch looked at his wife when she mentioned his name.
"Oh, no, it's no big deal to wait a little longer," Lauren protested, giving Mitch an easy out if he felt awkward or was too busy. He had turned toward her, now, and seemed to be slightly amused by her objection.
"It's actually probably an easy fix." Mitch said softly, as they were seated so close to one another. It was the first sentence he had heard him utter in over a year. "I don't mind at all." His kind smile was genuine this time, and even though it was small, it was still reflected in the little wrinkles near his eyes.
Lauren was triggered by his soft tone and kind, penetrating eyes. She felt a warmth spread through her chest. She felt both vulnerable and protected all of a sudden.
"I have a bit of free time on Sunday. Can you text me the address?" Mitch asked.
Lauren immediately got out her phone and opened a new text message. "What's your number?"
Mitch recited it to her. She took another moment to type out the address, and then Mitch pulled his phone out of his pocket again, just as the vibration alerted him that he had a new text. He viewed it for a moment, thanked her, and then she watched out of the corner of her eye as he added the sender as a new contact.
The air felt heavy in the auditorium. It was not too hot, but the atmosphere was full of pride and excitement. It was a big day for the young folks waiting to graduate, Hannah among them. She had worked harder than anyone Lauren knew to complete her degree; practically all of her "free" time was spent working multiple jobs. Lauren and Hannah had not spent as much time together as they used to, mostly because they both had conflicts, but they remained close out of habit.
It had only been a few minutes since Lauren and the other girls sat down, so people were still standing, finding seats, and gossiping and one-upping one another in conversation.
"Hey, what time is it? Do you think I have time to use the restroom before this thing starts?" Lauren engaged Mrs. Clark again with the question.
Mrs. Clark looked up from the program again, checked her phone for the time, and then looked around at everyone still standing. "You've got eight minutes, but there's no way it starts on time."
Lauren nodded in agreement and then got to her feet. She set her small handbag back on her chair and scooted past her friends who leaned their knees to the side to let her pass. In the aisle, she had to weave around people yapping who remained oblivious to the girl struggling to get through.
Mitch subtly craned his neck to see which way Lauren turned when she left the auditorium. He waited a beat and then said, "You know, I think I'll go too," and stood to leave the same way she did. His wife made a grunt of acknowledgement, hardly looking up from her phone, but he paid little attention anyway. He was concentrated on slipping past everyone quickly.
When he got out to the lobby, he took note of where the women's restroom was located and then planted himself close by, where he would not be able to miss Lauren when she came out. He stood, trying to lean against the wall but finding himself too nervous to be still and instead fidgeted by rocking back and forth on his feet. He was not sure what he intended to say to her. He almost chickened out and went back to his seat when she pushed out the door of the restroom.
She did not notice him right away. She was focused on returning to the auditorium before the commencement began. She hastened her pace on 3 inch high heels and wobbled a little from lack of practice. The cornflower blue dress she wore flowed out gracefully around her knees due to the acceleration of her pace. Mitch saw her pick up speed, and he used the momentum of rolling up to his toes to stride over and intercept her path. He grasped her wrist and spun her to the opposite wall of the lobby, like an eagle snatching a fish from the river.
It was Lauren's time to be startled, and she took a second to steady herself and gather her bearings before looking at the face of her captor, although she already knew who it was.
On this side of the lobby, there was no one else within a 10-foot radius of the couple, and everyone was engrossed in their own conversations, barely noticing them.
Mitch had placed her with her back against the wall. He was facing her with his right hand pressing on the wall just an inch from her left ear. His other hand still lingered on her wrist where he nabbed her from the crowd.
"What's going on?" Lauren finally asked, somewhat suspiciously. She was taken aback from her change of course. Mitch looked like he wanted to say something but could not come up with the words.
He looked, lost in thought, from his feet to her face, buying time to figure out what to say, but also absorbing her beauty. The wrap dress she wore was both modest and captivating. The color suited her personality and made her lightly tanned skin look radiant. The hem ended just below her knee, but what he could see of her calf was perfectly toned and made even more tantalizing by the natural flex gained by her nude-colored, t-strap heels. A thin sash brought the dress together at her small waist, further emphasizing her natural hourglass figure. And her breasts were covered but for the stunning valley that the deep V revealed to lucky onlookers, where one could just begin to see the swell of two flawless mounds. Her chest was perceptively heaving still from being literally swept off her feet a moment ago. Her long brown hair was curled in a natural fashion and pulled back from the sides into a barrette. When his gaze finally climbed to her eyes and she was looking directly back, waiting for him to explain his presence, he clenched his eyes shut as though he was afraid she would be able to read his thoughts if she looked too deeply.
Finally he said, "I haven't seen you since Hannah moved out. How've you been?" He dropped his right hand from the wall and put it in his pocket, realizing his body language might have come across rather more aggressive than he intended.
Lauren was amused by his casual conversation after such an unexpected outburst. She also recalled the last time they had seen each other, about six months after their affair, and five-and-a-half months after her dad died
Lauren had been part of a group of friends that helped Hannah in moving her stuff out of her parents' house and into her own, quiet studio apartment. Mitch had stopped by the new place after he got out of work into order to bring all the helpers some pizza and beer and to see the place his daughter would be living for the foreseeable future. He had stepped into the surprisingly spacious studio with his hands full of sustenance. Before he could announce his presence, though, he had noticed a young woman toward the back of the apartment, near a large window, bent over a box and unloading its contents when a young man he had never seen walked over and startled her by pinching her butt under the loose athletic shorts she was wearing. The girl squealed and swatted at the boy and giggled playfully, before realizing that they were being watched. Lauren had been caught mid-PDA by Mitch, and she blushed. Mitch had averted his eye contact before his leering drew the attention of the strange boy and announced to the apartment that pizza had arrived. As all of the helpers clambered over the food, Mitch backed away and excused himself to the bathroom to think over the mixed emotions he felt of jealousy, rage, and...heartbreak? He had washed his hands of the stupid, juvenile angst and returned to the room full of adults who were half his age. He busied himself with hanging photos, avoiding Lauren and the strange boy whom he hated, until he made up the excuse that he had a migraine and went home.
A year and a half later, here they were.
"Good." Lauren responded to Mitch's small-talk-type question.
"Thats good. Still got the boyfriend?" Mitch asked, nodding along, already knowing the answer because she'd slipped up and said "we" when she was talking about their shower.
