She had the whitest skin I had ever seen. And the blackest hair. The contrast was startling. And she was young, maybe twenty-five or -six. Too young, anyway, for me, deep in my forty-seventh year, to go legging after her. Besides, she was talking earnestly to Jimmy, the young computer whiz that occupied the desk just outside my office. If she's the girl he talks about all the time, I thought, lucky him.
She was what is usually called "petite", about five-four or -five but with that straight-up posture that short people often have. Her hair, crow-black and thick, was cut in a pageboy style that I associate more with children, but on her, it was not childish. Her skin was milk-white and smooth; her features were regular, with a somewhat wider and more petulant mouth than it should have had. It added interest and sensuality to a face that would have been pretty but unremarkable otherwise.
As she moved around to the side of Jimmy's desk, I couldn't help but notice the full swell of her bottom rounding out the summer print she was wearing. Her legs were bare, slender and looked strong. A wave of sad appreciation went through me. It's tough to have middle-age creep up on you; tougher at some times than at others.
Whatever she was saying to Jimmy, it seemed serious. She had that kind of look on her face. I knew it was trouble when I saw Jimmy run his hands through his hair and shrug in an I-give-up gesture. Up to this point I hadn't heard so much as a word, office noise being what it is, but then Jimmy stood up, took her by the elbow and I heard him say, "C'mon, we'll go settle this now".
She looked around to see if they were making a scene and I felt guilty when she caught me watching and held my eye for a second. I found something on my desk to be busy with, but glanced up in time to see her remove her arm from Jimmy's grasp as they went through the door. I hoped, for his sake, he wouldn't blow it.Ten minutes later, Jimmy came back with a scowl on his face, grabbed a folder and disappeared into the computer room, slamming the door behind him. Ah, yes, young love.
I took an early lunch, about eleven-thirty, and went for my usual walk along the river promenade. I was surprised to see her sitting on a shady bench. She saw me so I nodded and smiled and continued up the walk to a shady spot of my own where I paused to look out at the water.
"Excuse me." And there she was at my elbow. "I saw you in the office while ago. You're James Ross?"
"Yes."
"Jimmy's mentioned you; you're his boss aren't you?" It wasn't really a question. Her voice was surprisingly low and very clear; steady and even with no hint of stress.
"I guess you could say that. I don't sign the checks, but I'm responsible for the office."
"I'm Cindy McCarthy. Would you please do me a favor and take this to him when you go back?" She held out a key with a plastic tag on it. "It's an extra that I had in my car. I don't want to go back up there."
"Yes, I'll be glad to." I thought she would turn and go, but she didn't; she just settled her arms on the rail and looked out across the river.
"Tough day?" I asked.
"Tough enough. I hate going through that sort of thing in front of people, but he's been avoiding it. He hasn't been back to the apartment for two days and I had to get it over with."
"Well, the course of true love never did run smooth, they say."
"It wasn't true love, it was just an arrangement that was great in the beginning and not so great later. We both know it but Jimmy doesn't like to lose anything so he was dragging his feet."
Maybe it was the open and matter-of-fact way she had of talking about her private life to me, a complete stranger, that got me interested. Most people are reluctant to part with details, especially while the wounds are still fresh, but she had this no-nonsense, clear-minded line that told me she wouldn't spend much time looking back and wouldn't hurt much, if any. I was sure it wasn't bravado or pretense, this kid was the real thing. Poor Jimmy.
"Is there anything you want me to tell Jimmy when I see him?" I asked.
"Just tell him you ran into Cindy on your way back and she asked you to give him the key." Simple, no adornment. I was beginning to like her. She was completely refreshing and I didn't want her to get away.
"I've got about half an hour left, would you like some coffee?"
"Can I have fruit juice instead?"
"Sure."
I bought it at a small stand near the riverwalk and we drank it sitting at a wrought iron table in the shade by the river. Thinking about it now, I honestly don't know what I was thinking at the time. Certainly I had no idea that things would turn out the way they did --- wouldn't have believed it if I had thought of it. I think I just wanted to hang on to her company for a while, to listen to the straight talk that was a bit naive but genuinely honest. It's in short supply these days.
The conversation moved easily from her just-ended relationship with Jimmy to other things, her college courses (she was in pre-law), my real estate venture (I had just rented out a town house in the suburbs and moved to an in-town apartment). The next thing I knew I was five minutes over the lunch period and I never want to set a bad example for the troops in the office. She reached around to retrieve her purse from the ground behind her chair and the stretch brought the hem of the little summer dress up a few inches.
The underside of her thigh looked as smooth as cream. Then she straightened and the curtain descended.
"Thanks for the juice," she said. She looked straight at me and I got the full force of her eyes for the first time. They were a clear gray and large under sweeping lashes. They gave you the idea that you could see clear inside her, that nothing was hidden from you. They were to have a powerful effect on me later.
"Listen, thanks for giving Jimmy the key. It's been really nice talking to you." It was the sort of thing anybody would say to end a conversation, but she made it sound genuine. She held my eyes for a few seconds more, added a warm, wide smile and was gone.
I thought about her a few times over the next two weeks, let my mind wander back to that afternoon and the easy way she had talked and been with me despite the difference in our ages. I had been a little stuffy at first, defensive about the age thing, but she didn't seem to notice either the stuffiness or the age. And always, there was that parting image, that long, level look and wide smile she gave me before she left. Had she been flirting or was I just wishing she had?
Anyway, it was something nice to remember and I was doing my best, one day, to push it aside before it became a middle-age fantasy when the phone rang.
