It was Friday morning, she rose early, finished her cleaning, and put the final load of laundry in. Same thing every morning clean up after Don and the kids, then shower time and off to the mall. She went every weekday morning, sat in the cafeteria, and had a cup of soup, and a little quiet time. It was her hour alone, yet in the company of many. Sometimes she would people watch, studying, for some building a life persona. Then Monday she had had that wonderful fantasy. She had snapped back to reality when he'd interrupted her, and quickly beat a retreat. Strange it was not like her. She and Don married 20 years, had three wonderful children, and while life wasn't perfect, it wasn't that bad, that she should be having these kinds of daydreams. Yet, she mused. She hadn't been back.
This morning she took an extra minute, puffed her hair, and put on a hint of makeup. She had noticed him before. He would be there every morning for a week then would vanished for 3 or 4 months, faithfully returning like the swallow's to Capistrano. Maybe it was the mystery, of this routine that captivated, intrigued her, but how had that led her to that wonderful fantasy. Oh well she was going to meet him, and if she made a silly fool of herself what could it hurt, he would be gone for three or four months and forget all about her. She knew which weeks to avoid. Beside she lied to herself, she wasn't going to try to fulfill her fantasy, she was just going to talk. What could be wrong with that. He with his coffee, her with her soup enjoying a couple minutes of adult conversation. What could be wrong with that. She studied herself in the mirror, buttoned the top button of her loose fitting blouse, exposing too much cleavage would betray the secret desires of her heart. She could never go that far, she had never, could never be unfaithful to Don, but an innocent hour of conversation with an adult of the opposite sex, what could that hurt.
She practiced her opening line over and over as she drove to the mall, and parked. As she entered the cafeteria heading for her table she stopped. He wasn't there sitting at the same table she had so frequently seen him at. But here he was, glancing over the top of a newspaper, at "HER" table. She walked quickly to the counter and purchased her cup of soup, steeling herself, she walked to her table. "Excuse me", "you are sitting at my table" she mildly huffed.
He calmly lowered his paper, and stood. Smiling, sliding back a chair, he offered, "Join me, won't you?" she heard him say.
This wasn't suppose to be happening this way. She had planned on stopping by his table, casually asking if she could get him some sugar. A casual couple of words, allowing room for escape, after all she wasn't a wanton woman on the prowl. Besides, he might have a squeaky voice. Here he was, in her space, if she accepted, her mind raced, the practiced conversation, she was starting to feel panic.
"Miss, sit please," he implored "I'll find another table."
No she didn't want him to go, yet she was lost for words. It was easier to talk to the kids, or Don. Sitting, she murmured, "No!" please stay. This time they chatted, for real, no fantasy.
"I missed you the last couple of mornings." she heard him say.
She nervously blushed, "He had noticed her" Soon she was telling him of Don, the boys, of her 17 year old daughter. The struggles to make ends meet, the joy of the little moments together. How happy they had been, how proud of her children. Then she found herself, saying: over time, he to much at work bed at nine, out the door at five. She cleaning, cooking, laundry, same old routine everyday. The times they shared together grew farther and farther apart. They shared the same roof, saw each other every day, yet each seemed to be in their own world. Just like In her fantasy she blurted out the one sidedness of their sexual encounters. Usually planned, regular and so unfulfilling. He sat there listening, hanging on each word.
"That will be a hundred dollars." he joked. "Our session is over for the day, you know that's my normal counseling fee." he grinned.
She smiled. This man was good. Placing a hand on hers across the table, he gave her a soft squeeze. He was 54 and had been married for 29 years. He had two stepson, and a daughter all grown and gone. He installed software for his company and made quarterly trips to each district office. One week for each of the four offices, put him on the road four months out of each year, he mechanically went on. But when he spoke of Sally, his eyes lit up, his spirit seem to lift.
She was eight now and had lived with him since she was two. He recanted escapades that made him laugh, cry, beam with pride. He told her of the time she saw him off on one of his trips. At the airport that day, she wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezed him tight and cried "Papa, don't leeeave me." Her heart ached as his did that day.