When I woke up Monday morning I was surprised to find an empty house. There was a note from Rat on my kitchen counter, simply saying, "Gone. Will call soon." Knowing him, "soon" could be later that day, the next day, or weeks or months later. I knew that day before had shaken him up, but I had no idea how much, or even why. Hopefully I would find out ... soon.
I had an appointment to see Abhi that day, so I spent the morning relaxing and doing a little "busy work" around the house. Then, after being hooked up to Abhi's machines and being tested for God only knows what, I spent the rest of the day resting and recovering. It was surprising how doing nothing but lying still, and answering questions and looking at videos and pictures, could be so tiring.
Abhi and I did get some time to talk at the end of her testing, and I could tell right away that she was nervous. 'Just relax and talk to him. There's nothing to worry about,' I sent to her.
She looked at me and let out a big sigh. "I have to ask your forgiveness," she said. "What happened last time I saw you wasn't normal for me. I never act like that!" 'Not anymore, at least. Not since University!'
I looked at her like I was confused. "I don't understand what you mean," I told her. "As far as I'm concerned, you have nothing to apologize for. You were an excellent date. I thoroughly enjoyed your company."
"Yes, I'm sure that you did!" she replied. "Especially the way that we ended up!" 'Although you DID cover me up very nicely, and I felt amazingly refreshed, but tired, the next morning!'
"Abhi, we were, and still are, two consenting adults. There was an obvious attraction from the beginning, and we acted on it. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. I kissed you first, if my memory serves, and I made the first moves."
"I don't remember who did what first, but that's not the point," she said. "And that's really not important. That's not something that I normally do."
"No, you're right. Who kissed who first isn't important," I replied. "What IS important is the fact that you seemed to need to break out of whatever has been holding you back for so long. What I saw was a woman that has been pent up, that has been too focused on her job, for so long that she forgot about everything else. She forgot that she IS an intelligent, beautiful, desirable woman, with her own wants and needs, and for that one night she allowed herself to be that woman."
"Let me ask you this," I continued, "truthfully, HONESTLY, do you regret that night? The next morning, when you woke up, did you feel better? More relaxed? Did you feel like you had been treated like a real woman again, for the first time in far too long?"
She sat there silently, looking at me for a few seconds. "Yes! Yes, I did! I felt sore, like I had been through the best, and hardest, work-out that I had in a long time, but I felt amazing!' she thought.
"You haven't told me that I'm wrong," I said finally, "so I can only assume that I'm not. I'm sorry if I seem crude, but you clearly needed a night like that."
'You can't argue with him. He's right, and you know it!' I heard. 'You haven't felt that drained in far too long!'
She still didn't say anything, probably because she didn't know what to say, so after a short while I added, "Abhi, I would love to take you out on a real date. Don't give me that, 'It wouldn't be professional' nonsense, either. We both know that we're well beyond that point by now."
"We are clearly attracted to each other, and if you are truly worried about your professional appearance, and I mean TRULY worried, then I will drop you as my doctor and you can hand me off to a colleague. But I don't think that is the case here. Let me take you out on a real date, dinner, drinks, maybe some live music ... and if you can honestly say at the end of the night that the last time was a mistake, then I will never bother you personally again. You have my word."
"Let me think on it," she finally replied. "You're right, of course, that I enjoyed your company last time. Every bit of it. I just need to think about everything. I don't know if I'm ready, or even have the time, for a relationship right now."
"Abhi, I don't know if I want a relationship right now either. At least not a 'traditional' relationship. But I DO know that I am very attracted to you, both mentally and physically, and I believe that you feel the same way."
She just nodded her head in agreement, not saying anything. "Then I would hate to see that mutual attraction go to waste," I told her.
"She nodded again, and stood. "I will think about it. I promise," she said, offering me her hand.
"Abhi, I think that we are way beyond the handshake stage," I laughed, opening my arms for a hug. She looked at me for a second, hesitating, before she laughed also and stepped into my arms, hugging me.
"I hope to hear from you soon," I told her as I started walking out the door. 'Stop being so uptight! You know that you want him again, and that you loved that feeling!' I sent to her.
"You will. I promise," she said.
***
A couple of days later, as I was driving home from looking at a potential commercial job, my cell phone rang. I immediately recognized the number as the phone that I gave Sarah, and I answered it right away.
"Hi Sarah," I said. "How are you?"
"I'm doing well," she replied. "Getting a little better each day. How are you?"
"I'm doing fine," I told her. "I'm glad to hear you're getting better! To what do I owe this very pleasant surprise?"
"I would like to see you," she replied. "Can you come over for dinner Friday?"
"I would be honored," I told her. "What time would you like me?"
We settled on a time for dinner just as I pulled into my driveway, and I then got in to the shower. While I stood under the warm, cascading water, I started to wonder what I about Friday. I expected Sarah to still be emotionally fragile, no matter how strong she tried to act.
Friday evening, after stopping off at the liquor store for a couple of bottles of wine, I pulled up in front of Sarah's house. She greeted me with a big smile and I could tell from reading her thoughts that she was being genuine. She really was happy to see me. To my surprise, she hugged me as she closed her door.
I was pleasantly surprised at how she was dressed. With Dwight gone from her life she seemed to be loosening up a bit. Her outfit was still on the conservative side, but nowhere near as much as she usually dressed.
She was wearing a loose, flowing skirt that ended just below her knees, and a light pink-colored blouse that was just sheer enough to show the outline of her bra. Her firm, bare legs stuck out from under her skirt leading to a pair of short-heeled backless shoes, and her long, strawberry-blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. The biggest surprise was that she was even wearing a little make-up. It wasn't a lot, very subtle, but it was there. She looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her.
As I walked in the house I handed her the wine and she looked surprised. "You didn't have to bring anything," she told me.
"I know, but it is the right thing to do," I replied.
"But TWO bottles of wine?" she asked. 'Is he going to try to get me drunk?'
"Well, I didn't know what you were serving, so I brought a bottle of red and a bottle of white," I told her.
"Oh. Well, I just made a simple roasted chicken," she replied. "I really don't know why I invited you to dinner. I'm honestly not much of a cook."
'Oh my gosh! I hope that didn't sound as bad as I think it did! That was horrible!'
"I mean, Past ... my hus ... HE always complained about my cooking." 'Why am I so nervous! I shouldn't have done this! I'm not ready for this yet!'
"Sarah, it's fine," I told her. "It's perfectly normal for you to be nervous. You've been through a lot in the last couple of days. And for the record, I refer to him by his real name. Dwight."
She looked at me for a couple of seconds, and then replied, "You're right. I think that's how I should refer to him as well. He was a phony preacher, and a horrible husband. I like that idea. Dwight it is!"
A few minutes later we were sitting at her dining room table eating dinner. I had the bottle of white opened and we each had a glass in front of us. Before she started eating Sarah took a sip of the wine. "This is good!" she told me, taking another sip. "I don't drink much, my hus ... Dwight didn't think that it was lady-like for a woman to drink, but I like this!"
"Dwight was a misogynistic ass," I told her. "There is nothing wrong with a woman enjoying an alcoholic drink, especially a glass of wine with dinner."
"I know," she replied softly. "I don't know why I keep bringing him up. I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize," I told her. "It's natural. You were with him for a long time. Everything is still fresh."
"Yes, it is," she said.
We finished dinner with a minimal amount of conversation. Her thoughts were mostly on trying to keep calm, and not knowing what to say. She was clearly nervous, almost to the point of being scared.
After dinner I helped her clean up, something else that she obviously wasn't used to. "You don't have to do this," she told me as I brought the dirty dishes into the kitchen.
"I know that I don't have to," I replied. "I WANT to. You made a great dinner, complete with fresh, homemade bread. I cook. I know how much work goes in to a dinner like this. Helping you clean up is the least that I can do."
"Thank you," she said, looking down. "But it wasn't that good. I told you, I'm not that good of a cook."
"Sarah, I told you, Dwight is an ass. The chicken was great, the veggies were perfect, and the bread was great. You are a very good cook! Forget what he kept telling you. He was trying to hurt you. Trying to break you, make you feel worthless. That was the only way that he could make himself feel better about himself, to feel superior to you."
'Well, he did a good job of that,' she thought.
"Trust me, he is NOT superior to you," I told her. "He's a con man, and a thief."
She quietly nodded her head. "You're right," she said softly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying all of this to you," I told her. "You don't deserve to have all of this dumped on you like this."
"No, you're right," she replied with a slightly stronger voice, looking up at me. "I need to put him behind me. To admit to myself that he was the worthless one, not me."
"That's going to be easier said than done, but you can do it," I told her. "You're a strong woman. Stronger than you realize."
'You have more faith in me than I do!'
"I hope so," she replied.
I helped her load her dishwasher, and I could tell that there was something else that she wanted to talk to me about. As we finished I asked her if she wanted me to open the bottle of red.
"I don't know," she said. "I told you, I'm not that much of a drinker."
"Well, we can always save it for next time," I said, smiling at her.
'Next time! Yes, I definitely want a next time!' "Yes, I think that would be best," she replied.
"That's fine," I told her. "That lets me know that there will be a next time."
"But I know that you didn't just invite me for dinner. Something else is on your mind," I continued as we walked into her living room.
"Yes," she replied with a big sigh. "There is so much that I want to talk to you about, but I don't know where to start."
'Where DO I start? Sunday? My abusive husband? Your friend? YOU?'
"Start with the most urgent, or the most important," I told her. "We can take the rest from there."
