In over my head Part 2

I was in a mess.

I received flowers from a secret admirer. They could have been sent from my wife, Linda—but what if they weren’t?

Telling your wife you’ve received flowers from an unknown admirer doesn’t contribute to domestic bliss.

I was in a quandary and couldn’t think of a way out, so so I elected to leave the flowers on the kitchen counter and go into work, hoping that Linda might phone later and tell me they’re from her…

Hopefully.

The fortieth floor financial office gave a good view of the New York skyline. I loved looking out at the maze of streets.

I loved the trendy shops and upscale eateries. It was so easy to max a credit card and so hard to turn down lunch invitations to funky new spots.

A bunch of us went out each day to some new bar and grill. It was a break in the day I looked forward to—being in an adult-only setting and escaping from the dreary routine of being house bound with wife and kids.

Just thinking about escaping made me feel guilty, because Linda rarely got out. She was reluctant to leave the kids even with the grandparents—hence, my need to escape.

I felt guilty being mostly with women—all dressed to the nines and looking their best.

As for Linda, with a napkin over her shoulder, taking turns burping the twins—well, she just couldn’t compete.

“Are you ready?”

Nancy from accounting was standing close to me, her perfume, intoxicating.

I nodded and put down the file.

“We’re going to Coro’s today—Hugh’s treat.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“He’s celebrating his first year on the job and wants to splurge.”

I smiled, “Well then, who am I to deny the universe?”

“Indeed.” She smiled coyly, straightening my tie.

Her violet eyes looked up into mine and held my gaze a fraction of a second too long.

I was lost. I could only see my image reflected in her eyes.

We were no longer in the office, but outside, beneath an umbrella—the rain slowly falling about us—curtaining us from the world without.

In my vision, she leaned in to escape the rain and her body pressed against mine.

The street was a blur of yellow cabs, floral petals of passing faces and dark lines of rain.

I wanted her more than I ever wanted anything.

There was a bitter scent of chestnuts roasting—the blare of horns—the drumming of rain.

We were in a misty Manhattan melody of rainy streets and lost time.

The roads were shiny black mirrors and we were alone on the other side of the looking glass…

“So, what do you say, Walter? I know a place nearby—let’s forget Coro’s.”

She grabbed my hand and it blossomed into awareness. I pictured her by the lake in the summerhouse—the wind-stepped water in squalls by the dock.

We’d make love all day long—first one storm and then another—and I’d take her hands like gentle flowers…

Than it hit me. It was her—the flowers—the card—my secret admirer.

She led me to a quaint restaurant—a seafood place with sawdust on the floor.

She ordered oyster stew and we sat by the foggy windowpane watching the mist curl and settle around us.

There was still time—nothing had been said.

This could be just another luncheon date like all the others.

She looked at me, and again, the coy smile.

“What would Linda think of us having lunch alone?”

Something was being demanded of me, whether I wanted to give it or not.

“She’s on a need to know basis,” I lied. Hedging my bets. Buying some time.

She seemed calm and unperturbed.

“Do you ever get away?” she asked.

“We have a lake house,” I said nonchalantly.

I looked at her shoulders, the bracelets on her wrist—the way the lanterns softened her hair and darkened her smile.

I could feel the breath of the rain in her hair—the smell of Neiges from her dress.

Her arm was resting on the table, her hand close to mine.

We sat and talked—watched the rain—I watched the lobster in the tank scuttling across the bottom of the glass.

Everything was leading to an overwhelming decision I was reluctant to make.

But, she was, as I said, unperturbed. Perhaps, she thought the outcome inevitable.

We malingered through the long afternoon, blaming our stay on the rain.

Finally, the storm ended and we rose to go.

I paid, while she waited, outside on the street. When I joined her, the sun was just beginning to come out.

“It seems a shame to go back to work,” I said.

“Let’s not,” she giggled, and gave a sly smile.

Her face was turned up towards mine like a flower and my lips were turned down like the spout of a jug.

Just this once, she whispered.

I kissed her full on the mouth.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Why did you do that?” She was shocked.

“Because…” I stammered, “You asked me to.”

“No,” she said, “That wasn’t what I meant, at all.”

“You didn’t send flowers?”

“What flowers?”

She stared hard at me.

“You brought me here,” I protested.

“You’re scaring me, Walter—I have to go.”

I watched her quickly walk away, casting a furtive glance back over her shoulder, to be sure I wasn’t following.

The sun was out, but a dark weight settled over me like a lid on a pot.

My cell phone rang. It was Linda.

"Walter, Happy anniversary! So, I see you got my flowers."

© 2017, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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