Secret

by James R. Edgerton

  In other words, he was perfect. The kind of boy you would be proud to bring home to Mother, if she was alive, or father, if you still thought of his house as home.

  And in some odd way it was that very perfection that was what was gnawing at her. The last man she had thought perfect was her father. Well, she hadn't made it to twelve thinking he was perfect, but surprisingly close.

  What if Kris betrayed her? Her father had betrayed her, and some part of her had died. If Kris betrayed her, could she survive it? Would that drive the final nail in the coffin? The thought of being betrayed--again--by one she was growing to trust was a cold feeling deep in her stomach. Deep in her heart. Deep in her soul.

  However, she was going to have to decide. Another day of sitting on the fence would finish her just as certainly.

  She was still staring at a ceiling she could not see when the little blue numbers on her clock informed her that 3AM had arrived.

  Ellen was early. She had not been early to work in forever. And she had been late the last few days. In part because she had been sleeping so poorly. In part because she had been afraid she would see Kris. She simply wasn't ready nor able to deal with seeing him in person, though all she had to do was close her eyes to see his face. In fact, she could not close her eyes *without* seeing his face.

  She was early today because she didn't want to see him. Rather she didn't want him to catch her. Assuming she hadn't waited too long, in the early hours of the morning she had finally decided that she was going to give Kris a chance. And the reason she was early is that she wanted to place the letter she had written on his desk.

  The letter that had taken two hours to write and consisted of barely two paragraphs. Two paragraphs that contained nothing of the ache that his absence left in her heart. There was a stack of rejected versions of the letter on her desk. She was pretty sure that five or six of those included that sentiment. One of them was nearly unreadable due to the ink running where tears had fallen.

  In the end, she had gone with a simple apology for taking so long to get back to him, and if he was willing, she would like to go out to coffee with him that night.

  She also had promised not to run crying into the night this time. She hoped it came off as funny. She had tried a serious version. It had sounded stiff. She had tried the humorous touch. It sounded pathetic if you didn't catch the irony. Better ironic than stiff. Though stiff might be better than pathetic. She was sure Kris would get it.

  She hoped.

  Her heart pounding, she made her way to his cube. The next cube over was occupied. Someone came in really early, however, whoever they were, they were not of interest to her current mission. She snuck up to Kris's cube on tiptoes, realizing even as she did so that it was quite silly. There was no place to hide in a cube. If he was here, he would see her. If he was not here, he would not notice her if she screamed.

  The cube was empty.

  His desk was far neater than hers, but it was no longer pristine. There was a pile of magazines. And a picture of a family. It included Kris and three other people. Two of them were almost certainly his mother and father. There was a young woman. Old girlfriend? Sister? After a closer look, Ellen thought it must be his sister. Whoever it was, she was pretty.

  Her heart sped up and she looked around as she heard voices. She had been doddling. She placed the letter neatly in the middle of his desk and left the cube. A man was coming toward her along the aisle way. Fortunately, it was not Kris. She desperately wanted to see him, but ... she wanted him to get the letter first.

  * * *

  The problem with coming in early, she realized some twenty minutes later, was the waiting. Kris generally came in later than she did, and it was still ten minutes until she normally arrived. By coming in early, she now had to wait until he came in. Then he would have to read the letter. Then he would have to think about what she had written.

  She tried to work without success. She wrote up several documents. When she was done, she couldn't remember even what type they were. Fortunately, no one needed them until tomorrow. Hopefully she would have a chance to review them later to see if she had at least written them in English.

  Every few minutes she would take a drink from her coffee cup. The drink seemed tasteless. She was about to make her third trip to the bathroom when she heard a voice behind her.

  "I seem to be lost."

  She jumped up and before he could naysay her, she pulled him close and planted her lips hard against his. There was a momentary stiffness in his response. She tried to pour her need, her aching heart through her lips into his heart. Something must have gotten through. She felt the stiffness relax, and then an answering passion.

  "Wow," he said a moment later.

  All she could do was smile back.

  Intimacy

  Saturday rolled around. Kris had called her each day since the "big kiss" as she thought of it. The next day he had asked her out to dinner and a movie for this evening. She had been looking forward to it with a mixture of nerves and excitement. With considerable effort, she had managed to--mostly--keep her mind on her work. However, with no external control, she had managed to do almost nothing except think about her date.

  She had gone through her clothes a half-dozen times looking for the perfect outfit. Dinner was at one of the many upscale chains near the theater. Jeans and t-shirt would have gotten a meal there without any raised eyebrows, however, she had wanted to dress up more than that. She had pulled out ... Actually, she had pulled out nearly everything in her closet before finally settling on a dressy blouse and a pair of slacks. The blouse was purple, her favorite color, with a lacy border around the low dipping v-neck. It was also a bit tight, which none of her dates had ever complained about. The deep dip in front had necessitated that she search through several drawers before she found the one bra that wouldn't show. Well, not very much.

  The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Her belly tightened up with nervousness. This date would, in some ways, be so much easier if she didn't like him. Then she would not care about what he thought. It was silly really. She was twenty-four years old. She had had quite a few boyfriends. Only a few of them had had this effect on her. Actually only two. Nathaniel, in tenth grade, and now Kris. Tenth grade. She had been fifteen at the time.

  However silly it might be, she did care, and she was horribly nervous. She wanted him to like her, and she didn't know how to make that happen. She had almost blown it once. And yet, he had shown remarkable resilience. If he could ask her out after his date abandoned him, perhaps there was hope, even for her.

  "Wow," he commented as she opened the door. "You look nice tonight."

  She felt a flush of warmth. She was pleased by his comment. It even sounded sincere.

  "Thank you," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. After their passionate kiss a few days earlier, she wasn't quite sure what greeting was appropriate. She had decided that a handshake was not. However, she was not sure enough of herself to give him a--another--full "boyfriend" kiss. Maybe tonight... "And you look quite dapper yourself."

  As she had anticipated, he had actually dressed down from the slacks and tie that he wore to work. She had dated only one guy who liked to dress up without considerable inducement. However, he had clearly made an effort to look nice. The jeans he had on were either new or nearly so. And the shirt was a casual style, but quite nice. Without pulling the tag out, she couldn't be positive, but it was either an expensive shirt or a moderately expensive knock-off.

  "Thanks."

  He offered her his hand, which she took.

  * * *

  "You look beat," Ellen said to Kris as he drove them to the restaurant.

  "Yes. I am that. Apparently I didn't leave early enough yesterday. Just before quittin' time, our boss came around looking for someone to help get a contract together. For Monday. S
o, I was there late last night--after midnight--and all of today. I just barely left in time to make it home and get dressed for our date."

  "Really? No wonder you look tired. Do you have to work tomorrow?"

  "No, fortunately. In addition to me, a few others were called in. There were about five of us. The plus is that we are going to get a little extra in our next check. That'll be pretty nice when it shows up, but right now..."

  "You could have called. We could have gone out tomorrow. I would have understood."

  "Yeah. I suppose. On the one hand I was so focussed on getting this contract done so that I wouldn't have to come back tomorrow that I didn't think about calling. On the other hand, I really wanted to see you."

  "How about we do dinner--you clearly need that--and then decide on whether or not to do the movie?"

  "That sounds good. Thanks. Sometimes I perk up after a bit of food."

  * * *

  "Have you eaten here before?" Ellen asked.

  "If by 'here,' you mean this specific restaurant, the answer is no. However, I have eaten in other restaurants from this chain. I expect they are all the same, which I hope means the food will be good here as well. You do like Italian, don't you?"

  "I like nearly any food that I don't have to cook or pay for," Ellen joked. She wasn't totally sure that was a safe joke. Her mother had always joked the "other way" to man's heart was his stomach. She had only sort of understood at thirteen.

  "I hear you. Cooking for one is a drag.

  "So, assuming that someone else is cooking and paying, what is your favorite food?"

  "Well, Italian is near the top. I wouldn't eat Greek food for every meal, but it is one of the foods I love for something different. Gyros, in particular."

  "I know a nice place that has gyros. Well, the Turkish equivalent."

  Ellen looked across at Kris. For a change, his eyes were not looking into hers. They were looking down a bit. On one hand, she was flattered. She had worn this top in part to catch his eye. On the other hand, she had grown rather fond of a man who talked to her face not to her chest.

  "I'm up here," she joked.

  She could see the struggle, as if his eyes were heavy weights, as he moved his eyes from her cleavage to her face.

  "Sorry."

  "I'm flattered actually."

  "And you are a beautiful woman," he said.

  She noticed his eyes strayed down even as he spoke. Initially, she was inclined to laugh. Her perfect man became a normal man when he ran out of strength. Only, it didn't feel right. He had never claimed to be better than anyone else. He had never said that he had no flaws. He simply tried to behave well. Surely that was a worthy goal? And just because you aimed high and missed occasionally, that didn't invalidate the goal, did it?

  * * *

  Ellen kissed Kris deeply on the lips as they stood in front of her door. He responded with passion, but even in the kiss she could feel his weariness. Kris had been moderately pleasant company throughout dinner, however, they had agreed during dinner that going to a movie was not really very sensible. What was the point of paying for a movie and sleeping through it?

  "Good night," he said after a moment.

  "Good night," she responded. She stepped into her apartment, smiling at her date as she closed the door. She had considered inviting him in. He had never actually stepped into her apartment. However, it had just seemed wrong. If he had said yes, she would wonder if she had simply taken advantage of his exhaustion. If he had said no, she would have felt bad for forcing him to choose.

  Which was not to say that *she* had not been tempted. She loved his warm lips on hers. She loved the way his strong body felt against hers. She had imagined more than once what his hands might feel like if she let them stray... If *he* let them stray.

  And as much as she had enjoyed him looking at her female charms, it was different than with the boys she had dated before. On the one hand, she thought she enjoyed it more because he didn't ask her to expose herself and even when she did, he always took less than she offered. Even tonight. He had, with great effort, mostly looked into her eyes, her face, as they talked.

  Then it hit her. The feeling that had restrained her laughter at his weakness slowly moved into focus. He had never taken advantage of her. At most, he had taken from what she had offered and even then, never taken all. None of her other boyfriends had done that. Several of them had never--she was sure--even realized that she had a face. The more polite ones had looked up and down, but it was clear they loved her chest more than they loved the woman to whom that chest belonged.

  And while she liked that warm, naughty feeling she got when Kris snuck a peak, she liked more that he wanted to look at her face--at her. She admired him for having the courage to behave differently. Even her father and her brother were more than willing to do a double or even triple take if a beautiful woman walked by.

  And if he could show restraint, could she not help him reach his goals? For the first time, she actually had a choice. If she had stopped showing off her charms to her other boyfriends, they would have disappeared. Kris would not. He was committed to her, not her tits. She could show them off like tonight or she could hide them. By restraining himself, he had given *her* a freedom she had never had before. A freedom that she had never realized existed. She had always assumed that you had to "give" if you wanted to have a boyfriend.

  He had given her power in the relationship as well. She could pull with him to help him reach his goals. She could pretend she didn't know about them. She could actively undermine them. It was clear from tonight that her actions were ... meaningful. She had the power to impact his behavior: for better or worse.

  He had not asked her to dress in a burka. In fact, he had never said a word about how she dressed, other than he thought she looked nice. She had no intention of becoming dowdy. However, one could look nice and keep at least a few secrets.

  She readied herself for bed sorting through these new thoughts of how freedom could be given by self-restraint.

  The Beach

  The view was phenomenal. The air was warm and clear. Ellen felt like she could see forever. The horizon in the distance was a sharp edge of blue against blue where the sky met the ocean.

  Ellen sat a few feet away from Kris on a large blanket. They sat on a bluff overlooking a wide beach. The waves were breaking beneath them and the laughter of children playing in the waves below was blown up to them by the breeze. The beach itself was certainly not crowded, however, a fair number of folks were around. Some were just enjoying the day. Others were walking along the wet sand. A few were tossing a frisbee around.

  For some reason the park was almost empty. Perhaps because the beach itself was so close. Whatever the reason, Ellen enjoyed the privacy that it gave them.

  She smiled at Kris and said, "It is beautiful. Thanks for inviting me."

  "Well, all of my other girlfriends were busy," he began. He finished with a yelp as she poked him sharply in the ribs, though he managed to partially block her effort.

  "So, I'm the last on the list? The one you call when all of the others are busy?"

  "Well, you are last on the list," he responded, neatly avoiding her attempt to poke him again. "However, there is only the one name on the list. You are first, last, and middle."

  He leaned over. Ellen kissed him, enjoying his warm lips against hers. As he pulled away, she poked him in the ribs again.

  "Hey!" he protested. "What was that for?"

  "The one you blocked," she responded with a grin.

  "Heartless. Truly heartless."

  She leaned over and kissed him again. "And that is because I am the only one on your list."

  He grinned in response. She loved his grin.

  He reached over to the waiting basket and pulled out a cutting board, a knife and a block of cheese.

  "Want some?"

&n
bsp; She nodded, watching the view as he cut her several slices of the cheese. The last few weeks had been good. After they got past the confusion her outburst had caused, they had gone out a couple of times each week, in addition to having lunch together every day. She was, she had realized somewhere along the way, quite taken with Kris.

  * * *

  Kris lay on the grass with his head on her lap. The remains of their picnic lay on the blanket. Bits of plastic wrap pulled tight around the cheese. Cracker crumbs scattered here and there. Two half empty root beer bottles sat within reach.

  She looked down at Kris with a fond smile, which he returned. The simple exchange warmed her and caused her heart to beat a bit faster. All the symptoms were there. Some she had seen weeks ago. Before she had run out on him. Others were new. It was good.

  Mostly.

  She had never been all that great at relationships. However, she had seen a few she thought were good. Not her parents. One thing the good ones had all had was an openness. She doubted that any human relationship lacked secrets, no matter how pure the participant's intent. However, an atmosphere of secrecy was not part of the picture.

  She looked away from Kris's face and out over the ocean. The sun was heading toward the horizon in front of her, though there was at least an hour until sunset. The waves broke with a distant shoosh onto the the sand. Seagulls screeched. It was beautiful.

  And she was avoiding hard thoughts. She was keeping secrets. From Kris. From herself. On one level, she didn't want to. However, the thought of revealing some of them terrified her. Deep within her heart. At a level so fundamental that she hardly knew it existed.

  If she was going to let Kris into her heart she had to start somewhere. She was simply not capable of starting with ... those. Some thoughts were painful--but not accompanied with shame and fear. Well, not so much. Maybe she could start there.

  "My mom was a regional training manager for a software firm. She was home most of the time, but every couple of months she would be gone for a few days to a week. Dad," Ellen felt herself tighten up as she mentioned him. "Dad was in sales. He traveled a lot. At least a week per month he was away, but he and Mom worked it so that one of them was always at home.