by Paul Hina
she were gone, and, though he hates to admit it, contentment sounds a lot less like a consolation prize the older he gets.
As he walked down the stairs to start his day, he picked up a photograph of Rachael that sits on the mantel in the living room. It was taken on their wedding day. The picture crystallized a memory of watching her walk down the aisle toward him, and he could feel that old fullness, that richness of the love they had, a love that may have lessened in intensity, but has also matured.
And, yet, he knows that it is this contentment that is stifling him. It is this mature love that has left him hungry for something new to desire. So, he knows he can't give up on Joelle. What he feels for her is too precious, too good to abandon out of simple loyalty to Rachael.
But, because of Rachael, and the years they've shared, he also knows that he can not throw their marriage away because of an impulse toward raw emotion, no matter how real it feels. He needs to hold onto the stability he has with Rachael, but also allow himself to steal away from his life long enough to feel that old rush of falling in love.
And, now, standing in front of a classroom full of attentive stares, he's stumbling through his lecture on Eliot. And, of course, he can't stop looking at Joelle, who is staring up at him with naked adoration.
She's the lucky one. She can stare at him all she wants. It is expected for her to have her attention on the professor. For him, though, it has been very difficult to keep his eyes off of her even for a second, and he was committed to keeping his eyes elsewhere today. But her long legs sprout out from that tiny desk like they're reaching out to him, and, if that weren't difficult enough to avoid, she keeps crossing and uncrossing them, almost like she's being intentionally seductive. And to keep the distractions coming, her hand is playing in those long strands of shining, black hair, and the fingers from her other hand are pulling at all the future kisses that decorate her lips. And when she allows those same fingers to traipse from side to side on the hem of her short black skirt, his mind races exactly where you might imagine, and it certainly has nothing to do with T.S. Eliot.
Then he notices that her engagement ring is gone.
Jacob skipped his usual lunch with David today, telling him that he was going to be busy grading papers, which is exactly what he should be doing. But he had no real intention of looking at any papers. He is far too busy pacing back and forth in his campus office, wondering what's going to happen when Joelle arrives.
After what happened between them last night—kissing in an alley one block away from where they both live—he wasn't sure there would be much talking going on. But he has to make every attempt to work through everything that's happening before they lose control. And it would be so easy to lose control with her. But they hardly know each other, and they have a long way to go before they can afford to take the kinds of risks that they took last night.
He still has no intention of making any definitive moves away from Rachael. He has far too much invested in their marriage, though he still believes that it would be crazy for him to end anything with Joelle over fear of his attraction—no matter how intense. But they need to have a better idea of where this is going, and where the limitations are, before they go any further together.
When the knock comes at the door, it is a soft, uncertain knock. And when he opens the door and sees her standing there beaming at him, all he wants is to taste that kiss again, to hold her body in his arms, but he is determined to show restraint.
Except, before he can utter a single word, she shuts the door, puts her arms over his shoulders, and envelops his mouth like some unconscious swoon had compelled her. He quickly loses all thoughts of restraint, and finds himself falling with her into that place the mind races to when the body is too full of desire, that place that opens up and absorbs another person fully and without reservation.
But he pulls himself out from the free fall. Not abruptly, but gently. He pulls his mouth from hers long enough to look at her eyes.
She's just so beautiful.
He kisses her again.
Their breathing is growing heavier, and their hands are moving quickly across the other's body. She has moved her hands inside his shirt. Her leg is wrapped around his leg. His hand is clutching the skin of her naked thigh, and their kiss has become a chasing thing. Their mouths are trying to catch up to their passion, a passion that is pushing them closer and deeper into that state where bliss and madness are in perfect balance, and perfectly indistinguishable.
And he knows that if he doesn't stop this now, it won't be stopped. He will have crossed the line that he was sure he wouldn't cross, and there won't be any taking it back. Ever.
"Joelle," he says, breathless. "Please. We have to stop."
"OK," she says, looking up at him, wondering why, but clearly trying hard to pull herself from the brink.
"We should talk."
"OK. Let's talk," she says. She takes a breath, and sits on the chair by his desk, looking up at him, a kiss smeared across her mouth.
He takes a seat on the corner of his desk and tries to straighten his clothes, tucks his shirt back into his pants.
"Where's your ring?"
"Gone. I took it off this morning," she says, holding up the back of her hand, showing off its absence.
"Why?"
"I can hardly stay engaged when I feel the way I feel about you."
"Have you told him?"
"No, not yet."
"Good. Don't."
"What? Why?"
"Because, Joelle, we don't know what we have here. We're just now coming to terms with this thing."
"I know, but it is hardly fair of me to stay with him while we figure out what's going on."
"But do you still love him?"
"I know that I've never felt for Brad what I feel for you. I feel like I've never known hunger before now. I've never known what it was like to really need someone until I felt how much I needed you."
"I know. I feel it too. I just think... We don't really know each other."
"Right. So, let's get to know each other."
"Yeah, but let's not jump to any conclusions yet. Let's not change the trajectory of our futures so abruptly. Let's not do anything until we're sure that this is what we think it is."
"So, you don't think I should say anything to Brad?"
"Well, have your feelings changed for him in the past several weeks?"
"I wouldn't say they've necessarily changed. It's just that, relative to what I've been feeling toward you, it just doesn't feel right being with him."
"But what if you find out that I'm not who you think I am, and you find yourself completely alone, missing Brad, feeling that, by letting him go, you've made a horrible mistake."
"I'm not worried about you not being who I thought you'd be."
"Not yet. But shouldn't we be sure that this intensity persists before we change the course of the rest of our lives?"
"What are you saying? We should court each other?"
"Well, yeah. I guess, in a sense, that is what I'm saying."
"While we're with two other people?"
"Yes, but nothing that would make us too uncomfortable."
"Like?"
"Like, maybe we shouldn't become too physical."
"What's too physical?"
"Making love would be too physical. That would be a bridge too far. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I suppose it would," she says, crossing her arms over her stomach.
"You don't sound convinced."
"I feel like you're saying all this because you have doubts. I feel like, instead of protecting me, you're covering your bets."
"I do have doubts," he says, but quickly adds, "Not about my feelings for you. I don't doubt what I'm feeling at all. But there are other factors to consider."
"Like what?"
"For one, I've been with my wife for nearly twenty years. I would like to be certain of the choices I make in the coming weeks before I let that relationship go. I don't want to lose my
marriage, my house, and what I've come to know as my life only to wake up one morning to realize that we have nothing in common, that these early intensities were just the first stirrings of an infatuation, and not sustainable.
"Another thing to think about, but just as worrying, is if you tell Brad that you're breaking off your engagement, he's going to want to know why. If I end things with Rachael, she's going to want to know why. What are we going to tell them? They're not going to be satisfied with some generic reason. They're going to want specifics, and, honestly, they'd be owed specifics. And, if we told them what's going on, someone in the department would certainly find out. I would lose my job and any hope of ever teaching again. So, it's not just our relationships that are at stake, it's my livelihood and your reputation."
"I guess I hadn't really thought about all that," she says, her chin in her hand, looking resigned to this new reality. "I'll do whatever you want," she says. And he can see that, though she is unsure of his motivations, she understands the risks, and doesn't want to squander this opportunity to be with him.
"This is all new to me, Joelle. It's been a long time since I felt for a woman what I feel for you. And, honestly, I wasn't at all prepared for this. The strength of what's been happening these past several days really scares me."
"I wasn't planning on this either. I had other plans, as you know. I have a wedding planned in a few months. So, this is scary to me too. But the uncertainty of this is going to be difficult for me to sustain for too long. Eventually, I'll need to know what's happening between us. Sooner rather than
