Along for the Ride

by Ruby Laska

  She’d busied herself with trying to fix her own appearance. Rafi, thankfully, had slipped out of the car and bid good-bye to the other drivers, letting the screen down only as they drove from Milwaukee to O’Hare. He did not invite her to join him in the front seat.

  It was no wonder.

  She’d replayed the scene a dozen times in her mind, wishing she could re-write history, attend to his needs rather than her own frenzied ones. Yet each time the heat of the encounter returned, it conquered even her shame, reminding her of how it had been to feel him rock her so deeply.

  It was after lunch when the phone rang. Lauren was in the conference room, preparing for a meeting, setting up her equipment. She answered, trying to keep her voice capable and cool.

  “Ah, Lauren. How I miss you.”

  She sank down in one of the upholstered chairs, and took a deep breath. “Rafi?”

  “Of course.” There was a note of amusement in his voice. “Do all your lovers call you at work?”

  “No. No! I mean…”

  “Lauren, I want to pick you up at the airport tomorrow.”

  The words took Lauren off guard. After the let-down of not hearing from him last week, she’d come to assume that Monday mornings were the only time she would see Rafi, her sole entry in his date book.

  “Yes,” she said hastily. As if he might take back his offer if she gave him a chance. Yes. Any time he wanted her, in fact, even as she squeezed her eyes shut in mortification at how she’d behaved during their last time together.

  “Good, then.” Rafi sounded odd, his voice strained. “I’ll make the arrangements, don’t worry.”

  “My usual driver—”

  “Yes, I know him well. He won’t mind.”

  There was a pause.

  “All right, then,” Lauren said, suddenly unable to bear the lengthening silence. “Listen, I have to run—”

  “Of course. Tomorrow then.”

  The line clicked in her hand.

  #

  Armed with rag and cleaner, Rafi studied the apartment critically. He’d gone over it twice, and there was nothing more he could do; all the surfaces shone. Fresh flowers in a water glass covered a burned spot on the kitchen counter. A cloth covered the old table. Wine chilled in the refrigerator.

  He had emptied a drawer in the vanity in the bathroom. A woman had her things, he knew—the myriad bottles and tubes of her ritual. Rafi longed to watch her at the sink, applying lotion to her creamy skin. He wanted to watch her brush her hair. Perhaps she’d allow him to brush it sometimes, and he would, with great care. He’d gather it in his hands, press its coiled length to his face. She would protest playfully, and they would scuffle, their play leading to lovemaking. That was the way he imagined it to be with couples, those who have been together a long time.

  He would not ask her to move in with him; not until he had more to offer. A better apartment. Not until he was worthy. But he longed to wake up with her. He wanted to take his time, to please her, to spoil her. He wanted to ask her to be his and his alone.

  Rafi knew it might never come to pass. A thousand things could go wrong. She might be put off by his desire to take things further. She might have already had her fill of him. She might not be able to bring herself to introduce him, her young lover, to her accomplished, professional friends.

  But Rafi had already accomplished more than most men by sheer will. And now he would gamble everything for a chance to win Lauren.

  He took a final look around the simple, sparse room. He would take more care with this place, fill it with good things, things of beauty. Perhaps someday he and Lauren would shop together, and his home would be a reflection of her presence in his life.

  #

  Lauren’s heart pounded as she walked along the jetway in the midst of the throng of business travelers. Every week she scanned the faces quickly, searching for her name on a card in bold black letters. She didn’t let her glance linger on the families, the women who waited for their tired husbands, the children craning to see the faces of their grandparents.

  But today someone waited for her.

  She smiled in anticipation, and then she saw him, and her smile became a grin, and she didn’t care. She hastened her step, nearly running. He was standing apart from the others, dressed in a soft chambray shirt, his hair combed carefully and his face freshly shaved. His mouth quirked up at the corners, and his eyes danced, a man who couldn’t believe his luck.

  And then someone stepped between them. Lauren nearly collided with the man; she stepped back and began to apologize.

  It was Philip.

  Her words froze on her lips, and in slow motion she saw Rafi step toward her, hand outstretched, ready to steady her.

  “Lauren.” It was Philip who spoke, Philip who oozed confidence, who held himself with the authority of a general, who was accustomed to barking commands, so that his voice had taken on a tone of self-assuredness that never wavered.

  Rafi hesitated. Lauren glanced frantically from one to the other, wanting to propel herself into the safety of Rafi’s arms.

  Philip took her arm, firmly, and pulled her in and deposited a kiss on her cheek. Stunned, Lauren touched the place where he had kissed her, stepped back.

  “Lauren, we need to talk. I’ve left Cherie.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with me,” Lauren said, edging towards Rafi, who stood uncertainly with his arms at his sides. “You thought it best if we didn’t stay in contact, remember?”

  Philip made an impatient motion with his hands. “I would like to ask you to forget that conversation, Lauren,” he said. “Look, mistakes were made. I was not myself. I know I have some making up to do, and I’m prepared to do it.”

  “My driver is here,” Lauren said, then regretted her words. He had not been merely her driver for a long time, and the words tasted like an insult on her lips. She looked into Rafi’s eyes imploringly, saw the familiar sparks there. Danger. “His name is Rafi,” she added. “I need to go.”

  Philip spared only a glance in Rafi’s direction. “I’ll take you home myself.”

  “I have plans.”

  “Just the ride, for God’s sake, Lauren! We can talk on the way. Make a call, get out of whatever you have to do. This is important.”

  “I—”

  “Look, I’m not asking you to make up your mind this second,” Philip said, picking up her carry-on. “Just hear me out. I think we both need to air our thoughts.”

  Lauren watched helplessly as he tugged out the handle of her flight bag.

  Then Rafi stepped closer. His eyes were clouded with fury, his jaw set like stone. “The lady said she has plans,” he said, steel in his voice.

  Philip laughed. Lauren’s gut contracted with anger. “Look, Buddy, don’t worry, I’ll pay your fee.” He took out his wallet and peeled off a handful of bills. “Here. Take a hike, buy yourself a drink. Okay?”

  He held out the bills to Rafi, who made no move to take them.

  “Lauren,” Rafi said quietly. “Come with me. Please.”

  Philip looked from one to the other of them, incredulously. “What the hell? You’re way out of line here, buddy. Come on, take the money. The offer’s running out in a few seconds.”

  “No thanks.” Rafi spat the words through clenched teeth.

  There was a silence as the men regarded each other, hatred coming off Rafi in waves.

  Finally, Philip shrugged, pocketed the money. “Suit yourself. Lauren, come on. Let’s not waste any more time on this guy. What do you say, I’ll get us a table at Nicoise—”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Lauren said, but her voice trembled, giving her away.

  “Lauren.” Philip wheedled, allowing her half a smile. “Come on, honey. Be reasonable.”

  She did not feel strong now. Being near Philip threatened something in her, nipped at the tender bud of courage that had begun to form in her, nourished by Rafi’s attention. She didn’t feel like a beautiful woman, not w
hen Philip ordered her around, sure she’d never deny him.

  She remembered how he had hurt her, how he’d belittled her so often. Some of her spirit returned. No man would ever do that to her again.

  She glanced at Rafi—so strong, so determined—and her heart contracted. Rafi had made her believe in herself. He had opened up her life in ways she’d never imagined possible. Rafi was everything to her, everything she wanted in a man.

  But he wasn’t going to be hers forever. Her appeal would wane when some gorgeous younger woman came into Rafi's life, a woman with everything ahead of her, with taut skin and glossy hair.

  Philip, on the other hand, had come back. She guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. Men like Philip strayed, but they returned to their reliable, proper mates, if only for appearances.

  When she was with Rafi, she never doubted that he wanted to be there. But how long would it be until Rafi tired of her? Her lip trembled. She would trade all the rest of her days for a week of his love, if she could have him completely. But that’s not the way it was going to be. She was a novelty. Maybe even a project, an outlet for Rafi's generous heart. But she couldn’t ask him for any promises.

  Lauren decided. She would dispense with Philip once and for all; then she would go to Rafi and accept whatever time he would give.

  “All right,” she said to Philip. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Turning to Rafi, she could barely hold his gaze, his face a stormy mask of disbelief.

  “I’ll, um, contact you soon.”

  #

  Lauren slipped into a chair with her coffee and took out her phone. Rafi’s number glowed in the twilight of the coffee shop. She dialed nervously, waiting through the first ring.

  He picked up. “Hello?”

  “Rafi — it’s me. Lauren.”

  There was a pause, painful to her, even over the wires she could sense his coldness.

  “You went with him. How could you do that, Lauren? You were ashamed of me?”

  “No!” Lauren’s heart skipped in astonishment. “Of course not! I went because I had to, not because I wanted to. I wanted to be with you.”

  “If you wanted to be with me, you would be here. Now.”

  Lauren was dismayed by the hardness of Rafi’s voice. His anger took her off guard. Of course it had been vile of her to leave him at the airport, but if he only understood the lengths she needed to go to rid herself of Philip, he would understand. “You don’t know Philip. He doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Evidently. So, you said yes.”

  “No!” Lauren clutched her slim phone more tightly. “I had to make it plain to him that I never wanted to see him again.”

  “If you allowed me, Lauren, I would have made it plain to him. That I was your lover. When he understood that, he would have left. A worm like him does not compete well.”

  Lauren let his words sink in. I was your lover. It was not what she had expected of Rafi, and she couldn’t fashion an answer in time.

  Rafi’s last hopes dissolved in the lengthening silence. “What would you have done, Lauren, if I had taken your hand? And what about next time, when your colleagues might pass by? Your family? How many times, Lauren, would your hunger for me outweigh your common sense?

  “I have nothing for you, Lauren. I am not the man for you. I have just been stupid enough not to see it until now.”

  “Rafi, don’t—” Lauren’s voice was edged with distress. It was a good thing that she wasn’t in his presence, or he might not have been able to stop himself from reaching for her, comforting her.

  “Lauren, you are not thinking with your mind. We have shared something rare but it is not love that you feel for me. Other men can love you well. They are not all like Philip. A good man, one who has something to offer you—”

  “I don’t want anyone to offer me anything!” The heat was returning to her voice. “Damn it, Rafi. I am a grown woman. Who are you to tell me what I want? I want you. I want to be with you.”

  Rafi’s own anger flared. “Ah, which parts of me do you want? I can tell that you love my body, my hands on your skin. But do you want my heart? My life? Do you want to share my tiny dark apartment? Would you enjoy preparing meals that would wait in the oven until I returned from work, doing a job that none of your friends would ever lower themselves to do?

  “Or perhaps you would marry me, is that it?” Rafi heard the contempt in his voice. He knew he was going too far, but he could not stop. He could not bear her rejection, and so he would get there first, even if it meant hurting her this way. “Would you settle for a courthouse wedding, no white gown, no champagne toasts? Would you enjoy the paperwork and the indignity of the officials scrutinizing our lives?”

  Her silence was deafening. It held her answer—she did not need to say a word.

  “I’ve learned, Lauren,” he said in a softer voice, finally mastering his anger. “I will not love another woman, not until I have something to offer. Everything to offer.”

  “But Rafi—”

  He could not bear to hear her voice breaking, the tears coming. “Good night, Lauren,” he whispered softly, and broke the connection.

  #

  Later—it seemed like hours—he left the apartment and walked. Horns blared when he ignored the signal; he barely glanced up.

  He arrived at the lake and crossed the band of sand. Night had fallen, and only a few souls remained, some unfortunate ones with nowhere else to go, others troubled, like himself.

  At the water’s edge he took the box from his pocket, and lifted out the tiny earrings. They were cold in his hand, but they caught the moonlight and sent their flashing beams as he moved his palm.

  And so it is over, he thought bitterly, flinging them as far as he could into the cold dark water.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  On Monday Lauren called a new service.

  By the third week with her new driver, she was growing accustomed to him. He called her Sweetie. He had thirteen grandchildren and, to be polite, she looked at the fan of photographs he updated each time.

  He caught on and respected her need for silence. She passed it off as well as she could—“I’m just not a morning person”—and closed her eyes and shielded her temples with her hand on the way to the airport.

  Her blouses were once again buttoned to the top. The garters had been relegated to the bottom of her bureau, and her hair, in the gaining heat of early summer, was twisted into a style that kept her neck cool but did little to set off her features.

  Philip finally got the hint when she spoke the words “restraining order,” but it was not victory she felt when she hung up on him for the final time. It was defeat. Weariness.

  And an overwhelming sense of loss.

  #

  Lauren slid her papers into the flap pocket of her computer bag and zipped it shut. It was late, and she was hungry. The building was nearly empty, which was good — she would not have to make pleasant conversation as she left.

  “Lauren.” Jack Morgan stood in the door to her cubicle. Jack, with the confidence of a man who was sure he’d be CEO someday, with his tie loosened and his cuffs rolled up.

  “Hi Jack. I was just getting ready to go.”

  “Yeah. Me too. I was thinking, want to get something to eat? There’s a place back at the hotel, not bad. They do a mean crème caramel.” He smiled at her, but to Lauren it looked almost like a smirk. Self-consciously she put her hand to her throat, tugged at her skirt.

  “I don’t know. I’m pretty tired.”

  Jack ambled into the small space. Stood too close. His eyes followed her hand to the skin at her throat, then traveled down. “You know, Lauren, when you did the Karock Associates presentation last month, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I guess I never noticed before that you’re a really attractive woman. And I mean that in the best way.”

  Lauren edged away from him, slipping behind her desk. “Really. And what way is that?”

  “I mean, you’re hot. Lauren, you
’re different. I never noticed it before, but you’re a sensual woman. I can tell.”

  “Oh?” Anger surged from some unknown well inside her. Jack Morgan had never given her the time of day in all the years she’d worked with him. “How exactly can you tell?”

  Jack shrugged, and licked his lips. He wasn’t catching on; maybe most women bought his lines, despite the wedding ring he wore. “I don’t know. The way you move. Your hair. Or something. Come on, Lauren, what do you say, we can have a good time together.”

  “You’re married.” Lauren injected as much ice as she could into her voice.

  Jack Morgan actually had the gall to laugh. “Yeah. Look, I’m not proposing here, see? Let’s just have a little fun.”

  Lauren’s eyes narrowed in contempt. It was what she had wanted, back when her affair with Rafi had begun. A little fun, a band-aid for her broken heart. But coming from Jack, the notion repulsed her.

  And Lauren realized something.

  It had never been about a quick joy ride. Not for her. From the moment Rafi had taken her hand in his the first time, she had been falling for him, falling in love with him, and there was no way out. No other man would erase the mark Rafi had left on her; no casual liaisons would ease her hunger for him even for a moment.

  “Get out, Jack,” Lauren muttered.

  Surprise crossed his face, but he held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey. Whatever. Sorry I read you wrong.” He backed out of the office, then turned and disappeared down the hallway.

  As Lauren watched him go, her anger lifted. She wouldn’t waste the emotion on a man like Morgan.

  She was going to need all her energy to figure out how to get Rafi back.