Silk

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “Claire, don’t—”

  “Answer me! Are you in love with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you still love me?”

  “Of course I love you, Claire. I—”

  “Are you in love with me?”

  His silence was the loudest answer he’d given all night. His lack of words unraveled me and forced me to break down right in front of him.

  He began talking over my cries, saying words of some kind, but all I could hear was the roaring of blood in my ears, the literal shattering of my heart.

  I curled into the fetal position and cried my eyes out. I kept saying, “Get away from me, it’s over,” but he wrapped his cold arms around me and refused to let me go.

  I wanted to believe that we could get through this together, that he could fall in love with me again and we could put this affair behind us. But as his clammy fingers caressed my shoulders, I realized that I didn’t trust him anymore. And I didn’t want to hurt myself even more by having to learn how to trust him again.

  In the morning, with the one shred of dignity I had left, I calmly told him that I wanted a divorce.

  “The collapse of my marriage was not my fault.” I exhaled and opened my eyes.

  I felt my phone vibrating and held it up to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Mom, I need some Pop-Tarts.”

  “Caroline, you have a car and a part-time job. Go to the store and buy them yourself.”

  “I spent my last check on an iPod! Besides, Ashley said you were at the grocery store and I can’t do my work without Pop-tarts. Can you get some for me and drop them off at the library? Please?”

  Sometimes, I swore that my daughters weren’t related to me. They couldn’t be. At sixteen years old, they had all the book smarts in the world, but their common sense IQ was probably negative.

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.” She sighed. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Let me call you back mom! The ice cream truck is coming up the street! I have to get an Elmo-sicle!”

  Just as I was about to put my phone back into my purse, my other daughter called. “Yes, Ashley?”

  “How long was I supposed to keep that bread in the oven?”

  “You weren’t supposed to touch that bread at all, Ashley. I said it was for dinner. It was going to go with the spaghetti and—”

  “I was hungry! What was I supposed to eat?”

  “Leftover chicken salad, sushi—”

  “I’m a vegan since last night mom.” She gave me one of her ‘you-just-don’t-understand-me’ groans. “Remember? I can’t eat meat. Can you get me some soy products while you’re out? And I’m totally sorry, but I completely burned that bread…Shouldn’t the oven have made a sound to alert me? And why does every plastic pan I put in the oven burn up? What’s that about?”

  Oh my god…

  “I’ll see you when I get home, Ashley.” I hung up.

  My daughters were not related to me. If I was sixteen years old with a job and a shared car, I wouldn’t be calling my mother about anything. Then again—I scrolled down my phone’s list and called my own mother. “Mom, are you still coming over for dinner tonight?”

  “Sure. What time should I be there?”

  “Seven o’ clock. And I need you to bring some bread over. I had some ready but Ashley put another plastic pan in the oven.”

  “You need to get those girls checked out, Claire. I told you they were born with half a brain.”

  “Tell me about it. See you tonight, mom. I’ll—”

  “Wait! Robert Millington told me you still haven’t called him. He really wants to take you out. I think he’d be good for you!”

  I tried not to groan. Robert was the son of my mom’s best friend. He was two years older than me, but he wasn’t attractive and he was extremely dull—worse-than-watching-paint-dry dull. His idea of great conversation was discussing the differences between American and British politics.

  “No thanks, mom. Not interested.”

  “Why not? He’s a good guy! He has his own law firm, he’s in great shape—”

  “And he’s boring. I’ll pass. See you tonight, mom.” I hung up.

  I made my way down the beverage aisle and grabbed a carton of dry milk. I headed for the meat section and grabbed a few pounds of beef—soy beef.

  As I walked by, I looked up at the reflective glass that hung over the chicken display. I still had problems recognizing myself on some days. I was still coming to terms with the new and improved me—the woman who actually enjoyed putting on make-up and spending more than twenty minutes on her hair.

  You still got it…You still got it…You still—

  I pushed my basket straight into a display of cereal boxes.

  Great…

  Stooping down, I began putting it back together the best way I could. I wanted to fix everything before the snotty manager came over and said his infamous, “Mistakes like this are what drive our prices up.”

  “Need some help?” A deep voice said from behind.

  “Sure.” I didn’t look up. I kept stacking the red boxes in between the yellow ones, making sure each box was perfectly aligned into the tacky half diamond formation.

  As I stacked the last cereal box atop the display, I turned to look at the man who’d helped me out.

  OH. MY. GOD…

  He had one of those faces that belonged in a Ralph Lauren ad—stark blue eyes that gleamed with the faintest hint of light, a perfectly chiseled jaw line with a light sexy stubble, and full, well-defined lips that looked inviting enough to kiss all day.

  He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black sweat shirt with “San Fran” in white letters. And for some odd reason, he was smiling at me.

  He’s probably a student at the law school down the street….If only I could go back in time…Oh well…

  “Umm…Thank you for your help.” I turned away and went back to my basket.

  “Wait a minute,” he said as he walked over. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  How cute…

  “Claire.”

  “Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Jonathan.” He reached out to shake my hand. “I know this may seem forward, but I can’t leave the store without knowing if I can I take you out tonight.”

  What? Did he just ask me out? For tonight?

  “Umm…”

  “You can pick the place.” He smiled a perfect white smile and ran a hand through his jet black hair. “And we can meet there if you don’t want me to pick you up.”

  Stop looking at his smile and avert your gaze somewhere lower…Not that lower!

  “I would but…” I literally couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen—his face had to have been personally sculpted by the Gods, and I was starting to feel this strange rush of warmth coursing through my veins. “I can’t.”

  “Is it because you’re seeing someone else?” His eyes veered to my bare left hand. “Are you married?”

  He has to be kidding me…

  “No. I’m not married or seeing anyone else. I’m—”

  “So would eight o’ clock tonight be fine? Where exactly do you want to meet?” He looked directly into my eyes and I almost collapsed onto the floor.

  The look he was giving me should’ve been reserved for a seductive scene in a romance movie and his dreamy smile was lethal…

  “Look, I’m completely flattered but you look kind of young.”

  He furrowed his eyebrow. “That’s very nice of you to say, but that doesn’t answer my question. Where do you want to—”

  “How old are you, Jonathan?”

  “Twenty eight.” His beautiful eyes lit up.

  Twenty eight?! Why am I still standing here entertaining him? He’s eleven years younger than me! No thanks…

  “Well, that’s way too young for me. I have a little cousin that’s more in your age range. She’s currently studying law, but if you want I can call and ask her if—”

  “You don’t w
ant to go out with me?”

  “No. I’m way too old for you and I’m not a cougar or a cradle robber. I have two daughters and I would feel some type of way if they dated someone who had our age difference.”

  “Our age difference?”

  “Yes. I’m thirty nine, which means that when you were eight years old and learning how to build fires with the Boy Scouts, I was nineteen and in college. It means that when you were nineteen and trying to figure out what major you wanted to pick, I was thirty trying to build a career in marketing. And just in case you don’t realize how many years there are that separate us, there are eleven. Do you not see the problem with that?”

  “Not really.” He grinned. “But I can’t force someone to go out with me, can I? Could I at least give you my number just in case you change your mind?”

  “Sure.” I took out my phone and vowed to delete his number later.

  “It’s 555-9845…I really hope you change your mind, Claire.” He gave me another one of those seductive glances and walked away.

  “What are you waiting for? Call him, Claire! Tonight!”

  “Shhhh! I don’t want everyone here in my personal life, Sands!”

  “Whatever,” she whispered. “Why can’t you go out with him?”

  “He’s twenty eight!”

  “Which means he’s practically thirty! What’s the problem? He didn’t ask you to marry him. He simply asked you out and told you to suggest the place.”

  “Wouldn’t that make me a cougar though? Eleven years younger than me? Wait, twelve years younger than me once Friday gets here…What would my mom think? What about his mother?”

  “Claire, it’s a simple date. At the very least, maybe you two will hit it off, go out a few more times, and then you can finally get some sex! How long has it been again?”

  My associates all looked up at me.

  “Get back to work!” I waited for them to look away from me and glared at Sandra. “I’ve only been here a few years. Could we try not to have my associates gossiping about me?”

  “Sorry.” She followed me into my corner office. “You hate it here anyway…All I’m trying to say is that you haven’t been on a date in a while and—”

  “I went out last month, remember? Tucker Williams. He was a pediatric surgeon and—”

  “Please! He didn’t ask a single thing about you the entire night and he cursed at you once you didn’t invite him in. Now that I think about it, that’s the only date you’ve been on since you moved here! In four years! You really need to start dating again.”

  I sighed. “I will, I will—only men that are my age or a little older though.”

  “Fine, but you don’t have a good reason not to take this Jonathan guy up on his offer. Who cares if he’s younger? You did say he was attractive, right?”

  He’s more than just “attractive”…

  “Yeah.” I leaned against my desk. “He is…”

  “So go for it! You can still search for a more mature guy in the meantime, but can’t you have a little fun until you find one?”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll call him tonight.”

  “Miss Gracen?” My assistant buzzed in.

  “Yes, Rita?”

  “Mr. Barnes wants all the directors in the conference room for the weekly overview session.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I hit the end button on my office intercom and gave Sandra a hug.

  “I guess I should get back to my practice huh?” She shrugged. “Don’t forget to call me after you talk to him.” She walked towards the east elevators and I walked towards the north ones.

  Another overview session with Mr. Barnes and the rest of the directors was the last thing I wanted to do today. No one ever had anything remotely interesting to discuss in those meetings. It usually just entailed Mr. Barnes spewing out brainstorming ideas until Bob from demographic research fell asleep and banged his head on the table—everyone’s cue that another dreadful meeting was over.

  I took my place at the glass conference table and sat down.

  “Good afternoon, everyone!” Mr. Barnes seemed extremely chipper today. “As usual, we have some very important ventures and promotional plans we need to discuss. But, before we get into that, I want to introduce you to someone who has never visited us before…All the way from the fiftieth floor, founding member and CEO Jonathan Statham!”

  Everyone stood and clapped as he walked into the room. I gave a soft clap and was about to begin my standard “tuning everything out” routine, until I noticed that all the female directors were salivating—yes, salivating, at whoever had walked through those doors.

  I turned my head to the left and saw that the “Jonathan” I’d met at the grocery store last week was the Jonathan Statham.

  My jaw dropped as I looked him over. He was even sexier in his navy blue suit. He’d shaved his stubble and his dark sleek hair was combed off his face —not a single strand was out of place. His eyes were gleaming in a seductive hue of blue, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips...or that smile…

  He nodded his head at each and every one of us, raising his eyebrow once his eyes found mine.

  His lips curved into a wry smile and he began to speak. “It’s an honor to be at your meeting today. With over four thousand employees, it’s hard to know everyone, but this year I want to make myself more transparent, more available.” His eyes met mine again.

  “I’m sorry I don’t tell you how much I value you every day, but I really do,” he continued. “As you know, we’re going through a restructuring phase. We’re going to be shaking a few things up over the coming weeks by hiring new talent. Not to worry though, no one is losing a job. We’re about to sign four major clients and we want to make sure our marketing team is as strong as it can possibly be.”

  Just fire everyone and start over if that’s the case…

  “I’ll turn things back over to you now, Mr. Barnes.” Jonathan walked around the table and took a seat directly across from me.

  The art director who was sitting next to him blushed bright pink.

  Everyone was on their best behavior for a change. People were participating in the brainstorming session and contributing ideas instead of scrolling away on their phones or looking out the windows.

  I contributed whenever I was called, and couldn’t help but notice that Jonathan was watching my every move. Occasionally, he would redirect his focus to the projector screen or on whoever was speaking, but his piercing blue eyes always found their way back to me.

  Why is he staring at me? And why is he making it so damn obvious?

  I answered another question about our latest ad campaign and caught Jonathan winking at me as he poured himself a glass of water. I tried to look away from him, but it was too damn hard.

  He was too damn sexy.

  I was glad I’d perfected the poker face a few years ago; I was a master at looking unaffected.

  Maybe Sandra’s right. Maybe I can date him and at least get some good sex out of it. I haven’t had sex in a long time. A very long time…Wait, is four years really that long of a time?

  “Miss Gracen?” Mr. Barnes interrupted my thought-fest.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you still willing to work as team coordinator rather than going to the company’s IPO ball this summer? You sure you want to gift your ticket to an intern?”

  Jonathan tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” I swiveled my chair around. “I don’t want to go. I think we should gift it to the intern that works the hardest over the next few months.”

  “Excellent idea!” He began to say other things and I made a conscious effort to keep my eyes glued on the presentation.

  I looked at my watch every five seconds, hoping the meeting would come to an end so I could jump up and leave. I thought that there had to be something wrong with me. I couldn’t believe I was actually fantasizing about a man who was eleven years younger than me.

  “Mis
s Gracen, did you bring that segment data with you?” Mr. Barnes intruded my thoughts again. “Did you include the latest prototype research?”

  Could you please end this fucking meeting?!

  “Yes.” I held up a blue folder.

  “Great! Could you give that to Mr. Statham please? And how about you, Mrs. Turner? Did you happen to find out if—”

  I tuned him out. I wanted to jump across the table and thrash him for dragging this meeting on longer than necessary, pretending like we actually did anything productive just because we were in front of the CEO.

  I turned my chair around and saw Jonathan beaming at me with his hand outstretched. I didn’t bother placing the folder into his hand—I didn’t want any bodily contact between us, especially not with that panty-dropper smile of his.

  I slid it across the table and turned back around.

  The meeting came to an end an hour later, without Bob’s head bang as a gavel, and everyone made a move for the door.

  I leapt out of my chair and squeezed between Mr. Barnes and the regional director. I was about to step outside the room when Jonathan grabbed my hand, causing a sudden shock of electricity to ripple through me.

  He must have felt it too because he immediately let my hand go.

  “May I please have a word with you, Miss Gracen?” he asked.

  “Sure, Mr. Statham…” I moved to the other side of the room.

  He waited for the last director to leave the room and shut the door before walking over to me.

  “How long have you been working here, Miss Gracen?” He placed subtle emphasis on the word ‘Miss’ and smiled.

  “About four years.”

  “Hmmm. I can’t believe I’m just now finding you.” He rubbed his chin. “Do you like it?”

  There has to be a better word than “sexy” to describe you…

  “Do I like what?”

  “Your job, this company.”

  “You want me to be completely honest?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “I absolutely hate it here, but the offices are decorated quite nicely. The interior designers did one hell of a job.”

  “Good to know.” He laughed. “I take it that since you haven’t called, you’re not interested in going out with me?”