by Ruby Madden
“You think?”
“I do. You have a gift, a knack for assessing people. If you tell me she’s interested in you, but holding back for some reason, I believe you. It’s part of what makes you such an exceptional sales manager. You’ve always been good at knowing what people are feeling and thinking. I know that about you.”
“Yeah. It’s true. That’s why it’s been driving me crazy.” Clay admitted.
“Have faith. If the universe and the gods have been kind enough to bring you two together twice now, I believe you will meet again. It just takes some time. Allow it to happen. She has something to work out, to work through before she’s ready for you, it would seem. The gods are being kind to her.”
“I never thought about it that way.”
“That’s the advantage of age and wisdom, son. It gets easier to understand the rhyme and reason of life. Some things are destined, fated if you will. Others are a result of our choices. Either way, we all showed up for the party here on this little blue dot we call Earth.”
Clay smiled, amused and charmed. His Father always was the more mystically, spiritually inclined of his parents. A bit of a philosopher. Clay’s Mother had been the pragmatic, practical one. An attorney. His parents had met at Stanford in Palo Alto. They were all alumni, including Clay.
“My son, the Salesman with a Stanford degree. We might as well have sent you to Berkeley.” His Father laughed.
Clay playfully punched his Father in the upper arm. He noticed that his Father was looking tired and weary.
“You need to rest Dad. I’m going to get something to eat. I haven’t had much of an appetite of late…”
His Father nodded. “You do that. Come back when you’re rested and ready. I’m not going anywhere, sadly.”
“Don’t remind me.” Clay said, standing and squeezing his Father’s hand firmly. “I love you Dad.”
“I love you son.”
Clay left his Father’s hospital room, the door closing behind him with a gentle thump that sickened him. He hastily found a men’s room just down the hall, went into a stall and sobbed until he was good and ready to find something to eat.
When he first arrived, it’d been hard to see how unwell his Father was and how bravely he was fighting his illness. The treatment had been unusually hard on him, at his age. Clay didn’t regret deciding taking time off from work to help care for him. There were times in life when one needed to prioritize those they cared for, and put everything to the side.
* * *
A couple weeks later, Clay’s Father passed. Each day that he was able to spend with his Father was a treasure of time. They’d shared, talked, bantered, watched sports games on TV, taken short strolls on the hospital grounds, Clay pushing his Father along in a wheelchair, while they admired nature and the weather.
Clay only left his Father’s side to go to his Father’s home to sleep, shower and rest. Even when his Father dozed or rested, Clay sat by his side.
He arrived one day to find a nurse waiting for him near the entrance of his Father’s door. She’d kindly been watching over him while the two spent time together. She’d been impressed by the devotion and tenderness she’d witnessed in Clay and how much he cared for his dying parent.
When Clay saw her, the lump in his throat nearly blocked off all of his ability to breath. He rushed to the door.
The nurse intervened. “It’s very close now, he’s in a coma. He won’t be waking up again. I wanted to prepare you.” She said gently and full of thoughtful kindness.
Clay stood frozen in place, registering that the last time he’d actually ever be able to speak with his Father had been the day prior to his leaving the cancer ward. Eventually, he nodded, unashamed that tears pooled in his eyes and then streamed down his cheeks.
He acknowledged what she’d shared. In a mangled voice, he managed to thank her. He braced himself and went into his Father’s room.
A week later, Clay flew home to Portland after his Father’s passing. His Father had pre-planned his memorial, and opted to be cremated as all in Clay’s family do. He’d return to San Francisco to settle his Father’s estate in a few months, but for now, he needed the time and distance to mourn. Thankfully, his Father’s part-time housecleaner, who’d worked for Clay’s family over two decades, agreed to tend to his home in the meantime until Clay could return.
Closing the door and locking it, he thought about the many amazing conversations they’d had since he first arrived. As hard as it was, he was grateful he’d had the time to spend with his Father. Now, it was time to go back. Back to his own life in Portland.
{ GRACE }
Grace walked to the Portland Streetcar, on her way to work, thinking about the evening and morning she’d just had. Her thoughts were percolating around the dynamic between her and Greg. And then to Clay and back again to Grace’s desires and her heart.
Ever since that night when she first hooked-up with Greg, they’d been getting together, for sex as much as they could. She loved it.
Grace blushed, it was as if she was making up for all the lost time, the sex drought she’d been in for so very long. She was so bold and exploratory with Greg. She felt natural and in her skin with him.
She enjoyed her time with him.
However, there was a nagging sensation frequently present in the back of her mind. Thoughts of Clay always gurgling up.
What to do?
There was nothing to be done. She had no way of reaching out to him. Didn’t know where to find him or how to contact him.
Could she be lovers with Greg and still secretly harbor her longing and feelings for Clay? Was this fair?
It got to be overwhelming, but in the end – she always came to the same conclusion. Her time spent with Greg was good. Much needed. A huge breakthrough for her when it came to sexual intimacy with a man. At least this way, she wouldn’t be so hesitant or scared if she ever got the chance to be with Clay.
That was progress, right?
She may not be in love with Greg, or be drawn to him the same way she had been drawn to Clay, but both were her right to explore. To experience.
The trolley ride, as usual was soothing as it rolled towards her destination downtown. Her thoughts of Greg and Clay quieted down and she opened an eBook on her smart-phone to read. Drawn in, she didn’t notice that Clay had stepped onto the Streetcar at the opposite end of the trolley.
As the busy trolley moved forward, full of occupants, many standing, Grace felt a tingling sensation. Just as the trolley came to a stop to open its doors, she noticed a man who looked like Clay, exiting the trolley and walking down the street, his back facing her. Grace would know his stroll anywhere.
Clay!
She stood up immediately and attempted to push her way through the crowd to an exit, but the trolley doors were already closing and the Portland Streetcar rolled forward.
“Nooooooo…” Grace wailed, out loud to a crowd full of strangers.
She watched as Clay disappeared from sight. Letting out a heavy sigh, she grabbed on to one of the passenger bars to hold onto. Her stop was only a couple more away.
Am I cursed? Grace wondered.
{ CLAY }
Clay stood in the long movie line, with Hannah by his side, waiting to pay for their tickets. Back from San Francisco a few weeks, he’d decided to give Hannah another chance. Maybe he’d been too harsh about her…
If Grace wasn’t going to contact him, then he needed to move on and be with someone who wanted him. It would do. For now.
If Grace did contact him, that being a big IF – then he’d figure it out at that time. For now, he just wanted to push thoughts of Grace aside so he could move forward with his life. For his own sanity and sake.
When he’d called Hannah, she’d sounded pleased enough to hear from him but she hadn’t bothered to ask about how he was doing. This disheartened him. He wanted, no – needed a woman who was equally interested in his emotional well
-being as she was his body.
Hannah chattered with a friend on her phone next to him about some inane concern of hers that held no interest for him. He hated that he was lonesome enough to abuse her interest in him so that he didn’t have to do things like this, going to the movies – alone.
He realized that the last time he had been to the movies, it was when he and Grace had gone to the late-in-the day matinee at the Fox Tower. The intimacy they’d shared in the theater has he had given her pieces from a chocolate bar. It still aroused him, turned him on.
Standing there, waiting – he felt a current of energy go through him. Distinctly, he got the impression that someone was watching him. He didn’t know why, but the zing of it made him tingle. Clay casually looked about, expecting to make contact with someone he knew. This was different for him, however. He knew it made no sense, but he sensed her.
But where?
The line continued moving forward and Clay found himself going through the motions of paying for the movie tickets and then guiding Hannah into the theater with him. Somewhat distracted by the lurking sensation, he peered back and over his shoulder.
Hoping to find a beautiful mess of blonde, never-ending curls and her curvy self, there was no one that resembled Grace. Just a coffee shop across the street, the windows too foggy to see anyone clearly enough.
{ GRACE }
Grace felt his presence first, before she saw Clay standing in the movie theater line – with a woman. A sexy, sporty, slender woman.
She was delighted to see Clay and her body instantly moved up out of her seat to head towards the coffee shop door, towards him, as if a will all its own. She stopped, of course, once her brain had caught up with what she was assessing.
He was there, in line, at the movies, with a woman.
Stop Grace! You’ll make a fool of yourself…
Instead she sat back down in her chair at the café table. Her laptop computer in front of her, the sounds of other patrons, the aroma of coffee beverages and pastry delights infused in the air. The murmur of chatter around her, the clicking of laptop keys as other patrons typed away furiously on their computers.
Time stopped for her, suspended.
Her entire focus was on observing Clay. As much as she wanted to find the courage to walk across the street and say hello to him, she found that she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it. He was with a woman, at the movies.
They were together. So obviously together.
When his hand nestled gently around the waist of his slender companion to guide her into the theater, Grace sighed. She remembered how pleasant that had felt when he’d done the same thing with her on that fated day they first met.
She fought back the tears.
What was this hold this man, a practical near-stranger, had on her? Why was she so compelled to know him better? To seek him out? And why, for the love of the gods, did he constantly re-appear in her life – only to be un-accessible for whatever the reason?!
Months had passed since that one glorious, serendipitous day when she’d spent it with a handsome, attractive, charming stranger who behaved as if he could eat her alive with lust.
Grace felt a hand on her shoulder and she started, startled back to reality and out of her reverie. Equally quick, Greg’s lips kissed her cheek. She had completely forgotten that he was joining her.
“Grace love, you look very absorbed. What’s got your attention so riveted?” He asked warmly.
Grace peered up at Greg, at his lean, tall, slender frame, his adoring smile.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I thought I recognized someone across the street that I haven’t seen in a while, that’s all. Hard to tell if it’s them from here.” She said.
Greg shrugged and sat down next to her, unpacking his backpack. As it turned out, Le Cordon Bleu student-chefs had a lot of reading to do. Once settled, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“How’s your day going sweetheart?” Greg asked, noting that she seemed unusually pre-occupied.
Grace nodded. “Good. Better, now that you’re here.” She flashed him a bright smile and leaned forward for a quick kiss.
Greg pulled his books and laptop out of his bag, getting his temporary study station set up.
“I’m gonna get in line, do you want anything? A refill?” He asked.
“No, I’m good. Thanks though, sweetie.” Grace answered.
Greg stepped away.
Thank god! She needed a few minutes to get her bearings…
She forced herself to get back to her laptop and willed herself to stop thinking about Clay.
Despite her best efforts, it proved useless.
{ GRACE }
Grace felt moody. Her job was frustrating her. The rain was driving her bonkers. She felt cooped up in her apartment. Somehow, too much just felt wrong. So wrong…
At least the workday was over. There was some relief in that.
Greg was coming over later, once he was done with work. They’d planned to watch a movie but Grace found herself wanting to take a long bath instead. Candles, a big glass of wine, and some quality time alone.
Between work and all the time that she and Greg were spending together, she realized she wasn’t getting as much alone time as she needed.
Was this odd? Her need to be alone…
Her therapist had kindly reminded her that her needing time alone was how she processed her life. And change. Grace was all too excited to share with her therapist that she’d found someone to be in a semi-relationship with.
She undressed, slowly stripping off her work clothes and putting them into the hamper. She went to her bathroom, turned on the hot water to fill up the tub. She added sea salt and scents. Scavenging for some matches to light the candles in her bathroom, she then stepped out into her living room and picked up her cell. She found a recent text message from Greg waiting for her.
‘Can’t wait to play with you tonight sexy.’
The text was from Greg and was bitter-sweet. For a moment, she wistfully imagined getting a text like this from Clay.
Grace stood there, naked, drumming up the courage to cancel on Greg. It would be the first time. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings but she also didn’t feel that she would be good company tonight. Lately she found herself imagining it was Clay whenever they had sex.
She despaired because it felt as if she was cheating on Greg, when she wasn’t. Not technically.
‘Hey, forgive me. Not feeling so great tonight, gonna take a bath and head to bed. Sorry to be a flake.’
She stood there, getting chilly, her thumb hesitating from hitting the send button. Why did she feel so guilty?
Wavering on it, she finally sent Greg the text. She put her cell down and strode into her kitchen where she poured herself a generous sized glass of wine. Picking up the goblet, she saw her phone’s screen light up and flicker. She was certain there would be a response waiting from Greg. Instead of reading it, she ignored it and went to her bathroom. She set the glass of wine down carefully, within easy reach of the tub turned. She tested the water with her big toe.
Thankfully, it was mostly full and she gently eased herself in, appreciating the enveloping warmth. She reached for her iPod ear-buds that she had set by the tub, to listen to some soft, soothing music. As music and warm water lured her into a safe cocoon, she felt the tears come. In that way where one is crying almost before they know it.
That old, familiar sadness emerged. The one she’d struggled with for so long…
Wanting so badly to break through these barriers within herself to be able to open up and love. Be loved.
Grace had a taste of desire now. For this, she was grateful. Although Clay had awoken the passion within her, it was Greg that had released her from the cage.
Grace’s thoughts bounced around, back and forth from Greg to Clay. The way she appreciated Greg were different from what she desired in Clay.
Was it fair? Fair to Gre
g?
She just needed to drift away from her world and her life for a while. Because this strange agony, this awkward ache in her heart was worrisome and no matter what she did or how she tried to convince herself otherwise, she just couldn’t get Clay out of her thoughts.
Out of her mind.
Out of her heart.
{ CLAY }
Clay tapped the bar counter, signaling to the bartender that he wanted another drink.
Somehow, he’d managed to keep himself pulled together since the flight from San Francisco and back home to Portland. His Father’s death had been so sudden, so fast, so devastating. Frozen, he hadn’t shed a single tear since the last few days he spent with his Father in the cancer ward, not even at the memorial, too numb to let himself acknowledge that his Father was truly gone.
But tonight, it caught up with him. His grief.
There was only one thing he wanted to do and that was to get rip-roaring drunk at his favorite gentleman’s club, the G. Club. Being around those whom you’ve well paid over the years allowed for a sense of familiarity to keep him company in his loneliness. An ache that was turning into an agony these days…
Despite Hannah’s presence in his life.
The bartender obliged, taking a keen interest in one of his preferred regulars. “You doing ok, sir?” He asked, noticing Clay’s sad face.
Clay sighed. “No. My Father passed recently. It came sooner than I had anticipated…”
The bartender reached across the bar-top to squeeze his shoulder and looked at him with the pitying compassion of a kind, wise soul. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. These are on the house tonight. My condolences.”
Clay nodded, the gesture of kindness caused him to choke up and look away in shame. The noble bartender knew well enough when to give a man some privacy and walked away to see to other members of the club.
