Second Wind

by Aimee Nicole Walker

“First of all, you’re the only one who enters my office without knocking first,” I told him dryly. “And second, have you ever caught me masturbating at my desk?”

  “Not yet,” Nigel admitted reluctantly, “but times are getting desperate around here.”

  He had no idea, but I refrained from admitting he was right. “What did you barge into my office for?”

  “I need to rearrange your schedule for next week.”

  “What? Why?” My calendar was filled months in advance, and I didn’t like last-minute changes. “People made those appointments months ago, Nigel. I’m not calling them the week before their appointment and telling them that I need to reschedule. No one is so important that they can’t wait.”

  “Janessa Meriday.” Nigel just chuckled when my mouth dropped open in surprise. Janessa was the modern-day Oprah Winfrey, in fact, people dubbed her Oprah 2.0.

  “She wants me to come on her show?” I asked. Like her shero, she had a daytime talk show that was so popular she gave Ellen a run for her money. I figured the only advantages Ellen had over Janessa was the location, Los Angeles versus Chicago, and her connections to the celebrities in Hollywood. Even with those two things stacked against her, I figured it was only a year, two at most, before she became the number one daytime talk show queen. “It’s great exposure, but—”

  “Do you know what’s better exposure than sitting in a chair on her set answering interview questions?” Nigel pondered out loud. He started humming game show music as I processed his question. He made a buzzer noise indicating that I’d taken too long to answer. “She wants to hire you to take her wedding photos this summer!”

  “Really?” I asked. Of all the photographers she could hire, she chose me? I had made huge inroads in my career over the past few years with magazine contracts, connections to the best modeling agencies, and I was even a guest lecturer at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. I was at the point that I could start cherry-picking the assignments I wanted and pass on the ones I didn’t.

  “Of course, she’d pick you. Who else?”

  I opened my calendar to look at my appointments for the first week of April, even though I had it memorized. “When does Janessa want to meet?”

  “She said she would work around your schedule since she knows you’re probably booked solid.” Nigel came bounding over. “Aren’t you surprised that she’s getting married so suddenly? Didn’t Baxter just propose in January? Do you think they’re eager to start a family of little Janxters?”

  I looked up from my monitor to pin Nigel with an incredulous look. “Janxter?”

  “You know, like Bennifer and Brangelina. Janxter is what they call Chicago’s favorite couple since Barack and Michelle.” Nigel couldn’t contain his excitement. “Daytime television’s darling and the hottest fucking quarter-something to ever live deserve a power-couple nickname.”

  “He’s a quarterback for the Chicago Bears,” I told Nigel, shaking my head in disbelief.

  “He’s fucking fine is what he is,” my assistant said.

  “He’s all right. He’s a little young for my taste.”

  Nigel squinted his eyes and scrutinized my face. “You may not look your age, but you’re sure acting it.” He started mimicking the use of a walker in front of my desk.

  “I’m forty-three, not ninety-three,” I reminded him.

  “So start acting like a forty-three-year-old for fuck’s sake. I half expect you to pull out your cardigan, pipe, and slippers when I come over to your house. Live a little, boss. Read a trashy book, watch reality television, and get caught up on your celebrity gossip.”

  Ignoring his cracks about my boringness, I said, “I just don’t get into all that fuss about celebrities. They’re people just like us. I would hate to have my relationships dissected publicly.”

  “You mean the one with your fist?” Nigel asked.

  “Nigel,” I said, not bothering to hide my exasperation. “Can we get back to the reason why you barged into my office and interrupted me?”

  “Petting your pooch?” he suggested.

  “Editing photos for a magazine spread,” I replied like I didn’t hear his snide comment.

  “We’re having dinner with Janessa and Baxter next Wednesday at Del Rios.”

  I felt my right eyebrow arch high on my forehead. “We?”

  “I’m your right-hand man who assists you with everything,” Nigel said. “You need me.”

  “Everything?” I could think of a lot of things I did with my right hand that didn’t require Nigel’s assistance. His face turned an interesting shade of pink as if his mind might’ve wandered down that same path. Why did he look embarrassed? Wasn’t he the one who had brought up masturbation.

  “Okay, there are some personal things that you take care of on your own, but you need me to go to dinner and take serious notes. You’re getting forgetful at your old age and no one, including you, can read your notes.”

  “I’ll use a tablet,” I countered.

  “Stop being mean, Rush. I’ll stop harassing you about your masturbation habit in the office.” He batted his eyelashes coquettishly at me. When that failed to win a response, Nigel slammed his hand on my desk and said, “I will slit your throat while you sleep if you don’t take me to dinner!”

  “Am I interrupting?” asked a voice I recognized all too well. Brutus began to growl until I snapped my fingers. Brutus came to me immediately. Nigel’s eyes widened before he stepped aside so I could see my newest visitor. “Maybe I should’ve called first. I hate to break up the happy couple’s discussion about masturbation and slitting-throats afterward. I hadn’t heard that’s what the kids are into these days.”

  “Travis,” I said, impressed that my voice sounded much calmer than I felt.

  “We’re not a couple, but you always did think something was going on between us,” Nigel said defensively. “It’s called friendship and respect, jackass. You should give it a try sometime.”

  I felt the corner of my mouth tip up into a half smile. Nigel was nothing, if not loyal. “Nigel, will you give us a few minutes?” My assistant looked greatly disappointed, but I knew it had more to do with not hearing what Travis came to say. He was the nosiest little shit I’d ever met. I leaned forward and lowered my voice so only he could hear. “I’ll tell you everything after he leaves.”

  “Fine,” Nigel replied haughtily. “Every. Single. Word.” He pivoted on his heels and exited my office, but not without calling Travis an asshole when he walked by him.

  “It’s good to see that Nigel hasn’t lost any of his spark,” Travis said as he slowly made his way toward my desk, his pensive eyes watching the large dog by my side who began to growl again until I placed my hand on the top of his broad head. “I see you’ve also made a new friend.”

  “Brutus.”

  “Perfect name for him.”

  “What brings you by today, Travis?”

  “Um, are you free for lunch? If not today, could we possibly meet later this week?”

  “I have about an hour I could spare for you before I need to be at SAIC at one o’clock,” I replied.

  “Will you?”

  My brow furrowed in confusion. “Will I what?”

  “You said you ‘could spare’ an hour and I’m asking if you will,” Travis responded.

  I had to admit that I didn’t miss this part of our relationship. I was sure Travis’s clients loved his attention to the tiniest of details, but it wasn’t much fun when he analyzed my every word. Still, he had a point. I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but my morbid curiosity wouldn’t allow me. “You’re buying. I’m in the mood for Italian.”

  “Of course.” He looked at my faithful sidekick who was throwing serious shade his way. “What about him?”

  “He loves spaghetti and meatballs as much as I do.”

  “You want to bring him with us?” Travis sounded truly horrified.

  “I do, but I won’t. I’ll leave Brutus here with Nigel until Gretchen picks him
up.”

  “Who’s Gretchen?”

  “She’s his dog sitter slash walker.”

  “You have a dog sitter?” Travis asked in utter disbelief.

  I didn’t care what Travis thought about my arrangement, so I just shrugged. “Are we doing this or not?” I looked at my watch and added, “You’re down to fifty-five minutes now.”

  “Sure, let’s go.”

  The shocked look on Nigel’s face when I told him I was going to lunch with Travis was comical. “I’ll call you later,” I assured him.

  “Every. Single. Word,” he reminded me.

  “You want to ride with me?” Travis asked when we exited my basement office. One of the things I loved most about my brownstone was the basement with a walkout door. I could enter my office from a private entrance from my house while clients and former fiancés used a separate entrance from the street.

  “We’ll drive separately since I’m heading to class.”

  “Sure thing,” he replied, sounding disappointed.

  Once alone in my car, I had to question just what the fuck I was doing. There could only be one reason for Travis reaching out to me again, and I wasn’t interested in what he was going to offer. I wasn’t so pathetic, hard up, or lonely that I’d set myself up for that kind of humiliation again. Was I? Fuck no!

  The hostess, Tiffany, must not have received the memo that Travis and I were no longer a couple because she sat us at our favorite table near the back of the restaurant. She didn’t bother to leave menus at our table since we were very familiar with everything they offered.

  “How are two of my favorite customers?” Roberto asked when he approached our table. “Would you like to hear the lunch specials?”

  “No,” Travis and I said at the same time.

  Roberto chuckled, but I noticed his usual gregarious smile was missing as his eyes stayed locked on Travis. “I didn’t realize the two of you got back together.” A person had to be blind to miss the tightness around Roberto’s mouth. I knew he had always been attracted to Travis, but there seemed to be more going on here, because the waiter acted like he was owed an explanation.

  “We’re not,” I told the waiter, drawing his attention to me. “Just two acquaintances having lunch.”

  Roberto quirked a brow but didn’t vocalize his doubts. “Are you guys having the usual?”

  “Yes,” Travis said.

  “No,” I answered at the same time. “I’m just going to have a Caesar salad, Roberto.”

  “Breadsticks?” he asked me.

  “Not today.” I felt Travis’s eyes on me during my exchange with the waiter.

  “On second thought, I’ll have the same thing,” Travis said.

  “Okay, two salads, no breadsticks, and two Diet Cokes,” Roberto said. “I’ll have your food out to you soon.”

  I noticed that Travis’s eyes lingered on Roberto’s ass when he walked away for several seconds before he shifted his gaze to mine. His cheeks turned an interesting shade of pink once he realized I caught him.

  “There’s no need to look guilty, Travis. You’re free to ogle anyone you want.”

  “Ogling sounds creepy,” Travis said sheepishly.

  “Okay, you’re free to admire anyone you want.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Travis raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck like he did when he was unsure of what to say. Then he dropped his hand and drew circles with his index finger on the checkered tablecloth. He stared at his hand for a long time while he worked out what he wanted to say. I only saw these nervous gestures a handful of times in all the years that I knew him. His unease triggered dread in the pit of my stomach. “Watching your figure?” He still hadn’t looked up from the table.

  “No,” I said casually. I too watched Travis’s finger circle around and around. It was oddly hypnotic.

  Travis finally rested his hand on top of the table and raised his eyes to meet my stare. “Hot date?” What was the emotion that caused his breath to hitch? Regret? Jealousy? Couldn’t be. Travis didn’t waste energy on pointless emotions. He was a doer, not a feeler.

  “No, I’m having dinner with Jules, Will, and Racheal. She’s making herb-crusted chicken breasts and fettuccine. I figured I might as well eat a light lunch to balance it out.” I leaned forward and gestured my hand back and forth between Travis and me. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking…”

  “Oh fuck.” I rubbed both hands over my face. “No, Travis.” There was no point in wasting his time by allowing him to tell me he regretted what happened between us. There could never be an us again, especially not after the cowardly way he handled our wedding day.

  “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

  “I can tell by your expression that you didn’t bring me here to have closure. You’re having second thoughts about breaking up with me.”

  “You’re right. I am. I fucking miss you, Rush. I miss us.”

  I lowered my hands to the table and just stared at him in shock. I mean, I suspected that was the case, but it was still a shock to hear. A salad plate landed with a loud thud in front of me. I jerked my head up and saw Robert staring at Travis through narrowed eyes as he dropped his salad onto the table hard enough that some of the lettuce and croutons bounced off the plate.

  “Would either of you like grated Parmesan?” he asked stiffly.

  “Uh, no, thanks,” I told him, offering a smile when he turned his angry countenance to me.

  “That’ll be all, Roberto,” Travis said angrily.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked once we were alone again. “Do you have something going on with Roberto?”

  “It was just once, and I’m afraid he hoped for more than a casual fling.”

  “After we broke up?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Travis seethed. “I was never unfaithful to you, Rush.”

  “Okay,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender. “I saw the way you looked at the guy. I don’t think he’s the only one still interested.”

  “He’s too young for me,” Travis said as he stabbed pieces of salad with a fork.

  “He wasn’t too young to fuck, but he’s too young to date?” I asked incredulously.

  “Lower your voice,” Travis whisper-yelled across the table.

  “It was a really big dick move for you to bring me here knowing he has feelings for you.”

  Travis rolled his eyes in annoyance as he chewed. “You’re the one who insisted on Italian,” he said after he swallowed.

  “You could’ve chosen a different restaurant,” I pointed out.

  “This is our favorite.”

  “It was, but now I can’t come back here again since you pissed off the waitstaff. I don’t want Roberto spitting in my food because he thinks we’re getting back together again. We’re not, you know.”

  “You haven’t even heard what I had to say,” Travis said. His calm veneer was cracking and allowing his frustration to show.

  “It would be a complete waste of your time.”

  “Let me decide what’s a waste of my time,” Travis countered.

  “Okay,” I agreed and tucked back into my salad while Travis talked.

  “As I said earlier, I miss you, Rush. Leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. If I could turn back the clock and change things, I would.”

  “But you can’t.”

  “No, but we could begin again.” Travis stretched his hands out across the table, but I didn’t meet them halfway. “All I’m asking is for you to give me a second chance.” All? He was asking for a hell of a lot.

  I won’t pretend his asking for another chance wasn’t a huge boost to my bruised ego, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think that we wouldn’t find ourselves right back where we were a few months ago. No, it was better this way, even if I was lonely.

  “I am sorry,” I said, repeating the same three words he used to destroy my hopes for a happy future.

  It
took me three months to work up my courage to come out to my mom. I knew that doing it over the phone was wrong; I owed her the chance to look into my eyes and tell me what she felt. I hated the thought of losing my only parent, but I just couldn’t live under the strain any longer.

  Phee, bless her heart, not only kept my secret but discreetly tried to set me up on dates. She quickly learned that out and proud men in their forties weren’t interested in dating closeted men unless it was just for sex. They especially didn’t know how to react to the closeted man’s ex-wife playing matchmaker. There were many places in Southern California that I could go if I just wanted sex, but I wanted something meaningful that touched my soul. I’d experienced that once, and I had to believe I could find it again. I knew I’d never find the happiness I sought if I continued to lie—even by omission—to the people I loved. I wasn’t as close to my mom as I wanted to be, but maybe it was because she didn’t know the real me. I had to give it a shot.

  I waited until after my childhood home sold then flew to Tennessee on a Friday morning in June to help my mom move into her new condo at the retirement community. There was a lightness to her that I’d never seen before once she was inside her new space. Although I regretted my father’s passing, it warmed my heart to see her smile easier than she had the last time I saw her. Mom focused her attention on unpacking boxes to set up her new kitchen. I arranged her furniture and hung pictures and art on the walls wherever she wanted them, never once complaining when she wanted me to move them a little to the right or a little to the left.

  My easy acquiescence wasn’t just from my guilt that I might ruin her newfound happiness either. It was the first time that I felt like I was seeing Lillian Huxley and not Thomas’s wife or Lincoln’s mother. I loved how excited she was about the activities at the clubhouse and the new neighbors she had met. I wanted to tease her about eligible bachelors, but it was too soon.

  My mom, on the other hand, didn’t have a problem prying into my personal life. “Are you seeing anyone?” she asked over dinner.

  “Not right now,” I answered as I speared the piece of steak I’d just cut. “I’ve been too busy at work.” It was the same excuse I used to avoid anything I didn’t want to do.