Fast Friends: Reunion

by Turner, Stacy

  After a second cup of coffee Mark left and Tara did her weekly Saturday cleaning. Mark had actually done a good job on the bathroom floor. He'd obviously found her cleaning solution because the room smelled lemony fresh. She did the bathroom, then the rest of the apartment. She was even able to do two additional loads of laundry, which left her pretty caught up. Time flew and it was already noon before she remembered Mark would be coming to get her in an hour. She took a quick shower and dressed in a long-sleeved T, a lapis sweater and jeans. The news had said it might rain, so she chose boots and a water resistant coat to complete the outfit. She was just about ready when Mark called and she ran down to meet him, looking forward to the outing.

  “Much better,” she said, getting into the car. Mark looked fresh and well-groomed in a casual jacket, henley and jeans. Mark just smiled. The day was still clear, but she could see clouds rolling in from the west.

  They spent a pleasant few hours at the museum, exploring. Mark was very interested in space and Tara found the exhibits about NASA missions much more interesting than she'd expected. Mark knew enough to share details that weren't part of the display. Tara thought how much fun it would be to do this again at the art museum, which was more her area. She couldn't help but notice the envious glances from other women when he took her hand.

  When they left the museum in was starting to rain. Mark covered her head with his umbrella. The streets were mostly deserted and it felt like they were in a cocoon, warm in their coats, insulated from the world by the sound of the rain. When they got to the car, Mark dropped a kiss on her lips, lingering long enough to make her cheeks flush. She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight, not minding the water that dripped onto her shoulder. He nuzzled her ear.

  “I'd like to take you to dinner,” he said. “That restaurant I told you about isn't far from here.”

  “Are we dressed for it?” she asked, inhaling his scent. She would have been happy to go home and cuddle with him, listening to the rain on the windows, but she was hungry as well. She'd had a bit of toast and some fruit after he left that morning, but otherwise hadn't eaten all day.

  “I don't care,” Mark said. “It's early, anyway. We should be fine.”

  She nodded and he unlocked the car, holding the umbrella over her head as she got in.

  The restaurant was less than ten minutes away, and when they got there Tara was sure they should have dressed up, but the host didn't bat an eye when they asked to be seated. The restaurant was cozy, decorated in dark wood and burgundy. From the large windows along one side of the room they could see the ocean, dark gray and rough with the wind and rain. They were seated near a large fireplace that radiated almost too much heat. They stripped out of their damp coats and sat next to each other. The white table cloth and dark red napkins were crisp. Soft classical music was playing.

  “This is a nice place,” Tara said, deliberately not reacting when Mark put her arm around her shoulders. “What's the speciality?”

  “I've heard good things about the Sea Bass,” he said, “but they also have a wagyu short rib that supposed to be very good.”

  “What's wagyu?” she asked.

  “It's what's also called kobe beef,” he said, “but technically kobe has to be raised in Japan. Wagyu is the name of the breed.”

  “How do you know so much about beef? Tara asked.

  “I have access to a treasure trove of information,” he said, very seriously. “Courtesy of Wikipedia.”

  Tara laughed and Mark seemed to see if as an opening to lean in and kiss her, but Tara saw the waiter heading their way and dodged adroitly.

  They ordered a bottle of wine and fancy little appetizers that tasted as good as they sounded. For the main course Tara decided to try the beef and Mark ordered something called “blue foot chicken.” The added a couple of sides as well. Everything was amazing. The restaurant filled up as they ate, but Tara didn't really pay attention to anything but Mark. He was witty and sweet and knew much more than he had let on about fine food. She couldn't think when she had had a better time on a date. They shared a dessert paired with a sweet, light wine and then finished with coffee. By the end of the meal Tara was full, content and completely unable to hide her grin. She didn't dodge this time when Mark kissed her. She didn't care who saw them.

  Mark wouldn't let her see the check, which was fine with her. She had eaten at places this nice before, and she knew he'd probably just blown a car payment. Not too shabby for their first public date.

  “Do you want to go see a movie?” Mark asked, when they exited the restaurant. The chill air made her want to burrow under his coat. It had stopped raining, but the air was still heavy with moisture. Tara could only imagine what her hair was doing. Mark managed to look more adorable than usual with his black hair curling.

  “I think I'd fall asleep,” Tara said. “Let's go back to my place. Hang out.”

  “Oooh,” Mark purred, pulling her against him. “Hang out, huh?” He nipped her ear with his teeth sending a delicious shiver through her. How very much she wanted to say yes.

  “Don't get too excited,” she said. “I just want to cuddle.”

  “Cuddling is good,” he said, kissing her neck. Someone laughed to their left and he pulled away, taking her hand. He kissed her again when they got to the car, pressing their hips together so there was no mistaking how turned on he was. She didn't know how she was going to get through the night without sleeping with him. Maybe it was a good idea to go see a movie after all. She wasn't ready to say goodnight, but she wasn't ready to give in either.

  “I think I've changed my mind,” Tara said, when they'd gotten in the car. “I have wanted to see the new Steven Spielberg movie.” She got her smart phone out to search movie times and noticed there was a new text message. The number was unfamiliar. She opened it and gasped. It was a picture of her in the museum with Mark, his arm around her waist.

  “What is it,” Mark asked.

  “This,” she said, passing him the phone.

  “Who sent this?”

  “I don't know,” Tara said. “It said unknown.” Her skin was crawling. The phone beeped again. Another message. This one was a picture of Mark kissing her in the restaurant. It had been taken through the window, so it was a little blurry, but it was clearly the two of them and taken less than twenty minutes earlier.

  “He's here,” Tara said. “He's watching me.”

  “Who?”

  “It has to be Jack,” she said. Mark's face went hard when he saw the second picture. He opened the door and Tara grabbed his sleeve.

  “Where are you going,” she asked.

  “If he's here,” Mark said, “I can find him.”

  “You don't even know what he looks like,” Tara pointed out.

  “What's he look like?” Mark asked, the door still ajar.

  “Like a regular guy. Blonde hair, medium build, medium height, no facial hair.” Tara gripped the fabric of his jacket harder. “Don't go. Don't leave me alone.”

  Mark clearly wasn't happy, but he closed the car door and squeezed her fingers in reassurance. They scanned the street, but no one stood out. The few people they could see from the car were couples or small groups of friends. No lone man lurked suspiciously. There wasn't anything to do.

  “We're calling the cops, okay,” Mark said.

  “Okay,” Tara said. “Right now?”

  “Would you feel better if we did it when we get back to your place.”

  “Yeah,” Tara said. She didn't feel safe where they were. Jack had been there, watching her. It was bizarre. She couldn't figure out why he was doing this. It must have hurt to lose, to see all his plans crumble, but he must have considered the possibility that she wouldn't fall for his scheme. She couldn't figure out why he was so fixated on her. It was crazy.

  When they got back to her apartment Mark called a friend who worked for the police for advice.

  “He said to call the police station and report everything. We can tr
y to file a restraining order as well, but since we don't have any evidence at this point that Jack was the culprit, they can't arrest him. Bill will do some checking on Monday – have your car looked at and find out where the text came from. Maybe he can find something to tie Jack to it.”

  “But who else would be doing this?” Tara asked. “It can't be a coincidence that all of this is happening right after I get Jack fired.”

  “Of course not,” Mark said. “You and I both know who's doing this, but the police need evidence.”

  “Fine,” Tara snapped. “Fine. I'll make the call.”

  It didn't take long to report the apparent stalking to the police. She would have to apply for a restraining order on Monday, but the officer didn't sound optimistic about a judge granting one based on the car vandalism and a couple of text messages.

  “This night certainly took a turn,” Mark said wryly. “I guess I should head home.”

  “No,” Tara said. “Would you stay, please. I just don't want to be alone.”

  Mark pulled her into his arms. Tara blocked everything out but the sound of his heart, the feel of his body. He stroked her hair and she buried her face in his chest, letting his warmth seep into her.

  “I'll stay,” he said.

  The rest of the night was a little surreal for Mark after the previous nights he'd spent with Tara. They watched a couple hours of TV and then changed into pajamas – in Mark's case his T-shirt from the day before and boxers – brushed their teeth and climbed into bed. No spanking or sex toys or commands. No kisses or suggestive hugs. It wasn't normal. This was what couples did after they'd been together for a while, not how a first or second date ended, but it felt fine to Mark. Tara lay on her side and he curled around her, pressing their bodies together. Mark didn't even mind when Tara curled her fingers around his and closed her eyes. She was calm now and that made him feel good. He'd expected to chafe at the restrictions and interruptions, but he still liked being with her, even if they weren't having sex. Maybe it was just that they really were friends and had plenty to talk about; it wasn't boring to just hang out. Unlike most of his prior romantic relationships with women their connection had never been just about sex.

  The next morning was just as weird. They got up, showered and got ready to go out. Mark had only the clothes he'd worn the day before so he changed into that. He balked at using one of her disposable razors, so his face didn't get shaved, but he still thought he looked presentable. Without discussion they'd agreed not to be apart. Mark had brunch plans with his parents and offered to cancel if she didn't feel like going, but Tara told him she didn't mind. He didn't know why he asked her to come, but the idea of leaving her alone was unappealing.

  They got to the restaurant around 10:00 am and were already seated when his mom and dad arrived. When he saw the looks on their faces he regretted not warning them they would have company.

  “Tara,” his mother said, giving her a quick hug. “It's great to see you. How have you been?”

  “Good,” Tara said.

  “Hello, Tara,” Richard said. “What have you been up to?”

  “Do you want to qualify that, dear,” Marty said, perusing the menu. “I think he means lately. Mark has kept us up to date over the years.”

  Was there an edge to his mother's voice? Mark wasn't sure. He had given his parents an update on Tara before the reunion, but he wouldn't necessarily say he'd kept them up to date. It was almost as if his mother wanted to shut Tara down.

  “Not much,” Tara said. “Work, mostly.”

  “You're in marketing, right?” Richard asked. “You like it?”

  “It's great,” Tara said.

  “Where do you work?” Marty asked.

  Tara told him the name of the company and Marty seemed duly impressed. “I used to know someone there. Phil Ricard.”

  “Still there,” Tara said. “As a matter of fact, he's my boss. He's a great guy.”

  “That guy knew how to party,” Marty said. “I remember once we were at that hotel downtown – you remember, Rich, the one with the glass—”

  “I do not want to hear this story,” Mark interrupted. “My girlfriend doesn't need to hear how you spent the 1970's.”

  “It was the 80's,” his mother corrected.

  “Your girlfriend?” Tara asked, grinning. Mark colored slightly. He had no idea where that had come from.

  “You're a girl who's my friend,” he said, looking at the menu.

  “Uh huh,” Marty said. “Interesting.”

  “How about you, Mrs. Griegson?” Tara asked. “Still teaching?”

  “She's the vice-principal now,” Richard said, pride in his voice. “At the middle school. St. Elias.”

  “That's great,” Tara said. Mark was sure he had told her, but maybe she was just trying to move the conversation away from. “How long?”

  “Three years now,” Marty said. “It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.”

  Marty had been a grade school teacher for most of her career. Tara had once confided in Mark that she was glad she'd never been in Marty's class. Marty was an intimidating woman.

  “She loves it,” Richard said. “Gets to boss a bunch of people around.”

  “And you don't, Mr. bossman?” Marty said. Mark's dad ran his own business and had always done fairly well.

  “Maybe I should call you the bossy family,” Tara teased. Mark shot her a warning look.

  “Not Mark, though,” Richard said. “He's as mellow as they come.” If only you knew, Mark thought.

  “So how long have you two been dating,” Marty's mother asked. Tara stiffened. Apparently she still didn't feel confident about their relationship.

  “Since the reunion,” Mark said, for Tara's benefit as much as his parents'. Tara glanced at him, doubt in her eyes. He hoped she knew he meant it, that he considered their relationship to have started then. His dad already knew he'd been sleeping with her, but not dating her until she put her foot down; he didn't need his mom in on it too. She'd give him hell.

  “Just like that?” his mother asked, her expression chilly.

  “We've been close a long time, Mom,” Mark said. “You know that.”

  His mother didn't reply. She signaled to one of the waitresses, who came over to take their order. The rest of the meal passed with small-talk and a few more awkward moments that Mark managed to smooth over. He was relieved when the meal ended and they left. His parents hadn't been hostile, but they hadn't been overjoyed to see him with Tara either.

  “What was all that about,” Tara asked on the drive back to her place.

  “What was all what about?” Mark asked.

  “Your mom. She was a little..intense.”

  “I didn't really give them a heads up you'd be there,” Mark said. “And they're protective.”

  “Of you?”

  “Yeah,” Mark said. “They remember how you were in high school, okay.”

  “I'm not like that anymore,” Tara said, defensively.

  “I know that,” Mark said, reaching for her hand, “but they don't.”

  Tara let him hold her hand. He was right. There was no way for Marty and Richard to know what she was like now. Who could blame them for worry when she'd been so inconsiderate of Mark before. Now she knew that she could never hurt Mark deliberately, even if he hurt her. If things didn't work out it would be very painful, but she could never take that out on him, not after all the callous things she'd done in high school. She owed him that and more, because he was her rock now. He'd voluntarily stepped into to be the buffer between Tara and danger.

  They went to Mark's place after brunch. It was in a large downtown building with a very imposing facade. The first two floors were clad in marble and limestone, but above that it as all windows. The lobby resembled a 1940's hotel, with an embarrassment of jewel tones, gilt and mirrors. They were let in by a doorman, who greeting Mark as “Mr. Griegson.” He had the build and carriage of a cop or ex-military and Tara suspected he was also securit
y. Mark used a keycard to access the elevator and a combination to unlock his door. Tara was impressed. This was way better than where she lived. Just about anybody could walk into her building and grab an elevator.

  The inside of Mark's apartment was everything she could have imagined based on the building itself. The living area was huge. Floor to ceiling windows lined the outside wall. On the other side of the glass was a patio the size of her living room. There wasn't any outdoor furniture yet, but huge concrete planters with potted trees had been put in. The oversized couch that Mark had asked her opinion of was barely up to the scale of the living room. It faced a gigantic TV and was flanked by two equally oversized chairs. The kitchen area was sleek – everything was stainless steel or soapstone. The only negative thing Tara could say about the place was that it was a bit under-furnished still. There was no coffee table or art and it desperately needed a few rugs to warm up the concrete floors.

  She glanced into the master bedroom when Mark went in, but she decided to give him his privacy while he changed and shaved. The large bedroom had a bed to match in scale – it was a california king, if Tara knew her beds. She wandered over to the tall bookshelves while she waited for Mark, skimming the titles. There was the usual assortment of left over college text books and popular novels, but he also had an impressive collection of graphic and science fiction novels, quite a few popular science books and a smattering of recent literary fiction. She had her head buried in a comic when Mark came back. She had pretended disinterest when Mark loaned it to her in high school, but it was one of her favorites.

  “Enjoying some super hero ass kicking,” Mark asked, coming to join her.

  “More like getting ass kicked,” Tara said, flipping the comic over so he could see the cover.

  “#65. Nice,” he said. “I have the novel.”

  “That's okay,” Tara said. “I'm not a big fan of that book. I just remember what a huge deal this issue was when it came out. The whole idea was mind blowing. Do you have any Detective?”

  “A few,” Mark said, giving her a slightly bemused look. “I didn't know you were a fan of comics.”