BernadetteMiller.com

    CHOICES

 

     Over twenty years had passed since she'd seen him, and she hadn't been prepared for the meeting. It was late; nearly five o'clock. She'd grown tired from squinting at library microfilm, and felt irritated by the July heat. Outside, she tucked her tee shirt into blue jeans, and wanted some tea before catching the subway to her Brooklyn apartment, although dinner would be delayed again. She sighed. Her husband should matter more than her novel. As she hurried down the library steps with her grocery bag of research notebooks, she passed a man sitting near one of the two stone lions at the entrance to Manhattan's main library. She turned, feeling as if she knew him.

     He glanced up, looking startled. "Millie!"

     She studied the graying blond waves, slanting hazel eyes, and high cheekbones. It had to be..."Zach?" She felt a tremor of excitement.
     "Great seeing you again!" he exclaimed with the same enthusiasm he'd had during their Maryland college days, except that now he had a slight New York accent as if he'd been living here for a while. His extended hand dwarfed her small one. "Well!" he said. "It's been a long time."

     She nodded. Then, feeling self-conscious, she wished she'd worn make-up and had a more attractive hairdo; graying black hair worn in a ponytail must appear silly for a forty-year-old. "I'm surprised you recognized me," she said. 

     "Oh, you haven't changed that much." He raised a graying eyebrow. "Still cute."

     She flushed. "Well, thank you!" When had Keith complimented her? It was so long ago, she couldn't remember. Though he caressed her, it was simply to arouse her, and then he couldn't perform.

     "How about some coffee?" Zach said. "We could reminisce over old times." He glanced at her left hand. "Looks like you got married."

     She nodded. "An artist from Chicago."

     "Yeah, you loved art, but acting was your goal."
     "And you loved science."

     "I became an engineer, but I visit museums and galleries. Some good friends are artists."

     "Oh?" she said. His lack of interest in art had been one of the reasons she'd stopped dating him. Shyly, she studied him.

     "Have you got time for a cup of coffee?"

     She hesitated, saw the eager look on his face, and said, "Okay.'

     They crossed the street and turned the corner to a Korean deli with its hot and cold buffet stands. At the counter, he ordered coffee, she requested tea, and they smiled awkwardly at each other. She shivered, excused herself, and headed for the rear bathroom. While washing her hands, she studied her reflection in the overhead mirror. The bags under her dark eyes made her feel old, old, old. But maybe with her smooth complexion and tiny nose, she was still cute... She shook her head. No sense in lying to herself. The mirror screamed: middle age! 

     She joined Zach at a corner table. Adding sugar to her styrofoam cup of tea, she watched him sip black, sugarless coffee, the way he used to drink it. She shouldn't have agreed to chat with him...what in the world could they discuss after all those years? She'd arrive home inexcusably late, and have to lie to Keith. Of course, he'd just sigh behind his newspaper, and offer to help with washing the dishes and taking out the laundry bags for pick-up outside their small Brooklyn house. It might be better if he complained and they fought! At least, she could air her frustration, explain that his sensitivity, like his ambition, had withered. But, of course, he'd respond, as usual, by putting down his newspaper and caressing her hand. "Millie, you're not seeing marriage as an adult," he'd say softly, enfuriating her, as if speaking to his young niece.  "We can't be on an eternal honeymoon."

     Zach was smiling at her. Flooded with memories, she again savored his kisses in Roberto's parked Buick, while her roommate, Corinne, necked with Roberto in the front seat. All those evenings when she and Zach had fallen in love, and later spent weekends at Roberto's apartment off campus. It seemed so long ago, that early passion.

     "Well, I'm divorced," Zach said, gazing at her intently, as if, too, remembered their college days. "I should have known it wouldn't work--I always liked determined brunettes." He smiled at her blush and continued. "How long have you been married?"

     "Fifteen years. Keith's a draftsman in the aircraft industry, but he paints on weekends." She sipped her tea, hating to lie. Keith was brilliant, but he hadn't painted for six years.

     He'd explained, "An artist must paint during the day. I need sunlight to see colors clearly." Then, he'd hugged her. "Millie, I do love you."

     Zach was staring at her. He broke the heavy silence. "Guess you have a lot in common with your husband."

     Forcing a smile, she changed the subject.  "I...work as a secretary in a small, one-girl office where I write short stories, but I'm hoping to start a novel soon."

     "You're a writer!"

     She nodded. "After my boss leaves, about three o'clock, I write short stories on my computer. Some have been published in literary magazines."

     His hazel eyes widened, as if impressed.

     Too bad she couldn't describe a best-selling book that was metamorphosing into a beautiful film. Instead, her modest outpout consisted of one story collection, a craft book, and an unborn novel. But thank God she hadn't emulated Keith who'd given up on life, she reminded herself. 

     "I write, too," Zach said. "Engineering articles and a textbook I've gotten published."

     "Really! I never thought you'd write. You were so wrapped up in science while...while..."

     "We were dating," he finished softly.

     "Yes." She nervously drained her tea cup. 

     Zach rose. "Want another?"

     "Yes, please." She watched him lumber to the counter, his body clumsily shifting weight. She remembered then his former slimness, bending over her in bed, naked. She flushed. She shouldn't think of another man that way, to want him again... Well, no wonder! With no romance or excitement left in her marriage, naturally she'd find another man appealing. Despite her mounting guilt, she wished that Keith would fall in love with someone else and demand  a divorce. She shook her head. They'd vowed to stay together through sickness and health, for richer or poorer...

     Zach returned, setting the tray on the table. "How about some food?"

     "No, thanks." She dangled the tea bag into a cup, then stored it on the cup cover, and slowly stirred in some sugar.

     "I'm glad you write," he said. "Sometimes people change so much they hardly have anything to say later, can hardly remember what happened years ago."

     "I remember you, Zach."

     He laughed. "Probably the way I had pursued you. I just couldn't take no for an answer."

     "I didn't think we had anything in common." She folded a paper napkin into an ever smaller piece. "The irony is that I've become fascinated by science." She laughed, feeling girlish, and sipped tea to hide her blushing again. She remembered then how the shape of his full lips had matched her own, how his large hands had caressed her back and neck and breasts. She didn't want to want him. Besides, he'd aged: the lips were thinner, circled by fine lines, the jaw sagging. Maybe she still found him attractive because of memories.

     He said, "So now it seems we have a lot in common, after all."

     "And I'm married." She sighed. "It's hard to know how people will turn out, isn't it? We were only in our twenties then."

     "Milll, you should have given it a chance."

     Seeing the hurt look in his eyes, she leaned toward him and tried to explain. "Theater was the most important thing in my life--when I wasn't thinking about...you." With a stubby nail, she stroked the rim of her cup. "I owe Keith a lot. He persuaded me to become a writer, introduced me to important, creative people who broadened my world..." She looked at Zach,  started to speak, and stopped. She'd missed him terribly after college but finally persuaded herself that they had nothing in common except sex. Romance alone wasn't enough to sustain a relationship. Then, she'd met Keith at a friend's party, and had been startled and flattered by his abrupt approach.

     "Just the kind of girl I want to marry," he'd said, flopping beside her on the sofa.

     She'd stared at his silky blond curls and long blond lashes that reminded her of Zach, and she had smiled. Afterwards, she and Keith chatted about art and creating, as if they'd known each other all their lives. Awed by his Ph.D. and sophisticated friends, she had felt as if his knowledge of the world were endless, as if she might never catch up. They became inseparable: museums, classical concerts, opera, the theater, and parties with sophisticated guests.

     She sighed now. "I'd like more tea."

     Zach rose, gazing down at her. "But don't leave, okay?"

     She nodded, and he grinned, a broad grin that made his eyes twinkle and her heart jump. When he returned, she couldn't help savoring his eager gaze. It was wonderful, having a man look a her like that again.

    He said, "Tomorrow, I'll be at the Metropolitan Museum for the O'Keefe exhibit. Let's meet there. Two o'clock.""

     "Georgia O'Keefe is my favorite painter!"

     "So, meet me."

     She wished he wouldn't push her, just as he used to. It had made her feel cornered--another reason why she'd broken off with him. She suddenly pictured an unhappy affair with Zack: sneaking out to his apartment, lying to her husband, dreading the lame excuses, the hurt look in Keith's eyes, her guilt... "I can't."

     "Well, just meet me here for tea and coffee so we can chat." 

     She shook her head, and filled with pain at seeing his face sag with disappointment. She remembered that terrible letter she'd sent from New York, saying she didn't love him, and had her own life now. She pressed her hands against her temples; she needed to think. "I...I'd better not."

     He nodded, his eyes looking mournful. "Sorry, Mill. Look, I don't want to force you into anything. I just thought...Well, I gotta go. Take care of yourself, okay?" He rose abruptly and headed toward the door.

     Startled, she meekly trailed behind and stood outside at the corner. She watched his heavy body turn toward the subway, envied the passengers passing close by him, and hated his disappearing from view. She'd never see him again, not ever. Soon, she must catch the D train to Brooklyn, back to Keith who'd stopped painting because he felt too old to become successful, too old to have any joy in their marriage. It seemed as if there was nothing she could do to revitalize their marriage, nothing to hope for, with only her writing to make her feel alive...

     She began running hard to catch Zach before he entered the subway, her heavy shopping bag thudding against her calves beneath the jeans. He wasn't outside the subway. She ran downstairs and scanned the crowd pushing and shoving to board an express train. Her heart pounding, she ran along the platform, frantically searching the passengers cramming into the cars. The train doors slammed shut and the Express lurched forward. It was too late. Tears blotted her cheeks as she watched the train hurtle along the tracks. Zach had vanished. 

     Exhausted, she slumped onto a bench with her shopping bag, and stared into the empty tunnel. But surely, she thought, that boy she'd loved wasn't the heavy-set stranger with whom she'd groped for something to say. If they'd married, he, too, might have lost interest. She shook her head. Zach was indeed gone, and she'd never loved anyone like that since.

     She sat without moving, staring at the tiled wall leading to the tunnel. The problem was that she'd given up on life, just like Keith. Surely, if she'd survived without Zach, she could survive without Keith. No, she wouldn't drift from lover to lover. But if she left Keith, what was the alternative? Rejoining the singles scene, desperately seeking someone amidst strangers at dreary parties and bars? Yet, if she found someone and remarried, he might end up being far worse than Keith. Then, she'd have to leave him, too. 

     She dried her eyes with a tissue, and shook her head. This time, she'll finally do something about her unhappy marriage. Find an apartment, contact a lawyer... She suddenly remembered Zach's plans for  tomorrow: The Met, O'Keefe Exhibit, two o'clock. She hadn't lost him! Yes, she will meet him there. She trembled at the importance of her decision.

     "Lady, are you all right?" an elderly man asked as he sat beside her on the bench while the local train emptied itself of passengers.

     She smiled to reassure him. "I feel fine now," she said.

 

                                                                              --The End--