The Womanless Man
Continued, 10
L. Stewart Marsden
Go to previous installment . . .
* * * * *
Almost immediately after the words came out Stew regretted them. What the hell was he doing? It was his old self kicking in — the one who wanted to reach out and grab Simone’s hand for comfort. The needy man.
What was he looking for? A friend? A lover? A companion to take that final walk with?
Whatever he was looking for, he knew how it was going to end — badly. For him, but more regretfully, her.
“Look — I, uh,” he stammered, withdrawing his hand. She looked confused, and a bit hurt.
“Did I …?”
“No! No, you didn’t do anything.” He was about to say “it’s me,” but knew how flat that would fall. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then continued.
“Simone, I haven’t been with or pursued or entertained another woman since I divorced my Ender Wife. That’s almost seven years. This is the first time I haven’t been married for any length of time in the last — what, nearly fifty years! I’ve been married most of my adult life! Not to the same person, I’ll grant — but marriage can be habit-forming! Especially for me!
”Do you have any idea why I call her that? Ender Wife?”
“I assume because she was your last wife.”
“Partially right. I’ll give you five out of ten points for that,” he smiled. “It’s because my intent is she is the absolute last person I will fully commit to and then hurt. And I especially don’t want to hurt you!”
There was a pause as the waitress came to the table.
“Can I get you two another?”
They both quickly nodded yes, and she scooped up their glasses and disappeared toward the bar.
“Stew, we’re just having a drink. I don’t need you to fully commit to me in order to enjoy your company. I haven’t asked you to go to Vegas with me, or even to the corner drugstore for that matter.”
“You enjoy my company?”
“Is there an echo in this room? Yes! I find you strangely attractive. You’re not a physical specimen …”
“That’s my next goal. An Arnold Schwarzenegger body.”
“I guess I meant to say I am attracted to you. I don’t know you very well, except — you know — sponge bathing you at the hospital. And I want to. I want to get to know you better. What I do know is not to rush with you. God, I don’t rush with anyone! And don’t take that to mean I’ve been on a spree up here with every eligible man. I’m like you in a way. I’ve been content to do my work, have a few laughs with friends, then go home and watch whatever I want on TV. Cook what I like, healthy or not. So I was just like you before the bear, and just like Higgins.”
“What?”
“Serenely independent and content before we met,” she sang softly.
“Yes! Exactly!” he said.
The waitress brought their drinks. Simone stirred her martini during the awkward silence.
“One of my favorite quotes,” she finally said, “is ‘I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.’”
“Jane Eyre,” he said, smiling with recognition.
“Wow! I’m impressed! See? That only adds to your attractiveness.”
“Tell that to my Ender Wife.”
“You have an inward treasure, too. Apparently she quit digging for the gold. So maybe the bear did us both a favor?”
“It’s a helluva thing to go through in order to have an awakening.”
“I agree. So, Stew — here’s to awakenings,” and lifted her glass.
“Skol!” he responded, lifting his glass to touch hers. “Does this mean we can be friends?”
She smiled. “I thought we already were. But, yes — as far as I’m concerned, friends is fine. In fact, friends is great!”
Still, the known and unknown mixed in Stew’s mind. Once burned, shame on you. Twice burned, shame on me. He half expected her to add “for now,” but she didn’t. Was she pursuing him? She definitely liked him. He thought of Sally Fields, “You like me!” Was he that pathetic? But Brent had nailed it.
Then he asked, “Do you happen to have five dollars?”
“What? Sure. Why?”
“I don’t carry cash. I’ll pay you back. I swear I’m good for it! I have a gambling debt,” grinning.
“You owe the mob? Guido is after you for five dollars?”
“Something like that. I made a bet with Brent and I lost.”
“I’m not going to ask. Better I don’t know.” She handed him the money.
* * * * *
To be continued . . .
Writing Odds n Ends 
Leave a comment