Her Thirties Part 12

Abe comes good on his promise of seats to the Leafs game and we’re at the ACC enjoying a great meal in the restaurant until Abe ends up flirting with the waitress and playing out some married/unmarried fantasy.

While he flirts with the girl, I pick at my salad, trying to piece out the riddle of my own life.

I’m not sure if I’m missing Sam or just feeling despair about love and marriage and whether anyone ever ends up living happily ever after.

The evening’s not exactly the kind of distraction I hoped would take my mind off Sam and our breakup.

 

Eventually, I persuade Abe to get out into the arena to our Gold seats and watch the game. It’s the Leafs versus the Flyers and it’s pretty exciting, except there are no goals—even in overtime. Finally, in the shootout, the Flyers score.

Damn! My first live hockey game and the Leafs lose—seems appropriate—that’s been the story of my life lately.

I drive back to my apartment and Abe seems sober enough to drive home.

 

“I’ll phone you during the week, Pal—we’ll have to take Harry out in a pursuit car to pay him back for his help.”

“No problem, Abe—give me a shout, when you get it set up.”

He goes to get into his car, and then stops. “I had a good time tonight, Scott—but, if you ever get to talking to Mitzy…”

It was my turn to stop him. “Hey, Abe—what happens at the ACC, stays at the ACC—okay?”

His eyes crinkle. “Okay, Pal—I’ll be in touch next week.”

 

Back in my apartment, I sit on the sofa chair, staring at the city lights. The Parkway below is a river of slow-moving pearls as cars wind their way through the ravine.

I wonder about Sam and how she’s doing

I muse about my friendship with Abe—how settled he seems compared to me—so settled, in fact, he has to fantasize about being single.

I wonder what it feels like—that comfortable feeling of owning someone and being owned. It’s something I dream about. I lean back on the couch, close my eyes and imagine Sam and I living together, here, in this apartment.

 

I’m beginning to feel warm and sleepy. Fuzzy images of domestic bliss flood my senses—and then, I jerk up off the couch so fast, my heart begins racing.

What the hell?

I was trying to picture the scene in my head, but instead of Sam with her auburn hair and dark eyes, I’m kissing the blonde from my dream. I greedily kiss her cool mouth—fingers caressing bare arms, feeling the silken touch of her skin.

 

I’m trembling—almost terrified. Nothing has prepared me for this.

Who is she—a ghost?

An icy shiver runs down my spine. Got to get a grip.

There has to be a simple explanation—a movie I saw—a student from class—a colleague I’m just beginning to notice.

Yes, there must be an explanation, but try as I might, I can’t discover one.

I yawn and stretch, reaching hands high toward the ceiling.

I’m depleted. I need rest—but, in actuality, what I really want is to sleep and dream of the girl.

I want cold dark kisses—and the silken touch of her skin.

 

© 2017 – 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved.

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