by L. B. Dunbar
Emme needed that reassurance because her shoulders relaxed. She nodded her head at Cassie and turned to face me. Doubt and concern were written on her face, and my heart crumbled at the apprehensive vibe radiating from her body.
The ride to Rowdy’s was tense. The radio low, the music was a sultry country tune. I didn’t recognize any of the lyrics. Merek asked a sporadic stream of questions about Mitzi, and about the new semester. I’d wanted to take days off to sit with her, but I couldn’t start the semester already missing classes. Those first days set the tone. Gia had been a lifesaver, as she came to my home after her kids went to school. Her shift rotated at the hospital, and she only had the one course at the university. We worked out a schedule to monitor Mitzi for days.
Cassie was in my sophomore level English class, and while I initially thought it would be a conflict of interest, the way things were going with Merek, I changed my opinion. She hadn’t been present the first week of class anyway, and I excused her, assuming she was still recovering like Mitzi.
As we drove closer to Lake Shore Drive, Merek gave up on conversation. Not forthcoming in offering information, I wasn’t asking any questions in return. When we hit the Drive, I just enjoyed the ride. Lake Shore Drive lines the shore of Lake Michigan, splitting the coastline from the cityscape. Its peaceful rhythm in the growing darkness mesmerized. City lights lined the drive, as we drew closer to the towering structures, but off to the side rolled the subtle, dark waves of the lake.
“If you really don’t want to do this, I can turn around,” Merek finally said, breaking into my empty thoughts. “But I’d feel guilty if we were back too early. They seemed to have put some thought into this.” Collectively, our four children had plotted this fiasco of an evening. I was already in my comfy clothes, ready for a date night with a book and a large glass of wine.
“They were only trying to be nice,” Merek said, running a hand over his wrist, which wore a small beaded bracelet. Gazing sideways at him, he was the epitome of country masculine. He only missed a baseball cap or a cowboy hat, and the look would have screamed country superstar. He looked so good, my heart raced while I risked glances at him as he drove. That plaid shirt hugged his solid form. His jeans were snug on his thighs. He looked calm, while I was a bundle of nerves. I wanted to relax, and yet I couldn’t seem to let go.
“I know,” I said, softly, looking away from him. I had to look away. Looking at him brought on a wave of regret. Not at what we’d done, but at what we didn’t have. I missed him. I missed his smile. His laugh. His hand in mine. His touch.
“Look, how about if we go for an hour. That’s plenty of time to fool them, and then we can go back.” His proposition was so straightforward, like he’d been considering it the whole time we rode. He didn’t want to be with me, and my shoulders sagged. I wanted to turn back time, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to wipe away the absence of days from him and the tension over Cassie and Mitzi. Although she’d apologized, I didn’t know how to let the situation go. I didn’t really need to forgive Merek, as Gia said. He hadn’t done anything wrong. I just didn’t know how to let go of the past.
We parked at a firehouse a few blocks away and walked to the bar. Merek’s stride was long and quick, like he was racing, attempting to speed up time and end this misery. He practically stormed down the busy street and I struggled to keep up, skipping at times to catch up to him. We drew near the corner of Addison and Clark, and the historic Cubs’ stadium was lit up for a night game. Merek reached for my hand, holding it firmly as our pace slowed and we wove through the fan crowd. We neared Rowdy’s, a bar I’d never even heard of before tonight, and Merek moved to the front of the line.
“Merek Elliott,” the bodyguard acknowledged, slapping hands with Merek before pulling him forward for a guy hug. Merek smacked the back of the burly man.
“Let us in?” Merek questioned. He reached for my hand again. The burly man’s eyebrow rose in surprise.
“It’s crowded in there,” he stated, his eyes widening, as if he was trying to tell Merek something.
“We’ll be okay,” he said, drawing me forward, and securing me before him. He moved his hands to my hips and nudged me toward the door. It opened with a firm pull, and the music nearly slapped me in the face. Loud, twangy sounds filled the red backlit bar. The place pulsed with a youthful, bouncy sound and the dance floor moved like a rhythmic, living organism. It shifted forward and back, then swung to the side and repeated a synchronized motion. Merek still had my hips and maneuvered me to the bar.
“Merek,” the bartender called over the crowd, and Merek released his hold on me to reach over the bar and high-five the young man behind the large wooden structure. He nodded toward me, and Merek yelled, “Emme.” I looked from Merek to the bartender, who winked at me.
“How about something stronger than white zinfandel?” His lips lowered to my ear so he could be heard over the music.
“Sure. Margarita, on the rocks with salt,” I suggested. I had no idea what to order. A country bar screamed buy-a-beer, but I wasn’t a beer drinker.
“Rita on the rocks and a whiskey straight up,” Merek yelled over the heads of people leaning on the bar. His hands returned to my hips. While we waited for our drinks, my eyes observed the wood décor, red haze, and country vibe of the place. It was rather addicting, and the beat of the music was slowly loosening me up. I took my margarita and Merek knocked my glass with his. He swallowed the shot in one gulp while I took a hefty sip of my tart and salty drink.
“Let’s dance,” he said, ignoring the fact that my margarita had a long way to go before it was finished. He removed my drink from my grasp and handed it back to the bartender. Taking my hand, he led me to the floor. My discomfort built.
“Merek, you know I don’t dance. I don’t know how to do any of this.” I tugged back on his hand. He stopped.
“Emme, there comes a point where you have to trust me.” His tone was serious, the implication clear that he meant more than dancing. “I’m not going to lead you astray or do anything to embarrass you. Just take my hand and follow my lead. Take a chance.” His eyes were intense as he stared back at me. He still held my hand and I squeezed his fingers in acceptance. He guided me to the back of the line.
“Just follow what everyone is doing. Don’t worry if you mess up. Just go with it.”
I nodded, suddenly more frightened of this bar and dancing in public than I was with my propositioning Merek about sex. Sensing my apprehension, his hand still held mine as he kicked forward, then back. He stepped side to side and I followed as best I could. I laughed while I stumbled and tripped. And each time I did, to my surprise, Merek wrapped an arm around my waist, straightening me, and redirecting me. Reassuring me. We fell into this rhythm of messing up and laughing at my failed attempts. Once in a while I went right instead of left, and stepped on his foot. His arms encircled my waist again as I staggered between his legs and we tried to catch up to the moves.
After three songs, the rapid rhythm rested and the tempo lowered. A slow song filled the sound system, and Merek pulled me toward him.
“Dance with me.” His arm wrapped around my back, resting above my behind. His other hand reached for mine and pulled it up between us. We pressed against one another and he kissed my forehead as Sam Hunt’s crooning sound slowed the bar. Merek twirled me slowly. His hips swaying steadily, reminding me too much of compromising positions with him. My body relaxed into the steady pace he set. My head rested on his shoulder. He embraced me tighter. The music spoke for us.
Taking time.
Getting to know someone.
Smiling like that.
The song finished, but we remained swaying. Merek’s hand released mine and slid down my body to surround my back with his other arm. My hand slipped up his chest to circle around his neck. I pressed into him, pulling him tight against my body. We stood like this while the red light haze returned and the music roared back to life. Merek and I were caught in an intense
gaze, asking questions of one another. His head lowered. My toes tipped upward.
“Merek?” A screeching sound came from my left. “Merek Elliott, is that you?” I turned in time for a woman to leap at Merek. Releasing me, he caught her in his arms. Her feet off the ground, they wrapped around his waist as her arms circled his neck. She pulled back abruptly, looking at his face.
“I knew it was you. Where’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”
I’d stepped out of the way of this reunion, noting Merek’s hands held her by her ass, holding her against him. He jostled her like he could drop her, and then he stopped. His hands released her quickly and she slid down his body. His hands rose, like he surrendered. The woman clung to him. His head rotated. His eyes wide. He reached for me, but I shook my head infinitesimally, taking a second step back. His hands came to the woman’s arms and removed them from his neck, pressing her back.
I spun and bounced off a hard body behind me.
“Professor Peters?”
“Levi?” I gasped. Levi Walker was a former student of my Writing 201. He was incredibly good looking, with short, dark hair, trim scruff, and a tender expression in his eyes. His warm hands engulfed my tiny arms with thick fingers. He swayed on his feet.
“Professor Peters!” A drunk slur hissed in my ear behind me.
“Grant,” I whispered, another equally good-looking young man from Writing 201. His blue eyes smiled at me, his mouth open enough his tongue sliced over lush lips. Gia wanted me to proposition one of my students once. Not only would it have been unethical, I didn’t have the courage to be a cougar; but if I did, Grant Mullens would have been the man to seduce. His body language screamed I like to have sex. His smile seduced. His voice rolled over a woman’s body in a tone that made her want to undress herself.
“Professor Peters, come dance with us,” Grant said, placing his hands on my hips from behind, and tugging me back against him.
I was old enough to be the mother of these men, or close enough, but a lusty look from either of them and I might forget myself for a while.
Levi still held my arms to steady me, or possibly him.
My brain finally caught up to what happened before me. Merek had run into an old lover. Someone who may have been a regular. Someone who might have been a one-night stand. It didn’t matter. His comfort in this bar proved he’d been here frequently. And it pissed me off.
I nodded my acceptance and the three of us danced through the remainder of the song. My hips swayed in rhythm with the man behind me, while one of Levi’s wrists rested lazily over my shoulder. My body was led into a seductive roll between the men and I reveled in the attention, momentarily forgetting Merek and his reunion with a floozy.
“Emme.” Merek’s sharp voice reached me over the twangy music. Ignoring him at first, his hand enveloped my waist and pulled me from the college student sandwich. I collided with his body, but he held me tight against him. Softened dark eyes and a questioning expression speared me to the dance floor.
“Hey,” Grant said, “get your own girl, old man.”
Merek’s hand gripped Grant’s t-shirt without releasing me. “I have a girl.” He shoved Grant back and Levi stepped between the men.
“Back off, Grant,” my young protector warned.
“Yes, back off, Grant.” My deep voice was full of venom. Steam practically spilled out of my ears. Was she trying to make me jealous? After Melissa jumped at me? Emme reached out a hand, raising it to separate me from this awkward situation. I reached for that hand and tugged her back to me. We’d only taken two steps when Grant’s voice flitted toward us.
“Damn, I’d tap that.”
I nearly tore her arm out of the socket, twisting back with a raised fist for this Grant guy. She tugged hard, as a counterbalance to my efforts, almost falling backward in her attempt to stop me.
“He’s drunk, just let him be,” she argued, holding fast.
“Do you know him?” My first thought was she’d been with another man while she’d been with me. Someone younger. Then I remembered, this was Emme. She swallowed hard, frightened to tell the truth.
“Emme,” I demanded, and she flinched.
“They’re former students.”
“And he fucking wants to tap you,” I snarled, spinning to face her. “Is he who you want?” I sounded like a deranged man. We were making a scene in the middle of the dance floor and I didn’t care.
“I want to go home,” she snapped. “Just take me home.” I stopped straining. Her words crushed me. The night was ruined. I thought we were finally getting somewhere. Longing to reconnect with her, I thought we were finally making progress when the moment was ruined by that stupid girl. Melissa. I barely remembered her name, and I didn’t want to remember any part of her. Just like I didn’t want these college punks thinking anything about Emme, especially tapping her.
Slipping my fingers through hers, I led her out of Rowdy’s. I’d practically raced to Rowdy’s, praying the atmosphere would break the tension between us. Our current pace was turtle-slow compared to that earlier rush. With each step, I felt like a dead man walking. One step closer to losing her, each step we took. We remained silent until we were almost to the fire department parking lot. I dragged her down a side street and tugged her hand to halt.
“I can’t do this.” My voice gently pleaded. My lips twisted in frustration when she spun to face me. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“I thought we were going home,” she said, innocently.
“Not literally, Emme. Just us. Where are we going? I’m going crazy without you. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m forty-two years old and I feel like a teenager in the throes of first love.”
She stared at me, blinking in surprise. No words responded to mine. Frustrated, I ran a hand over my hair.
“You were holding that girl,” she said, softly, looking me directly in the eye.
“Those boys wanted to fuck you,” I retaliated.
“They were drunk college kids.”
“She’s from the past,” I sighed. We were at an impasse for a moment.
“There are so many of them, aren’t there?” she whispered.
“The past is always going to be there, Emme. Always. I can’t take it back. I can’t erase it. I can’t make it go away. All I can do is move forward, which I’ve been doing for seventeen years, since Janice left me with Jacob and Cassie. Day by day, then month by month. Do you know what that’s like?”
She nodded, but I didn’t let her speak. “I don’t want to keep looking back,” I sighed, shaking her hand in mine. “I only want to go forward.”
My heart raced, my pulse beat in my throat choking out the words I wanted to say, so instead I said, “Everything is getting so fucked up. It’s why I didn’t date. I didn’t share myself or my kids with someone. It’s messy, but you said you wanted messy. Why do I feel like messy is more complicated than you expected? Too overwhelming for you? It’s freaking suffocating me!” My voice rose with each question, filling the otherwise silent dark street with my defeat.
“I don’t want to suffocate you,” she said, still keeping her voice low. Her hand released from mine, and I walked a step away, spun around and returned to face her.
“You’re not suffocating me, Emme. You’re breaking my heart.”
The words hung heavy in the fall air
“How?” she asked, completely confused.
“You keep running away from me. You shut down when something happens, like with Cassie and Mitzi. We needed to work through that together, not apart.” I sighed. I regretted what happened with Cassie, and while I briefly wanted my mother who always had the right answers, I needed Emme. She seemed like a woman who could support me with my struggles and fears for Cassie. She was a great female role model, and Cassie was missing the only motherly figure she had, my mother.
“I’m…I’m sorry. I’m just used to being alone. Working through things by myself. Handling things on my own. Feeling alone,
” she answered. I understood.
“Me, too,” I exhaled. “But I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
She stared at me once again, my words holding us in place. The silence fell between us. When I couldn’t take the pressure weighing on my chest, I said, “I’ll take you home. This whole night has been one big…”
“Mistake?” she whispered. My heart crushed and crumbled down to the sidewalk.
“I was going to say disaster. One disaster after another.”
“You seemed like you wanted it over,” she stated. “You rushed to Rowdy’s.”
“I just wanted to speed this night up...”
“To finish it,” she interrupted.
“To start it,” I said, at the same time.
Surprising her one more time, I cupped her face, staring into her eyes for a moment. The intense, questioning emotion flitted between us again, like when we stood on the bar dance floor before Melissa interrupted. Emme looked away first, but I tugged her to me.
“Don’t run,” I begged, holding her tight against my chest. “Don’t do it.”
I was losing her. I could feel it with every fiber of my being. She was slipping away from me. The kids setting up this date, threw us off. We were forced into this awkward situation, and we should have gone some place quiet to talk. Instead, I rushed to Rowdy’s. I thought the easygoing surroundings would break the tension, and for a while, it did. Touching her was driving me insane and I just wanted to drag her off to the back hall and bury myself inside of her. I wanted to reignite the spark in her that seemed immune to me.
Then that stupid girl leapt for me. For a second, I lost my head, blindsided by her, I held her up against me. We’d had a night or two together, but that was months ago. She wasn’t as eager to see me again then, as she was tonight. It ruined the moment for Emme and I. That intense moment we had when she finally wrapped her arms around me and she let me pull her close. I wanted to feel that connection with her again, and I didn’t know how to regain it.