Hard Choices

by Ellson, Theresa

“Oh dear, god, Alan. Make it stop!” I whined, looking up to see Molly singing her guts out, inserting my name into the song whenever she could.

  “Oh my god, Molly!” I slapped her on the arm as she rejoined us at the table. “You already told me you love me tonight! You don’t need to serenade me! Jesus!” I was mortified.

  “Oh sure!” she gestured wildly. “You’ll ride Aaron like a stallion in a public park,” my face flushed bright red, and I kept my eyes pinned to Molly, avoiding Robert’s gaze, “but your best friend can’t sing you a song?” she looked fake-hurt, and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye.

  “You idiot,” I muttered as Alan howled with laughter.

  “Relax, Lyssa,” Alan said, “Since he’s leaving this week, I think Robert has relaxed his ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy with your… you know, friendship with Mr. Sellers,” he grinned at me. “I know I’d like to hear more about it!”

  “You people are out of control, do you know that?” Robert shook his head, pretending to be disgusted, as he waved our waitress over.

  Alan smiled at him, and squeezed his knee. “You’re curious, and you know it! Come on, Lyssa! Spill it!”

  Robert stuck his fingers in his ears and went “Nah nah nah nah nah nah,” as we all laughed.

  But I shook my head. “Not tonight, Alan. Tonight is about friends. Ooh! Friends!” I suddenly knew what I wanted to sing. I jumped up and ran over to the DJ to confer, then hopped up on stage.

  “This is for my bestest friend in the whole wide world,” and I proceeded to vamp it up, Freddie Mercury style, to Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend.”

  I actually have a passably decent singing voice, so I got a little applause – especially from my table. When I sang, “You’re my BEST friend, MOLLY MILLER!” I got hoots, whistles and thunderous applause.

  It had been a couple years since we’d karaoked together. I’d forgotten how much fun it was. And, even through my buzzed haze, I realized that Molly was right – Aaron may have released my “inner cougar,” but everything he’d found inside of me was, really, me.

  At some point, J.J. joined us, and Alan even got Robert to have a drink. I’d stopped at my second. Molly didn’t have to work tomorrow, but I did. J.J. finally cut Molly off, though. When she asked for more, J.J. leaned over and whispered, “I told them virgin drinks from here on out!” I knew Molly would thank him in the morning. For just a second, I felt a twinge. It’d be nice to have a partner who knew me so well, who would take care of me like J.J. took care of Molly – always with respect. They really had found a perfect way to be together. Molly was so much happier with J.J. in her life.

  I looked around the table for Robert and Alan, the other perfect couple I know. But Alan was on stage belting out “Valerie.” He loved Amy Winehouse. And Alan could really sing. I looked around for Robert, who was standing in the back, next to a man I didn’t know. It looked like he’d been talking to him, but now he was watching Alan sing, a huge, proud grin on his face.

  The man next to him was staring. At me.

  I stared back, longer than I would have normally, if I hadn’t had a couple of margaritas in me. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He just stared at me. I could barely see him standing in the shadows, but his attention was sending out its own psychic waves. Finally, flustered, I looked down, then looked back up. Still staring.

  Alan had finished his song, and Robert was applauding and whistling. Then he leaned over to the man standing next to him, apparently asking him to join us. I turned away, disconcerted. By the time Robert and the man got to our table, Alan had rejoined us.

  “Matthew!” Alan said warmly, holding out his hand. Alan and the man – Matthew, apparently – did that guy thing where they shake hands, lean in, and half-hug, half-smack each other on the back. Matthew pulled back, and I was struck dumb. About six foot two, he had short black hair and startlingly green eyes. He had to be at least forty, I figured, but I was shocked when Robert explained they’d gone to school together. That put him in his late forties. Damn, he looked good. Broad shoulders, flat stomach under a tight black t-shirt. It was obvious from looking at his biceps that this guy was in shape. Really, really good shape.

  Once again, I thought how sad it was that Scott had let himself go. All you had to do was look at Kyle to see how good-looking Scott had been. Once. A long time ago. And all you had to do was look at Matthew (or Robert, Alan or J.J.) to see how well men could age.

  “Matthew,” Robert pointed to Molly, “You remember my sister, Molly,” Molly managed to say hi and wave a drunken hello, “her boyfriend, J.J.,” they shook hands and Robert turned to me, “and this is Lyssa. Lyssa, meet Matthew Bowen. Lyssa works with me. She’s our business manager.”

  I was thrown. In social settings, especially when I was karaoking and drinking, Robert didn’t usually introduce me as part of his firm. He liked to keep a professional image.

  “Lyssa’s his work-wife,” Alan said loudly, as everyone laughed. Including me. Except Matthew, who just smiled, sort of warily.

  And he just kept staring.

  Then Matthew pulled up a chair and deftly but deliberately slid it in between Molly and me.

  “Masterful performance, Alan,” he smirked across the table. “You could outsing Amy Winehouse any day.”

  Alan stood up and did a fake Elvis bow, “Thank you, thankyouverymuch,” he said in his best Elvis as we all laughed again.

  “I heard you sing, too,” he turned to me, and I noticed that now that those green eyes weren’t the only remarkable thing about his face when he finally really smiled. Wow.

  I remember a time when I’d been watching the movie The Natural on TV. I was about twelve. In one scene, Robert Redford turns back toward the camera… and smiles. I remember just being sort of overwhelmed by his beauty. I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I had sighed wistfully. My grandfather had laughed and said, “Annnnd Lyssa falls victim to the Redford charm!”

  I felt like that right now. When Matthew smiled at me, really smiled, I felt myself smile and even blush a little as I looked down. This was new. All I’d ever felt around Aaron was blind lust. Now I felt like a stupid kid staring up a movie star’s poster. Whoa.

  Also, I noted that he wasn’t wearing a ring, nor did he have any kind of ring-tan, as though he’d just slipped it off.

  “You looked like you were really having fun,” Matthew continued when I didn’t say anything. I liked his voice. It was sort of rough and worn, full of life experiences. Almost gravelly. Very sexy.

  I laughed nervously. “You must have missed the song before mine,” I explained. “Molly had serenaded me with a song I hate, so it was payback.”

  He nodded and didn’t say anything. Just kept staring. Just kept smiling. Suddenly, I realized that everyone around the table was begging Robert to get up and sing. Robert had the most beautiful voice – a rich baritone that would stop anyone in their tracks. Trying to pull myself out of the little private world Matthew and I were in, I joined in with the begging.

  “Come on, honey!” Alan said quietly. “If you sing for me, I’ll make Chicken Cordon Bleu for dinner tomorrow night,” Alan was a masterful chef, but was always trying to keep Robert on a healthy-eating track, so I knew that was a big inducement.

  “Come on, Robert!” Molly all but shouted. “It’s a crime not to share that amazing voice with the world!”

  “Yeah, Robert,” Matthew joined in, grinning. “I haven’t heard you sing for years. I think it’s a moral imperative that you occasionally beautify the world with the voice God gave you.” OK, so he wasn’t always intense. That was good. I didn’t think I could take it anymore, anyway. Matthew’s focused attention on me was… a lot to experience.

  “All right, all right!” Robert threw up his hands in defeat. “I’m going, I’m going!”

  Wow. He must be really comfortable around Matthew to karaoke in front of him. That said a lot about Matthew. I was intrigued.

  Robert went over to the DJ, who grinne
d and nodded. Robert got up on stage, and turned around so his back was to his. As the opening piano notes of his song came through the speakers, we all howled and cheered. Then Robert turned around and began, “At first I was afraid, I was petrified…”

  We went nuts. Laughing, howling, hooting. Even Matthew. When it got to the chorus, Robert danced around the stage, showing moves I’d never seen before as we all sang along to “I Will Survive.” Matthew laughed until he had to wipe tears off his cheeks. OK, my first impression of a brooding intensity may have been wrong.

  I looked over at Alan. He had the same look of pride and adoration that Robert had had when he was up there singing. I sighed. All those years together, and they were still deeply in love. It gave me hope.

  Robert finished on a long note, arm thrown out to the side, head thrown back. When he was done, we all stood up and cheered. Even the ten other people in the bar. Hell, even the DJ whistled and yelled, “Encore!” But Robert took a bow and exited the stage.

  As he walked back to our table, Molly tried to stand up and called drunkenly, “That’s my big brother!” Robert put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back into her seat, exchanging a knowing look and a smile with J.J. Molly and J.J. may not live together, but I suspected he’d be spending the night at her house tonight.

  “All right, folks,” Alan stood up. “Some of us have to work tomorrow,” he looked pointedly at Molly, who still had a few days before she had to get back into school to prep for the new school year. “And we need our beauty sleep. Lyssa,” he raised his eyebrows at me, “Do you still need a ride home?”

  I grabbed my purse and stood up. “Yeah! I had a couple of drinks, I cannot drive – “

  “I can take you home,” Matthew said quietly, standing next to me.

  “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to – “ I said immediately, thoroughly flustered.

  “Could you, Matthew?” said Alan, cutting me off. “That’d be great. We’re going the other direction.”

  That was true, but my house was only five minutes out of their way. I looked at Alan, imploring him silently. I didn’t know this guy from Adam, and I was decidedly impaired. I didn’t want a stranger driving me home.

  “Thanks, Matthew. Lyssa, I’ll see you tomorrow. If you’re a little late,” he smirked at me, “I’ll understand.” He and Alan headed out the door.

  With Robert’s tacit encouragement, I got the message: “You’re safe with this friend of mine.” Neither Alan nor Robert would ever put me in a car with a serial killer.

  “All right, J.J.,” slurred Molly, “take me home and ravage me. Or hold my head over the toilet. Dealer’s choice.” J.J. rolled his eyes at us as he gathered up Molly’s purse. They said their goodbyes and J.J. guided her out the door.

  “Shall we?” said Matthew.

  “How long have you known Robert?” I said a little sharply.

  Matthew looked a little taken aback at my sudden change in tone. Then my situation seemed to dawn on him. “I’m sorry, Lyssa,” he said sincerely. “I’m a complete stranger to you. It was inappropriate for me to offer to take you home. I apologize. You are absolutely right to be wary,” he shook his head, “Alan and Robert just handed you off to me. We didn’t even ask you,” he looked terribly uncomfortable. “I can’t believe I already screwed up,” he said softly. “How about I call you a cab?”

  In our little town, I knew it’d be a while before a cab showed up. As I debated whether or not I wanted to wait twenty or thirty minutes for a ride, I considered Matthew. One thing I had always taught Becca was to trust her instincts. My “independent woman” sensibility was insulted that three men had decided something for me without consulting me. But my “is he all right?” internal alarm was actually kind of humming, and I knew I wasn’t that drunk. Even if I hadn’t been in this situation for more than twenty years, I realized that Matthew actually made me feel… safe.

  “No,” I said, still crisply but not as sharply. “I’d rather not wait for a cab. So, I’ll take a ride home. But you will not walk me to my door, and I will not invite you in for coffee, is that clear?”

  “Very clear, and more than fair,” he hesitated like he expected me to start out, but I just looked at him, eyebrows raised. I wasn’t going to walk in front of him. I felt too exposed. He did make me feel safe, but his interest was unsettling.

  These weren’t my most flattering cargo shorts. I didn’t want him staring at my ass. I smirked a little at my own admission to myself as Matthew walked out in front of me.

  He looked back at me, and flashed that smile again, clearly relieved the mood had lightened. It was exactly the way Robert Redford had smiled at the camera in that scene from The Natural, and it made me catch my breath. Again. Holy crap, he was gorgeous. I was suddenly very, very glad I’d been so harsh. Way to set good boundaries, Lyssa! I silently congratulated myself. Besides, I remembered, my clothes are still on the floor where I tossed them this afternoon, right before Aaron fucked my brains out. I felt a sudden rush of heat at the memory – but I was picturing Matthew instead of Aaron. Already. Oh my god, when had I become such a shameless slut?!

  We walked out into the parking lot, with Matthew keeping his distance. He pointed out his car as he clicked the locks on his key fob.

  “Uh, ordinarily, I’d open a woman’s door…” he said uncertainly.

  I said, “I got it. Don’t worry,” and I opened the passenger door to his BMW SUV and hopped in.

  He got in on his side and asked, “Where to?”

  I gave him directions, and tried really, really hard not to sneak glances at his right bicep straining against his black t-shirt. Damn. Seriously, Scott must be the only guy in town who never picked up a weight.

  Finally, the silence got to me. “So you work out a lot?” I blurted out. Nice, Lyssa, I internally rolled my eyes at myself, very smooth.

  He looked sideways at me and grinned. “Uh, yeah,” he kind of laughed. “I did the Ironman in June,” he said, shrugging.

  Holy SHIT! I thought. The Coeur d’Alene Ironman was one of those grueling triathlons that went on all day: two-mile swim, hundred-and-something-mile bike ride, and you got to finish up with a full marathon. Sounded like oodles of fun to me. “Wow,” I managed to squeak out, “That’s… that’s impressive.”

  Matthew shrugged again. “It was on my bucket list. Now it’s crossed off. Never again,” he laughed. “I like triathlons, but that one was just insane. I’ll stick to the ones that end in a 10K, from now one,” he said emphatically. “What about you?”

  “Me? Never had any desire. I don’t really like swimming,” I explained.

  “No, I mean, you… obviously work out, too,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed. So he had been checking me out – really checking me out.

  “Oh. Well, I run. Do a little yoga,” I shrugged nonchalantly, “Ran a marathon last fall,” I said quietly. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a big accomplishment.

  “Wow, really? That’s fantastic! Good for you!” he sounded genuinely impressed, not like he was throwing me a bone. “You sing, run marathons, run Robert’s firm,” he said pulling up to a red light, and looking over at me admiringly. “What can’t you do?” I wasn’t sure if he meant that sexually or not, but his gaze was so intense, I felt the need to pour a little cold water on myself, figuratively.

  “Keep a marriage together. I couldn’t do that,” I said sarcastically, tearing my eyes away and looking forward again. “Green light,” I said gesturing. It was such a blatant declaration of my singlehood, I was a little ashamed of myself. But only a little.

  “Me neither,” he said, pulling through the intersection. “Been divorced… let’s see… Audrey’s twenty-four, so I’ve been divorced twenty years now.”

  “Whoa! Really? I was married twenty-two years. Been divorced since March.”

  “Oh my god, Lyssa, I’m so sorry,” he said sincerely.

  “Don’t be. I’m not. We were way too young when we got together, and we let it dr
ag out way too long. My kids are grown and gone, so there was no need to pretend any more. It was all very amicable.”

  “Good for you,” he said emphatically, “I wish I could say that. I raised Audrey after Amanda ran off to ‘find herself.’ She’s seen her some summers, usually every Thanksgiving,” he shook his head. “Thank god my mom was around. She moved in with us after Amanda left. She really raised Audrey while I was busy working way too many hours. Which house is it?” I didn’t even realize we’d pulled onto my street.

  “Third one on the left there,” I pointed.

  He pulled up in front and put the car in park, but left it running. “Honestly,” he continued, “I was glad I got every single weekend with Audrey. I worked too much, but never on weekends. I was the weird one in our start-up for that. But I was the only one with a kid that early on.”

  “Start up? Here in town?”

  “No, over in Seattle. After about ten years, I’d had all the fun I could stand. I retired, mostly, and my mom, Audrey and I moved to Port Orchard when she was about seven. I’ve had my summer place over here for years, and I’m going to live here full-time now. Amanda has flitted in and out of Audrey’s life since she left. She’s not even reliable about answering her emails or texts.”

  “I cannot imagine that,” I said shaking my head, “nothing could have gotten me away from my children. Nothing. I know this is judgmental, but I do not understand parents who can just walk away from their kids. Our marriage really ended years ago, but at least Scott stuck it out until the last one had flown the coop,” I sighed. “And me. I stuck it out, too. I can at least say that.”

  “Was it that bad?” Matthew asked, genuinely interested as he turned off his ignition. This was a topic Aaron and I had never discussed. In our three-month affair, seeing each other almost every day, we had never talked about this. How could we? He’d have absolutely no frame of reference for it.

  “No,” I said honestly, “it wasn’t bad. It was… it was nothing. It’s like it petered out. I think the turning point was after I finished college. I sort of moved on, grew up, but Scott was happy in his job, happy not challenging himself. By the time I’d finished school, we’d developed separate relationships with the kids. I’d spent three years busting my ass, spending way too much time, probably, on studying and schoolwork. He was so accommodating, so willing to get them out of the house so I could study. I’d forgotten about that,” I said wonderingly. “I don’t think I ever gave him enough credit, really.” I sat straighter and stared out the window for a minute, remembering the best parts of my marriage. “Ultimately, though, we just grew into very, very different people. Well, I grew. I guess… he didn’t. He’s the same man he was when I married him. Maybe it wasn’t very fair of me to hold that against him, come to think of it,” I said guiltily.