“Ahem.”
We break apart and Terrence is standing next to us, Lucas and Nicole are watching us. “Terrence!” Keith and I both stand up.
“Please, sit down.” He takes a seat. “Looks like I missed quite a show.” He chuckles.
My embarrassment hits the highest of all time. I can’t believe my boss caught me making out in the middle of a work event. Even if it’s not his nephew, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m humiliated and it was unprofessional. “That won’t happen again.”
“No, it’s fine, Cassie. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for joining us, Keith. You did a fine job at the office.”
“Thank you.” The two shake hands like old pals. “I take a lot of pride in my work.”
“Well, it shows.”
We chit chat for awhile, my favorite, and I learn Terrence’s wife hurt her back and that’s why she isn’t there. I ignore a few more texts from Sasha before I finally do the unthinkable and turn my phone off.
The ceremony begins about fifteen minutes after Terrence’s arrival. I’m grateful for the silence at our table. A few comedians make an appearance putting in jokes about all the different phone competitors and the commercials between Mac and PC. We all share a few laughs. An hour into the ceremony, I’m practically nestled under Keith’s arm.
When it comes time to give out the IT Manager of the Year award, Keith grabs my hand and holds it tight. I’m nervous. Maybe the martini and the few drinks I had after weren’t the best idea because I’m starting to get dizzy as the emcee announces the nominations.
I’m on the edge of my seat when it comes time to announce the winner. My name comes over the microphone, and I can’t move. My butt is glued to my chair, and I’m repeating the name in my head. Did he really say my name?
“Cassie!” Keith nudges me. “You won! Get up there!”
I pry myself off my chair as the applause echoes in my ears. As I stand, Keith grabs my hand and pulls me down for another kiss. I’m taken by surprise, and I think it shows because it draws a small laugh from the crowd. I glance over at Lucas, who’s glaring at Keith.
I ignore them both and head to the stage. The presenter hands me my plaque. It’s lighter than I expected. Not that I thought the gold plates were real gold or anything, but I expected it to be a tad heavier. The crowd quiets as they wait for my acceptance speech. All the speeches before me thanked their companies, their co-workers, and their parents. I’ve got two of the three.
“When Terrence Rhimes told me I was nominated for this award, I was more than a little shocked, to say the least. What I do, well, I love it, and I would do it whether or not this award existed. Thank you, Terrence, for believing in me.” Short and sweet is the best way to keep this. Besides, I hate it when acceptance speeches go on and on, so I don’t want to be one of those people. I nod my head to signal the end of my words, and the crowd applauds as I make my way back to the table.
“Well deserved, Cassie. Congratulations.” Lucas nods toward me.
“Thank you. Maybe one day you’ll be getting an award.” I’m giddy with excitement now, and I hold the plaque against my chest.
Keith touches my knee, and I allow another kiss. I close my eyes, and I’m smiling inside.
“Excuse me,” Lucas says as he stands up and takes a quick drink. “I need to get some fresh air.” Nicole stands up to join him. “No, you can stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He takes off out the exit and leaves the four of us in confusion. “What just happened?” Nicole asks, embarrassed her date took off on her.
“Do you think I should go after him?” I whisper to Keith.
“Why?”
Because I’m sure it has everything to do with me. Because I’m certain seeing us two together hurt him. “He’s a friend. He needs a friend.”
“Sure. Do what you have to do.” There’s a cold insinuation in his voice, but I rush outside anyway.
Snow has started to fall, and neither of us is wearing our jacket, not having taken the time to grab it from the coat check. The precipitation is cold against my skin, and I can see my breath as I yell his name.
“Cassie, go back inside. I need a minute. I’ll be fine.”
“What upset you back there?” I step down the stairs and meet him at the bottom.
“What do you think?”
He’s pacing the sidewalk of the venue, his arms crossed in an obvious state of anger.
“I told you, Lucas, we can’t be a couple. I like you. We had fun that night. It can’t go beyond that.” Never in my life did I expect things to go this way. All I wanted was a night to feel young again, and Lucas gave that to me. I didn’t expect this.
He tightens his fists and races toward me. I step back for a second until he grabs me and pulls me to him. The snow falls onto my face as he kisses me, dipping me into the flurries. He lets go and steps back. “You don’t feel anything?”
I stand there, watching him plead with his eyes, telling me with sheer emotion he wants to be with me, and it kills me inside to hurt him. Is this how it’s been with every man I’ve dated? Have I never even considered their emotional attachments? Have I hurt every single one of them and walked away without any guilt? Lust and love are two completely different emotions. They’re two separate roller coasters. If having a strictly sexual relationship with him is only one-sided and he’s returning more than that, well, I can’t string him along any further.
“No. I don’t.”
He stomps his foot on the ground and snow kicks up from under his shoe. “Damn it, Cassie!” He curses me as he whips past me and back into the building, leaving me in the shadow of the moonlight, the heartless person that I am.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
All I wanted to do was get out of there. I couldn’t stand to sit at a table with Lucas knowing I had broken his heart and there was nothing I could do about it. He shrugged it off as though he didn’t give a damn by groping Nicole every chance he had. He could’ve left just as easily, but Keith suggested we stroll through the lights at Red Arrow Park, and I couldn’t refuse.
The park, only a few blocks away from the venue site, is quite busy tonight. People are crowding the area and taking in the holiday lights. “I think tonight was the tree lighting ceremony,” I tell Keith as we walk hand and hand through the walkway that curves through the park.
“I think it was on Tuesday. Have you ever been to one?”
“No, but I come see the tree every year. You?”
We squeeze past a young family of four as we continue down the trail. “I used to go years ago with my parents and brother. It was kind of a tradition.”
“Oh.” I didn’t have any traditions, even around the holidays. On Christmas morning, my mom gave me something she picked up from the dollar store, usually a coloring book or a plastic toy, and then we headed off to her flavor of the week. I wanted to put up a tree, decorate it with handmade ornaments, but we couldn’t afford one.
He stops and faces me. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault my mom was a drug addict.”
His eyes widen and I realize this is the first time I said anything about her addiction. I kept that part out of my discussion with the group, plagued by embarrassment and wanting to avoid judgment.
“I didn’t realize …”
“I didn’t tell you.” I take his hand back and start walking again. “It’s a part of my past I prefer not to discuss. In fact, I prefer to keep it all in the past. When I found out my mom was looking for me, it brought all the anger back. She’s in the hospital now, and I don’t even know how I feel about it.”
We approach a band playing classical music. I really should make it a point to come down here more often. The vibe is so positive and energetic, and there are so many different types of people. I lock myself in my office most of the time, and when I leave the office, I drive my fifteen minutes out of the city to go home where I turn my laptop back on and do more wor
k. I’m here with this wonderful man whose hand I’m holding and I’m crushing on, and that’s all I want to think about right now. I want to stand here and lean against him, take in these spectacular musicians, and not talk about my mother. This atmosphere is meant for fun and excitement, not sadness and resentment.
“It’s okay, Cassie. It’s normal to be confused.”
I run my hand up his arm and he squeezes me tight. “Thank you, Keith, for being so understanding.”
“About that,” he begins and my head shoots up from the comfortable position it was in only seconds before. “What happened that night? Why did you kiss me and then want to take it back?”
“I kissed you?” I pull back and narrow my eyes. “You kissed me, Mister.”
“Either way. We kissed and then you told me the timing was wrong. Now here we are. What changed?”
I should have known this would come up. I thought when I called him and he accepted my invitation with no explanation it was too good to be true. I’m not even sure I know what changed my mind.
A crowd begins to gather around us and the band. The interruption allows a distraction from Keith’s question. Under the sparkling holiday lights and an orchestra of saxophones and piano, a man who must be no more than twenty years old kneels down on one knee in front of a woman with flowing dark hair tucked under a bright pink hat. Her hands cover her mouth and she’s visibly shaking and nodding her head. The onlookers burst into applause as the man stands up and kisses his now bride-to-be.
“How sweet,” I say as I try and pull Keith along. “I wish them luck.”
“You really don’t like marriage, do you?”
“Nope. I mean, it’s fine for other people. I really do wish them luck. The whole thing never did it for me. I wasn’t the girl who dreamed of her wedding day. Not the gown, not the reception, not even the honeymoon.”
“That’s the best part.”
“Hey, I can have sex without a big party beforehand.” I blush when I say this, but it makes him laugh.
We come across a bench and sit down, huddled in close together. I like this. We’re connecting, and it feels nice. I’m not used to this, this closeness, and even though it’s new and scary, I’m not shying away from it.
“You never did answer my question. What changed?”
Here we are again. I doubt he’ll let it go until I respond. I lay my head on his shoulder. “I don’t know when it changed. It just did. I enjoy time with you. I miss you when you’re gone. You’re easy to talk to. You make me feel … wanted.”
He kisses the top of my head. “That’s nice to hear coming from the woman who turned me away from her group.”
I lift my head and shove him away. “Stop it. I’m being serious.”
“So am I! You kicked me out!” He holds his hands up in surrender, and as he chuckles, his breath meets the air and I can see it. “So, what is this, what is this between us?”
“Do we need to give it a name? Do you want me to officially ask you to go steady?”
“No, and even if I did, that’s the man’s job.”
“Whoa! If you’re some sexist man who can’t stand a woman taking control and being successful, this will never work.” He may think I’m joking, but I’m quite serious. I spend my days fighting for recognition in an industry dominated by men, and I’m not about to do so in a relationship. Yes, a relationship. “I want a partnership. I want romance and I want conflict. Like you. I don’t want to be bored.”
“And married?”
“Never.” He was engaged once, so it may be something he’s not willing to give up. “Are you okay with that?”
He takes my hand and interlaces our fingers. “Yes. I loved my ex, but I only proposed because I thought that would make her stay. I can get married, I can stay single, or I can live in sin my entire life. It doesn’t really matter to me, as long as I’m happy.”
“I like that.”
He inches toward me and touches his lips to mine. He’s slow to pull away, and when he does, it’s as though an invisible force has to pry us apart. “But…”
It can’t ever be easy. There has to be something that will throw a wrench in my happiness. “But what?”
“It’s just that I thought that she and I were on the same page and after years together, it shocked me to find out that we weren’t. I’ve had a thing for you since the second you tried to shove me out the door at your meeting. I’ve been patient waiting for you to come around and realize we’d be great together. When you told me it wasn’t a good time for us to start anything, as much as I hated to, I accepted it. I know it seemed as though I didn’t care, but I did.”
Our hands are still stuck together and I’m squeezing his so tight I’m afraid I may break a finger. “I thought you didn’t.”
“When my ex left me I was devastated. I couldn’t go through that again.”
“You won’t. I want this.” I let go of his hands and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him toward me. “I want you.” As quickly as I shoved him away last time, tonight I close the gap before there’s any chance of anything coming between us. He covers my ears with his hands, and within seconds, I’m losing my breath as we both hold on for dear life, our kiss consuming us, fulfilling an emptiness I’ve had inside of me for years.
Right now, in this moment, I’m whole again.
•••••••
The shelf right next to my television is the perfect spot for my award. It sits nicely there, dominating the space as it should. I can see it every day when I walk through the living room and catch glances of it while watching Dancing with the Stars. I could bring it to work and put it on my desk, but Terrence will surely be crushed since we didn’t win the Innovation Award and displaying my award at work may be like a slap in the face for him. I never understood his obsession with awards, but now that I have one, I kind of get the desire for validation.
I wanted to go home with Keith. I really did. All of our kisses and hand holding brought me back to my high school years, and I didn’t want to ruin that feeling. This time, I’m taking it slow. We’re taking it slow.
I’ve missed a few Dating for Decades meetings, so I think it’s about time I show up. I’ll go on Thursday, but I’ll need to explain my absence to everyone. I’m sure they’re pissed, and I can’t blame them. Attendance at the meetings has always been a big thing for me. And now here I am, hiding behind my own shame and fears when they’re the ones I should be looking to.
I kick off my heels and trade my slinky evening wear for a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. After the night I just had, I still feel beautiful, even in these frumpy clothes. I pull the clips out of my hair and let it fall to my shoulders, the slivers of gray sneaking within my eyesight. I twirl a few strands between my index finger and thumb. How long does it take for your entire head to turn gray? Will they fill my hair like highlights? Will they eventually turn all white and I’ll prance around work with a cotton ball on my head like Olympia Dukakis? My mom’s hair isn’t a solid color, so maybe I’ll be lucky. With my fortieth coming up, I wonder if I should dye my hair a natural shade of brown, embrace the grays and leave it as is, or say screw it and put on a hat. I drop the hair from my fingers. I have a few more months to think about it.
My phone vibrates again and this time, it’s a phone call and not a text. Like I’m really going to answer the phone? I glance at the screen and it’s Sasha again. She really refuses to give up. I’m sure she’s festering with anger that I’m not responding. I had a wonderful evening; albeit, it started a little rough, but the ending has been perfect. I don’t want her to bring me down off this high. I haven’t responded to a text or phone call from her for quite some time. I guess I owe her that much. I ignore the phone call and click to send her a text instead. I thank her for her last update and to let me know if anything changes. I can at least give the impression over a text message that I’m somewhat sympathetic.
I toss my phone onto the coffee table and at the same time, sirens blare
outside. My neighborhood is fairly quiet and any type of siren is rare. The lights are flashing practically right outside my window when the siren stops. I find my boots and rush to get my jacket on and race outside.
I’m not the only one who has come outside. Almost every resident on the block is standing at the end of their walkway watching whatever drama is unfolding across the street. An ambulance is parked outside the house and paramedics are rushing inside.
To the left of me, my neighbor watches with her children. I waved to her before, but I realize I don’t even know her name. I slowly make my way to her driveway and asked her if she knows what happened.
“Mrs. Clarington. I think she had a heart attack.” There is a kid on each side of her, and neither can be much older than six or seven.
I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t even know who Mrs. Clarington is. The best I can gather is she lives across the street from me, and she’s a woman. That’s about the extent of it. “That’s a shame.”
“She’s well over ninety. I’m surprised she’s not in a nursing home. I don’t see her outside very often, and people come to mow her lawn and plow her driveway. She’s weak and she lives alone. I suppose her kids didn’t want to foot the bill, though.” She tightens the belt on her robe. She must be freezing. “Her kids should be ashamed of themselves, letting her live alone, and probably die that way too.”
I resent her words. She’s not talking about me, but I can’t help but feel though she is. Maybe Mrs. Clarington wasn’t a great mother. Maybe she pushed her kids away. Maybe she was mean and was never around. She shouldn’t judge unless she knows the facts. And even then she shouldn’t judge. She may know this woman, but she doesn’t really know her. There are many things I want to say to this neighbor of mine, but then I suppose I’m not being any different than I think she is.
Dating For Decades Page 17