A Woman Lost

by T. B. Markinson

  I instantly regretted sending it. What was I thinking? I hadn’t even included a happy face. Lizzie, get a hold of yourself, I told myself. What happened to the serious intellectual who didn’t have time for such trifling things? That was the problem with email: words could be taken the wrong way.

  My computer dinged again. Cautiously, I opened her email, as if the process might affect her response. I knew right away that I was okay.

  It read: Very funny, wise guy … or should I say ‘touché.’ But you are wrong, I’m not ignoring Peter, since he isn’t even home yet … wait, does that make you right? Am I ignoring the fact that Peter isn’t home? God damn you, Lizzie! Why do you have to make me think? It makes my head hurt.

  Again, the happy face at the end of the email. This time, I wasn’t going to blow it. I made a happy face first, and then inserted my text before it, so I wouldn’t forget.

  I wrote: Hey, I’ll trade you. I know Sarah is home waiting for me so we can discuss where we see the relationship going. How am I supposed to see where the relationship is going? I’m not clairvoyant. I don’t even know what I am doing tomorrow, so how do I know where I’ll be next year?

  Her response made me smile again:

  Um … excuse me, but I thought we established we were having dinner tomorrow night. So, you do know what you are doing tomorrow! Does that mean you are also lying about where you will be next year? I have to wonder. Besides, I thought you people knew your history so you would have a better idea of where you were heading …

  No happy face this time, only the dot dot dot of ellipsis instead. What did that mean? Fuck. I needed to be more email savvy to interpret this shit.

  I wrote back: Very funny. Are you insulting my skills?

  Maddie’s response was teasing: You’ll never know.

  I decided to wing it: Yes, Maddie, you are correct. I do know what I am doing tomorrow, and therefore, I do know what I am doing next year. I have decided to create a portal enabling me to travel throughout different time periods. Just think of it‌—‌time travel for a historian. No one will be able to question my theories because I will see how things happened firsthand.

  Maddie didn’t respond for at least ten minutes, during which time I tried reading my book, but it was hopeless. I kept looking up at the computer. Maybe I had missed the ding, or maybe I silenced it accidentally.

  Then I heard it. I pounced on the mouse and opened up the email.

  LOL … time travel for a historian. You are such a dork sometimes. I love it. Can I travel with you? I would love to see the world throughout history. Oh dang, I hear Peter downstairs. Off to greet the busy worker bee. See you tomorrow.

  I did know that LOL meant “Laugh Out Loud.” Did she really think I was funny? And why did she call me a dork? I decided to write her back, knowing she wouldn’t respond right away but might respond before tomorrow night. I wished her sweet dreams and told her I couldn’t wait to catch up with her tomorrow. After I sent the email, I shut down my computer and called it a night.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, I popped out of bed before the birds had a chance to announce the arrival of a new day. Even though I hadn’t slept well, I was full of energy and ready to get rolling.

  “Wow … you look great. Why are you all dressed up?” Sarah wrapped her arms around me and kissed the back of my neck.

  “The history chair is sitting in on my class today. I figured I better try to look like a professor. What’s on your agenda today?” I ran my fingers through my hair.

  Of course, the history chair was not sitting in on my class. But I didn’t want to tell her I was having dinner with Maddie; I couldn’t. I hadn’t been home the last few nights; I couldn’t say I was taking the night off to hang out with my brother’s fiancée. It didn’t seem right.

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine. We should go to dinner tonight to celebrate.”

  “Um … I can’t. Didn’t I tell you we have a late meeting today? Gosh, I tell you there is so much drama in the history department. These meetings take forever. So many professors are long-winded.” I paused for a moment. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night, baby? Or maybe we can meet today for lunch.” I hoped I didn’t sound desperate.

  “Really, you would take me to lunch? You’ve never done that before. That sounds great … but shoot … we are on assembly schedule today, so all of the periods are shortened. Let’s do dinner tomorrow night. How about some place romantic.”

  “I’ll see what I can come up with.” I kissed her on the cheek and left for the office.

  When I logged onto my computer, I checked my email immediately. No emails from Maddie. I didn’t open the emails from my students, preferring to surf the net to find a romantic restaurant for tomorrow night‌—‌until I heard my computer ding.

  As quickly as I could, I opened my email. Sure enough, it was Maddie.

  You are so sweet. I hope you had sweet dreams as well … geez, how many times can I write sweet in one email? I’m going to hit the road. See you tonight, sweet Lizzie.

  Her email elicited a smile.

  * * *

  I floated through the rest of the day, anticipating dinner with Maddie. Not once did I think how wrong it was for me to have butterflies. The closer the hour came, the more fluttering I felt in the pit of my stomach.

  Finally, it was time for me to leave my office and head to Coopersmith’s. I arrived thirty minutes early and decided to camp out at the bar. Briefly, I considered ordering a stiff drink, but there was no way in hell I could call Sarah to come and pick me up, so I settled for the house ginger ale. I was living on the edge.

  “Holy moly, you guys are two peas in the pod. Peter showed up early for every date for the first six months.” Maddie set her purse down on the bar next to me and took a swig of my ginger ale. “Except, he would be drinking bourbon or something.” She held up one finger to get the bartender’s attention and ordered a merlot.

  “How was your day?” I asked, noticing she looked gorgeous in a black pantsuit with a shiny silver belt that looped around and hung down like jewelry.

  “Just glorious,” she answered, but her voice and aura told me all was not well.

  It was the first time I had seen Maddie visibly upset. “Oh no, did the woman do more than masturbate this time?”

  “What?” Maddie took a sip of wine. “Oh that.” She smiled for the first time. “No, the appointment went well. There were no masturbating mishaps.”

  I stared at her for a few moments while she took a seat at the bar next to me. “So are you going to tell me what’s bugging you?”

  She waved dismissively. “Oh, I just got off the phone with your charming brother. He can be such an ass sometimes.” She laughed.

  I squirmed in my chair. I was treading uncharted water. How could I push my brother’s fiancée to tell me the juicy details about their relationship? Words started to form in my throat, but I pushed them back down and then forced my own silence with a gulp of ginger ale.

  “Easy there, tiger. Are you riding your bike home tonight?” She winked at me.

  I was relieved to see the old Maddie, which bolstered my courage to ask what Peter had done.

  “He stopped showing up early for dates for one thing. Oh, where should I begin?” Her voice trailed off.

  Her demeanor told me I wasn’t going to get the information I craved, so I dropped the matter.

  “Shall we get a table? I’m starving.” I patted my belly and then immediately felt ashamed. Ever since I started treatment for my illness, I could not get rid of my belly. I missed my flat stomach, even if it was an indication my thyroid was trying to kill me.

  “Of course you are.”

  Again, I could not tell if she was cross with me because I reminded her of Peter, or if she was just in a bad mood. I examined her face‌—‌not a trace of malice. In fact, she seemed somewhat concerned, which confused me.

  The hostess seated us in a secluded corner in the back of the restaurant.
Of all the first dates I’d had at Coopersmith’s, I’d never had such a romantic set-up. It was even snowing outside. A candle flickered on the table, and the lights were dimmed. Why did I get that set-up on that night? It was like the hook-up gods were reveling in the fact that I could never have her. Or could I?

  Neither of us looked at the menu, both ordering our usual favorites. The only difference was that Maddie ordered a bottle of wine instead of a glass.

  When the waitress left, I asked, “Does the bottle of wine mean you’ll be sleeping on my couch?”

  “What? Do you mean you wouldn’t let me sleep in your bed?” she said, and I thought her voice even sounded sultry.

  It took everything I had not to blush like a beet. “Of course you can sleep in my bed. I’m sure you and Sarah will be quite cozy.”

  “I have no doubt.” Maddie laughed. “She seems like a cuddler. But sorry to disappoint, I’m checked into a hotel around the corner.”

  “Oh … that’s nice. Do you get to write it off as a business expense?”

  “I could, but Peter is paying for this place. He’s hardly ever home, so why should I be.” She looked out the window and then she straightened up in her chair and set the wineglass down. “Besides, I have an appointment in town first thing in the morning.”

  “With the people you met with today?”

  “Nope. I’m meeting a potential client.”

  “Another one in Fort Collins? That’s great.” I was so excited for her that I wanted to order champagne, and I didn’t even like the crap.

  Our meals arrived. I picked up my fork and wiped it with my napkin before plunging it into my mashed potatoes. I had a feeling she wanted to talk about Peter, but I didn’t know how to broach the subject. It wasn’t like there was a Dummies Guide to Stealing Your Brother’s Fiancée. Not knowing what to do, I started to shovel bangers and mash into my mouth.

  Maddie looked at me with an odd expression as she sipped her wine and picked at her food.

  I was having a horrible time reading her mind.

  Then she finally looked right at me. “Can I ask you a question?”

  I gave her my most confident smile and said, “Of course.” Inside, I was bracing for the worst.

  “How come you still haven’t told your family about your illness?”

  It was not the question I had been expecting. I started to laugh, which felt like the wrong response. “Um … well, at first, when I found out, the thought never occurred to me. After I had time to let it sink in, I didn’t want to bother with it.”

  “You didn’t want to bother with it … what in the fuck does that mean?” It was clear the wine was going straight to her head.

  “Ah … I’m not sure what I meant. I didn’t feel like telling them. I knew it wouldn’t change a thing.” I paused and then said, “I was already dealing with the illness. I didn’t want to deal with them not caring.”

  She nodded and gazed out the window. The snow was really coming down now. Most of the other customers were packing up and heading home.

  “It really bothers you that I haven’t told them. That’s the second time you’ve asked me. Do you want me to tell them?”

  She smiled at me. “Oh no. Unless you want to. I’m just baffled by your family, Lizzie. I’m so close with my parents and aunts and uncles, and you guys are all strangers.” She laughed. “Then there are all of those secrets all of you keep.”

  I smiled at her. I wondered what secrets Peter kept. I knew hers.

  She started to speak, but then stopped abruptly. A strange expression crossed her face. “Would you ever cheat on Sarah?”

  I froze. My hand hung in the air, my fork overloaded with mashed potato, which dripped onto the table. Flustered, I set the fork down.

  “Ah … I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that question.” Why did I say that?

  She reddened. “Oh, of course … I wasn’t insinuating you were … I know you love Sarah.”

  Fuck!

  There was my opportunity, and I blew it. I fucking blew it!

  Someone opened the front door and a frigid breeze blew out the candle on our table.

  “Y-yeah, of course I love Sarah,” I stuttered.

  Shut up, Lizzie. Shut up! I felt my face turn crimson, and I wanted to throw ice water on my face to temper the burn. I had never felt so awkward and utterly ridiculous. Foolishly, I asked, “Do you want any dessert?”

  Maddie’s face brightened. “You know, Lizzie, I just might. Screw looking good for Peter.” She perked up in her chair and seemed content once again, and then she changed the subject to a concert she was planning on seeing over the weekend. I appreciated the diversion. While she prattled on, I took off my blazer, unbuttoned my shirtsleeves, and rolled them up.

  When we left the restaurant, I didn’t bother putting my jacket on. I was impervious to the cold.

  Chapter Eighteen

  All of the pressure from my dissertation, buying a home, and my brother’s wedding was starting to get to me. I had been in a horrible mood for days.

  “It’s not so easy you know!” I laid into Ethan when he asked me if I had told Sarah I didn’t want to buy a house.

  “Really? Then why have you been riding my ass for years?” Ethan looked frustrated as hell.

  I turned away, rubbing my eyes.

  He continued. “We have a mortgage, financial accounts, cars, loans, the cat … ” Ethan counted their commitments on his fingers before trailing off.

  “And I fart in my sleep.”

  His hand dropped swiftly from the air and into his lap, like a bird shot out of the sky. “What?”

  “What?” I shook my head. Had I said that aloud?

  “You just said that you fart in your sleep.”

  “Oh yeah, that.” It had just popped out. I never meant to say it.

  “You fart in your sleep?”

  “I guess so. I’m asleep. But Sarah told me I do.”

  “That’s why you’re staying with Sarah, because you fart in your sleep?”

  “She loves me. How could I stay the night with someone else? I wouldn’t be able to sleep for fear of farting. And you know I already have problems sleeping.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” He slammed his cup down on the table.

  “What are you so angry about?”

  “You want to ruin this girl’s life because you fart in your sleep?”

  “What do you mean ruin her life?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “You can’t stay with someone you don’t love for such a stupid reason.”

  “Why do you stay with your wife? Because you are too lazy to figure out the financial issues or to decide who gets the cat?”

  “Because we’ve been best friends since elementary school. We respect each other, which is the basis for a good relationship.”

  “I respect her.”

  “Really … ? Then why don’t you start acting like it?” he hissed.

  I wanted to get up and leave, but I had already acted like a child earlier. Besides, two of my students were in the back of the coffee shop. Our conversation was already heated. I didn’t want to draw even more unwanted attention.

  We both sat silently, sipping our drinks.

  After several minutes, I broke the silence. “So tell me really, why do you and your wife stay together?”

  “Because we love to hate each other … I don’t know how to explain it, Lizzie. We are used to each other, and we respect each other. We both love to fight. But in the end, we still respect each other. Are you even friends with Sarah?”

  “But what about the sex part?” I asked, avoiding his question.

  “We’ve worked that part out.” He looked uncomfortable in his own skin.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to go into particulars, since it really isn’t your business.” He flashed his southern-boy smile. “But we both know I don’t like sex. We’ve come to some agreement.”

  “Are you all right with the deal?”

/>   “It’s not the most ideal situation, but we are both living with it. That’s where you are wrong. Sarah deserves to have some say in the decisions made about your relationship. Stop keeping her in the dark. She’s not a mushroom.”

  “What?” I crinkled my face.

  “A mushroom. You keep it in the dark and feed it shit. Stop treating her like that.”

  I sighed. “She’s going to hate me.” And I didn’t want to hurt her. She was the last person I wanted to disappoint.

  “Yes. She’ll hate you at first. But, over time, she will appreciate your honesty. If you keep stringing her along, she’ll resent you even more. That won’t be good. She’ll be mean to you, but most importantly, it will tear her up inside. Resentful women are not happy people, and once they reach a certain stage, they never get over the bitterness. Don’t be the cause of that.”

  “I’m not good at this honesty thing.”

  “No shit? Really?” He chuckled and shook his head. “No one is, Lizzie. But it’s part of being an adult. It’s time to grow up.”

  The next day, there was a package in my mailbox at work. I didn’t see a return address. Undeterred, I took it to my office and opened it.

  Inside, I found a plaster statue of a mouse under a large mushroom. I looked in the box for a note, but there wasn’t one. None was needed.

  I set the mushroom on my desk and stared at it for several minutes.

  * * *

  A few days after my dinner with Maddie, guilt was still eating at me. I had been avoiding Sarah and working late almost every night, including nights I didn’t have to be on campus. By Thursday, I sat in my office wondering what to do. I decided to shut down my computer at a decent time and head home before Sarah was due to arrive at the apartment. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been there to greet her after her long workday.

  On the way home, I stopped at a florist and picked up a beautiful bouquet. I didn’t feel like going out to dinner, so I decided to order food from her favorite Chinese restaurant. Fortunately, it arrived before Sarah.

  I busied myself with setting the table, getting the drinks ready, lighting candles, and putting the flowers in a vase‌—‌things to make me feel better about myself. If Haley were trying to steal her away, well I wasn’t going to let that happen. I would not lose to Haley.