Romance Redefined

by SJD Peterson

  “Hmm, nonsilly, huh? Okay, let me try again.” Jason muttered as he disappeared down one of the crowded aisles of the thrift shop.

  Since it was my day off, Jason had suggested a shopping expedition, while really all I wanted to do was hide away in my apartment, put my feet up, and take a break from the craziness my life had become. But I hadn’t been able to say no when he insisted the outing was necessary in order to outfit my character.

  Now I was glad I came. I was having a great time. I loved this place. It was filled with vintage clothing, secondhand furniture, toys from modern to antique, dishes, knickknacks, and a huge collection of old 45s and LPs.

  Jason reappeared with a top hat. “Less silly?”

  “Definitely less silly, but Edgar wouldn’t wear it. He’s reserved not pompous. He knows he would look ridiculous wearing that thing. He’d want something refined yet subtle.”

  “C’mon, show me what you mean.” Jason grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him as he went off on another exploration. Oddly, it was comforting holding hands with him.

  “Here you go,” Jason announced and gestured toward the rack. “Pick one of these. Then I’ll have a better idea of what type of hat you, I mean, Edgar will need.”

  I released Jason’s hand and lifted one from the rack and surveyed it—a 1930s style. “Yes,” I murmured. I ran my fingers gently over the brim. Edgar would wear something exactly like this.

  “I knew we’d find something here.” Jason smiled. “Now I know exactly what you need—a fedora.” He took my hand, and this time I allowed him to entwine his fingers in mine.

  “Yes! Exactly what Edgar would wear.”

  We walked hand in hand through the clothing section. Jason pulled a black fedora from a mannequin and placed it on my head. It fit perfectly. I adjusted the hat, giving it a bit of a gangster tilt. Jason nodded appreciatively. I rolled my eyes and set the hat correctly, then laughed.

  We moved on to the furniture section. I spotted a high-backed sofa with frayed cushions. I glanced at the price tag. “Reasonable. Not that Edgar would ever own a piece of furniture like this. He prides himself on having more sophisticated tastes.”

  “I’ve created a monster. All you’ve talked about today is Edgar.” His tone was light and teasing.

  “I thought that was the whole idea. We’re here to get more familiar with our characters’ personalities. But you haven’t found anything for Pete yet.”

  “Pete is more Upper East Side. He wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this. Besides, I didn’t bring you here just so you could wallow in Edgar. I thought it was a clever way to make you spend more time with me.” Jason gave me an engaging smile. “I figured I’d work my way up to being allowed to take you to dinner.”

  Yes was on the tip of my tongue. I really did enjoy spending time with Jason. He made me laugh. Sure, he could be a bit persistent, but never in a threatening way. I was flattered by Jason’s attentions. He was handsome, shared my passion for the theater, and had no issues about sharing his feelings with me. I liked that. I never had to guess. Jason wore his heart on his sleeve. He was all the things I wanted in a man. So why was I hesitating in accepting Jason’s dinner invitation?

  “I wonder which one you’re thinking about, the ex or the mystery man?” Jason asked, pulling me from my musings.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “You get this faraway look at times.” Jason shrugged. “I figure you were probably thinking about one of them.”

  “I don’t always think about men, ya know. Sometimes, I get lost in thought about cats.”

  “What! Cats? Seriously?”

  “Sure, why not? I love cats.” I chuckled and slipped my hand from Jason’s and strolled away.

  Of course I hadn’t been thinking about felines, but it was the first thing that had popped into my head. I couldn’t admit that I’d been thinking about him. It would do no good. Jason was a great guy. I couldn’t lead him on. I couldn’t give him what he was looking for when I was still so conflicted about my feelings for Hugh. I flat out refused to be in a relationship in which I couldn’t give the other person what they needed. I knew firsthand how painful that could be.

  Jason caught up, walking at my side as we made our way through the shop. “I like cats too,” he admitted. “I think they are a great first pet, low maintenance. A couple can learn a lot about each other from the way they care for them.”

  “You should get one,” I suggested.

  “We should,” Jason countered.

  “Umm, no. Friends can share a lot of things, but ownership of a pet isn’t one of them.”

  “Friends?”

  “Sure, it’s a good place to start. I’m not rushing into anything.”

  “That’s a hint to back off if I’ve ever heard one. But taking things slow is always a mistake.”

  “It’s the other way around,” I objected. “From the sound of it, you always rush into relationships too quickly. I mean, there was George and Dennis and…. Who’s the other one?”

  “Morgan. He’s the one who left me for Europe,” Jason explained.

  “Anyway, if you hadn’t rushed it, maybe you would have figured out Morgan wasn’t right for you and you’d have saved yourself a lot of trouble.”

  “If we did it your way, Ben, people would be so sensible they’d never fall in love. They’d save themselves a lot of pain, but a lot of happiness too.”

  “That’s not such a bad idea,” I muttered. I was all for trading a little happiness if it meant the pain and heartbreak would cease.

  “Are you really such a cynic? Which one made you that way, the ex or the mystery man?” Jason asked.

  I suspected Jason would be happy to have a prolonged discussion about it. He seemed to relish in-depth discussions. “Let’s go buy some more things for Edgar.”

  Jason grabbed my hand. He held my gaze, the expression on his face one of curiosity. I was obviously the puzzle he was trying to solve. “I wonder what it would take to get him out of your head,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “Whichever one it is….”

  Jason leaned in more and pressed his lips to mine. I don’t know if it was shock that he was kissing me in public—Hugh would never do such a thing—or if part of me wanted Jason to kiss me. Whichever it was, I allowed it. It was a very pleasant kiss. It didn’t overpower or overwhelm. It just felt good, and that was precisely why I stepped back so quickly.

  Jason’s smile was rueful. “Obviously it’ll take more than that to make you forget him.”

  “Jason—”

  “I wish I could make you forget.” For a moment, Jason looked almost somber.

  I wished he could too.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE DOOR swung open and Geovanni stepped into the kitchen and headed straight for me. From the disapproving expression on my boss’s face, whatever he wanted couldn’t be good. I tensed, wondering what I’d done wrong.

  “There is a messenger out front insisting he deliver a package to you and no one else.”

  “Me?”

  “Is that not what I said?”

  “Yes, sir.” I wiped my hands on my apron and hurried out into the dining room. A courier was standing at the register, chatting with Mel. I approached them. “Hi, I understand you have something for me? I’m Benson Winthrop.”

  The courier handed me an envelope, winked at Mel, and vanished out the door.

  Intrigued, I gazed down at the envelope. It bore no handwriting, no clue to its sender. I broke open the seal and found no letter inside. There was only a single theater ticket.

  Mel glanced over my shoulder. “Oh. My. God. I’d love to see that show, except that I’d have to stop eating for a week to afford it.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” I turned the ticket over in my fingers. Broadway! Holy shit, Mel wasn’t exaggerating.

  “Any idea who sent it?” Mel asked. Impossibly nosy, she took the ticket from me and examined it. “Pretty convenient, I’d say. It’s for tomorro
w night. You don’t have a rehearsal then. It’s almost like someone knew your schedule.”

  I still didn’t speak, lost in my own thoughts. That ticket, arriving in a plain, tasteful envelope, had aroused an unsettling mixture of doubt and suspense in me.

  Mel, meanwhile, went on without any encouragement. “Very interesting. You know, this ticket is almost like… a lure. Someone’s just cast a line, and I’m fairly certain you’re the fish.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, snatching the ticket back from her. “You have an overactive imagination.”

  “I don’t think so. I suspect I’m right on.” Mel looked at me expectantly. “The only question is… will you take the bait?”

  THE FOLLOWING evening, I sat in my apartment, holding the theater ticket and debating whether or not to tear it into pieces. If I was smart, that was exactly what I’d do. I’d tear it into pieces, and then I’d spend a quiet evening at home studying my lines.

  But it was Broadway. How could I not go?

  How could I go?

  There was part of me that had a sneaking suspicion Jason had sent it. It’s almost like someone knew your schedule. He was the only one besides Mel who knew it. Then there was another part of me, a larger part, hoping it had been Hugh. But if it was, then surely he was playing a game. If I went to the theater, well, it would be as if Hugh had snapped his fingers and I obeyed.

  Torn, I tossed the ticket down on the coffee table. I wasn’t even sure which one I wanted it to be.

  That was not true. I wanted it to be Hugh who had sent it—for the reasons that Jason would have sent it—because he wanted to make me happy and hear me laugh.

  I stood up and paced around the small space, debating all the pros and cons of going to the theater. Then I turned and went into the bedroom and rummaged through my closet. I wasn’t going to try to figure it out one way or the other—Jason, Hugh—all I knew was I was going to the theater.

  The contents of my closet were sparse, but I pulled out the suit I’d intended to wear to Mother’s wedding. It would have to do because it was all I had. When I’d left Hugh, I’d also left behind all the things acquired through Hugh or the Winthrop dollar. So basically, everything I owned.

  Irritation was the flavor of the day, but it was now mixed with a healthy dose of nervous energy that made me jittery. I stepped into the shower and stood beneath the warm flow of water for long moments but couldn’t seem to quell my excitement. I was literally vibrating with anticipation. Soon, I’d see Hugh again. I froze. Damn Hugh Bayard! Why in the hell couldn’t I let him go? I stayed in the shower until the water turned cold. If I’d been hoping that by delaying I would come to my senses, I was sorely disappointed.

  I turned off the taps and quickly dried off. I swiped my hand over the fogged mirror, shaved, and did my best to control my mop of hair—a nearly impossible feat. I really did need a haircut, but I managed. Finally, I slid into my suit jacket and was on my way out the bedroom door when I hesitated, returned to the bureau, and picked up my one small bottle of cologne. I dabbed some on, then wondered if it was too much. If the theater was overly warm or my nerves got the better of me, I’d be sweating and stinking—not a good combination. But it was too late to worry about that. I hurried out to the other room, grabbed the ticket, and went down to hail a cab.

  I arrived in the theater district near Times Square. All the old excitement kicked in for me when I saw the marquees blazing with lights, the dusky sky a backdrop—just like the first time I’d been here, the childlike wonder. The dazzling lights still made me think of the magic roused in me by brightly spinning carousels.

  Of course, during the past months, I had not attended a single Broadway show. On my meager salary, I simply couldn’t afford such an indulgence.

  The cab deposited me in front of the Barrett Theater. I entered the crowded lobby and found myself surrounded by a streamlined luxury, and the contrast to the scruffy Stewart Mott Playhouse could not have been starker. Out of nowhere, my stomach flipped, nausea threatened. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t want to see either of them, not when I was so screwed up. I should go. I need to go. I turned.

  Then I saw him.

  Not Hugh… but Jason, looking handsome in jacket and tie, standing across the lobby, a little separate from the other patrons, with a mischievous smile on his face. Jason had sent the ticket?

  My first reaction—piercing disappointment. My second, excitement. My third, an attempt to cover up my initial one as Jason walked toward me. By the time he reached me, I managed a smile.

  “Very clever. You really are a good actor. The whole ‘poor me, it would cost me a week’s salary’ was quite convincing,” I said.

  Jason returned the smile. Yet he looked skeptical. “I was hoping you’d pick up on that, but I admit I was worried you’d be disappointed it wasn’t him.”

  “Him who? With all these men in my life, it really could have been anyone, I suppose,” I said lightly.

  “I am but one of many,” he sighed dramatically. I was sure that was for affect as well.

  “Yes, but you’re the one who won out tonight.” I touched his arm, my smile growing. “It’s a very nice surprise. Sneaky but very romantic.”

  I really had been hoping for a romantic gesture from Hugh, not Jason. I’d ignored the fact that my ex was notoriously unromantic.

  “So does this send me to the top of this list of your many suitors?”

  “For tonight, it does.”

  Jason laid his hand over his heart. “You wound me, Ben. The fact that I’m now going to have to starve for the next week, I would have thought that would put me there for more than a night.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?”

  “A little. Is it working?”

  “Not in the least. But seeing as you sacrificed so much, hopefully it will be worth it.”

  Jason’s gaze traveled over me appreciatively. “It already is. You look especially handsome tonight.”

  “Stop it, you already got the date.” I bumped my shoulder against Jason as we went through the crowd and into the auditorium. “Thank you, for… well, just thank you.”

  Jason had arranged for excellent seats, close enough to the stage for a perfect view, but not too close that the orchestra would be a distraction. As I settled into my plush seat, I thought once again of the playhouse with its rows of tatty old velvet chairs.

  Then the auditorium lights went down, the curtain went up, the orchestra began to play, and I tried to forget everything but the pageantry before me. Quivira was the boisterous, appealing tale of a band of explorers in search of a mythical city in eighteenth-century Texas. The music was catchy, the singing superb, the story touching.

  Even as I became caught up in the play, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Hugh. I realized how few times we’d attended the theater when we were together. Hugh spent so many late nights at the office, for one thing. Besides, the theater was my activity, not Hugh’s. In what little spare time he had, he preferred physical activities such as hiking, riding, tennis. He wasn’t one to sit around and watch others perform. Even though I’d been sure to join him in the things he liked to do, he never returned the favor. I had gone to plays with friends or by myself.

  When the curtains came down at intermission, Jason glanced at me. “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Oh, of course. This is fantastic. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You sound like you’re reading a speech,” Jason said. “You know, whenever I’m with you, I feel like there’s three of us. You, me… and the guy who makes you unhappy.”

  “He’s not here with us right now,” I said firmly. “We can have a perfectly good time without him. We are having a good time.”

  “You say that often enough, maybe you’ll convince one of us.”

  I gazed at him in exasperation. “Are you always so observant?”

  “Generally. But you’re easy to read. Your face is very expressive.” With that, Jason escorted m
e out to the lobby for a glass of wine.

  As I sipped my wine, I made an effort to concentrate on Jason. He really did look good. I suspected he’d taken special care with his attire. I had never seen Jason in a jacket before. His sandy hair curled at his collar, and his hazel eyes reminded me of the color of leaves just starting to turn in the fall. He was attentive, standing here with me, embellishing his latest argument with Joyce in an effort to make me laugh. Jason gave the impression that there was nowhere else he would rather be right now than here with me. Hugh had never made me feel like that, as if I possessed all his attention, all his focus. I had always pictured Hugh’s mind as being compartmentalized—one small room in it for me and quite a large room for Bayard Investments. There was only one activity during which I had ever felt I had Hugh’s complete participation and that was during sex. Christ, even when clicking off Hugh’s faults, I couldn’t stop from finding some good in him.

  I watched the people around me, concentrated on the buttery and oaky flavor of the chardonnay, on Jason, anything to keep my mind from wandering beyond the here and now. It really didn’t work, so it was a relief when we headed back into the auditorium. We took our seats, and the orchestra started up again.

  During the performance, Jason reached over in the most natural way possible and took my hand. I didn’t pull away. I allowed our fingers to remain clasped for several moments. It was pleasant, holding hands with Jason in the darkened theater. It was also a comforting. As soon as I realized just how comforting it was, I slipped my fingers away. I didn’t want to be unfair to him. I didn’t want to use him for some type of consolation.

  As the play went on, I actually managed to lose myself in it, and I regretted the moment when the curtain fell for the last time. It occurred to me that going to the theater had been another type of comfort and consolation for me. Was it any coincidence that during the worst times in my relationship with Hugh, I had attended as many plays and movies as I could?