Almost Mine

by Winters, Eden

  No reason to tell this man that every time I’d tried to see someone new that the ghost of my husband went with us on dates. I never went out twice with the same person, and sometimes cut even the first date short.

  “You’re wearing your ring!” Was there hope in Travis’s eyes?

  Oh, that. “It’s for business. Clients put more faith in a married man, for some reason.” I shoved my hand, and the telltale ring, into my pocket.

  Travis remained quiet for some time. No shiny gold band encircled his ring finger. Given his current state of living, he might have pawned the symbol that no longer held any meaning for him.

  I studied the man, the defeated air. Damn, how I’d once loved him. My heart constricted. I loved him still. Was one night too much to ask? “Do you have proper clothes for Winston’s?”

  Travis’s face lit up. Gradually the light faded. He’d so loved dinner at Winston’s. Only, a coat and tie were required. “Um…no. Look, there’s a pizza place around the corner we could go to. I doubt you’d run into anyone you know and have to explain me. Maybe it’s better.” Forget other people; I need him to explain himself to me.

  A million questions hovered on my tongue, poised for flight. What good would answers do? He’s there, I’m here, and we’d never meet again for longer than a few hours—if that. In the end I said, “Go take a shower—we’re going to Winston’s.” At home a dozen lovely suits hung in his side of our walk-in closet. I doubted they’d fit him now.

  I pulled out my phone and made a few calls until the water stopped running in the bathroom.

  ***

  “Frank’s Haberdashery? Are you sure?” Travis peered out of the car window. We’d both been here often enough in the past.

  “No, I’m not sure, but yet here we are. We don’t have time for custom tailoring, but Frank thinks he might have something workable on the rack.” I pulled the car behind the building and escorted Travis in through the employee’s entrance.

  “Good evening, Ian.” Frank did a double-take. “Travis? Oh my God, man! How are you?” The aging tailor grabbed Travis in a bone-crushing hug, and judging by how delicate Travis’s bones appeared, I feared the worst.

  “Fine, fine!” Travis wrestled free of the embrace. “You’re looking good, Frank. How’s the missus?”

  Frank’s smile fell. “Anna passed away last year.”

  The color drained from Travis’s cheeks. The pain in his eyes would follow me into my dreams this night. He barely choked out, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. How could you? Come this way please.” A decided chill filled the air. Frank’s wife and Travis had been friends. Frank’s eyes met mine in passing. Instead of pain, his held accusation.

  Holy shit! Travis hadn’t known? His absence at her funeral had caused a stir. How stupid of me to have forgotten. He’d been too wrapped up in his own world to acknowledge someone else’s ending, I’d told myself then, clutching at straws for reasons to hate him. And all this time, he hadn’t been told. I should have found him, no matter where he was at the time, made sure he’d heard the news, taken him to the graveside service. I shouldn’t have assumed Travis read the papers, or continued contact with his old friends after leaving.

  I stood by, watching Frank dress my former love. Damn, but Travis had lost weight. He’d once taken pride in his body, working out, eating right. Now his ribs showed. He’s not yours anymore. He walked away. “Ran” better described his leaving. And yet, his father had died young from cancer. Surely he wouldn’t hide a malignancy from me and Bob. Would he?

  In no time at all Travis appeared more his old self, dressed in a nice new suit, and based on Frank’s heartfelt hug, he’d been forgiven too.

  Though he was pitifully thin, the richness of the suit gave Travis an exotic appearance. Lines drew the path of his life on his handsome face. I’d known most of the twists and turns that marked him, until—well. What had happened in the last two years to trace itself at his temples?

  My eyes stung. The reeking carpet at his apartment must’ve been playing hell with my allergies. I stared down at the ring on the third finger of my left hand. Tonight I’d do what Travis asked; tomorrow I’d remove the jeering reminder of what we no longer had. First thing Monday, I’d file for divorce. I’d put off the inevitable long enough. He wasn’t mine anymore.

  The moment we returned to the car Travis hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me about Anna?

  “I thought you knew.” What else didn’t he know? What else didn’t I know?

  Air rushed out of him. “Never mind. It’s not like we were talking at the time, but at least you should have warned me before I came face to face with the grieving widower.”

  I’d never been accused of being overly sensitive. Still, I’d plunged to an all-time low. “I’m really sorry about not telling you we were going to Frank’s. You needed a suit; he’s the first person who came to mind. I’m also sorry about Anna.”

  “I made peace with Frank.” Travis continued staring out the window. “I’ll say my goodbyes to Anna later. He told me where she’s buried.”

  I couldn’t go back in time and do the right thing now. “I’m still sorry.” In the near future I’d apologize to Frank, too.

  “Don’t be. Regrets are a waste of time and accomplish nothing.” Spoken like a man with lots of experience.

  Glancing at Travis as we drove across town, on what we’d once have considered a date, I couldn’t help remembering all the great times we’d spent together. In the old days we’d dine, dance, then go home and make love until dawn. Home. My home. Not Travis’s. And I wouldn’t take Travis there tonight. I couldn’t. We’d stay at his apartment—if I couldn’t wriggle my way out of staying the night. What purpose could a night together possibly serve?

  He seemed to have done his best to style his hair, and if we’d had more time, I’d have taken him for a trim. What could I say? He was out with me, he should be presentable. But Winston’s granted us a table on short notice on good graces. We’d best show up on time.

  A few raised eyebrows greeted us, from staff who’d known Travis as my husband but were too discreet to ask why he no longer joined Bob and me for dinner. The maître d escorted us to an out of the way table. Fine linen, candlelight, and sumptuous aromas all combined to take me back in time, to a birthday, an anniversary, or just a night out. Our anniversary. Spent at the place that had borne witness to many important events in our shared past.

  Travis stared at a passing waiter’s laden tray. The yearning on his face nearly broke my heart. How long had it been since he’d eaten a good meal?

  Ice formed around my heart, driving back charitable thoughts. He could have these things still. Did he hate me so badly that living in deplorable conditions seemed preferable? Yet, even if he didn’t want me, a competent lawyer could have secured him a good portion of the assets we’d built up in our time together—enough cash to make his life very easy. At one time I’d known the man as well as my right hand. Now, though, I had no idea what made him tick. No need to know now, if I’d soon legally wipe him out of my life.

  The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face and gleamed off strands of white in his hair that I’d never noticed before—not that my own hair wasn’t more salt than pepper these days. On my next birthday I’d turn fifty. Up until two years ago I’d believed Travis would help me celebrate.

  He fiddled with the napkin lying on the table, staring as if he believed the linen square held the secrets to the universe. “I want to thank you for doing this,” he said, eyes not meeting my own. “You don’t owe me anything, after all.”

  Don’t owe me anything. This man had raised my son, kept our home fires burning even when I’d worked late into the night, whipped up dinner for unexpected guests with nary a complaint, and always, always, welcomed me home with a kiss.

  “Can I get the lobster bisque?” Travis appeared so lost, like a small child honestly expecting to be denied. Even now, in the role of jilte
d husband, I could never deny him anything.

  I made up my mind then and there. Whatever stood behind us didn’t exist tonight. In that moment, I was with my husband, and I’d make the most of our evening. Tomorrow? Tomorrow I’d do what I had to.

  The first genuine smile of the evening crossed my face. “You can have whatever you like—” I bit off the endearment I would have added two years ago. “I’ll have the bisque too,” I told our server. “Braised trout?” I asked my husband. The trout had always been his favorite. At his nod, I added “We’ll both have the braised trout” to our order.

  Over bisque, Travis asked, “Remember when Bob was in eighth grade and wanted to play the trumpet?”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “Yes. And he scared poor Mrs. Henderson next door.” After that we’d warned our neighbors: aspiring jazz musician on the loose. The trumpet now gathered dust in the hall closet, along with baseball bats, tennis rackets, and a brown belt in karate.

  Travis had taken his turn as our guide down Memory Lane, I offered up a memory of my own. “Or when we’d just parked the car at graduation and he realized he’d forgotten his mortarboard.” What a mad dash that had been, Travis taking control, leaving me and Bob at the school while he braved cross-town traffic.

  Soon we’d finished our soup and the fish course arrived. Between succulent mouthfuls we continued to reminisce. “College applications gave me writer’s cramp from hell.” Travis rubbed his wrist, as though still feeling the pain.

  “And the road trips! A new school every weekend.” Despite my protests of being torn from work, I’d enjoyed touring universities, reliving a few of my own college memories by retelling them to my family. Ah, those were the days. A heavy weight dragged at my heart. They shouldn’t have ended.

  “And remember how we—” Travis scooped up a forkful of green beans amandine, whatever recollection he’d dredged up unshared with me.

  Right. No mention of “me and you” or “us” anymore. The only safe topic was Bob.

  During our dessert of chocolate mousse, I couldn’t help but ask, “How’s the acting going?” No need to let on that Bob had already clued me in.

  Travis’s spoon clattered into the crystalline dessert cup. “Not good, I’m afraid. There aren’t many good parts for a man my age.”

  Living with someone for years teaches a man to recognize a lie. Well, not an outright lie, but a half-truth. He wasn’t telling me the whole story. Fear squirmed to life in my belly. He had to be sick, for I’d never known him to abuse drugs, the other option for why he’d sunk so low so fast. Sickness. That was the only explanation. I’d never seen him this forlorn.

  Inspirations struck. “Let’s go to Whispers.” Maybe dancing would lift his spirits.

  “We don’t have to.”

  Travis? Turning down dancing? Who was this man and what had he done with my husband? “Why not? You love to dance.” I turned on the charm, batting my eyes. “They play oldies on Friday nights.”

  “It’s getting late. You probably have meetings tomorrow.”

  My nearly saying, “But tomorrow’s Saturday” wouldn’t have gone in my favor. Many a Saturday during out last year together I’d nipped into the office for a brief meeting, only to wind up spending the day. “No, my calendar’s empty.” I tried for the smile that used to melt his heart.

  A pale echo of his former smile answered mine. “If you insist.”

  I knew he couldn’t resist, especially not oldies.

  After paying the check I drove us to a club we’d once frequented. The place still looked the same, furnished in Art Deco and hosting a lively crowd, kicking off the weekend with the classics from Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin, and other legendary singers.

  We’d barely made our way through the door when I heard my named called. “Ian! Travis! How great to see you again.” The club’s manager approached, megawatt grin lighting up his face. Like myself and Travis, the passage of time had left its mark on the man.

  “Good to see you, too, Jack. The club looks great. How have you been?”

  We exchanged small talk. Damn, but I’d missed Jack’s humor. When was the last time we’d talked? After our breakup, Travis had neglected Anna. I’d neglected Jack. I made a mental note to invite him to lunch real soon.

  Finally Jack embraced us both. “Excuse me. I need to go speak with a few people. You know how it is. Something always needs my attention.” A smile creased his cheeks and he hurried off. Travis and I found an out of the way table. The moment we sat down a handsome young man approached, wine bottle in hand. “Compliments of the house,” he said, pouring us each a glass. Mmm… Nice vintage. I definitely owed Jack lunch now.

  Travis held out his hand as he’d done the first time we’d met, and by placing my palm against his, I answered a question he’d asked with only a gesture, a smile, and a raised brow. He led me out to the dance floor, one hand on the small of my back. At first we came together stiffly, very conscious of every little touch. Slowly we relaxed, settling into old habits and older dance beats.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Jack’s distinct Texas twang replaced the last strains of Little Richard’s Good Golly Miss Molly. “Tonight is a very special night, the anniversary of two dear friends.”

  Oh dear God, no. Travis and I stared at each other with wide eyes. What did Jack do, keep a calendar? My breath hitched as my old friend continued to spell out doom for us. “In their honor, I’d like to play a very special song.”

  No, no, no, no, no! I heard the melody in my head before the first note even sounded. Percy Sledge’s voice wasn’t easily forgotten. A knife ripped into my heart. I’ve Been Loving You Too Long. My and Travis’s song. And like the singer, I’d loved my husband for too many years to simply stop. A spotlight aimed our way left us with no other choice but to dance. Some people cleared out the way, all eyes on us, while others grabbed their own partners and took advantage of an opportunity for some public cuddling. And then everyone else on the dance floor simply faded into the background. I couldn’t take my eyes, or thoughts, off of Travis.

  The years peeled away, with Travis singing into my ear in his lovely tenor. Our love had been so genuine, so pure. How could we have misplaced it?

  Gone was the woodsy scent of the cologne he’d once worn, but he still fit so perfectly in my arms. Well-practiced steps kept the time only two familiar dancers managed. I stepped back, his foot took the place of mine—I swayed forward into the spot he’d just vacated, and we’d come together in the middle, an eerie reminder of how well our lives had once synchronized.

  What had gone wrong? Hmm… when was the last time we’d been here? Five years ago? Six? Oh my God! As much as we’d loved dining out and dancing, it’d been years since we’d darkened the door. How did that happen? Racking my brain didn’t produce a single defining moment when we’d stopped going out. Had I grown boring? Complacent? Dampened the fire Travis needed to keep his creative spirit alive?

  The song ended and Travis stepped away, leaving me strangely bereft. I recovered as best I could. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”

  We sipped wine while resting at our table, then a smile, wink, or grin had us charging for the dance floor again. Damn, but the man had always brought out the best in me. We fit together so perfectly. Why for only one night? What did I do to make him leave me? Was he reeling me in, only to break my heart all over again?

  I’d give all I owned to turn back time, go home to our house, our bed, our old life.

  I laughed, I danced, I drank, and all with the same enchanting partner I’d met at Pride over twenty years ago. And like that night, we found ourselves at his door, ready to fall through and onto each other, only his carpet then hadn’t been this ghastly brown grunge. The price of his new suit would likely pay a full month’s rent—and then some. If I accomplished nothing else with this visit, I hoped to convince him, help him, to find a better place to live.

  Travis rammed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, eyeing h
is shoelaces. “I want to thank you for tonight.” Why the sudden shyness? He’d never been shy before. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I understand.”

  Oh. So all he’d wanted was a night on the town. Nothing more. Time to test the waters. “I promised the night. Unless you’ve changed your mind.” Leaving might mean “for good.” I wasn’t ready to leave.

  He met my gaze then, those beautiful green eyes filled with hope. “You really want to stay?”

  A seemingly happy man left a life of luxury and relative leisure to exist in a hovel and barely get by. I needed to know why, and I wouldn’t get any answers by leaving. “I want to.”

  The gratitude on his face chased back my uncertainty. His earlier, pre-evening mood returned, robbing him of newly revealed youthful vigor. If I stared hard enough, surely I’d see the weight of the world pressing down on his slender shoulders.

  He appeared so unsure of himself, so vulnerable, when he peeled off his suit jacket and draped it across the back of a chair. His shirt joined the jacket. Once more I noticed his pitiful thinness.

  The sight of his body brought home the wrongness of the moment. The man wasn’t healthy. Instead of inviting my lust, his skinny torso invoked pity. When his pants joined his jacket on the chair, no beginning arousal tented his boxers. “You’re overdressed, aren’t you?” he asked.

  I couldn’t go through with this. Hold him, coddle him, nurse him back to health? Yes. Have a “one more time for old time’s sake” romp? No.

  As if reading my mind, Travis assured me, “I only want the time with you—I haven’t asked for anything else.” The side of his mouth hitched up in a mocking grin. “The sheets are clean, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  So many questions and only Travis held the answers. Stripped down to nothing but my boxers, T-shirt and socks, I crawled into the bed and pulled him to my chest. God, but he felt good there. Thoughts of betrayal had no place here, in this our final night together. Tonight, for one last time, Travis was mine. Almost mine.