Her side:
They sat across from each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. She should probably offer an apology or explanation. Sorry, I have no control over this arm. My hand accidentally landed on yours. Or, how about, it was instinctive; I thought you were someone else? Anything but the humiliating truth, which made her sound like a fool. Oops, for a second I thought I was still your wife.
He had allowed her hand to rest on his a long while before gently pulling away to drain his glass; long enough for her to realize what she had done and swallow a flood of tears before they escaped. Had he waited to see what she would do? Been too shocked to react? Or, was it possible he had relished the moment and traveled back ten years the way she had? What was in that hesitation? She would choke on the question rather than ask.
Denise closed her eyes and pulled a breath between her lips, hoping to clear the mess in her throat and stop the spinning in her head. More likely, he could still read her thoughts and had only resisted the impulse to wrench his hand away to protect her feelings. Why did he have to be so fucking perfect? There's the icebreaker she needed. Just testing to see if you're still perfect enough to make me feel like a loser. Congratulations, you passed.
Their animated waitress broke the heavy silence for them with an innocently inappropriate,
"Everyone doing okay here?"
Denise considered crossing her hands at her throat to signify choking. Craig ordered another
round, the relief in his tone a sure guarantee of an extra ten in his already predictable overtip.
"Kristin is an adult now. I think we have to let her make her own choices," he said as the waitress walked away.
That's it? Back to business as though nothing happened? His use of the word we twisted her emotions further, but she managed a response for her daughter's sake. "Even adults need guidance at times, especially from their parents. Craig, she only has one semester left. I can't pretend I condone her leaving before she finishes."
"We can't stop her. If we try, she'll think we don't support her."
Denise looked the waitress in the eye as the girl deposited a fresh margarita in front of her. "We don't."
"You changed your mind?" the waitress asked, picking the drink back up.
"Sorry, I wasn't talking to you. I want the drink; I don't want to be part of his we."
Craig smiled at the girl. She returned the drink and backed away from the table, tossing a less animated, "Enjoy your drinks," at him before leaving.
Denise choked through the growing obstruction in her throat. "L.A. is so far, and so expensive."
"And exciting for a young girl." He raised his glass in a lone toast and took a drink.
"What if she doesn't find a job? She won't go there and immediately become an actress. There's real life before the big time and I can't help her. I couldn't even afford to get there if she needed me."
"I can," he assured her. "Let her follow her dream. If it works out, great. If not, she'll realize on her own that she needs to finish that last semester and return to plan A. I won't let her suffer, Denise."
How sweet. Mr. Perfect immediately solved every problem. He severed that we without a second thought. He could be both mother and father, bankroll, and guidance counselor all rolled into one. Maybe he could decorate the new place and teach Kristin to act while he was at it. She would just scratch mothering and worrying right off her to do list and replace them with amputate uncontrollable right arm and get a grip.
The heavy silence returned. She rotated her glass on the table, staring at the condemned limb. Anything she said would be wrong, argumentative, whiney, negative, or pleading. This meeting was a mistake. They should have dealt with their daughter's decision separately.
"Something wrong with your drink?" he asked.
She took a sip, bowing her head to meet the glass halfway before her trembling sloshed a spill on the table to remind her how imperfect she was. "No, it might be the best thing in my life."
They sipped through the next uncomfortable silence; she wishing her poorly disciplined arm could reach out this time and squelch the unspoken words before they suffocated her, and he chewing his lip between drinks. Was it her imagination, or was Mr. Perfect showing signs that he might also be struggling for composure?
"I'm sorry." The words hit her ears and she tried to believe she had said them, but his eyes erased that hope.
With a slight nod, she grabbed her purse. "Ladies room. Be right back." She rushed across the bar, relieved to find the one-seater empty, and leaned against the wall to review the reasons she didn't want him to be sorry. That made him the bigger person since she hadn't found the strength to say the words when she should have. He hadn't done anything wrong, so his apology could only be the lead-in to a disappointing statement yet to come. Or maybe this was another instance of his being sorry for pain she had caused.
Denise went directly from the ladies room to the parking lot without bothering to say good-bye. Silence was better than anything he had left to say.
His side:
They sat across from each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. He certainly didn't want to ruin the moment. She had forgotten her anger for a second and touched his hand in a gesture so uncharacteristic that he wondered if she was even aware of her action. One word might set her off again, and he wanted to savor as much as he could of this return of the woman he had fallen in love with a quarter century before.
Denise was really beautiful when she wasn't angry but he wouldn't say those words. He had tried to tell her before and she took it the wrong way. For some reason, she took everything he said the wrong way so he had stopped talking. Was that how it ended? It was hard to remember if there was any one thing now. And because he never knew what happened, he hadn't been able to go into another relationship. Why destroy another woman?
He looked across the table and realized he had lost her again. Denise had her eyes closed and was doing that huffy breathing that often came before the outburst. Fortunately, he had work and Kristen to pour his love and life into. Kristen! He remembered the reason for this get-together as the waitress came to check on them, ordered another round, and then approached the subject.
"Kristin is an adult now. I think we have to let her make her own choices," he said as the waitress walked away. Immediately, he wished he hadn't said I think. Denise would perceive that as him trying to control everything.
"Even adults need guidance at times, especially from their parents. Craig, she only has one semester left. I can't pretend I condone her leaving before she finishes."
He half heard what she said, focusing on how to correct his last faux pas. "We can't stop her. If we try, she'll think we don't support her."
The waitress brought the drinks and Denise went off the deep end, making an issue over his use of the word we, probably because she was already ticked about the previous use of I. There was nothing he could do to please this woman. No matter how hard he tried, she couldn't accept anything he did. He would say as little as possible the rest of this meeting, and when he did have to speak; it would be short, positive, and neutral.
"L.A. is so far, and so expensive."
"And exciting for a young girl." He raised his glass and smiled. Short and positive.
"What if she doesn't find a job? She won't go there and immediately become an actress. There's real life before the big time and I can't help her. I couldn't even afford to get there if she needed me."
"I can," he assured her. "Let her follow her dream. If it works out, great. If not, she'll realize on her own that she needs to finish that last semester and return to plan A. I won't let her suffer, Denise." Couldn't get more positive. That should ease all her fears.
She didn't respond and he didn't know if her silence was a positive reaction or not. Maybe she hadn't heard him; she was staring at her glass and turning it. "Something wrong with your drink?" he asked.
She leaned over to take a sip, as though looking at him was more than she could stand. Guess that wasn't a positive response. What had he done wrong this time? She never gave him a clue, just disapproved without explanation.
"No, it might be the best thing in my life," she finally answered. Great. That had to be a dig. The sour, salty drink was better than the company she was with. He chewed his lip, wishing he could take back the million things he had done to turn her into this bitter woman. He would, if he knew what those million things were.
"I'm sorry." He offered a general apology that she could apply to whatever she imagined he had done. Without a response, she excused herself to the ladies room. Why did he keep trying? Obviously, she wanted nothing to do with him and couldn't even tolerate an hour or two to discuss their daughter's future.
Once they got Kristen settled, he would let Denise off the hook. She'd only have to see him from a distance, at Kristen's wedding and major events in her life.
He watched her walk into the ladies room and said a silent good-bye, to Denise and to all hope of ever changing her mind about him.
They sat across from each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. She should probably offer an apology or explanation. Sorry, I have no control over this arm. My hand accidentally landed on yours. Or, how about, it was instinctive; I thought you were someone else? Anything but the humiliating truth, which made her sound like a fool. Oops, for a second I thought I was still your wife.
He had allowed her hand to rest on his a long while before gently pulling away to drain his glass; long enough for her to realize what she had done and swallow a flood of tears before they escaped. Had he waited to see what she would do? Been too shocked to react? Or, was it possible he had relished the moment and traveled back ten years the way she had? What was in that hesitation? She would choke on the question rather than ask.
Denise closed her eyes and pulled a breath between her lips, hoping to clear the mess in her throat and stop the spinning in her head. More likely, he could still read her thoughts and had only resisted the impulse to wrench his hand away to protect her feelings. Why did he have to be so fucking perfect? There's the icebreaker she needed. Just testing to see if you're still perfect enough to make me feel like a loser. Congratulations, you passed.
Their animated waitress broke the heavy silence for them with an innocently inappropriate,
"Everyone doing okay here?"
Denise considered crossing her hands at her throat to signify choking. Craig ordered another
round, the relief in his tone a sure guarantee of an extra ten in his already predictable overtip.
"Kristin is an adult now. I think we have to let her make her own choices," he said as the waitress walked away.
That's it? Back to business as though nothing happened? His use of the word we twisted her emotions further, but she managed a response for her daughter's sake. "Even adults need guidance at times, especially from their parents. Craig, she only has one semester left. I can't pretend I condone her leaving before she finishes."
"We can't stop her. If we try, she'll think we don't support her."
Denise looked the waitress in the eye as the girl deposited a fresh margarita in front of her. "We don't."
"You changed your mind?" the waitress asked, picking the drink back up.
"Sorry, I wasn't talking to you. I want the drink; I don't want to be part of his we."
Craig smiled at the girl. She returned the drink and backed away from the table, tossing a less animated, "Enjoy your drinks," at him before leaving.
Denise choked through the growing obstruction in her throat. "L.A. is so far, and so expensive."
"And exciting for a young girl." He raised his glass in a lone toast and took a drink.
"What if she doesn't find a job? She won't go there and immediately become an actress. There's real life before the big time and I can't help her. I couldn't even afford to get there if she needed me."
"I can," he assured her. "Let her follow her dream. If it works out, great. If not, she'll realize on her own that she needs to finish that last semester and return to plan A. I won't let her suffer, Denise."
How sweet. Mr. Perfect immediately solved every problem. He severed that we without a second thought. He could be both mother and father, bankroll, and guidance counselor all rolled into one. Maybe he could decorate the new place and teach Kristin to act while he was at it. She would just scratch mothering and worrying right off her to do list and replace them with amputate uncontrollable right arm and get a grip.
The heavy silence returned. She rotated her glass on the table, staring at the condemned limb. Anything she said would be wrong, argumentative, whiney, negative, or pleading. This meeting was a mistake. They should have dealt with their daughter's decision separately.
"Something wrong with your drink?" he asked.
She took a sip, bowing her head to meet the glass halfway before her trembling sloshed a spill on the table to remind her how imperfect she was. "No, it might be the best thing in my life."
They sipped through the next uncomfortable silence; she wishing her poorly disciplined arm could reach out this time and squelch the unspoken words before they suffocated her, and he chewing his lip between drinks. Was it her imagination, or was Mr. Perfect showing signs that he might also be struggling for composure?
"I'm sorry." The words hit her ears and she tried to believe she had said them, but his eyes erased that hope.
With a slight nod, she grabbed her purse. "Ladies room. Be right back." She rushed across the bar, relieved to find the one-seater empty, and leaned against the wall to review the reasons she didn't want him to be sorry. That made him the bigger person since she hadn't found the strength to say the words when she should have. He hadn't done anything wrong, so his apology could only be the lead-in to a disappointing statement yet to come. Or maybe this was another instance of his being sorry for pain she had caused.
Denise went directly from the ladies room to the parking lot without bothering to say good-bye. Silence was better than anything he had left to say.
His side:
They sat across from each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. He certainly didn't want to ruin the moment. She had forgotten her anger for a second and touched his hand in a gesture so uncharacteristic that he wondered if she was even aware of her action. One word might set her off again, and he wanted to savor as much as he could of this return of the woman he had fallen in love with a quarter century before.
Denise was really beautiful when she wasn't angry but he wouldn't say those words. He had tried to tell her before and she took it the wrong way. For some reason, she took everything he said the wrong way so he had stopped talking. Was that how it ended? It was hard to remember if there was any one thing now. And because he never knew what happened, he hadn't been able to go into another relationship. Why destroy another woman?
He looked across the table and realized he had lost her again. Denise had her eyes closed and was doing that huffy breathing that often came before the outburst. Fortunately, he had work and Kristen to pour his love and life into. Kristen! He remembered the reason for this get-together as the waitress came to check on them, ordered another round, and then approached the subject.
"Kristin is an adult now. I think we have to let her make her own choices," he said as the waitress walked away. Immediately, he wished he hadn't said I think. Denise would perceive that as him trying to control everything.
"Even adults need guidance at times, especially from their parents. Craig, she only has one semester left. I can't pretend I condone her leaving before she finishes."
He half heard what she said, focusing on how to correct his last faux pas. "We can't stop her. If we try, she'll think we don't support her."
The waitress brought the drinks and Denise went off the deep end, making an issue over his use of the word we, probably because she was already ticked about the previous use of I. There was nothing he could do to please this woman. No matter how hard he tried, she couldn't accept anything he did. He would say as little as possible the rest of this meeting, and when he did have to speak; it would be short, positive, and neutral.
"L.A. is so far, and so expensive."
"And exciting for a young girl." He raised his glass and smiled. Short and positive.
"What if she doesn't find a job? She won't go there and immediately become an actress. There's real life before the big time and I can't help her. I couldn't even afford to get there if she needed me."
"I can," he assured her. "Let her follow her dream. If it works out, great. If not, she'll realize on her own that she needs to finish that last semester and return to plan A. I won't let her suffer, Denise." Couldn't get more positive. That should ease all her fears.
She didn't respond and he didn't know if her silence was a positive reaction or not. Maybe she hadn't heard him; she was staring at her glass and turning it. "Something wrong with your drink?" he asked.
She leaned over to take a sip, as though looking at him was more than she could stand. Guess that wasn't a positive response. What had he done wrong this time? She never gave him a clue, just disapproved without explanation.
"No, it might be the best thing in my life," she finally answered. Great. That had to be a dig. The sour, salty drink was better than the company she was with. He chewed his lip, wishing he could take back the million things he had done to turn her into this bitter woman. He would, if he knew what those million things were.
"I'm sorry." He offered a general apology that she could apply to whatever she imagined he had done. Without a response, she excused herself to the ladies room. Why did he keep trying? Obviously, she wanted nothing to do with him and couldn't even tolerate an hour or two to discuss their daughter's future.
Once they got Kristen settled, he would let Denise off the hook. She'd only have to see him from a distance, at Kristen's wedding and major events in her life.
He watched her walk into the ladies room and said a silent good-bye, to Denise and to all hope of ever changing her mind about him.
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