Page 22 of Midlife Crisis

“The second time was more selfish.” One brow rises as he waits out my answer. “I wanted to talk to you.”

His eyes narrow as his smile grows. “I’m honored.” For some reason, I think he means it. He’s pleased to be a support for someone.

“You like helping people.” It’s more a question but comes out as a statement. A keen observation.

“I like feeling wanted, I guess.” He shrugs it off, but I can sense it’s not that simple for him.

“Tell me more.”

“There was a time I was too selfish. Drinking is a good example, though I had my reasons. I did things for me and only me until I hit the bottom. The only person I had left was me, and I missed…people. Once I turned myself around, I decided I’d try to be there for others even if they were random strangers.”

I nod as if I understand. And I think I do. He’s had a rough life. The lines by his eyes prove it, but his smile remains young. He’s full of spirit even if his heart weighs heavy with guilt.

“Well, I, for one, am thankful you were there for me.” I tap my cola glass against his water and drink.

“Really? What did I do for you?”

“You listened. And the second time, you spoke.” Heat rushes my cheeks as I remember him talking me into touching myself—twice.

“I’ll talk to you anytime you need.” He winks. “Or listen, if you want that, too.” I appreciate the offer.

“May I ask about the drinking? Was it about a girl?” For some reason, I want to know if he loved someone even though he said he was never married.

“It’s always about a girl.” He exhales, raising his water to his lips. His eyes shift to me, knowing I’m waiting. “The long and short of it is I loved a woman who never loved me. She had big dreams which didn’t involve me directly.” His voice turns bitter.

“But you weren’t married?”

“Fuck no.” He snorts. “She wouldn’t have me.” His voice lowers, sadness and heartbreak filling the normally smoky sound.

“I’m sorry, Hank.” I want to touch him, lay my fingers on those solid, strong forearms and give him some strength, some reassurance. I know what it’s like not to have love reciprocated. I thought Paul was the love of my life, but after years of therapy, I realized love isn’t one sided. It’s not selfish. And it isn’t always given if received. I gave. Paul took.

Hank shrugs, slipping his fingers through the condensation on his water glass. He stares at the ice in the bottom. My question ruins our playful mood, but then he surprises me. He sets down his glass, places his hand on my knee, and leans in to kiss me. Short, direct, but sweet. He pulls back without saying anything.

Thankfully, our burgers arrive.

“You gonna eat all that? You’re a little thing.” His lips curl, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s trying to get back to where we were, but I’m guessing my questions have caused lingering memories.

“Gotta keep up my girlish figure,” I tease, running a hand over the pooch of my belly. My dress isn’t snug. I bought it one size larger so it purposely wouldn’t pinch me in the wrong places. I also bought it in anticipation of this date—the first one I’ve had in a year. Dating has been difficult since the divorce, and after my first few attempts, I decided I’d just do it later. The boys grieved Paul’s and my separation, and they needed me. My job demanded more work hours out of me. I didn’t have time…for me. Dating became a someday thing on my to-do list.

“I like your girlish figure.” He winks again before biting into his burger. Hank’s sweet. I wish I felt secure enough to think he liked me, liked me, but I’m just not there yet. Hamburgers feel more like he’s placating me, but I’ll bite. He’s nice to be near.

+ + +

Two hours later, we arrive at the awkward how-to-end-the-night moment. I’ve enjoyed Hank’s company, and I appreciate his dry sense of humor. Not to mention, he’s nice to look at when he smiles. He told me stories about his brother and the shop, mentioned Lily has the hots for Brut, and Chopper makes Brut a single father.

“One day, he wakes up to a baby and a note on his doorstep. Happy Father’s Day, it read. No lie.”

I could never imagine giving up my children. Elston, Ronin, and Liam have been my rocks, and I tell Hank more about them. Elston, his obsession with girls, and my fear he’s gone too far too young. Ronin and my concern for him to fit in and find his place. Liam and my worry for my baby, learning he needs to be his own person, not the other two.

“My boys are a handful, but they are my everything.” Hank nods. He’s doesn’t offer thoughts on children. He already told me he doesn’t have any.

Like a gentleman, he walks me to the door. Only I’m not sure what to do here. Do we kiss on the front porch? Do I invite him in?

“Mind if I come in for a bit? You said the boys are at their dad’s, right?” I appreciate his remembering and smile with relief that he asked first.

“Please come in.” My voice shakes, a bit breathy. I sound anxious, and my eyes close for a second as I will myself to calm down.

“Don’t be afraid of me.” His tone drops, and my eyes open.