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“Really? That’s…” Blue shakes her head and studies me with interest.
Those tiny lines around her eyes are less profound now when she’s not laughing. They add to her sophistication and allure. Who knew that the older she got, the more attractive she’d become. I wish it wasn’t the case.
She licks her lips and I fight the tension behind my jean’s zipper. I shouldn’t be staring at her mouth. She’s not free. And I want to kiss her.
“I heard you have a son.” Desperate for self-preservation I venture into a new topic, to draw a boundary and remind myself she’s out of reach.
Unfortunately, it also leads to the area of what could have been. But I deserve that. Judging by Blue’s change of expression, she’s shocked by the topic. Or annoyed. I’m not sure.
“Yes, Sebastien. I miss him very much. It’s hard to be away. He’s coming to visit though and I’m hoping I can return home with him.”
Of course she does. I should have just kept ignoring her or arguing with her. It would have been painful, but this was like pouring acid into an open wound.
“Is he with—”
“Our neighbor, Danielle, steps in every time I need to travel. When we moved to that building he adopted her as his grandmother.”
I find it odd she felt the need to jump in, avoidinghisname. Is she trying to draw the line as well? Are we just two fools smitten with memories? And regret?
Clearly, my rational thinking took a day off. She has nothing to regret. She moved on quickly and got all she ever wanted. A family I wasn’t willing to give her at the time.
“You’re not eating.” She looks at the unwrapped roll in front of me.
I puff the air out of my cheeks and fidget with the foil. We eat in silence. I should use this moment to apologize for all the disappointment she suffered because of me. But I need to do it without letting on how much I miss her, because she doesn’t need my neediness in her life. Or any complications. She’s clearly sad about being away from home. She has her family.
I look up and our eyes meet. It’s like looking into the mirror, her eyes reflecting my feelings. I might be just making it up, but this is a familiar situation. I know Blue understands me without words. It has happened before, so I know we used to have that connection. Oh, how much pain I caused her.
I open my mouth to speak, though I’m not sure I can find the right words, but Blue beats me to it and her words shut me up.
“Frederick and I divorced five years ago.”
She looks away as if coping with a painful memory, and I feel like a jerk because my broken heart rejoices. She’s available. She’s free. Hope blooms in my mind at the slightest chance that she could ever forgive me for the past, or our lives could coincide on the same coast.
I put down my burrito and take hers from her hands. I lean closer and cup her face, and before I can reason with myself or she can protest, I capture her lips.
Her entire body tenses and I freeze, not yet pulling away, but not really kissing her either. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What was I thinking? There is no way to recover from this, so I just have to suck it up.
As I disconnect the awkward touch of our lips, scrambling for something dignified to say, Blue runs her hands over her dress, straightening and dusting her skirt.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp. “I-I crossed the line.”
“Could you just walk me to the subway please?”
Though the words are meant for me, she addresses the corner of the table, avoiding my eyes.
“Of course.” My throat is hoarse, the words like sandpaper, grinding through.
I’m pretty sure that my body is going into some sort of prelude to a heart attack, but I don’t mind that because imminent death would be better than this.
Now I know I deserve this sort of humiliation, but my go-to defense mechanism kicks in and my shoulders spasm with a familiar tension that always comes with a quickened pulse and pounding in my ears. I’m angry. And I’m not fucking willing to count my breaths.
I march away, not even decent enough to check if Blue follows.
“Massi,” I hear my name, but I can’t stop.
The walls are closing in on me. The sushi chef on the left is smiling at me through his rotten teeth. The vendor on the left pours fresh juice into a plastic cup. A man is buying flowers and a group of women laugh over their cocktails.
Shrieking chairs, loud voices, disjointed conversations mingle with the smell of basil, fresh pastries, chocolate and cheese. The entire Market conspires to poke into my senses and I find the scene obnoxious, the complete opposite of the typical buzzing energy I often seek.
