woman can be intimidating.”
Suddenly, all the air in Amy’s lungs escaped, and she couldn’t speak. She sat there, as if on display, and tried to stop a rouge hue from blossoming on the tops of her cheeks. Michael’s cinnamon-colored eyes continued to stare deeply into her own, however, and she finally gave up and looked away bashfully.
“So,” he said finally. “Your grade school principal was in a porn flick?”
“No!” Amy shook her head. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Never.”
“All right. Drink up, buddy.”
“What’s the cost?”
“Let’s polish the rest of that drink off.”
Michael had nearly three-quarters of a glass full of beer, but he didn’t complain. He finished it in a couple of gulps.
“We’re going to need more drinks.”
As Michael went to the bar, Amy scooted to the bathroom. All of that laughter had put some serious strain on her bladder, and she could use the time to think of the next question. When she returned, Michael had a brown ale in front of him and placed another martini next to her half-filled glass.
“Oh, I don’t know if I can have another one.”
“Why not?” Michael said. “Do you have to drive somewhere?”
“No, but I want to make sure I get back to my room in one piece.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Amy looked at him and knew he was completely sincere.
“Besides,” he continued, “it’s just an insurance blanket. You might ask a couple of easy questions—in which case, we won’t need it.”
Amy sat down and grimaced at the site of the second martini. It looked even more delectable than the first. The large peppermint pattie that sat on the rim of the glass taunted her. “I don’t know if this is the best way to start the week; these conferences can be so long and boring when you’re sober. If I have a hangover, it’ll be pure torture.”
Amy clamped down on her bottom lip, suddenly aware of her whiny voice, something Robert often commented on.
Michael looked sympathetic. “I had no idea the conventions were like that; if you don’t want to drink it, no worries.”
Amy’s chest suddenly felt as warm as her face.
“Well, let’s see how it goes.” Amy reached for the second peppermint pattie and nibbled on it; she was feeling a bit more confident. “So tell me what your living situation is like.”
“My living situation?”
“Yeah, you know: do you live alone, with a roommate?”
“Oh, you mean, am I single?”
“Well, however you want to answer it.”
“Nice.” Michael tilted his head from side to side as if trying to remember the lyrics to a song. “Well, it’s complicated.”
“Sounds interesting. Tell me more.” Amy really didn’t want to know more, but she’d rather find out now while she had half of her martini left to wash away her sorrows than allow herself to put any more hope into this serendipitous encounter.
“Okay, but it’s gonna be a hefty price.”
“I think we have more than enough alcohol to cover it.”
“Indeed we do.”
Michael cleared some space on the table so his hands would have room to accentuate the story.
“Have you ever tried online dating?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well, I never thought I would. I’ve heard the horror stories, and most of the guys I know just go on there to troll and get laid. The people on these sites, though, they seemed very nice and genuine, so—”
“You’re on Match.com?” Amy made a mental note to look up Michael’s profile as soon as she was back in her room.
“And I was surprised at how many women contacted me.”
“Now you’re just bragging.”
“No, I really was shocked, and I felt bad because I couldn’t respond to all the emails. Okay, now I’m bragging. But still, it was fun. I met a lot of great women. There were those who were single for fairly obvious reasons, and of course, a few who were looking for love any way they could get it.”
Michael stared into his beer, and Amy couldn’t tell if he was enjoying the memory or not.
“And in that maelstrom of love, sex, and emails, you met Stephanie.”
“Ah, yes, Stephanie.” Michael chewed on his bottom lip, and Amy leaned forward as a gesture for him to continue.
“Stephanie is not like the other women I’ve dated—”
“How old is she?” Amy didn’t know why the words had jumped from her mouth, but she didn’t mind sounding spiteful or bitchy or whatever, because she suddenly felt very foolish for imagining this night going favorably.
“Good question.” Michael guffawed, and it sounded forced. “A little older than most of the women you might remember; she had just turned thirty a week before our first date. I’m not sure when it happened, but I realized as attractive and fun younger women are, I really don’t have anything in common with them. There’s nothing we can really talk about. After the concerts and parties and sex in random places, we twiddle our thumbs and say, ‘So …’”
“Sounds boring.”
“I know you’re mocking me, but it is. Or was. I just realized the value of communication, and honestly, there’s just something really sexy about a woman in her thirties. There’s, like, an intangible confidence: it’s in her walk, and how she dresses, and the way she looks at you.”
It felt appropriate for Amy to sit up a little more straight, but she stayed put and stared into Michael’s eyes. He had intentionally looked at her while making his last point, as if trying to tell her something with only his eyes.
“Well, younger women are still trying to figure themselves out. I know I was, except I had the title of wife and mommy to hide behind.”
“Yeah, and if I’m honest, I was too. So with Stephanie, it’s different. I met her, and after a couple of dates, I was like, this is amazing! Then suddenly, we were together for six months and found ourselves living together.”
Amy was speechless for the second time and felt exhaustion coming on. She even checked the time on her smartphone.
“For a while, it was like Christmas every day. I thought, this is it; this is what I’ve always wanted. But then things started to get interesting.”
The changes, Michael said, started with little things, like his beard or the way he styled his hair. Then she proceeded to nitpick about the way he talked around his family, who were uneducated and used a lot of slang (Stephanie’s words), but they were his family and that was the world he came from. She never quite understood that. Stephanie became very controlling, telling him what to wear and who he could talk to. It grew ugly. Still, she had a really good heart, and Michael wanted it to work out—they both did. Stephanie even suggested couples counseling, but that felt weird, because they weren’t even married. If they had this many problems just living together, Michael explained, then there was no way he was going to take the next step.
“Toward the end, I just didn’t know if Stephanie loved me, or loved the idea of me.”
Amy’s ears perked up. “So you’re not together anymore?”
“Is that your last question?”
“Depends on how much it will cost me.”
“That question? I’ll answer it for a sip, but it has to be a really good sip. And the cost for the other question is two more big sips, and I’m talking mouthful sips.”
Amy pursed her lips around the thin straw and drank in the alcoholic nectar until the first martini was finished. Then Amy switched to the second glass for her third and final sip. She kept her eyes on Michael the whole time to prove she swallowed three mouthfuls. When she leaned back, she was glad to be sitting.
“Are we still together …” Michael paused as if stuck between two really good menu items at a fancy restaurant: pork chops the size of your hand, or chilled Chenin Blanc. “It’s complicated.”
“But you’re not living tog
ether?”
“We are definitely not living together.”
“But you’re still talking.”
Michael curled his lips inward and nodded.
“And you’re still sleeping together.” Amy asked with an unintentional slur.
“Um …” Michael chuckled. “You are out of questions, and I’m not sure you have enough martini to hear the answer anyway.”
He tried to hide behind his wide smile and perfect teeth, but his little gestures didn’t escape Amy. She had been a nurse for nearly a decade, and reading people was part of her job.
He had immediately looked away when asked, which meant he was probably surprised but also didn’t really care to answer the question. When he did resume eye contact, there was a hint of shame, which told her they had slept together, but not recently; it had been some time ago.
“We can order another one.”
“Oh, can we?”
Amy smiled and pulled back, knowing that Michael wasn’t going to budge, and she had gathered enough information anyway, so she decided to take the conversation in a different direction.
“I miss this.”
“Well, we should do this again. How about I give you a call when you’re back in town. Are you still in Dover?”
“Well, technically Barrington—but yeah, that would be nice.”
“Is your number the same?”
“Is that your final question?”
Michael checked the time on his phone. “I think it’s going to have to be. I have an early flight tomorrow.”
Well, that certainly changes things, Amy thought. She had strongly considered inviting him back to her room, but now she had to forego that little fantasy.
“My number’s actually changed. We switched plans after the … divorce.” Amy