Sue Has a New Boyfriend

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


There were few diners in the place. I found a window booth, and put the sack with the mist bottle beside me.

Sue has a new boyfriend. Should’ve seen it coming. We couldn’t last forever. (What was it we had, anyway?)

The waitress set coffee on my table. I’d ordered it, but wasn’t really interested.

What to do with the bottle? Sue’s bottle. The gift ungiven.

In the weeks I’d known her, she had excited me in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Thought of her both day and night. Even dreamed of her. Found her already occupying my waking thoughts, before I’d pawed crust from my unfocused eyes.

I’d felt just this way about my wife, once. Identical giddiness. But after about six months had passed, that initial swoon was replaced by a calmer, settled love.

But it wasn’t that delicious fever we’d begun with. The one that turned everything on its head. The change was natural, I supposed. Nothing green can stay, and all.

If that infatuation rush didn’t subside, 80 year-olds would be chasing each other around dining room tables. Still, you do miss it.

I’d found it again, with Sue. I remembered the gaziantep rus escort way her brown eyes crinkled when she laughed. And she often laughed. Those eyes always made me feel somehow weak and strong, simultaneously.

She was young. Vital. Effervescence curved.

I studied the scented mist bottle. Its sides boasted “Victoria’s Secret,” in upraised print.

I’d spent a lot of time with Sue. But had never told my wife of the electric, intimate bond growing between Sue and I. The winking. Flirting. Touches. We’d never rung the bell that couldn’t be unrung, but the mood held promise.

Of course, I’d have been furious if my wife did this. I had a double standard in operation. It couldn’t be rationalized or defended. But I went with it, just the same.

Finally, when Sue called my cell phone one night, my wife exploded. She wasn’t stupid.

The next day, I’d gone Valentine’s Day shopping for my wife. I found myself at Victoria’s Secret. And I was struck by a thought: I could also choose a gift for Sue.

But was it OK to buy for both women in that same scarlet store, that same afternoon? (And what of giving Sue a Valentine’s Day gift, to begin with?)

I recalled the prior night’s argument with my wife, and felt defiant. Justified. I bought Sue’s bottled mist.

But I’d never given it to her. I’d immediately felt the inappropriateness. Felt guilty. How could I present my wife with a Valentine’s Day gift (and accept her amorous gratitude) while secretly knowing I’d also bought for Sue?

I couldn’t. So Sue’s mist bottle had remained in my bottom desk drawer.

Pushing aside the ceramic coffee cup, I pondered the orphan mist bottle. What to do with it?

Sue’s having found a new boyfriend was natural and not a rebuff of me (even though it hurt like exactly that). Just two nights ago, I’d pushed her away:

“You know, Sue, you’re more special to me than you probably know. But we can’t be more than friends. I love my wife. She and I have been through so much, she’s given up so much…”

I’d known those things had to be said. But I didn’t like them, didn’t want Sue to agree. Didn’t want whatever we had to stop.

Later, we’d walked along the downtown river plaza.

“I just wish things could be different, Sue.”

Her voice was small. “You and me both, Charles.”

But I knew we could never really be ‘just friends.’ Underlying our every moment together — the shared laughs, the movies, the long, city street walks — was the delicious possibility that something might bloom, might suddenly rush over us and proclaim itself ultimately victorious among kisses and caresses.

I could never pretend to be ‘just a friend,’ when every second I wanted her, so. That would hurt too much.

But an affair would be selfish. Like wanting my cake and eating it, too. After being with Sue, I’d go home to my wife. To security, normalcy.

But what about Sue? Where could she go? She had no home, was staying with a girlfriend. No job, no money. She couldn’t just be mine, on tap. She needed her own life, to turn things around.

So, I knew this was right. Was working out for the best for us all. I would stay with my wife. Sue and her new boyfriend would either work out, or not. But at least she was moving, doing something.

I should’ve been satisfied. Instead, I was miserable.

Sue has a new boyfriend.

On the way home, I dropped the mist bottle at a thrift shop door.

The end

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Leave a Reply

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir