After throwing their cups away, they headed west. Fall was in the air, and it started to get chilly so they quickened their pace. When they got to her apartment building, she very much wanted to ask him up and he very much wanted to be asked up. But she had promised the kids to ease off and after a “thank you, Simon, I had a wonderful time” and a kiss on the cheek, he watched her enter the building. Alone.
Until that moment, Simon was certain that he would shortly be in her bed. As he walked to the garage where he parked, he replayed the day. He’d not put a foot wrong. His was not a calculated performance but one that was natural and he thought that the natural result would be holding her again. He lost Eileen to Tom and he feared losing Kate to…another man who was not him.
He was in a foul mood when he got back to his big house in Greenwich. As he sat with a Scotch on his deck overlooking the changing leaves, he continued his replay. He enjoyed every mundane second. But he was sitting on his deck alone except for Scotch and a great view.
His phone rang. He stared at it for a moment before answering.
“I need to explain.”
“No need to explain, Kate. I had a great time and I hope we can do it again.”
“I wanted you to come upstairs with me. Can we just talk for a few minutes?”
And for the next thirty minutes or so, Kate filled in details of her life. She ended by telling him that sex with him was, next to the births of her two children, the most satisfying physical thing she ever did and she knew that it would be as good the second and, she hoped, the thousandth time with him.
“But I promised my girls that tempted as I was—am—I wouldn’t jump too soon. That is what I need you to know. I desperately wanted you and I swear if you were here right now—no, don’t get in your car—I couldn’t resist. But I had to will myself to step back. I just want you to know that.”
Simon thanked her. She hoped he understood.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this call. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong.”
“Now you know that you didn’t. It’s me. Look, finish your drink.” He had gotten up for a refill while they spoke. “Let’s speak in a couple of days, okay?”
“Okay. I had a great time.”
“So did I.”
And with that Simon’s great view from his deck was infinitely brighter.
Thursday
Kate kept her word to Suzanne and Kerry. On Monday she called someone with whom she worked before the settlement from William allowed her to switch to working with the Episcopal Church. He was a widower and, she assumed, still single. With the girls’ encouragement, she got the nerve to dial his number and he, of course, remembered her and, of course, would like to meet her for drinks on Thursday night.
His name was Martin Conroy and he was about Kate’s age. His wife had died of breast cancer shortly before Kate met him. He was pleasant, intelligent, and attractive and was the first person who came to Kate’s mind when she thought of dating again. But she had not done anything about him before Simon’s voicemail.
His pleasantness, intelligence, and attractiveness were all there when they sat at a small table at a restaurant a few blocks from Kate’s apartment. Things flowed well, so they stayed for dinner. It was a perfectly marvelous evening for both. They were relaxed and neither flinched at the occasional touching that went on between them. Reaching for bread. Passing the wine. Walking to the door.
Martin walked Kate to her building. With each step, both were thinking about sex as their shoe strikes echoed among the brownstones they passed. When they were two or three brownstones away from Kate’s, she decided she wanted this man to fuck her. Had she turned into a slut? She slept with Simon on their first real date, with her initiating it. Now she wanted to sleep with Martin on their first. During that walk, she did not care. She wanted this man to be inside her. She wanted to feel what she felt with Simon. But, were she honest, she wanted to know if Simon was special to her.
As they reached the stoop, she asked whether he would like to come up. He, of course, said yes. Martin had slept with several women since his wife died, but none led anywhere. Perhaps he was still seeking a duplicate of his dead wife, while knowing there could be no such thing. Perhaps he knew she was irreplaceable so that he could enjoy the non-emotional side of dating with her ghost kept in a special compartment of his heart, part of his irreplaceable permanent-collection.
Whatever it was, it did not hinder his ability to enjoy making love to a woman.
As soon as they were in the apartment, Martin was upon her. His mouth hit hers hard and his tongue invaded her as his hands grabbed her ass. He pushed her against the wall and him against her so she could feel his erection. She tried to return the kiss, but he would not let her. He would be making love to her. She felt him take her right hand and lead it to his crotch as proof of either his desire for her or of how desirable he was to her. Perhaps more the latter.