Bill looked around the restaurant, his eyes seeking her. The candle-lit booths and dark red curtains made seeing anyone at all difficult.
He had chosen this place because of the 3-piece combo that played there on Friday evenings, because the food was superb and the service impeccable, but mainly because it was her favorite place.
It had been years. Would she look different? Would she have changed so much that they would not have anything at all to talk about?
No matter what, he knew he would remember her. They had been lovers for two years before a new job in Paris had pulled him away. It had been a hard separation but they both recognized that they would grow in their new lives. They parted friends and had remained in occasional contact over the years.
When he had a business trip back, he had emailed her and asked if she wanted to meet for a quick, friendly drink. She responded right away and asked him where. It didn't take a second for him to name the spot.
He relaxed in the comfortable booth, listened to the music and waited.
Alethia had been having a day from hell. Her boyfriend had again told her he was 'busy' for the evening, making the third weekend in a row that he had put up some excuse for not meeting. Her boss had given her a rotten assignment just before leaving for the evening and demanded it be done by Monday. One of her dogs had been sick the night before and she spent hours tending to the beloved animal. She was feeling frazzled and down when Bill's invitation had appeared. The idea of a friendly evening out was like an oasis in the desert and she had jumped at the idea.
When she sent her reply, she couldn't help but notice a quick surge of... something. When walking down the evening sidewalk, she caught herself staring at her reflection in the windows outside the restaurant. "Not bad", she thought. The dance classes always kept her figure exactly where she wanted it. She looked at her own eyes, then laughed out loud. "What am I doing, primping? That was a long, long time ago." She walked in, smiling at the joke.
He saw her come in smiling and his heart did a flip in his chest. She looked even better than she had years ago. He stood up and waited for her.
She walked back through the restaurant, winding through the booths and only when they were nearly touching did she see him. Her breath stopped for a moment as they looked at each other, just looking.
"Alethia," he breathed. "You look stunning."
"Bill, you -- the years have been good."
Without thinking, his arms went around her in an embrace. She had no intention of kissing him and certainly not kissing his lips, most certainly not a kiss that lasted for more than a second and left her standing in his arms looking up into his eyes and trying to remember her own name.
His hands were on her back and he could feel the movement of her muscles underneath the satin blouse, familiar and yet strange after so long. Her hair smelled the same but she was wearing a different perfume. God, she looked good.
"Let's sit," she said as she slid gracefully into the booth. Did her hand linger a moment on his chest? He tried to clear his head.
"Of course. You look amazing, Alethia. Whatever you are doing, keep doing it. It's working."
She laughed and the tension was gone. "Charmer. Watch it, mister. I'm armed."
The waitress arrived and he automatically ordered for them both. Only once they were again alone did he realize he did not even ask what she wanted.
"I'm sorry -- it was just natural. Do you want something else?"
"No, you got it right," she said. "Good memory."
"Some things just stay with you. Tell me about your life now. Are you still with-"
"No. Well, not... It's a complicated time. Let's start with you, OK?"
"OK." The drinks arrived and he raised his to her. "To good friends." She smiled and touched glasses.
"So tell me about Paris," she said. "What is it really like to live there?"
"It's very French." She laughed. "The restaurants are amazing, really amazing. There is a phenomenal music scene and the local markets carry the best of everything. Tough not to love it."
"Sounds fabulous. Living alone?"
He smiled. "Cutting to the chase? Some things really don't change." She demurely sipped her drink and waited, holding his eyes. "Yes, living alone. I never hear from the ex anymore. There have been some... interesting moments, but nothing that has lasted."
She would not admit to anyone, least of all herself, how this news pleased her. She looked around the restaurant, the beautiful settings, the elegant attire of the patrons.
"I've always loved this place."
"How often do you get here?"
"Never." She shook her head. "Not since we -- well, not lately."
He asked, "Hard times?"
"Is it obvious?"
"Maybe only to me."
She looked over at him, his eyes showing real concern. Those eyes, damn him... those eyes. And that same smell, the one that had made her keep one of the pillow cases for months after he left, holding it close to her through the cold nights alone...
"Alethia?" Jesus, he thought. I almost called her 'baby'.
"Sorry. I don't know where to start, or even if I should."
"The beginning is a good place."
"Smart ass. Order dinner. I'm going to go freshen up."
She slid out and he waved over the waitress. She didn't think for a moment about what he might order, knowing that he would get something they would both enjoy. She went to the ladies room and wound up at a sink next to another woman.
The other woman turned and asked, "Excuse me, but can I ask you about the man at your table? Is he your husband?"
Something she could never explain made her turn and say, "Yes. Yes he is. Why?"
"Nothing." The woman turned back to her mirror. "You are a lucky woman."
"Thanks. I am." She reached into her purse for a makeup brush, then stopped. He had always told her she was beautiful without.
"Damn it," she addressed her reflection. "What the hell is going on here? We are just meeting for drinks. Friends. That's it. Then back home to my shitty life." She threw the brush back into her purse and walked out.
She slid back in to the table, seeing the first course already arrived. A wonderful smell, was that lavender?
"New menu item," he said. "Lavender soup."
"Good stuff," she said. "If you don't like it you can bathe in it."
"Maybe they do. The waitress smelled pretty flowery. So did the Maître d', for that matter."
"Is that what you do in France? Take baths of lavender and wine?"
"Oh, yeah. If by lavender you mean soap, and by wine you mean water that is occasionally clear but mostly a suspicious rusty color, then absolutely."
"You make it sound so enticing. At least you get your iron."
