She checked her reflection in the mirror and with an amused sigh she noted the faint greying of hair near her temples. Turning 40, her closest of girl friends had promised, would be the best thing that ever happened to her.
The big day was a week away and for some reason, despite the grey hairs, despite the new need to wear reading glasses, despite the extra pains she had begun taking at night to preserve what youthfulness she could, Kathleen was excited.
With forty came a sense of abandonment. A sense of silent permission to go ahead and do the things she always wanted to do. Say the things she always wanted to say. Try the things she always wanted to try.
Her whole adult life had been lived serving others. She had put her husband through college, working nights and taking care of the babies during the day so he could sleep and study. After he graduated and started his own business, Kathleen stayed home and played the good wife and mother. Cooking, cleaning, nurturing. Soccer mom, PTA mom. Leslie’s mom. Lucas’ mom. Peter’s wife.
It was as if she didn’t exist on her own. By her mid-30’s Kathleen decided she needed to find herself. The kids were in high school. She wasn’t needed at home during the day much anymore. No more hot cocoa and cookies after school. No more driving to ballet lessons, piano lessons, soccer practice. The kids rode their bikes, then hitched rides with friends. And then before she knew it, they were driving themselves. Locally of course, but still. She wasn’t needed.
It was then she began reaching out to the community. Soup kitchens, Cancer society, local political campaigns. This was how she met Derek.
Derek. Derek was everything Peter was not. He was quiet and unassuming, although confident to the point of slightly arrogant. He had a subtle sense of humor. He had pursued his dreams. Peter had pursued his goals. There is a difference, Kathleen learned as her friendship with Derek flourished. Dreams were born of the soul. Goals were based on tangible motivation.
Not that Kathleen didn’t love Peter. He was her life partner, the father of her children. Her protector. Their life together had just grown a bit boring. Everything they did was structured and on schedule. Even sex, which was penned in for Tuesday and Friday nights, had grown a bit predictable. But at least she was getting it regularly, which was a surprise according to her girlfriends.
While this news about her sex life made her feel a bit better, one fact left her a bit concerned. Where Peter made her feel comfortable and safe and wanted, Derek made Kathleen feel sexy, smart and, well...desired.
Kathleen realized this one night after volunteering to serve a spaghetti supper at the soup kitchen. It wasn’t just any night. It was her birthday. And she was alone. Her birthday hadn’t been forgotten, just untimely. So her party wasn’t scheduled until the following Saturday. Nevertheless, she felt dejected, forgotten, and worked hard to push those silly thoughts out of her mind. It was just a birthday, for goodness sakes!
Throughout the night Kathleen caught Derek time and again watching her openly. She would toss him a grin as she tossed a buttered roll on a patron’s plastic food tray. He, in return, would serve her a soft, sensuous smile that was steamier than the green beans and carrots he was ladling out. She felt her insides melt like the butter flavored artificial spread laying in a vat before her.
Afterwards, she and Derek had opted for a cup of coffee at the diner down the road since Kathleen did not want to go home to an empty house. Both of her kids were going to a concert and then staying at their cousins’ house and Peter was on yet another business trip.
Kathleen and Derek chatted amicably over a cup of coffee and three or four refills, leaving them both wide awake well after midnight. No topic was left untouched. None.
Derek, Kathleen learned, was older than she was by almost a decade. No wonder he left her feeling naive and innocent. He had a way of looking straight into her grey eyes and without so much as a flinch, asking her a question that made her blush from her toes up to her ears. And it was only when she would fidget with a napkin or her teaspoon or choke as she sputtered a sip of coffee, did he show any emotion at all. Usually it was amusement.
It was near the end of that evening that Derek leaned over the emptied coffee cups and focused his baby blues on her face. With a soft smile he lifted a hand to tuck a whisp of stray brown hair behind her left ear before saying a word.
“I can make you feel so good, Kathleen.”
Her lips parted but no sound came out. She inhaled deeply and cast her gaze down at his hands as he reached over to grab her own. Licking her lips, she sneaked a glance at him through her lowered lashes, her cheeks warm and her lips pursed. God, how she wanted him to kiss her. With that thought she attempted to pull her hands away, but his grip grew tighter and his smile grew wider.
“So. Tell me. What are you afraid of?”
Her cheeks grew hotter, she squirmed in her seat and she found she was unable to lift her gaze to his. “Us.” She whispered softly, studying her wedding band. “Us.”
With that he threw a crisp bill on the table and led her towards the door. While they walked through the streets towards her neatly trimmed, well manicured and maintained home, he kept his hold on her hand, his thumb gently caressing the soft cup palm in soothing, pulsing rhythm.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she offered tentatively.
“Neither do I.”
“I might chicken out.”
“Me, too.”
“It might ruin our friendship.”
