The reunion
"...and of course, like all startups, it is funding that will determine just how much further we get with our prototype, which is of course why I am here, and thankyou again for your time."
The "shark tank" address closed on his underwhelming pitch for reworked, over hyped AI farm software - just before my eyes rolled to the back of my head and I began to dribble with boredom.
Some mandatory half-hearted hand clapping saw him off the stage, only just before we moved to the next fund seeker at our annual agri-tech startup conference. But it was not before I exchanged glances with Zara across the aisle, receiving a warm empathetic smile as a fellow boredom victim.
It crossed my mind as I basked in her generous smile that I really needed to keep friends close, and enemies closer in her case. Her South Island startup was aiming firmly for the same ground that had made my own company so successful over the years, delivering innovative software systems to make dairy farmers' lives a lot easier amongst the muck, milk and dark that often made up much of the dairying day.
Our careers had intercepted and looped around each other over the years. Starting back at university, hanging out in the same crowd, random drunken Friday encounters at the pub- even the occasional flirty kiss that had never gone any further, both reserved despite the inevitable surges of early twenties hormones.
Time, distance, and relationships had meant we'd gone our own way for over two decades, so it was a welcome addition to our annual get-together to chance upon her at one of these gatherings three years ago.
But then it had only been a fleeting, distant glimpse.
I had been wrestling with the reality of a recent divorce after 15 years of marriage, preoccupied and juggling finances to keep my infant startup business afloat and growing. Zara had appeared pale, distant and a bit lost in the crowded event, and not to be found after it was over.
But tonight, the same infectious burst of laughter that would roll through a crowded university pub greeted me at the post-conference happy hour. I knew whose it was before we had even made eye contact, her head tossed back, all brunette curls and white teeth, her face aglow as she gripped a colleague's arm in a fit of laughter.
If her laughter hinted her presence, then her body radiated it. Her firm, slim frame had matured with time, her almost boyish figure now deliciously curved, still trim, well maintained and as attractive as ever, and one its owner was clearly comfortable in, and happy to reveal.
Her smart black skirt-jacket combo lent her a professional air, an expensive silk blouse discreetly and tastefully highlighted her lovely firm breasts. Her fit looking calves were accentuated with a nice pair of heels. It was indeed the Zara that had been the subject of many unrealised late night university fantasies.
"Twenty-five years Zara Smith! It's good to see you again after all this time -you look....good," I said, hoping I wasn't lingering too long on a "good" to be overly creepy.
She just took a step back, running her eye north to south over me, with a wicked grin on her face.
"Roger Davies, look at you, my God - what happened, where did those years go? And how come you didn't get fat like everyone else around here?"
Maybe it was the buzz of the one post-presentation beer I had had, but I felt I'd flown back across those 20-plus years, landed back in that uni pub again.
Just like it usually was then, it was a Friday. But this time I was going to finally be able to have the confidence to do more than offer her another drink. The only thing was the woman before me looked even better, if that was even possible, than she did all that time ago- curvier, less angular, more, well...womanly.
"Holy shit this place is boring the tits off me - let's get out and get a decent drink somewhere else, what do you say?" she asked me in her direct fashion.
What could I not say, and so we stepped out into the southern winter's night, the cool air prompting us to inadvertently move closer together.
Without even considering it, I put my hand around her waist drawing her closer, savouring the definitive curve of her hip, enjoying the outline of her firm, fit thigh against mine, and her lack of protest.
"So, what's good in this place? I can't say I have spent much time in this part of the world for the last few decades...and on that note, what the hell have you been up to all these years? We have a lot to catch up on - I think."
"That we do", I granted as I opened the door for her to a small wine bar.
Tucked in a side street, it was a sharp contrast to the industrial grade conference bar we'd just fled. Cosy and intimate, the air filled with Snow Patrol and the quiet murmur of couples in earnest conversation.
As I returned to our table with a couple of glasses of pinot, Zara unabashedly assessed me - a sly grin that would have made me blush 25 years ago injected a slight buzz to the bar's understated atmosphere.
"You know, I have often wondered where you have been, what you have been up to, how come we don't seem to have stayed in touch?" she said, her glass of pinot poised at those lovely, full lips as she re-crossed her stockinged legs.
"Well, seems we are now as much on the same side of the industry, if not opposites when it comes to doing business in it. But hey, you are hardly the worst looking opponent I could wish for, I teased.
"But seriously, I saw you across the same conference hall, it must have been about three years ago. You looked -,"
"Blood awful" she interjected.
"Well, I was going to be kinder and say 'a bit drawn and stressed', but your words, not mine. I tried to find you after but seems you had shot through already."
"No, I was in no space to be staying any longer than I had to. My husband had died only two months before, the business we were in was proving tougher than I had expected, and I just felt completely, well...disconnected really, from everything. I was finding it particularly hard to see the point of anything at that stage."
She caught the look on my face of sad surprise to learn about her husband, a man I had never met.
"What-"
"Cancer - short and sharp, which is a small mercy, for him as much as me if I am honest. But at 45, it's hard to find the upside in that, it really is," she said, a distant look in her eye as she sipped her pinot.
In that moment she had that same sad, lost look I had seen across the crowded conference room three years ago. Without considering it I leant over, giving her a strong comforting hug.
"I'm so, so sorry, he was a very lucky man while he was here," I whispered in her ear.
"Thankyou, that means a lot," and she kissed me on the cheek, pulled back, looking me in the eye with a smile like the sun coming from behind a dark cloud.
"Anyway, Mr Davies, that's my tragedy, what's yours? You know most of us have had at least one by 50!"
"Hmm, you know, the usual -divorced, trying to keep the boat afloat and stay sane, that sort of thing," I offered.
"Divorced! I never thought you would have that in you- did you play away?"
"No, no, it was nothing like that, well, not really, but it might have become that.
