It was just after my kids' bedtime when I heard his car pull into the driveway. I wasn't expecting him, and quickly, reflexively, I licked my lips and ran my fingers through my hair. What kind of excuse had he come up with now?
Nick was my coworker. He'd started about a year after I did. Tall and serious, he politely and professionally introduced himself to me, but once he descended behind his cubicle wall, it was a awhile before he came back out. Nick was married with six kids and was constantly running off to help with birthday parties or church fundraisers. His life was so busy, he barely seemed to notice me. Which was just as well. I like having coworkers who are my friends, but Nick and I seemed to have nothing in common.
The pandemic changed all of that. Suddenly everything was closed and cancelled, all the distractions were pulled off the table. Nick and I were both considered essential workers, so we continued to show up to the office, but the world around us had slowed to a stop as everyone else sheltered in place with their families.
It was during those first couple months that Nick started looking at me differently. I saw his eyes drift, just for a second, and pause for a beat where my blouse stretched over my breasts. I saw him glance at my bare legs as I passed him in the hall, my skirt swaying along with the swing of my hips. When he looked me in the eye, I was surprised to see how glance had changed and become complex. Searching.
Nick stopped by my house a few times to drop off groceries when stores were closed or things were hard to find. He knew it was harder for me to search around for stuff like toilet paper while working full time, and as a single mom. His wife was home all day and it was easier for her to grab an extra pack of chicken or carton of milk.
When he'd come by, I'd pay him back for the things he found, appreciating the extra help keeping my household afloat during "these unprecedented times." And not wanting to be rude, I'd offer him a glass of water or Coke -- he didn't drink alcohol -- and he'd usually accept. It bought us a few minutes chatting together alone in the living room. I learned about where he grew up, his faith, his politics, all the things we'd never mentioned at work. We still didn't have much in common, but just talking to someone was a breath of fresh air. And I had started to like the way he looked at me. It was unspoken, so it was innocent, but he made me feel beautiful, like someone worth looking at.
I remember the first couple times he came to my house, Nick was upset that I keep my living room curtains open. Our house was set so far back from the street, I didn't really care. I never felt like anyone was watching us and we lived in a safe area. There were so many trees, I couldn't even see our neighbors' house from where we were. But I climbed up on a chair to draw the curtains closed anyway. Only then would Nick relax, leaning back on my couch, sharing his thoughts on whatever was happening right then.
This evening, I wasn't expecting him, so the curtains were wide open and I saw the flash of his headlights before he cut the engine. I met him at the door and he looked totally flustered.
