Authors: Jackie Pilossoph

Tags: #Romance

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“Yes.”

“And what’s with the forest preserve?”

“It was spontaneous. I’d never done anything like that before.”

“Not judging,” he said, “just curious.” I suddenly felt like I was talking to my best friend. He continued, “And then you found out you were pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“And then you lost it.”

“Yes.”

“Were you relieved?”

“I have mixed emotions,” I said, “I thought I wanted to have the baby. You know, the miracle of life.”

“I could see that,” he said.

I took a deep breath. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“The night my husband died…” I stopped. The words wouldn’t come out. It was like if I said them, that would make it real, which it was, but still, I couldn’t speak them.

“Just say it,” Luke said softly, “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

Tears now dropping down my cheeks, I replied, “No, it’s not okay. It will never be okay. The night my husband died, he and I had had a huge argument. I was shouting at him and I told him I hated his guts. And then…he left. He got into his car and he left. And then he crashed. And died.”

Luke hugged me really tight. How strange it was to have someone I barely knew, a guy I wasn’t even dating, comforting me with his strong arms after I just chose to confide in him, a random neighbor who’d come into my life because of a bizarre fall. It was almost poetic, fairytale like.

At this moment, with my arms firmly around him and the side of my face nuzzled under his neck, I thought about pulling a
When Harry Met Sally,
by planting a passionate kiss on him and officially turning our friendship into a love affair. I didn’t, though, for two reasons. One, sex was the last thing on earth I wanted. In fact, I didn’t care if I ever slept with another man for the rest of my life. And two, what if Luke rejected me? He hadn’t asked me out, yet I knew he had feelings for me. But if he wasn’t dating me, then chances were maybe he didn’t want to sleep with me. So, I held back. I will never know to this day, whether he would have responded had I made a move.

“I’m so tired, Luke,” I whispered, “So tired of feeling guilty.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“What was the fight about?”

I pulled away from him, took a deep breath and began telling Luke the story. “There was this girl…Jill Sadler…she worked in Sam’s office. They worked for a financial consulting firm. Jill was really cute, a lot younger. I met her at the company Christmas party that year. So anyhow, I was suspicious that something was going on. Sam started becoming cocky, and making comments like, ‘You better appreciate me. Other people do,’ and ‘If you ever left me, it wouldn’t take me long to find someone else.’ And I asked him, ‘Where’s this coming from?’”

As I was telling Luke the story, it was funny to watch his expression. He was wide-eyed, intently listening, waiting for the climax of the whole thing. Trust me, he wasn’t disappointed.

“He told me that Jill had been asking him to get together, but that he wasn’t cheating on me. A couple nights later, we were arguing about money or something, and Sam had had a few drinks during dinner. I said to him, ‘If you think I spend too much, maybe you’re with the wrong person. Maybe you should be with Jill.’ And Sam responded, ‘Maybe I am.’”

Luke actually gasped, to the point where it made me crack a little smile.

“Luckily, my daughter was in bed so she didn’t hear the ranting and raving and screaming and shouting and name calling that went on. Years of pent up hostility on both our parts was being released, and while it was well needed, it was almost surreal because I realized right then how unhappy both of us were in our marriage.”

“Wow,” said Luke.

“So then I asked, ‘Sam, are you having an affair?’ He responded, ‘We’ve kissed a few times.’ And that’s when I went nuts. I told him to get out.”

I put my head down and said almost in a whisper, “And I told him I hated his guts.”

I looked up at Luke and finished, “And then he left. He got in his car after about four beers mind you, and he left. And I never saw him again.”

Luke nodded and said with sincere sadness in his voice, “I’m really sorry.”

“Now do you understand?” I asked, “I told my husband to leave. I told him to get in the car and leave after he’d been drinking.”

My voice began to rise, “I told him to drink and drive because I wanted him out of my sight.” I shouted, “I killed my husband!”

“Oh my God, no, you didn’t!” Luke responded, “This isn’t your fault!”

“Yes it is! It is!”

“No! He killed himself, Emma. Or fate killed him. Not you!”

“If I didn’t kick him out, he’d be alive today.”

“You’re not God. You had no control over what happened.” Luke took my shoulders in his hands. “Emma, I don’t know you that well, but I know one thing. You’ll never have a good life until you forgive yourself for something you absolutely did not do.”

“I don’t know how,” I said through tears.

“Let me ask you something,” he said, “Let’s say
you
were the one who was cheating and let’s say Sam had asked
you
to leave that night. And let’s say you got into your car and got into an accident and died.”

“Okay…” I said with the kind of chuckle one makes when you think something’s creepy.

“Let me finish,” said Luke, “Let’s say you’re up in heaven looking down at Sam…God forbid, of course…”

“Yes, God forbid.”

“Would you blame Sam? Would you think it was his fault that you died?”

“No, not at all. I’d blame myself for cheating and then I’d blame bad luck.”

“So why the hell are you blaming yourself? Do you really think Sam is up there in heaven blaming you for his death?”

I looked up at the ceiling and suddenly I had a smile on my face. I looked back down at Luke. “No, I don’t think Sam blames me.”

“Then stop blaming yourself. Look, time’s going by and years are being wasted for no good reason. You’re a good person. I’m sure of that. And you deserve to be happy. Sounds like your husband had some major issues. I’m not glad he died, but he did it to himself. You had nothing to do with his death. You did what any other woman in the world would have done. Do you understand that? Tell me you do.”

I nodded slowly, and suddenly it was like the light bulb just went on. Had Luke, my new friend, gotten through to me by saying pretty much the same thing my mother and sister had been telling me for a year? I suspected so, and I didn’t understand why hearing this from Luke was different than hearing it from my family, but it didn’t matter. Something had stuck. The message was beginning to resonate.

I must have looked really tired because Luke then told me to lie down on the couch. I did as I was told, and he grabbed a blanket off a nearby chair and covered me with it. Then he picked up a small couch pillow and put it under my head. “Take a nap,” he said, “Just rest. Relax and rest.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

Luke sat on the edge of the couch, put his hand on my hair and gently rubbed my head. “Guilt is exhausting,” he said softly, “No more. Promise me.”

“Okay,” I answered, barely audible at this point because I was already dozing off. And thank God for that because if I had any energy at all, I would have blurted out, “I love you, Luke Sullivan!” Instead I fell asleep in about five seconds.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up. It seemed like a lot of time had gone by. The first thing I did was sit up, feeling somewhat panicky. I ran over to where my wet clothes were lying in a pile and retrieved my Blackberry to make sure no one called me, and to see what time it was. 5:00! Had I really been asleep for three hours? Luke’s flat screen was on, the sound barely audible but the picture as clear as crystal. It was ironic. The movie,
Limitless
was on, my hottie, Bradley Cooper looking as cute as ever.

Suddenly I heard a loud snore. I looked over at the big recliner chair and there was Luke, fast asleep. He was holding the remote and his head was tilted back. He was out, big time. I smiled as I thought about how my dramatic life had exhausted this poor guy, who was just your basic ordinary single dad trying to move on with his life.

“You’re the best,” I whispered to him, now on my knees in front of his chair, watching him snooze and thinking about how much he’d been here for me today. I was getting to know him. He was becoming my friend. Plus, I was attracted to him. All of him. Not the out-of-control, crazy, physical attraction I had for my now ex boy toy. This was very different. I had the desire to kiss Luke and touch him and hold him, but it was more stable, more mature, more solid, deeper.

“Wake up Luke,” I whispered, softly touching and moving his arm.

He jerked his head up quickly. “Did I fall asleep? What time is it?”

“5:00,” I whispered.

“Wow,” he said, still trying to wake up.

I stood up and then he did. “How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Feel better?”

I nodded, “I do.”

“Hungry?”

I thought about it for a second and realized I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. “Actually, yes.”

“Let’s order some food.”

“Sure.”

I called Laura to make sure she and Izzie were home, and to see how their day was.

“Where are you?” my sister asked.

“I’m at a friend’s house,” I answered, “I’ll be home in a couple hours. Is that okay?”

“What friend’s house?”

“Just a friend.”

“Preston?”

“No.”

“Emma, tell me!”

“I’m at Luke’s.” I looked at my friend, who was perusing a few take-out menus. He looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back.

“Luke’s?” my sister practically shouted.

With a giggle, I said, “Thanks, Laura. I’ll see you soon. Tell Izzie I love her.”

Luke opened up a bottle of wine and we had a glass while waiting for our pizza to arrive. We talked and laughed and gossiped about people in our neighborhood, both wanting light, fun conversation versus the serious topic we’d covered earlier in the day. Spending time with Luke was relaxing, and the ease of hanging out with each other came especially natural. It was like no other relationship I’d ever experienced, sadly enough, not even my marriage.

“So, I know you’re Jewish,” Luke said, “But what were you telling me the other day? You’re not really Jewish? You’re…”

“
Sephardic
.”

“What’s that?”

“It means that my family descends from the Middle East, not Europe, like most other Jewish people.”

“So, do you speak Arabic?”

“I know a few words.”

“I want to hear! Talk to me in Arabic.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s hot.”

I said a few words in Arabic and Luke looked like he was thoroughly entertained.

“How do you say butt?” he asked.

“Butt?”

“Yeah. Butt. Behind, rear end, derriere, Ass.”

I laughed. “Teso.”

“Teso?” he chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“How do you say pretty?”

“Fatin.”

“Emma,” he joked, “You have a really nice teso.”

I laughed and Luke said, “And when you smile, you’re fatin.”

“You’re flirting with me in Arabic.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I know.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m not sure anyone has ever made me smile the way you can.”

Luke gave me a wider grin that literally melted me.

“I’m so glad I know you,” I said.

“Me too,” he smiled.

And then he leaned over and kissed me on the lips, and I wish I could define what kind of kiss it was. First of all, there was no tongue, therefore it was hardly a romantic kiss. Yet it was soft and slow, and much longer than a kiss of pure platonic friendship. It was something in between, just like our relationship was.

The two of us were smack in the middle of the spectrum of nonphysical, nonsexual on the left, and passionate romance and true love on the right. Who knew what we were? The only thing I was sure of was a connection with so much power and so much energy that it didn’t even matter what our official status was. Friends, lovers, soul mates…did it really make a difference at this particular moment? I knew for certain that at some point the dust would settle, and Luke and I would eventually figure out what we were.

For today, though, just spending time with him was enough. Being here was filling some void I’d had perhaps for a long, long time, maybe even forever. And that to me was worlds more important than having a clear cut definition of our relationship. I didn’t need to know what we were. I just needed him.