Authors: Marisa Logan
Chapter 5
After work I went to see my lawyer. The news wasn't necessarily great. While the land had been in my name during the marriage, the fact that it came from Sunil's uncle gave him a legal claim to it. Unless I decided to settle, the case would have to be decided by a judge. And I couldn't even sell the land to keep it out of Sunil's hands, or he'd simply sue me for the money from the sale.
My lawyer and I went over all of my various options until I was overloaded with information and unable to think straight. By the time I got home it was late, I was tired, and I was miserable. The house was cold and dark. Too big for just one woman. When Sunil and I bought it, we'd made sure to get a three-bedroom home to make room for all the kids we planned to have. We'd even discussed moving into a bigger home one day, once our family grew even larger. But then Sunil had wanted to wait until we were in a better financial situation, and one excuse had led to another. More than a decade later, I was left with an empty nest that had never even been filled.
When I finally checked my email before bed, there was another message from Harold:
I decided it is better to scream. Silence is the real crime against humanity.
Dear S,
I was quite pleased to get your reply. Most of the time, the responses I get on here are, shall we say, less than pleasant. I'm glad to see you're a woman who appreciates poetry. Or at the very least, one who can use Google well enough to fake it. I find my apparent-online-IQ is quite a bit higher than the way I come off in person. I've never considered myself a wise man. But I do always try to keep learning.
Speaking of which, I'm looking forward to learning more about you. Perhaps we could meet this weekend. There's a Barnes & Noble near where I live with a little cafe inside. I always prefer it there over the hustle and bustle of other coffee shops. People go to Starbucks when they're in a rush to get coffee on the way to work. People go to a bookstore cafe to relax and have conversations.
If this sounds good to you, I'll meet you there in the morning. 10:00? I hope I'm not being too forward here. I haven't dated since my divorce, and I certainly wasn't using the internet to find dates before I was married.
Yours,
Harold
There was a postscript with the address to the Barnes & Noble and a link to the location on Google Maps. It was close to where I lived, and I'd been there a number of times. I sent Harold a quick response, telling him that I'd be happy to meet him there. Part of me wanted to tell him I was too busy, that this was bad timing, what with my situation with Sunil. But I didn't want to get into a long explanation about the issues I was having with my ex-husband. Though since Harold was divorced himself, it was possible he'd be quite understanding.
I decided to do my best to keep Sunil out of my mind until I heard more from my lawyer. I took a nice long bubble bath that night to wash away my aches and my worries. Then the next morning I went to work with my head held high, forcing myself to keep a positive attitude.
“Okay,” Jessica said when she saw me that morning. “Spill it. I'm serious. You've got something going on.” She sat on my desk and crossed her arms, giving me her no-nonsense stare. I knew she wouldn't let up this time, either. It was Friday, and most of the students slept in and cut classes on Fridays, leaving the library mostly empty. We were much busier Sunday night, when students started cramming in a panic to finish all of the assignments they'd put off all weekend. Today promised to be a slow day. And a slow day meant that Jessica had nothing else to do but nag me until I let her in on my little secret.
“Well,” I said, trying to keep myself from smiling too much. “I kind of have a date.”
“Kind of?” Jessica asked, arching an eyebrow. “How is it 'kind of' a date? You either have a date, or you don't.”
“It's just coffee.” I shrugged, avoiding eye contact with her. “It doesn't really mean anything. We're just going to meet. And talk.”
“And maybe fall in love,” Jessica said, grinning. “And get married, and have babies, and invite me to the wedding and the shower and all of it.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Don't get your hopes all up. I've got way too much going on right now to start thinking about all those sorts of things. I just want this one simple thing.”
“Well, I'm happy for you,” she said, hopping down off the desk. “It's about damn time. I hope he's nicer than your ex-husband.”
“He'd just about have to be.” I sighed and rubbed a hand over my eyes. I wished she hadn't brought Sunil up. It seemed like I couldn't get away from his shadow no matter how hard I tried.
I made it through the rest of the day without incident. The next morning, I got up early and started fretting over my wardrobe. I wanted to dress attractively, but I didn't want to come on too strong. I had a few sexy dresses, but they weren't really “meet a stranger for coffee” dresses. They were more “third date” dresses.
I eventually settled on jeans and a soft periwinkle sweater, plus my black leather high-heeled boots that made me feel like a badass. I put on a minimal amount of makeup, just enough to bring out my eyes, and I headed out the door with my purse slung over my shoulder and my nervousness tucked away deep inside my gut.
I got to the Barnes & Noble early. There were only a few people there, though none of them looked like they could be my date. I realized only after I got there that I didn't know what Harold looked like, though I was pretty sure he wasn't the goth-looking teenager texting in the back corner, nor the large woman sitting at a table with two kids in tow. I took a seat at an empty table, wondering if I should order my coffee now, or wait until he got here. I'd never been on a blind date before, so I didn't know the etiquette.
I watched everyone who came in, though most of the people I saw passed right by the cafe and went into the bookstore. A man close to my age came in and ordered a coffee, then sat at a table not far from me. He was looking around like he was waiting for someone. We made eye contact at one point and I smiled at him, but he didn't say anything.
I sat there wondering if I should go introduce myself. Maybe he didn't realize I was “S.” He might have been expecting a younger, blonde “Stephanie” or a thinner, redheaded “Sally.” I only realized now, as I sat there studying him, that I had never revealed anything about my age or my race. It hadn't seemed important at the time, but now it was seeming like a glaring mistake.
I was just about to get up and go talk to him when a familiar voice said, “Sharada?”
I looked over and saw a man I didn't recognize. He was tall and husky, with a muscular upper body but a bit of a gut, like many men got in their middle-age. He had dark hair and deep eyes that lit up with recognition as he walked over. “Good morning. Fancy running into you here.”
I stared for a moment, my mind blank. Then the man's green flannel shirt brought a spark of recognition. “Oh!” I said. “You...hi!”
It was the library's lumberjack. He'd shaved off the thick, dark beard he'd worn for as long as I'd known him. He looked five years younger without it. He had a pleasant face with a chiseled jaw and weathered lines that spoke of a long life well-lived. He looked so different without the beard that it took me by surprise.
He looked around at the small crowd in the cafe. “I've never run into you outside of the library. Come here often?”
“Sort of. Well, no, not really. I'm meeting someone here.” I glanced over at the man at the other table, worrying that if he saw me talking to another man, it would give him the wrong impression.
“A friend?” the lumberjack asked.
“More of a blind date.” A bashful smile crossed my lips.
He looked at me, his dark eyes studying me. Then he slowly raised one hand, shaking a finger as he pieced a thought together. “You...Sharada, you're not 'S,' are you?”
I stared at him, my face blank. Then my jaw dropped open.
“Harold?”
He laughed and took the seat across from me. “Well, yes. Most of my friends call me Harry. But I always thought Harold was more dignified.”
I stared at him in mute shock, then laughed. “Oh my! Just...just wait until I tell Jessica about this. Harold!” She wouldn't be able to call him Paul anymore, though I expected that the jokes about Babe the Blue Pickup Truck would continue.
We studied each other's features for a moment. I could hear Jessica already, talking about fate or serendipity or some such foolish nonsense. The funny thing was, I never would have considered asking the lumberjack...
Harold
out on a date when he came into the library. He had never seemed like my type. Though he
did
read Sylvia Plath and Louisa May Alcott, so maybe there was something there that I hadn't considered. Or maybe I just hadn't been able to get past the beard.
“So,” he said, smiling awkwardly. He folded his hands on the table.
“So,” I said. I wasn't sure where to begin, and it seemed like he wasn't either. “Shall we order?” I gestured to the girl waiting behind the cafe counter.
“Yes. Sure. Sounds good.” He stood up and gestured for me to go first. I ordered a tall latte. Harold got a simple black coffee. He paid for both of our drinks, and we stood there in an awkward silence while we waited for them. Then we sat down and the silence drew out while I searched for something to say.
Harold finally broke the silence. “I'll be honest with you, I haven't been on a date in twenty-five years.”
“Ten for me,” I said. “And I didn't really 'date' my ex-husband when we met. Our families sort of set us up.”
“Not like an arranged marriage thing?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
“No, nothing so archaic. More like, we were pressured into meeting. Sunil had an economics degree, and my father told me said I should marry a man who would have a good career. He said he'd be good for me. And I guess he was, for awhile...” I shrugged and lowered my gaze, studying my latte through the clear plastic lid.
“My wife and I were high school sweethearts,” Harold said. “She got pregnant our senior year, and marriage seemed like the right thing to do.” He looked off into the distance, the years clouding his gaze. “I think we loved each other back then. But raising two kids took its toll on us. The youngest just finished college.”
“I always wanted kids,” I said, sighing. “The timing was never right.”
“I doubt it ever is. But the kids still made it all worth it. Janet and I still get along well enough, for their sake. But once they both moved away for college, we admitted to each other that we had only stayed together as long as we had to keep them from growing up in a broken home. Sometimes I wonder if we made the right choice.”
“Doing what's best for your kids is always the right choice.” I reached across the table, my fingers brushing the back of his hand.
A slight flush of color crept into his cheeks. “Well, what I thought was best at the time, and what I think now, those aren't always the same thing.”
“You know what they say about hindsight.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled and looked into my eyes. “Sorry, didn't mean to talk your ear off about my problems.”
“It's all right, Harold,” I said, smiling at him. It felt good to know his name. I found I couldn't imagine calling him “Harry.” He had been right: Harold was more dignified, and that seemed fitting.
“So,” I said, leaning forward, “tell me what you thought about
Little Women.”
We talked about books for awhile, and Harold shared his thoughts on Alcott, Plath, and several of my other favorite authors. He also brought up a few I'd never heard of. I tended to read mostly the classics, plus modern women's fiction and a little bit of trashy romance here and there. But Harold, as Jessica and I well knew, would read just about anything. He even mentioned some indie authors I'd never heard of, and I made mental note to look into a few of them when I had the time.
We sat there for more than an hour, simply talking. It wasn't anything like I would have expected on a first date. It wasn't exciting or romantic. It was just comfortable. And I realized that this was exactly what I'd been looking for. I was past the age of wanting to go out an experience the night life, and the idea of going to a club or a bar just sounded exhausting. The time Harold and I spent together was simple, it was quiet, and it gave us time to start really getting to know each other.
When we decided to call it a day, Harold walked me to my car. I saw Babe the Blue Pickup Truck parked a few spaces down from me. I laughed when I saw it, thinking of the stories I'd have to tell Jessica at the library on Monday.
We stood there for a few moments saying our goodbyes, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me. He shuffled his feet like a shy teenager and kept his eyes on the ground. In the end I pulled him in for a long hug, then kissed his cheek as we parted.
“We should do this again,” I said.
“I'd like that,” he said. “Very much.”
I thought about giving him my phone number or telling him to email me, but all of that seemed too impersonal So I simply said, “Next time you stop by the library, let's go out to lunch. There's a quiet little place just off campus.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
He gave me another hug, then took my hands in his for a moment. As he walked away, he held onto my hand until his fingers couldn't reach any further and they slipped out of my touch. I watched him walk to his truck and get in, then he drove off, possibly to go cut down trees or something. I realized I still hadn't asked him what he did for a living.