He bent low over the sink as his legs began to fail him. He was grateful
for the collapse. He could not look at his reflection anymore. As choppy
air buffeted the plane he was sick to his stomach.
A few minutes elapsed and he wet a paper towel with cold water and wiped
it across his face and the back of his neck.
He finally managed to stumble back to his seat. As the plane thundered
on his guilt grew with each passing mile.
THE PHONE WAS RINGING. KATE LOOKED AT THE CLOCK.
Eleven o’clock. Normally she would screen her calls. But something made
her hand dart out and pick it up before the machine engaged.
“Hello.”
“Why aren’t you still at work?”
“Jack?”
“How’s your ankle?”
“Do you realize what time it is?”
“Just checking on my patient. Doctors never sleep.”
“Your patient is fine. Thanks for the worry.” She smiled in spite of
herself “Butterscotch cone, that prescription has never failed me.”
“Oh, so there were other patients?”
“I’ve been advised by my attorney not to answer that question.”
“Smart counsel.”
Jack could visualize her sitting there, one finger playing with the ends
of her hair, the same way she had done when they studied together; he
laboring through securities regulations, she through French.
“Your hair curls enough at the ends without you helping it.”
She pulled her finger back, smiled, then frowned. That statement had
brought a lot of memories back, not all good ones.
“It’s late, Jack. I’ve got court tomorrow.”
He stood up and paced with the cordless, thinking rapidly.
Anything to hold her on the phone for a few more seconds.
He felt guilty, as though he were sneaking around. He involuntarily
looked over his shoulder. There was no one there, at least no one he
could see.
“I’m sorry I called late.”
“Okay.”
“And I’m sorry I hurt your ankle.”
“You already apologized for thaL’ “Yeah. So, how are you? I mean except
for your ankle?”
“Jack, I really need to get some sleep.”
He was hoping she would say that.
“Well tell me over lunch.”
“I told you I’ve got court.”
“After court.”
“Jack, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. In fact I’m pretty sure it’s a
lousy idea.”
He wondered what she meant by that. Reading too much into her statements
had always been a bad habit of his.
“Jesus, Kate. It’s just lunch. I’m not asking you to marry me.” He
laughed, but knew he’d already blown it.
Kate was no longer fiddling with her hair. She too stood up. Her
reflections caught in the hallway mirror. She pulled at the neck of her
nightgown. The frown lines were prominent on her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Look,
it’ll be my treat. I have to spend all that money on something.” He was
met with silence. In fact, he wasn’t sure if she were still on the line.
He had rehearsed this conversation for the last two hours.
Every possible question, exchange, deviation. He’d be so smooth, she so
understanding. They would hit it off so well.
So far, absolutely nothing had gone according to plan. He fell back on
his alternate plan. He decided to beg.
“Please, Kate. I’d really like to talk to you. Please.”
She sat back down, curled her legs under her, rubbed at her long toes.
She took a deep breath. The years hadn’t changed her as much as she had
thought. Was that good or bad? Right now she had no way to deal with
that question.
“When and where?”
“Morton’s?”
“Forlunch?”
He could see her incredulous face at the thought of the ultra-expensive
restaurant. Wondering what type of world he now lived in. “Okay, how
about the deli in Old Town near Founder’s Park around -two? We’ll miss
the lunchtime crowd “Better. But I can’t promise. I’ll call if I can’t
make it.”
He slowly let out his breath. ‘Thanks, Kate.”
He hung up the phone and collapsed on the couch. Now that his plan had
worked, he wondered what the hell he was doing. What would he say? What
would she say? He didn’t want to fight. He hadn’t been lying, he did