Diana Hannon Forrester of Grove City, Ohio, has won two literary awards; one for this work and one for, Dog Days, A Fable. Her other work can be seen on the internet publications, The Edifice of Writing And Literature and Mystery And Manners. She hones her craft by taking continuing writing workshops.
ALL THAT GLITTERS
by
Diana Hannon Forrester (copyright 1996 All Rights Reserved)
Fifty! Half a hundred. It never seemed a hostile
number till it became my age. From the moment I blew out the
candles on my birthday cake and the resulting cloud of smoke
sent Helen McNabb into an asthma attack, I began feeling
melancholy. I thought my life was over.
Mark, my husband of twenty years, was six months
older. He tried to help but he had problems of his own. To be
perfectly honest, both of us had fallen into a middle aged rut
that made minor adjustments difficult and put major changes out
of the question.
Then, at one of the Henderson's endless yard parties,
I saw him. He was handsome, just a ruler's width over six feet
tall with broad shoulders that tapered to a trim muscular waist
and long solid legs. He had an athletic look that suggested
speed more than strength and there were touches of gray at his
temples. He was leaning against the bar laughing, his head
thrown back, the dark, golden-red tan of his neck making the
open collar of his shirt look impossibly white. He was the only
stranger in the crowd, interesting if only for that reason.
I approached the ladies from my Wednesday night bridge
group, studied him from its safety as I sipped my wine and
listened to Helen McNabb giving a lengthy account of her latest
grandchild. He worked the crowd like a good politician, coming
my way. Our eyes met and held several times. His were dark and
intense, very much alive.
I stood taller, sucked in my stomach as I watched his
approach. The hair on my neck stood on end, a shiver passed
through me in spite of the sun shining down. When he finally
stood behind me, it was all I could do to resist leaning back
against him.
He slipped a card into my hand. A phone number was
scrawled across the back.
"Call me," he whispered, "any time."
Our eyes met and held for an electric moment.
I stuffed the card into the pocket of my skirt, smiled
the public smile. My fingertips burned as they caressed the
card. A flush enveloped my chest and face.
Helen glanced my way, "Having a hot flash, honey?"
I shook my head and watched carefully as he moved
toward a circle of people standing by the pool. He elevated his
eyebrows over those dark eyes and smiled at me. I clutched the
card and turned back to Helen who continued droning, but my mind
was on him and when I would call.
**********
"Well, well, well," he said in a tone that suggested a
cat licking cream from his whiskers.
"You seem surprised," I said into the phone.
"Delightfully so," he answered, but then I am seldom
wrong about the women I choose."
We met the first time for coffee and were in his bed
within the hour.
"How did you know," I asked him?
He smoothed damp hair from my face, "You seemed so
alive."
It wasn't my first affair, but I thought of him as my
first love. I wasn't grateful exactly, just extremely distracted
from the reality of my life. It was the first time I was ever so
fully present in the moment that nothing else mattered. Not my
husband, not my friends, not a blessed thing.
He didn't say he loved me and he didn't ask me to
stay, but he chuckled as I dressed and said, "I trust you'll be
back."
I never wanted to leave, but nodded for yes and
hurried home to prepare Mark's supper. I set the table with the
good china, thought better of it and reset it with the every
day. I was trying to act like nothing had changed but was unable
to feel at home in my own kitchen.
Mark didn't notice. Helen McNabb, and the Wednesday
bridge group, was another matter.
"You trumped my ace again," Helen was glaring at me
over the fan of her cards, "twice already this evening and
you're bidding like a beginner."
I looked at the cards as Helen's hand snaked out to
pull in the trick, "Sorry," I said.
"You waltz in here late two weeks in a row, you can't
keep your mind on the game," Helen paused, tapped the used cards
into a neat pile and laid them down, "You're all dewy eyes and
loose . . . what's going on?"
Kay Henderson nodded and spoke, a wry grin on her
face, "Ralph asked if you'd had a face lift. Said you looked ten
years younger. He wants me to find out the name of your plastic
surgeon."
Helen propped her elbows on the table, thrust her chin
forward like a sword, "I think you're having an affair."
I shrugged but couldn't keep my lips from curving into
a smile. Helen raised her eyebrows, threw out another ace and
tapped it with her finger.
"Don't be silly," I said and this time managed to play
an appropriate card.
I struggled to keep him off my mind.
For several more weeks when I returned home from my
times with him and tried to maintain the appearances of my
former life, I seldom thought about my age. I forced myself to
be in the moment even when I wasn't with him. Then one day, he
asked me to stay.
I sat on the edge of the bed and called Mark as the
afternoon faded into evening. I dialed the familiar number and
imagined the sound of the rings in the kitchen. I imagined Mark
looking around for someone else to get it before he finally
hoisted himself to his feet and answered the phone.
"Hello."
"It's me, Mark. I won't be home."
"Is everything all right," he asked?
"I don't think so," I said.
"Can I do anything?"
"No, I'll be home tomorrow. We'll talk."
"Sounds ominous," he said.
"I'm sorry," I said and dropped the phone into its
cradle.
He was waiting when I returned home in the morning. His
skin was gray and his hair wasn't combed.
"I was worried," he said.
"I'm worried, too," I said.
He poured me a cup of coffee, set it on the table.
"Do you want cream," he asked?
"No."
I positioned the coffee mug squarely in front of me
and ran a finger around the rim. The steam warmed my hand. Mark
watched me expectantly. His brow was creased, his eyes were red.
He knew.
"I've fallen in love," I said.
I sipped my coffee until tears sprang into my eyes.
Mark sighed, but didn't move. He waited for me to go
on.
"Kay Henderson's cousin, here on business for six
months. I met him a month ago, at their party. He's living at
the Carlysle Hotel."
"Does he love you?" Mark asked.
I decided to tell the truth. "He hasn't said."
"Take more time if you need it," Mark said. "don't
decide until you know how he feels."
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and
sighed again.
"You understand?"
"Of course, I understand. Life gets boring. The
sameness of it gets frightening, almost terrifying sometimes,"
his eyes caught mine then dropped to the table top.
I watched him as he studied the table. I could see the
thinness of the hair above his forehead. I wanted to reach out
and smooth it back. I was very in the moment. I knew.
"You're having an affair, too!"
"I felt like I was drowning. Like nothing important
would ever happen to me again . . ." he hesitated, "like my life
was over."
"Then you met this woman."
"Yes, and it's been different ever since. I've looked
forward to the days. They fly by now and I cherish each moment.
I feel part of the world."
He stopped, stood up and walked around the table. I
followed him with my eyes.
"It sounds corny, doesn't it? Like every excuse given
for having an affair?"
"Yes," I replied, "I could have used those words
myself."
Mark reached out and took my hand, "Take all the time
you need. I want you to be sure what you do is the right thing
for you."
His eyes were soft when they looked at me. I could see
no challenge or anger.
"You expect the same from me?"
Mark nodded.
"I can't promise," I said, "I can't promise you
anything at this point. I don't know myself what I will do."
I pulled my hand from his, "I'm going to pack a few
things."
When I came back, he was still there, sipping coffee.
"You can reach me at the Carlysle," I said and left.
Kay Henderson met me at the door on Wednesday. She
pulled me into Ralph's study and paced back and forth as she
spoke,
"I'm worried about you. You're at a dangerous age and
it's so easy to lose track of your life as you go day to day.
Like repeating your own name over and over till it's meaningless
gibberish."
I crossed my arms over my chest, shifted from foot to
foot and listened.
"His romantic conquests are a family joke. He makes a
bid and keeps score just like we do at bridge."
Kay stopped pacing and bit her lower lip, "He'll laugh
about it later."
She opened the door to leave the room, then turned
back, "I should have warned you, but I never knew you needed
warning."
"I didn't either," I said. "but it's too late now.
Mark's having an affair."
I was very in the moment as I lay in his rented bed,
awake and alone in the middle of the night. He hadn't called, he
hadn't come back so I could ask him if he loved me. Kay
Henderson's words played in my mind and I began repeating his
name over and over again. I said it till it was meaningless.
Then I switched on the light, picked up the phone and
dialed Mark.
"Hello," she said.
Table of contents