He couldn't get their last meeting out of his head. She'd sat opposite him, cupping the empty mug of chai which had scented the air with cinnamon, weeping. She'd made no sound, but the rivulets on her cheeks made his heart ache. He didn't know what to say, so he kept rambling about the unfairness of it all and how she deserved better than the hand she'd been dealt.
He was talking about her situation at work, of course. He hadn't known her very long, but she'd come to mean a lot to him and their weekly conversations in this caffeine corner, where students, professors and other layabouts gathered, gave him a reason to escape his routine for an hour or two. He looked down at his hands and saw how loose his ring was on his finger. She was wiping her face, and the waiter didn't even notice the state she was in when he cleared the neighbouring tables of their crockery.
It seemed that she'd managed to compose herself as they exited and he hovered outside the door, telling her he was looking forward to the next session. She'd put her hand on his shoulder then and said, "Be good." The haste with which she'd donned her sunglasses after that told him she wasn't feeling as fine as she'd led him to believe. He walked to the car and paused before getting in, looking at his reflection in the driver's window. It still shocked him when he realised how naked he was without his hair.
At the age of thirty, he'd woken up and found most of his hair on his pillow and not on his head, where it belonged. Over the course of three months, every single hair on his body had fallen out. Not even his eyelashes remained. It made him feel like a human dolphin, and the jeers of children at Jessie's school still stung. Your dad is ba-ald! Your dad is ba-ald!
When he'd told her about a particularly upsetting incident which had also affected Jessie, she'd told him to lean down, close to their faces, and say "That's because I'm a superhero." He was tempted to do it, just once, to put the obnoxious blighters in their place. But he worried that they would take it out on Jessie the second his back was turned. Jessie, by contrast, seemed unperturbed by the boys and always took his hand as they walked out of the school grounds to the car, happily relaying stories from her day. He loved her for it.
But today Jessie was with her mother, doing something that he hoped wouldn't do his bank account too much damage. He found himself with time, a precious commodity, and the inability to stop thinking about her, or the way she'd looked at their last meeting. What had shocked him the most was the fact that she'd become so utterly vulnerable in front of him; on every other occasion, she'd been upbeat, light-hearted and witty. Had he never noticed before how much she was holding back? Or was she good at masking her feelings? He shuddered.
He needed to walk it off, to clear his head. He declared to whoever might hear that he was going for a walk, but they were too engrossed in whatever girls' stuff they were doing to reply. He pocketed his keys and took off down the road. He loved that it was only a ten minute walk to leave suburbia and be surrounded by trees, birds and the crunch of gravel underfoot. His favourite spot was not as secluded as photographs on Google Maps led everyone to believe. In fact, the Maritime Hotel was just across the road, and if you stood on your tiptoes, you could see the array of luxury vehicles in the parking lot.
The pond in the forest was named after Diana, the Goddess of Hunting. Legend had it that this park was once overrun with deer and Diana used the still waters as her personal vanity, until, of course the day that Actaeon crossed her path. Since then, women came from all over to stare into Diana's Mirror, hoping to see their beauty improved by association, or to cry into the waters and implore the goddess for assistance in their own romantic lives. He had no such intention, but today he couldn't help but channel Narcissus and look into the water. His dolphin-like face stared back, and his shoulders hunched. He spotted a bench on the opposite side of the pond and walked towards it.
As he emerged from the trees, he started. She was walking towards him, her Yorkie trotting beside her. She was chatting to the Yorkie and didn't see him until he said, "Hello."
Her smile lit up her face. "Beautiful day, isn't it? How are you?"
"I am fine." He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from touching her. "How are you feeling?"
She looked at her shoes. "Much better, thanks. But I am still embarrassed about how I behaved. That wasn't fair on you."
He scrunched up his face. "Don't worry about it." He nodded at the Yorkie. "Who's this?"
"This handsome fellow is called Fred."
"Funny name for a dog. Most people call theirs Prince or Duke or Benji."
"Yes, or Spot or Socks. I like the idea of naming a dog as though it's a person. I sound less crazy when I call Fred than my neighbour does when she shouts for 'Fluffy'."
He laughed. "That's a good point."
"And it's a safety thing too. Nobody is going to mess with me if they think I live with a man called Fred."
His cheeks hurt. She seemed her usual self, and it made him feel better. He decided to sit on the bench and invited her to join him.
Fred seemed interested in exploring a nearby bush and she unleashed him before sitting down. He walk had tinged her cheeks pink and the sun lit up the copper in her fair hair.
"Look," she said, "I know you're not comfortable talking about emotional stuff, but I have to say this. You don't have to respond; just listen."
He stared at her.
"It's been really hard lately, and I don't normally talk to anyone about what's going on in my life. I've always been private. But I like to think that we've become... friends. At least, I hope so."
He nodded and rested his arm along the back of the bench.
"I don't want to burden you with my problems, but I do want to thank you for listening and for not judging me for succumbing to a vulnerable moment." She clasped her hands in her lap and he noticed her posture relax a little. She exhaled, and they heard Fred pottering about in the undergrowth. "I hope he doesn't find poop to roll in again. Last time it took me over an hour to get it out of his coat." She chuckled.
Before he could stop himself, his hand was on her shoulder. She leant back against the bench and his hand slid behind her neck. She shivered as his fingers touched her neck, but she didn't move.
"How is Jessie?"
"Don't," he said. "Don't say anything. Just sit here with me."
She pursed her lips and the look on her face made him tug her into his arms. They sat there in silence, and he could smell her shampoo. They watched the wind ripple the surface of Diana's Mirror. The forest breathed around them, and every so often Fred would scamper at their feet or yap at an invisible foe.
"I think I should go," she said.
He turned her face towards him, and he saw her eyes rimming as they had in the coffee shop. She wouldn't look at him. The rivulets appeared.
There was nothing to do but kiss her.
Fred jumped against his leg and barked. She pulled back. "We really should go." This time she locked eyes with him. The force of the emotion in her gaze made his body slacken. She busied herself with Fred's leash. He picked up the undeniable scent of poop. She had her work cut out for her. He put his hand on her arm. She nodded, and said, "Come on, Fred."
He wanted to say that he'd text her about next week's meeting. He knew he should say he was sorry, but he wasn't. Instead, he watched her walk away, and listened to her scold Fred for his misdemeanour at the park.
He checked his watch and walked back around the pond, retracing the way home. He caught his reflection in the water. He was smiling. He didn't even realise it. That was an image he could get used to seeing, but he realised with a sigh that he had no right to be happy. He picked up a stone and threw it into the water, dashing away his likeness. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
Daddy, where are you?
I'll be there soon, he replied. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and the smell and the taste of her a bit longer, but it was gone. In its place was the reality of his dolphin-face and Jessie, who needed him.
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