Especially since most of her new friends had been Graham’s friends first.
She pulled into Simon’s driveway and the girls nearly leapt from the car, anxious to see the cats.
Sarah sat for a few minutes, her usual transition time between work and home having been considerably shortened, and closed her eyes to shake off thoughts of Graham and his fickle friends.They had taken his side in the separation, even though he had left her—and even though it was she who had always worked so hard to keep his friends in their life.
She imagined walking in a meadow beside a babbling brook, the sunshine sparkling on the water, and the birds—cardinals, though they were never found this far west—singing in the trees nearby.This was her happy place, a place from her childhood that didn’t even exist anymore, having been developed years ago into condominiums.But she still visited when she needed a minute to shift from work and stress mode to home mode.
A few deep breaths later, she opened her eyes to find a concerned Simon standing at the front door watching her.
“Everything okay?”he asked, when she climbed out of the car and joined him.
“Of course,” she said.“Just taking a minute to decompress.”
“I thought you were gathering courage to face the cats,” he said lightly.She assumed he was joking, but when she saw his concerned expression, she wondered if he might be serious.
“No, no.I’m fine.I usually have about half an hour between home and work to transition.You know, leave work behind.Today I needed to find a few extra minutes, that’s all.”What she really wanted to do was go home and change into a summer dress or a pair of sweatpants, but she couldn’t tell him that.
He searched her face a moment and must have decided she was okay.“That makes sense,” he said.“With my job, there isn’t such a separation.I bring my work home.”
“I can’t.I found it way too overwhelming.It’s probably the main reason my marriage ended,” she confided, just before she stepped into his house and took off her shoes.
Now why had she told him that?She had made it a rule never to talk to anyone, outside a few brief sessions with a counselor, about her failed marriage.
“We all make mistakes,” he said.“Isn’t that what life is about?Mistakes, learning, growing.”
“Growth is highly overrated.”She smiled, following him into the kitchen.“Can I help at all?”
“Growth sucks, but it’s as necessary as air,” he said, walking over to the stove to add spaghetti to a pot of boiling water.“You can help by letting me know what you might like to drink.I’ve got kombucha, some iced tea—unsweetened—soda water…”
“I’ll try a kombucha,” she said.“Lime flavored?”
“Lemon and ginger.”
“Perfect,” she said.“Can you also direct me to the washroom?”
“Down the hall, last door to the left,” he said, then turned to stir the sauce bubbling on the stove.
Sarah walked down the short hallway past a couple of doors she thought must be bedrooms.She longed to peek inside to get a sense of just who Simon was, but instead she followed his directions and went straight to the bathroom.There she considered her severe reflection, with her hair scraped back into a bun and her formal blazer.She couldn’t change clothes, but she could make herself a bit more comfortable.
She took off her blazer and lay it on the counter, then reached into her bag for a brush.
Moments later, her golden-brown hair was down by her shoulders, the top two buttons on her blouse were undone, and she felt more like herself again.
She opened the door and breathed in the aroma of spaghetti sauce and pasta and padded back to the kitchen, blazer over her arm and the stress of the day gone.
Simon turned when she approached, swallowed hard, then turned back toward the stove.What was going on?Was this a signal?Or was it just her way of getting comfortable after work?He reached for a clean spoon and tried the sauce again, though he’d already decided it had the right seasoning, and turned down the heat.
Behind him, he heard her pull out one of the tall chairs at the island and pour the can of kombucha into the glass he had left there.
“Do you want ice?”he asked the ceramic loon sitting on the counter nearby.
“No, I like it like this, thanks.”
She sounded different now.Relaxed.The result, he figured, of changing from some female Clark Kent into a super-hot mom.He needed to think a minute, so he excused himself and went to the living room to call the girls.“Come and set the table and wash your hands, and not necessarily in that order.”Basically, just come into the room so I don’t have to be alone with Riley’s hot mom.
“Look, Daddy, they’re sleeping,” said Sally.
He peered into the playpen to see the kittens curled up with each other.Together.Where they seemed to belong.
