One of the interns looked at the package, reading the name. “Oh, he’s a charmer,” she said. “Watch out for that one.”
“The eyes!” the other one said.
“The eyes,” the first one agreed. “Sapphire. Don’t look at the eyes. It’s like looking at the sun during an eclipse.”
“Oh, please,” I said. I’d had exactly one serious boyfriend, Jason Carpenter, and his eyes were dark brown, golden retriever eyes. Jason Carpenter broke up with me the month before I met your father. Do you know what Jason Carpenter said to me? He said, “I’m sorry, Sheila, I just don’t feel a zing.” Can you imagine somebody breaking up with someone that way?
Anyway, it didn’t matter, about the eyes. I wouldn’t even see the lawyer! You just drop these things off with the receptionist. That’s how it goes.
When I got to the law office, which was a few blocks away from the one where I worked, the receptionist was gone. I rang the little bell on the desk, and a voice from down the hallway said, “Here, please!”
I followed the voice. I followed it all the way down the hallway to an office at the end. Inside the office, sitting behind a big wooden desk, with the early evening summer sun streaming in from a window behind him, was your father. I knocked on the door, even though it was open.
“Maryann has gone down to Kennebunk for the weekend,” said your father. “She always leaves early on Fridays in the summer. And you know what? I don’t blame her.” He was looking down at papers on his desk and holding out his hand at the same time. “I’ll take it.” Didn’t matter to him who brought it, as long as he got what he needed. That’s how important men are, Kristie. That’s how they’ve always been, and that’s how they’ll always be, no matter how much the world pretends to change.
I handed over the package, and he said, “Oh, this. Okay. I’ve been waiting for this.” He said, “Please wait, if you don’t mind. I might need to respond to this right away.” He looked up, and I thought, oh, the eyes. Now I get it.
He pointed to a chair in the corner of the office, and I sat. I sat for a while, looking around the office. It all looked very quiet and important. I think your father forgot I was there. It felt like a long time went by.
“I’m sorry,” said your father finally. “I didn’t think it would take so long. The least I can do is offer you a drink.”
“Oh, no thank you,” I said. “I’m on the clock.”
But he was already standing and pouring from a carafe I hadn’t even noticed on the far side of his gigantic desk.
“It’s Friday night,” he said. “The clock is off. I hope you like whiskey.”
“Sure,” I said. I had never had whiskey.
He poured two glasses, handed me one, and sat back down at his desk. He sipped his whiskey slowly as he looked through the papers in the envelope.
I sat back into the chair. More minutes went by. The whiskey warmed me up and also made me feel bold. I rose from my chair and took a walk around the office. Law books on the shelves. A tiny sliver clock that told me it was twenty past five. Framed diplomas. A photograph of a woman and a little girl smiling on a beach. The little girl was wearing bright pink sunglasses and the woman was wearing a floppy hat and lipstick. I thought, lipstick at the beach?
Finally, your father let out a big sigh and said, “Okay, here. I’m all finished. I’m sorry, but can you bring these back to your firm?”
He looked at me, and his famous charm was fully apparent in the way he smiled. The eyes, I thought again.
“Of course,” I said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
There was a moment where I could have moved away, or I could have moved closer. One action led in one direction and one led in an entirely different one. I thought about Jason Carpenter saying “Sheila, I just don’t feel a zing.” I moved closer. Ithought, I am twenty years old and I wonder what will happen if I do this.
I kissed him.
I felt a zing.
Immediately, and I mean, immediately, he said, “I’m so sorry.” Even though I had kissed him, he apologized.
I’m proud to say I kept my cool. “Don’t be,” I said.
“I can’t do that,” he said. “I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what got into me. I have a wife and a daughter.” His wife was the woman who wore lipstick at the beach.
“I understand,” I said. It was my first time drinking whiskey. It was my first time kissing a married man. My stomach was on fire. My lips were loose; my head was loose. I made myself wait for thirty seconds. Someone once told me that if you leave a silence of thirty seconds in an awkward conversation the other person will feel compelled to fill it in. It’s human nature, not to let silence go on too long.
Twenty-nine seconds went by.
At the thirty-second mark he said, “Let me take your number, Sheila. Just in case.”
I didn’t ask in case of what.
