Almost Mine (2 page)

Travis snorted in reply. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.” He closed the door and traipsed across dingy carpet to flop down on the bed. A bed, a hotplate, and mini-fridge. I’d seen bigger hotel rooms. He flipped on the light to drive back the gloom in the windowless apartment. I braced for scuttling insects darting across the floor. Illumination didn’t help the appearance of the apartment, or the man, one bit. Damn, there was no other word for it—he looked bad. When we’d first met, my heart had skipped a beat every time I laid eyes on him. Now, he appeared much older than his forty-seven years.

“Is there anything you need to tell me about…” I waved my hand to indicate his body, “…your current condition?” Please, God, no.
We aren’t together anymore, he’d deserted me, but please don’t let this meeting be our final goodbye.

For a split second, fire appeared in his eyes, and I braced for a good scolding. In the end he released a sigh. “Would you listen if I did?” He muttered the words so softly I barely caught them. Louder, he replied, “No.”

I didn’t believe him. How many times in the past had he told me “It’s nothing” when he wasn’t feeling well? He’d always kept illnesses to himself. The lawyer in me demanded more evidence.

Travis patted the bedspread. Sitting next to him on a bed wasn’t a good idea. Memories flooded back, the two of us, racing to the bedroom at the end of the day, clothes strewn down the hall, barely getting the door closed before attacking each other. I shook my head and remained standing.

“Suit yourself.” A forced smile erased a few years from his face. “Remember when we met at Pride?”

How could I forget? Against better judgment, I’d allowed a friend to rope me into attending the festivities. At our third club in as many hours, I’d glanced up and fell into the same green eyes staring at me now. For the next few months, Travis had been the center of my world.

I loved the law—I was good at it, and it rewarded me. With my handsome income I could lavish my darling with all kinds of good things. We’d had so much for just us two—we could take care of someone else. We’d moved in together a year after meeting, and adopted Bob a year after that.

“And the first time we saw Bob, how he hid behind that social worker?”

When I’d first met my son he’d been a tiny boy with the biggest blue eyes I’d ever seen—eyes that had seen way more than a five-year-old should have to. He’d cried a lot at first, and many a night I’d woken to an empty bed, only to find my son and my husband nestled together, asleep on the couch, tears staining Bob’s face. With Travis’s love and guidance, Bob had blossomed, overcome the horrors of his early years, and would soon start a residency.

Our son came into our lives, and the clubs, concerts, and theater faded away We quit marching in feathers and sequins—Pride became something to celebrate at home, with each other and our little boy, blowing soap bubbles for his puppy to catch.

Darker times now overshadowed any pleasant memories. “What do you want?” I reached for my billfold. “Is it money?”

“No.” The smile fled Travis face. “You do know what today is, right?”

Why was everyone so determined to remind me of the date? Both of us in white suits, Bob standing with us to watch his fathers marry. It wasn’t the kind of thing easily forgotten. “It’s our anniversary.” One of them, at any rate.

“You never divorced me.” A statement, not a question.

“I didn’t want to upset Bobby…umm…Bob.”

A touch of challenge appeared in the stiff set of Travis’s shoulders and chin. A faint echo of the fire he’d once possessed. “Is that the only reason?” His voice held none of his onstage confidence.

“Yes.”
Lying awake, tears streaming down my face, turning to hug a vacant pillow
. The man who’d abandoned me didn’t need to know the truth.

He wafted out a weary-sounding breath that must have started at his toes. “I know I have no right to ask this, but I want one more night with you.”

“You want what?” What the fuck? Why did he sound so fatalistic, like one of his stage roles delivering bad news? He’d no right to me or my bed anymore. Who else’s bed had he shared? Did he want sex?

“You heard me. I want one more night, like it used to be.”

Like it used to be. The two of us, unable to keep our hands off each other. The sheer ecstasy on his face when he came. The way he’d worshipped me in bed.

Travis picked at lint on the bedspread, eyes following the path of his fingers. It’d take a lot of picking to clean the frayed fabric. Voice scarcely above a whisper, he added, “I want to go out to dinner, see where the evening takes us. Then I’d like you to spend the night.”

None of the eloquent speeches I’d prepared on the way over covered this particular turn of events. “Travis, I…”

“Oh.” Travis glanced up, a world of hurt in his eyes. “You’ve found someone else.” His breath gusted out in a whoosh, fluttering the edges of his too-long hair. “I guess I deserved that.”

No reason to tell this man that every time I’d tried to see someone new that the ghost of my husband went with us on dates. I never went out twice with the same person, and sometimes cut even the first date short.

“You’re wearing your ring!” Was there hope in Travis’s eyes?

Oh, that. “It’s for business. Clients put more faith in a married man, for some reason.” I shoved my hand, and the telltale ring, into my pocket.

Travis remained quiet for some time. No shiny gold band encircled his ring finger. Given his current state of living, he might have pawned the symbol that no longer held any meaning for him.

I studied the man, the defeated air. Damn, how I’d once loved him. My heart constricted. I loved him still. Was one night too much to ask? “Do you have proper clothes for Winston’s?”

Travis’s face lit up. Gradually the light faded. He’d so loved dinner at Winston’s. Only, a coat and tie were required. “Um…no. Look, there’s a pizza place around the corner we could go to. I doubt you’d run into anyone you know and have to explain me. Maybe it’s better.” Forget other people;
I
need him to explain himself to
me
.

A million questions hovered on my tongue, poised for flight. What good would answers do? He’s there, I’m here, and we’d never meet again for longer than a few hours—if that. In the end I said,
“Go take a shower—we’re going to Winston’s.” At home a dozen lovely suits hung in his side of our walk-in closet. I doubted they’d fit him now.

I pulled out my phone and made a few calls until the water stopped running in the bathroom.

***

“Frank’s Haberdashery? Are you sure?” Travis peered out of the car window. We’d both been here often enough in the past.

“No, I’m not sure, but yet here we are. We don’t have time for custom tailoring, but Frank thinks he might have something workable on the rack.” I pulled the car behind the building and escorted Travis in through the employee’s entrance.

“Good evening, Ian.” Frank did a double-take. “Travis? Oh my God, man! How are you?” The aging tailor grabbed Travis in a bone-crushing hug, and judging by how delicate Travis’s bones appeared, I feared the worst.

“Fine, fine!” Travis wrestled free of the embrace. “You’re looking good, Frank. How’s the missus?”

Frank’s smile fell. “Anna passed away last year.”

The color drained from Travis’s cheeks. The pain in his eyes would follow me into my dreams this night. He barely choked out, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. How could you? Come this way please.” A decided chill filled the air. Frank’s wife and Travis had been friends. Frank’s eyes met mine in passing. Instead of pain, his held accusation.

Holy shit! Travis hadn’t known? His absence at her funeral had caused a stir. How stupid of me to have forgotten. He’d been too wrapped up in his own world to acknowledge someone else’s ending, I’d told myself then, clutching at straws for reasons to hate him. And all this time, he hadn’t been told. I should have found him, no matter where he was at the time, made sure he’d heard the news, taken him to the graveside service. I shouldn’t have assumed Travis read the papers, or continued contact with his old friends after leaving.

I stood by, watching Frank dress my former love. Damn, but Travis had lost weight. He’d once taken pride in his body, working out, eating right. Now his ribs showed.
He’s not yours anymore. He walked away.
“Ran” better described his leaving. And yet, his father had died young from cancer. Surely he wouldn’t hide a malignancy from me and Bob. Would he?

In no time at all Travis appeared more his old self, dressed in a nice new suit, and based on Frank’s heartfelt hug, he’d been forgiven too.

Though he was pitifully thin, the richness of the suit gave Travis an exotic appearance. Lines drew the path of his life on his handsome face. I’d known most of the twists and turns that marked him, until—well. What had happened in the last two years to trace itself at his temples?

My eyes stung. The reeking carpet at his apartment must’ve been playing hell with my allergies. I stared down at the ring on the third finger of my left hand. Tonight I’d do what Travis asked; tomorrow I’d remove the jeering reminder of what we no longer had. First thing Monday, I’d file for divorce. I’d put off the inevitable long enough. He wasn’t mine anymore.

The moment we returned to the car Travis hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me about Anna?

“I thought you knew.” What else didn’t he know? What else didn’t I know?

Air rushed out of him. “Never mind. It’s not like we were talking at the time, but at least you should have warned me before I came face to face with the grieving widower.”

I’d never been accused of being overly sensitive. Still, I’d plunged to an all-time low. “I’m really sorry about not telling you we were going to Frank’s. You needed a suit; he’s the first person who came to mind. I’m also sorry about Anna.”

“I made peace with Frank.” Travis continued staring out the window. “I’ll say my goodbyes to Anna later. He told me where she’s buried.”

I couldn’t go back in time and do the right thing now. “I’m still sorry.” In the near future I’d apologize to Frank, too.

“Don’t be. Regrets are a waste of time and accomplish nothing.” Spoken like a man with lots of experience.

Glancing at Travis as we drove across town, on what we’d once have considered a date, I couldn’t help remembering all the great times we’d spent together. In the old days we’d dine, dance, then go home and make love until dawn. Home. My home. Not Travis’s. And I wouldn’t take Travis there tonight. I couldn’t. We’d stay at his apartment—if I couldn’t wriggle my way out of staying the night. What purpose could a night together possibly serve?

He seemed to have done his best to style his hair, and if we’d had more time, I’d have taken him for a trim. What could I say? He was out with me, he should be presentable. But Winston’s granted us a table on short notice on good graces. We’d best show up on time.

A few raised eyebrows greeted us, from staff who’d known Travis as my husband but were too discreet to ask why he no longer joined Bob and me for dinner. The maître d escorted us to an out of the way table. Fine linen, candlelight, and sumptuous aromas all combined to take me back in time, to a birthday, an anniversary, or just a night out. Our anniversary. Spent at the place that had borne witness to many important events in our shared past.

Travis stared at a passing waiter’s laden tray. The yearning on his face nearly broke my heart. How long had it been since he’d eaten a good meal?

Ice formed around my heart, driving back charitable thoughts. He could have these things still. Did he hate me so badly that living in deplorable conditions seemed preferable? Yet, even if he didn’t want me, a competent lawyer could have secured him a good portion of the assets we’d built up in our time together—enough cash to make his life very easy. At one time I’d known the man as well as my right hand. Now, though, I had no idea what made him tick. No need to know now, if I’d soon legally wipe him out of my life.

The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face and gleamed off strands of white in his hair that I’d never noticed before—not that my own hair wasn’t more salt than pepper these days. On my next birthday I’d turn fifty. Up until two years ago I’d believed Travis would help me celebrate.

He fiddled with the napkin lying on the table, staring as if he believed the linen square held the secrets to the universe. “I want to thank you for doing this,” he said, eyes not meeting my own. “You don’t owe me anything, after all.”

Don’t owe me anything.
This man had raised my son, kept our home fires burning even when I’d worked late into the night, whipped up dinner for unexpected guests with nary a complaint, and always, always, welcomed me home with a kiss.

“Can I get the lobster bisque?” Travis appeared so lost, like a small child honestly expecting to be denied. Even now, in the role of jilted husband, I could never deny him anything.

I made up my mind then and there. Whatever stood behind us didn’t exist tonight. In that moment, I was with my husband, and I’d make the most of our evening. Tomorrow? Tomorrow I’d do what I had to.

The first genuine smile of the evening crossed my face. “You can have whatever you like—” I bit off the endearment I would have added two years ago. “I’ll have the bisque too,” I told our server. “Braised trout?” I asked my husband. The trout had always been his favorite. At his nod, I added “We’ll both have the braised trout” to our order.

Over bisque, Travis asked, “Remember when Bob was in eighth grade and wanted to play the trumpet?”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Yes. And he scared poor Mrs. Henderson next door.” After that we’d warned our neighbors: aspiring jazz musician on the loose. The trumpet now gathered dust in the hall closet, along with baseball bats, tennis rackets, and a brown belt in karate.

Travis had taken his turn as our guide down Memory Lane, I offered up a memory of my own. “Or when we’d just parked the car at graduation and he realized he’d forgotten his mortarboard.” What a mad dash that had been, Travis taking control, leaving me and Bob at the school while he braved cross-town traffic.