Her Last Love Affair (2 page)

Allie was no longer looking at her doctor. Instead, she was
looking through him. Her eyes landed on the window, the thousands of people
that were going about their daily business. She couldn’t help but wonder what
was on their minds. What stupid, unimportant things were they worrying about?
Moreover, what inconsequential things had she spent the last fifteen years
worrying about? How much time had been wasted? How many opportunities squandered?

Dr. Reynolds was still talking, explaining her options and
the success rates of chemotherapy. But Allie didn’t hear him, as she rose
slowly to her feet. “Thank you for your time,” she mumbled, tossing the strap
of her leather briefcase over her shoulder.

“I really think we need to discuss this further,” Reynolds
replied, placing his hands on the desk and pushing himself upright. However, he
knew that his young patient was no longer listening. “It doesn’t have to be
right now,” he quickly added, hoping to draw her attention back to him. “But if
we start chemo as soon as possible, there’s a chance-”

Allie had already reached the door when those words found
her ears. Her fingers firmly gripping the handle, she twisted her head over her
shoulder. “An aggressive course?” she asked, repeating his words from a few
minutes earlier. “Which means it’s going to make me sick, very sick. I’ll have
to spend days, maybe even weeks or months in the hospital and then what?” she
demanded.

Reynolds made no effort to reply, he knew it was a
rhetorical question. He simply offered a sympathetic shake of his head.

“I don’t want to die like that,” she insisted. “If this is
it, then I’m going to make the most of it while I’m still able to.” Her
unwavering statement ended with a smile. “I’m not wasting any more time,” she
told him, yanking the door open and striding through the waiting area with her
head held high.

Breaking Out

T
hree soft taps reverberated from the door and
filled the small living room, causing Allie to wrench herself from her
comfortable corner of the couch. Tossing the book she’d been reading onto the
glass coffee table in front of her, she padded barefoot across the hardwood
floor. With a quick glance at her watch, she reached the door and gently pulled
it open.

“Hey!” The greeting was joined by a swirl of action, as a
blonde-haired woman breezed across the threshold. “I know you said two,” she
quickly added, barely pausing for breath, as she pulled at the tight-fitting
skirt that was riding up her thighs. “I got caught at this stupid meeting, you
know how it is.” It was barely an apology, but it was as close as the woman
ever came to offering one.

“It’s okay,” Allie responded, eyes wide as she found herself
once again amazed by the mass of energy that was squeezed into an incredible
hour-glass figure. She had been friends with Rosalinda Evans for almost five
years. And, in all of that time, she’d been at a loss to quite explain why. On
the surface of it, the women had nothing in common. They were in the same
business, sort of, but writing for a fashion magazine was hardly Allie’s idea
of serious journalism. Rosalinda was also a party girl, more concerned with
having a good time than with where her life was heading. If she wanted to get
ahead in her career, she did it by flirting with her male features editor, not
by putting in any additional work. In short, she was the polar opposite of
Allie. And, if Allie were honest with herself, perhaps that’s why she was so
drawn to the wild child. Rosalinda did all of the things Allie couldn’t or
wouldn’t let herself do. So she was able to live vicariously through her best
friend.

Closing the door, while she mulled over the truth of that
thought, Allie spoke again, “I just wanted to ask your advice about something.”

“Ooh,” Rosalinda exaggeratedly cooed. “You, asking for my
advice?” she chuckled. “You’re the grown up one, Allie, remember?”

“I know,” Allie agreed with a nod, as she gestured towards
the couch. “That’s why I need your advice.”

Not needing to be asked twice, Rosalinda followed the silent
invitation to sit. Although, with her thigh hugging skirt, she could not lounge
back in the seat and had to remain perched precariously on the edge. “So,” she
sighed, flicking her overly long bangs from her eyes. “What can I do for you?”

Settling beside Rosalinda, Allie tucked one leg beneath her
butt and sank back against the couch’s plush cushions. “This might sound kinda
strange,” she confessed, with a self-deprecating smile. “I mean…” she added,
but didn’t seem able to proceed from there. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking
over the past two days,” she said, slightly more confident with the change of
tack. “And I’ve decided that I want something different from life.”

“Okay,” Rosalinda slowly offered, elongating the ‘o’.
“You’re going to join a commune?” she asked.

“No,” Allie responded, laughing at the absurdity of the
notion.

“Good, because I wouldn’t have been able to help you with
that.”

Dipping her face, Allie searched the floor, her gaze
focusing on the strange patterns made by the knots in the wood. “Listen,” she
sighed, wringing her hands awkwardly, before tiring of her their movement and
thrusting them between her knees. “I was just wondering if you would share your
secret.”

“Secret?” Rosalinda’s eyes shifted unconsciously from left
to right, as she tried to decrypt her friend’s request.

 “Yeah,” came the quick response. “How do you attract so
many guys?”

Rosalinda let forth a scoff that caused her to snort in a
very unladylike manner. “Allie, plenty of men are interested in you. You’re not
interested in them, that’s the problem.”

Allie blinked, as she shook her head. “No, you don’t
understand. What I mean is how do you go about having a…” she hovered over the
word, trying to find the right way to complete the sentence. “…casual thing.”

A slow grin quirked Rosalinda’s glossy pink lips, until she
was beaming broadly. “You want to have a fling?” she asked, the smile so
evident in her voice that Allie didn’t need to see her face.

“Maybe,” Allie shrugged defensively, unsure why her friend’s
gentle teasing had prompted that reaction in her.

“Allie, you’re not really the one night stand type.”

“What if I’ve changed?” Allie responded, her face still a
picture of solemnity.

Rosalinda’s brow began to crease thoughtfully, as the large
grin faded from her features. “What’s all this about?” she asked, making a move
to lean back into the couch, but stopping herself, when her skirt gripped her
more tightly.

“People change,” Allie replied, her eyes drifting to her own
legs and the blue jeans that covered them.

“I know,” the blonde woman nodded. “But not you,” she added,
offering another flash of her teasing smile.

This time she was rewarded with a reluctant mirroring of the
gesture. “I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking,” Allie confessed. “About what
I’ve been doing with my life. I’ve always been so focused. First on my
education, then getting my dream job, then working my butt off to be the very
best.”

“You are the best,” Rosalinda told her matter-of-factly,
with no hint of humor or insincerity.

“But I’ve missed out on so much,” Allie responded, with a
frustrated sigh. “I never really got to let my hair down.”

“And now you want to?” her friend supplied, filling in the
blanks.

“Yeah,” Allie nodded.

“Why now?”

“Why not now?” she countered. “I mean, there may not be a
tomorrow, right?”

Chuckling lightly, Rosalinda couldn’t argue that piece of
perfect logic, even if it sounded as though a very different woman was sitting
by her side. “I’m still not sure you’re the love ’em and leave ’em kind though.
I mean, do you really want to start hooking up with strangers?”

Allie bit her lower lip, while she considered the question.
“No, I suppose not,” she agreed. “But maybe I don’t have to,” she quickly
added, straightening herself in the seat and meeting Rosalinda’s eye for the
first time since the pair had sat down. “Maybe all those lost opportunities
aren’t lost for good,” she suggested, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

Giving another tug on the hem of her skirt, Rosalinda peered
suspiciously at the friend who, until that afternoon, she would have sworn she
knew better than anybody else. “What are you thinking?”

***

She’d been sitting for what felt like hours, watching the
black cursor flash in the top left corner of the bright white, very empty box.
The normal buzz of activity surrounded her. She could hear Kyle talking loudly
on the phone, through the door he’d left ajar. A photocopier whirred in the
corner of the bullpen, a low drone of voices assaulted her ears from all angles
and there was the constant rhythmic tap of computer keyboards. She, however,
could write nothing.

Allie had abandoned her assignment long before, knowing she
had the better part of a week to complete it and that the simple task would, in
reality, take her no longer than a few hours. It was not a sparse word document
that filled her screen. Instead, she was looking at a naked email.

‘How does someone go about asking a man they haven’t seen
for over five years, whether he wants to meet up for casual sex?’ Allie
silently asked herself, blinking at the screen.

“Hey, Al,” an excited voice interrupted her musing. Grant’s
desk was just a few feet away and rather than get up, he used his sneakered
toes to propel the small wheels of his chair towards her. In his hands he held
a manila file and on his face he wore an excited grin. “I think we can still
get him. Look at this,” he offered, using one final thrust of his legs to reach
Allie’s desk and flinging the document towards her.

She hummed disinterestedly, as she accepted the file.
“What’s this?”

“It proves that a large amount of money went missing from
Pelzer’s charity,” he enthused.

“How did you get hold of this?” she asked, her head snapping
up.

“Perhaps best you don’t know,” he muttered, leaning
conspiratorially closer and still bearing his broad grin.

“Grant,” she said, as though chastising a child. “You know
we can’t use this.” She picked up the file, careful to keep it closed and
handed it back to the man by her side.

“But,” he protested.

“Do you have any idea what could happen to you, me and the
paper?” she interrupted.

“You wouldn’t have said that last week,” he muttered,
remembering how doggedly she had been willing to pursue the case and how little
regard she’d had for what was ethical or legal.

“It’s not worth the risk,” she told him flatly.

“So, you think we can get him some other way?” the young
gofer asked optimistically.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, turning back to the glare of
the screen.

“I don’t get it,” Grant huffed. “What’s changed? I thought
you wanted to nail this guy.”

“I did,” she tossed off-handedly. “I do,” she added,
realizing she’d spoken in the past tense. “Look, I was too single-minded,
there’s more to life than airing Pelzer’s dirty laundry.” She glanced at Grant
over her shoulder, and was met by a look of incredulity, as though he half
expected her to reveal that the statement had been an instance of her dry humor.

“Are you feeling okay?” he eventually asked, leaning back in
his chair and regarding her carefully.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m moving on,” she added
breezily. “If Kyle is killing the story, then we’ve just got to accept that.”

Grant prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, still
unsure whether to take her seriously or not. “So, that’s it?” he asked, folding
his arms across his chest.

“Grant,” she sighed. “Life is too short to be chasing lost
causes.”

“All right,” he quipped. “Who are you and what have you done
with Allie Mclaren?”

“Ha ha,” she sarcastically responded. Focusing on her
computer screen, she lifted her hands to the keyboard. “I’ve just got other
things on my mind right now,” she told him, as her fingers unconsciously began
to move across the keys. “Time waits for no man,” she added, as the speed of
her typing increased. “Or woman,” she added quietly.

“Okay,” Grant sighed sulkily, pushing himself up from his
chair and gripping the back. “When you come back to your senses and change your
mind, you’ll let me know, though?” he suggested turning his back to her as he
dolefully wheeled his chair back to his desk. 

“Sure,” Allie called in response, not even aware of what
he’d said. She was much too absorbed in the letter that was taking shape before
her eyes. Her brain wasn’t consciously dictating the words that appeared on the
screen, her fingers moved fluidly, almost independently of her. In a little
under a minute, she had found the right way of phrasing her invitation.

Leaning back, she scooped her hair off her shoulders and
pressed it in a loose ponytail at the back of her head. She scanned through the
email just once, hesitated momentarily, before muttering, “What the hell?” As
the words were murmured under her breath, she lunged forwards, grasped the
computer’s mouse and clicked ‘send’.

***

It was three days later when Allie found herself pacing the
stretch of thick cream carpet by the foot of her bed. She wore a large bath
towel around her body and a smaller one wrapped around her damp hair. Her iPhone
was gripped tightly in her right hand, while her eyes flicked nervously between
the floor and the black cocktail dress laid out on the bed.

“I just don’t know how to play it,” she spoke into the
phone. “I mean, should I just be upfront about what I want?”

“What do you want?” Rosalinda replied, as she crunched on an
apple.

“We’ve already been over that one,” Allie sighed, ceasing
the nervous movement of her feet.