Mountains Wanted (4 page)

James walked her to her
car another hour past when she said she needed to go. Then there were twenty
more minutes that slipped away as she leaned against it and they continued to
talk, suppressing moderate concern her backside was getting filthy.  Then
there were the last few minutes when he leaned in so close that she could feel
his breath on her cheek, told her he hoped to see her again, and kissed
her...light as a feather, his lips barely brushing hers.  

When he walked away, the
sun was starting to sink behind him.

***

   
       
Sunday
evening Sarah was scrambling to finish up her grading. The extended coffee date
coupled with the half bottle of wine she consumed Saturday night plus the movie
outing she’d taken Abby and Owen on that afternoon had really cut into her work
time. She sat in her armchair with the pile of papers on the end table, her
red pen getting a workout. She was listening to the music and sounds of the
video game her kids were playing and found her mind wandering again and again
to nowhere in particular. She finally decided to call Rachel and get the scoop
on the house party.

Rachel sounded even more
tired than Sarah felt. “We didn’t get back until noon today, and I haven’t
really been to sleep yet except an hour or so in the car. I’m so glad Mark
drove!”

“See, it worked out
better without me going, cause you know I would have wanted you to drive if I’d
consumed a drop of alcohol in the preceding 8 hours,” Sarah joked. “But
the real question remains: did you get laid?”

Rachel deadpanned, “Seriously?
It’s me...of course I did.”

Sarah was shaking her
head at her friend’s predictability and waiting, more or less patiently, for
details. “Oh, don’t make me beg! Spill it, woman!”

“There was this couple,
mid 40’s, very fit and hot,” she started, as if the details were about to
explode under pressure. “We were in the hot tub and I noticed Mark had moved
really close to her. Then her husband started inching toward me...and well, we
started there and then ended up taking things inside to one of the bedrooms. He
was pierced!”

Sarah smiled, glowing in
her friend’s happiness. “Nice!” she exclaimed as Rachel began to share all
of the juiciest nuggets from the encounter. Some might have accused her of
over-sharing, but this was Classic Rachel, and Sarah loved her for it.  

“So....” Rachel finally
wrapped up her story, “How was your date?”

Sarah considered what
details she wanted to share, not being quite as forthcoming as her best friend.
Especially when meeting new people, she didn’t particularly like to share
details until she knew things were going somewhere. She always wondered if that
was a fear of rejection thing. If it didn’t work out, she’d have to admit
to herself and her friend that he wasn’t interested, or whatever the issue was. “Well,”
she began, knowing she wasn’t going to get away with silence on the matter,
“his name is James and he’s 29.  He’s an ROTC instructor at the
university. He seems really bright. And good looking.” Obviously Rachel
would hone in on the latter.

“Young. Hot. Military,”
Rachel summarized. “I like where this is going. So did you fuck him or what?” She
always cut right to the chase.

Sarah laughed,
“Seriously, Rachel, you know me better than that. It was just coffee. Nothing
more. Although I’m considering asking him to dinner next weekend,” she admitted,
a vision of James’ intense blue eyes popping into her mind.  

“Go for it,” Rachel
encouraged. “I probably want you to fuck him as much as you want to!”
 She laughed so hard at her comment that the chuckle morphed into a minor
coughing fit.

“Haha, I bet you do,”
Sarah replied once her friend settled down. “Yikes, hope you’re not catching a
cold, honey.” She paused for a moment, then, “Alright, listen, I have to get
back to grading. We’ll have lunch on Tuesday, okay?”

“Sure thing, Babydoll!”

***

   
       
Sarah
could compose a treatise on patience, or lack thereof. She was thinking about
how a few years ago if two days passed after a date and she didn’t hear
anything, she would have given up hope and written him off. Now, she was
calmer, more rational, and realized that it was really okay a) if she didn’t
hear from the individual at all and b) if she initiated that contact herself.

She reflected about how
much she had grown and matured throughout the past few years as she strolled
across campus, her sandaled feet getting wet in the morning dew. She loved this
time of day, just prior to 8 AM classes, gazing across the quad at the earliest
risers whose coffee infused arteries were just beginning to circulate enough
energy to stir their weary souls from slumber. It was September, too early for
her to witness a cool mist rising from the warm ground, but Sarah imagined what
the scene would look like in two more months when fall began to creep into
central Maryland.

She suddenly felt a pang
of homesickness for Colorado and the constant backdrop of The Rockies
sheltering her from the rest of the flat earth. Those mountains had seemed like
stalwart fortresses when she was younger, but now she saw them as obstacles she
had conquered. They had never held her back from pursuing her dreams. Having
climbed both literal and figurative mountains, now she felt like she could
return, unencumbered, and embrace their protection. They were gates now, not
fences.  

She sighed thinking of
how it had been nearly two years now since her eyes stared up, awestruck at
their snowy peaks, since she watched the purple mist gather in their valleys,
since she hiked up a rocky canyon, since she picnicked on the edge of a cliff. She
never thought she’d be away from the mountains so long.
My soul is aching
for home
, she finally admitted to herself.
She pondered whether or not a trip was in order...maybe
over the holidays.
 Is Owen old enough to ski?
she considered
thoughtfully as she made her way up the steps to her building.  

Am I being ungrateful?
she wondered.  
After all, my home is
now here, in Maryland, with my beautiful children and devoted mother
. She
learned to appreciate things about this place, perks she’d never even realized
were part of the package: proximity to the beach and major cities such as
Washington DC, Philadelphia and even New York City. Everything was close by on
the East coast. The weather was milder than in the mountains. She also had
learned to love crab cakes, apparently a prerequisite for living here.  

She considered the painful
memories she left in Colorado and even in New Mexico where she’d spent her
first post-doc year. There were things she left unprocessed, that she packed
away, all boxed up where she couldn’t access the memories. She had come
here to the East coast for a fresh start. 
And that’s what I’ve gotten,
right?
she asked herself. Still, she wanted to be able to look up at those
mountains and not feel a pang of regret or a sigh of discontent.
Those rocks
are my roots, my genesis
. She didn’t want to have her Motherland tainted by
the bad memories she associated with her last few years
there.   

And then another proverb
echoed in her mind:
you can never go home.

Sarah’s mental
meandering was interrupted by a knock at the door. She saw the sweet young
face of Emma Knightley, one of her favorite students and her most trustworthy
research assistant, appear. “Hey, Dr. Lynde,” she said brightly, “Can I
talk to you a second?”

“Of course, Emma,
please, come in!”  Sarah greeted her warmly.

“It’s about my senior
seminar research project,” Emma began, helping herself to a seat and tossing
her bag on the floor next to Sarah’s desk. Sarah wasn’t used to students being
so relaxed in her office, but Emma had spent a lot of time in that chair and
really considered Sarah to be her mentor. Sarah couldn’t help but remember her
undergrad days hanging out and hanging on every word of her mentor Dr. Sharp. It
seemed fitting that she could now pay it forward with her own little protégé.
 

“Did you settle on a
topic?” Sarah questioned.

“Well, actually yes. At
least I think so,” Emma smiled. “I wanted to write something about the
recent explosion of bisexuality. It’s all the rage now, girls in clubs showing
off, walking around campus holding hands, making out in front of drooling guys. Like,
what is the deal with that?”

“Interesting
observation,” Sarah remarked, although she was well aware of the phenomenon. She
was always very careful of keeping her private life and more non-traditional
beliefs under wraps. She would bet money that Emma would be shocked to know
that her mentor, her beloved Dr. Lynde, identified as bisexual. “What else do
you know about this trend?”

“Not much, really,”
confessed Emma. “But I want to do some research, obviously. Get started
on my literature review. I was thinking of making an appointment with the
reference librarian we met with last year for our research methods class.”

“Wonderful idea,” Sarah
encouraged her. “I think it sounds like a great topic, particularly if you can
come up with some sort of observational tool or survey. Don’t forget that
you’ll need enough time to get your methodology approved by the IRB, okay?”

Emma nodded. “I was
thinking of gathering up some articles this weekend and coming back next week
to show you what I found.”

It was hard not to beam with
pride about a student this motivated and invested in her learning. “Perfect!
 See you soon then!” And she knew Emma would follow through. Sarah could
tell the students who were going to follow through from the ones who would drop
the ball. She could always tell.

After Emma left, Sarah
glanced down wistfully at her phone. It was as silent as death.  
Fuck
it,
she finally said. She thought about James walking into his
classroom of ROTC students across campus, setting up for his lecture. She would
have given almost anything to be a fly on that wall to see how he delivered his
lecture and interacted with his students. She sent a simple text, hoping
to create a spark of communication:
It was nice seeing you on Saturday. Hope
you have a good week :)

***

   
       
James’s
answer came much later that afternoon, around 4 PM.  
I had a good time.
 Worked the rest of the weekend.  This week is already sucking.

Sarah’s patience lost
out to her impulse to text right back:
Oh, why is that?

His response was
immediate:
Picked up some new duties. Victim of my own success.

Feeling bold, she went
for broke: 
I see. Well, you could come hang out with me on Friday
night.

His reply:
Sounds
like a plan. Did you have a place in mind?

Sure. My house.

Sarah’s mind was racing,
and that paled in comparison to what her heart was doing.
Friday night
,
she thought,
it’s only four days away...

***

   
       
Dinner
was pleasant but Sarah was distracted. She hadn’t been able to think of much
else all week long. She had fallen behind in grading and also some committee
work she needed to get done. She had also delayed confronting Abby about some
disturbing things she’d found in her room while putting laundry away. But since
she needed to shuffle the kids off to her mother’s house with as little drama
and disruption as possible, a discussion would have to wait.
  

In addition to being
distracted, she’d also felt restless all week. Maybe it was just her hormones
surging as her body inched closer and closer to ovulation. 
Being a
woman is such a challenge,
Sarah recalled telling Rachel during their
Tuesday afternoon lunch.
Damn Eve for ruining it for all of womankind!
Stupid
bitch!
 Rachel had commiserated. They had both laughed, even harder
because they were pretty sure the waiter had overheard them.  

Then Rachel had
encouraged her to be forward with James, to very directly tell him what she
wanted. “Women suck at asking for what they need,” Rachel observed. Sarah
aspired to be the type of woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to
go for it. She’d already been plotting how to approach James regarding her
views on relationships.

Now that he was across
from her and there was candlelight and soft music filling the room, she was
almost ready to chicken out. She poured herself another glass of wine as she tried
to gauge James’ interest in her. His sexual interest.
I invited him for
dinner
, Sarah considered.
What if he has no clue what he’s getting
himself into? What if he has no idea what this is about?  Of course, there
was the kiss at the coffee shop...
Words picked a fine time to desert her.
How
do we get from the table to the bedroom? Yes, that is the major obstacle.
She’d
have to figure out some way to lure him in there. She wished her Auto Pilot
would kick in; not only was it failing her, but the little voice she sometimes
heard that sounded an awful lot like Rachel also seemed to be missing in
action. 
I guess I’m on my own,
she conceded as she pushed her chair
back from the table and started to clear some of the dishes.  

James was feeling
relaxed after his second glass of wine. He was a little confused about the
purpose of this visit and what Sarah’s intentions were, but who was he to
question an invitation to a smart and beautiful woman’s house? He figured he
would just go with it. So when she stood up from the table to clear the
dishes, he followed suit. As he set the wine glasses down on the counter he
realized he was close enough to smell her perfume. He could feel her emanating
a radiant heat and wondering what was under that lace-edged camisole and
cardigan was starting to affect him in other places.