Reason... Pt.3: Prelude to A January Heart

“And so you dumped her. Just like that.”

I sighed. Shook my head. We were still at the restaurant. Plates had been cleared, the table wiped down and more beverages purchased. My mother had insisted that we were not going anywhere until I had finished my story.

“No Mom. Not 'just like that'.”

“Then how? Did you like take her out to dinner, buy her a bouquet of flowers, got a Mexican string quartet to play her favorite song and then drop the bomb on her?”

“No Mom.”

“Wait, you didn't do it in a text message did you? Because I swear Ben if you did-”

“No Mom!”

“Then how?”

“Well if you let me, I just might get around to telling you.”

That managed to shut her up.

My mother sat back in her chair.

“OK then,” she said gesturing with her hand, “you may proceed.”

“Thank you, gosh.” I took a sip from my replenished bottle of soda. A Krest bitter lemon this time though. Fantas were only for mealtimes and children below thirteen.

“Anyway, so after work that day I gave her a call and asked if I could drop in, there was something I needed to talk to her about...”

***

I could practically hear her breath catch in her throat. Even over the phone. It was a moment before she said anything.

“People only say that when it's something bad Ben. It's not something bad is it?”

Pause.

“What time do you think you'll be home?”

“Why don't we meet somewhere for a drink? SOHO maybe, it's nearby work. Or if not that then maybe Bike Mike's. Or-”

“Let's just meet at your place, OK?.”

Pause.

“OK then. I'll be home around 7.”

“Cool. Then I'll see you then?”

“Sure...I love you Ben.”

Beat...beat...beat...

“I'll see you later.”

Call Duration: 00:1:38

***

She asked me whether I wanted any juice. Was I hungry? There was some Uganda Waragi if I wanted any.

I said no to being hungry but said that a drink would be nice. Some juice with some Uganda wa maybe?

She nodded.

“Coming right up.” She said doing a little curtsy and disappearing into the kitchen.
I made myself at home. I had always liked her place. The African art, bright colors, potted plants and eccentric post modern paper weights and vases gave it a traditional cum western fusion that was shocking as at the same time attractive. I especially loved the black leather chairs arranged in the shape of a horse shoe. I had always wanted a set for myself but had never really gotten around to it. We had talked about how when we moved into together we would toss my old ratty ones and stay with hers. Sitting down I ran my hand along the grain on the leather. I was going to miss this place. Hmmph. But what about her? Were you going to miss her?

Before I could consider the question Sharon walked back into the room with a tray. On which sat two tall glasses of what looked to be passion fruit juice and a plate with biscuits. She placed the tray on a nearby side table and handed me my glass.

“Thanx.” I said taking it.

She took one for herself and sat next to me. Not right next to me but nearby.

“So,” she started after taking a sip from her glass, “What is this thing that you wanted to talk to me about?”

I took a sip from mine. Almost blanched.

“Wow, you were really generous with how much you poured into this thing, weren't you?”

“You seem tense. I thought maybe you needed some loosening up. Was I wrong?”

I took another sip.

“No, no...I just didn't expect it to be that strong, that's all. How was your day?”

“What are you doing here Ben? You're doing that thing where you're skirting the issue. How about we just right to it, huh. Might make things easier for both of us.”

I took another sip. Then another. Then a gulp. I was really hoping that it would work fast. I was nervous as shit.

I could feel Sharon's eyes on me. She was watching me. I'm sure she could tell how nervous I was feeling. Well of course she did, she had spiked my drink pretty strong. Had said so herself that she thought I looked like I needed it...

“You need a second?”

“No, I'm good.”

I set down my glass. I was appalled to see that I had just about drained the whole thing, save for a few drops.

“More?”

I shook my head.

“We wouldn't want me getting piss poor drunk would we now?”

Sharon shrugged.

“It might help.”

I though about it for a moment and then,

“No. it wouldn't be a good idea. Anyway, I guess I should just get down to why I'm here.”

“Yeah, you should.”

I took a deep breath.
“OK. The truth is, I don't think we're going to work out.”

I think Sharon had probably expected but it still must have come as a shock to her. She looked like she had been slapped in the face.

She said nothing for a moment. Took a sip of her drink. Then another. Then a gulp. Once the glass was empty she set it down next to its husband and then looking at me asked me,

“Why?”