The clouds that had threatened rain an hour earlier were slowly breaking into wisps as he crossed the park. Now that he was alone, now that he'd broken up his own surprise party by simply not being there, he wasn't sure he wanted to be alone at all.
For a moment, he considered calling Joanne. Not to take her up on her proposition at the club the night before, but just for some company. Someone to talk to over a drink.
He glanced at the phone booth on the corner. A young woman had just stepped into it. Through the grimy glass, he caught a glimpse of upswept brown hair and a black sweater.
He felt in his pocket for change, planning to wait, hoping the young woman wouldn't talk for too long. Then, he thought the better of it. He still wasn't sure Joanne had really meant it anyway. Maybe she'd just been trying to goad him again. Maybe she'd been drunk.
He stood alone between the rustling trees of the park and the growling traffic. Hands still in his pockets, he glanced up at the dull autumn sunlight flickering off windows.
He could always go back home. Or to a club. Or call someone else. Or get coffee.
The last option seemed the best, at least for the moment. He could get a cup at the diner down the block and then…
And then what?
He felt so alive, yet he could not imagine what he could do with that life for even the next night.
He glanced at the phone booth as he waited for the streetlight to change. It was empty.
A half an hour later, the coffee cup was sitting empty on the table, waiting for the waitress to come and take it away, scooping his tip into her pocket as she did.
And Bobby found himself crossing the park again.
He glanced up towards his building, wondering if any of his friends had come back to check on him.
Would they notice he'd blown out the candles on the cake? Would they be worried about him?
"I'll call them later," he thought, "or tomorrow morning."
Still looking up, he walked right into a young woman. Her unused umbrella clattered on the concrete path.
"Oh, hey, I'm sorry," he said, bending quickly to pick it up for her. As he stooped, he caught a glimpse of shapely long legs beneath a gray wool skirt.
Straightening, he recognized the woman from the telephone booth. Long brown hair was swooped up with a large tortoise shell clasp, her fitted black sweater showed off her figure to marvelous advantage, and her eyes…her eyes were gorgeous. An green so soft and subtle it seemed golden-brown at first.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, handing her the umbrella.
She smiled and he suddenly felt he'd been quite inarticulate.
"I mean…I meant to say…I'm sorry that I wasn't looking where I was going."
"It's all right," she said, hooking the heavy black umbrella over her wrist, "nothing's broken."
There was no reason not to step aside and let her pass. But he wasn't quite ready to do that. And she didn't seem impatient for him to be out of her way.
Why did she look so familiar, a stranger standing there on a shady park path one Saturday afternoon in autumn?
"I've see you before, haven't I?"
She titled her head slightly, but the question didn't seem to surprise her.
"I don't know," she responded, still smiling, "have you?"
Still feeling uncharacteristically awkward, he couldn't help smiling back at her.
"No…yes…I mean, I feel like I've seen you before. But, of course, I haven't."
"Well, if it helps, I know I've never seen you before."
At that, they both laughed. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had indeed seen this woman before that first glimpse through the smudge glass of the phone booth. As she spoke, she shifted the umbrella to the other wrist and her brooch glinted at him.
That garnet brooch…he had seen it before.