46. LUCKY
He has a good career. A decent home. He has two beautiful children, earth side, that is. Healthy and happy. He has an amicable relationship with their mothers, too, almost friendly. He has his charm. He could talk about anything. Strike up conversation with most anyone. He has his freedom. No woman to please or placate. Free to flirt with whoever he wants.
Any man in middle age would envy what he has. All that he has.
And yet,
they walk in
and a fog descends.
It had always been the same. When she walked into a room. A birthday, a wedding, an extended family Christmas. In she came. Looking each time more beautiful than the last. His throat would dry up, along with the conversation. There seemed to always be the longest lull, when she walked in. He would pretend not to notice, sometimes. But he would always spill his drink or lose track of his thoughts. Then, like a scorned child, he would disappear into insignificance.
She would shine.
It always took strength and willpower to not search her out with his eyes. Things were left unsaid. Lives were left unlived. Wounds were left unhealed and as the weeks, became months, became years he had thought that these encounters would get easier - they never had.
Perhaps this one would be the hardest.
They walked into the room, and his night was over. Suddenly, he feels invisible, as if all of his achievements and accolades and positives in his life were superfluous. Suddenly, there was nothing left to boast about. It was like being isolated from everyone else because all of a sudden, nobody can understand; the other half of him stands at the opposite side of the room. She laughs and the sound vibrates through him as if it came from his own body.
She walks into the room, a month later, a year later, eighteen months later and he is losing her all over again.
When the lull that she always brought passes and the room moves on, conversation and drinks flowing as normal once more, tension dissipated, his anguish refuses to be swept off and diluted in the undertow. He watches her, quietly, every move, while the man on her arm watches everyone else. She laughs, glittering and genuine. She blinks rapidly and far too often for her to be at ease. She nervously twists the band around and around on her ring finger. Rachel Fleet feels him looking and,
catches his eye and,
just for a moment, she smiles guiltily.
She can see him.
Melissa bounces on the stool beside him, having followed his gaze. She is propped up by the bar. Too excited. A wriggle of the eyebrows and a smug smile.
"That's him. That's her husband."
"Lucky him."
