“How long have we been
coming here?” Sam wondered more to
himself than to his companion seated across the table from him at their
favorite Tim Horton’s.
He and Jake had
been meeting together once a week for years and it had become something of a
ritual. They usually discussed things
like world events or sports or politics—the kinds of topics that had a
negligible impact on their personal lives.
“I don’t know—twenty
years maybe.” Jake dabbed a serviette at
the crumbs in his beard. As a
professional in the business world, he had been scrupulous about his
appearance, but now that he was retired, Jake regarded shaving as more trouble
than it was worth. “Anyway, why do you
ask?”
“No reason. Just wondering.” Sam turned his ever watchful eyes towards the
commotion at the front door. A
boisterous group of teenagers had burst into the coffee shop and were cloistered
around the counter, impatiently waiting to give their orders. A few were clowning around, but, in general,
they struck Sam as harmless.
“Look at that,” said
Jake. “Were we ever so young?”
“Or so innocent?” added
Sam wistfully.
“That’s an odd thing to
say,” Jake said, pushing his chair back and starting to get up. “Anyway, I’m still hungry. I’m going for a muffin. Can I get you anything?”
Sam stared off into the
distance as if distracted. “Maybe an
apple Danish,” he said finally. He began
digging into his back pocket for his wallet, but before he could fish it out,
Jake was halfway to the counter.
Gloomily Sam studied the
coffee grinds at the bottom of his cup. He
wondered if he dared to get things off his chest or if he should just continue
to keep his mouth shut.
In a few minutes Jake
was back. “Here you go,” he said,
handing over the gooey confection. “I
took the liberty of getting you another coffee.” He placed a fresh cup in front of Sam.
“Thanks,” Sam
grunted. He stirred his coffee in
silence.
Jake had the sense that
Sam was bothered by something. He didn’t
want to pry, but . . . . “Is something
wrong?” he asked.
“Nah,” Sam brushed the
idea aside with a wave of his hand.
“Well, you seem preoccupied.” A thought suddenly occurred to Jake. Maybe, the guy was depressed about recently
giving up his position at the university.
It was worth a shot. “Listen,
Sam, I’ve known a few teachers in my day, and they all gave me the impression
that teaching is more than a job—that it’s something that gets in the
blood. Is that it? You miss teaching?”
“My career is part of
the past.” Sam shrugged philosophically. “However, sometimes I do miss the adrenalin
rush of standing in front of a classroom full of eager faces, but it had its
down side too. Besides, I got what I
wanted out of it.”
“You mean Lucinda?” Jake couldn’t help teasing his friend about
the eighteen-year-old beauty who had been in Sam’s economics class twenty years
ago. Lucinda had managed not only to win
his heart, but also to become his wife.
Sam shifted uncomfortably
in his chair. “I guess you could say
Lucinda.”
“I remember it like it
was yesterday,” said Jake with a big goofy grin on his face. “You, the middle-aged professor crazy in love
with a girl half your age, and Lucinda, your idolizing student hanging on your
every word. I used to think you two had
a fairy tale romance—or at least it would have been if . . . . Well, if you
hadn’t been married to Marge at the time.”
Sam’s faraway look
returned. The awkward pause that
followed made Jake wonder if he had gone too far. “I’m sorry, Buddy, I didn’t mean to bring up
the past.”
“It’s all right. You can talk about it.” It was curious. Sam suddenly realized he was no longer reluctant
to broach the subject of his first marriage.
In fact, he wanted to talk about it.
Jake hesitated to go to
the place the two of them had assiduously avoided for years, but maybe, with a
few well chosen words, Jake could pull his friend out of his obvious funk.
“I know Marge was upset
about your love affair with Lucinda, but a wife of eighteen years ought to at
least leave a note of some kind before disappearing into the night. She owed you that much.”
Sam’s face was devoid of
expression, but his eyes never left the picture windows, where he watched as a
steady parade of people came and went from the coffee shop. The silence continued unabated for several
minutes. Finally, Sam spoke. “Marge was a good wife.”
Jake was starting to
feel weird, as if he and Sam were having two distinct conversations at the same
time, and he wasn’t exactly sure what to say next. “At least Marge’s walking out paved the way
for Lucinda to come into your life. And
you two have been happy together for the last twenty years—right?”
“Sure.” Sam took a vicious bite out of his Danish.
Jake raised a skeptical
eyebrow. “You don’t sound convincing,
Buddy.”
Sam couldn’t keep up the
pretense any longer. “Lucinda is seeing
someone on the side.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Jake stirred his coffee thoughtfully.
“I don’t know why I’m
surprised. I’ve suspected her of
cheating for some time now.”
“Why do you put up with
it?”
A look of unutterable
sadness came into Sam’s eyes. “When you
hurt a woman as wonderful as Marge, I figure you get what’s coming to
you.” He seemed on the verge of tears.
“Listen, Buddy, everyone
makes mistakes. You can’t beat yourself
up the rest of your life. It’s not
healthy.”
“I guess you’re
right.” Sam’s face was solemn. “Still, I wish I hadn’t allowed my life to
turn into such a dismal disappointment.”
“You’re being too hard
on yourself.” Jake’s tone was
sympathetic.
“Why not?” Sam said miserably. He looked at his friend with haunted eyes. “Tell me something. Have you ever made a mistake this big?”
“Yes, as a matter of
fact I have,” Jake said quietly.
“And what was that?”
Jake studied the contents
of his coffee cup with absorbed concentration.
Sixty seconds ticked by, and Sam began to wonder if Jake had forgotten
the question.
“So, what was this great
mistake you made?” Sam prompted.
Jake looked up from his
empty coffee cup. “Lucinda,” he said.
Bev
Bachmann is a retired high school teacher who hopes to start a new career as a
writer. Presently she lives with her husband and her Australian terrier in
Mississauga.
See Brian Henry's schedule here, including writing workshops and creative writing courses in Kingston, Peterborough, Toronto, Mississauga, Brampton, Georgetown, Milton, Oakville, Burlington, St. Catharines, Hamilton, Dundas, Kitchener, Guelph, London, Woodstock, Orangeville, Newmarket, Barrie, Gravenhurst, Sudbury, Muskoka, Peel, Halton, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.
