To New Beginnings

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, with trepidation.

The woman across the table looked up from her book with a mixed expression of surprise and apprehension.  The ambient sound of the café was a low, steady chorus of clanking spoons and steam nozzles and Saturday morning banter – all tell-tale signs of a coffee shop at capacity.  Without craning her neck too obviously, she scanned the room and then nodded.  “Please, have a seat,” she replied coolly, but not altogether ungraciously.

He unslung his backpack and placed it on the floor next to the chair.  “Thank you,” he almost whispered, as he placed his coffee cup on the table and sat across from his begrudging host.  He shifted in his seat.  He glanced at her as inconspicuously as possible.  From below his hat brim his eyes darted from the cashier and back to her.  To chatting couples and back to her.  To drops of rain running start-and-stop races down the café windows, and back to her. 

She looked up and their eyes met.

“You’re shaking the table,” she said in the same detached tone with which she had first addressed him.

He immediately became aware of his right knee bouncing violently on the table foot.  “Oh!” he exclaimed with a reveal of his bottom teeth.  “Sorry, about that.”  He reached into his backpack and retrieved a book. He opened Jack Kerouac’s Desolation Angels to the bookmarked page and pretended to read.  When he deemed a suitable amount of time had passed since his last faux pas, he closed the book around his thumb and turned his attention to the window once more.

“Nice day out.”

She raised her brows, breathed in heavily and exhaled her tension.  She dropped the book to just below her nose. “It’s raining.”

“I like the rain.”

“Well, you’re in the right city for it,” she said, yet to relinquish her air of disinterest.  She took a sip from her cup, and reattached her attention to the page.

“Better than snow,” he carried on.

“I suppose so.”

“You guys don’t get a lot of that out here, huh?”

“Not typically.”

He nodded stupidly.  “I’m David.”

“Mara,” she acquiesced with a sigh.

“Nice to meet you,” he said with a grin, but she was lost.

He laid the finger-worn book aside and clasped his cup in both hands.  He stared blankly at the lid for some time as he chewed the inside of his lip.  He had rehearsed this meeting for months.  But now that the moment had come, he felt his spirit leave him. He considered leaving.  He couldn’t go through with it.  She wouldn’t believe him.  He barely believed himself.  What am I doing?, he thought.  I have to get out of here.

“I knew your husband.” The words burst out like projectile vomit.  For a moment the bustling of the café went mute as his ears rang with a rush of blood to his head.  His focus bent to a point of singularity on his cup lid.  He wanted to look up to witness the fallout of his fumbling declaration, but the muscles wouldn’t comply.

“Excuse me?”

Pulled from his trance by her voice, David lifted his eyes to an unobstructed view of the woman’s face for the first time since he had intruded on her life.  She was scowling, her mouth slightly agape. Her green eyes shone fiercely against jet black hair in the gray light of day.  She was beautiful, and in the moment, terrifying.

“I said I knew your husband, Stephen,” he said slowly.

“Yes, I heard as much,” she stated flatly.  “I’m just not sure where this is coming from…David, it is?

“Yes.” He removed his ball cap by the brim to reveal a smooth scalp.  He nervously ran a hand across the skin from his forehead – over the scar – to the nape of the neck and back down his red beard, before replacing the hat loosely on his head.

“And how did you know my husband?” she pressed. 

“Well, it’s… complicated,” he said with a grimace.

She folded her arms.  “How so?”

“Well, well you see…” he sputtered.  “It’s just that…” David’s eyes scanned the room wildly.  He gladly would have swapped seats with anybody.  His stomach churned a roiling concoction of coffee and bile.  The table bounced in his pregnant silence.  “Could we actually talk about this somewhere else?”

“So that’s where this has been going,” she exclaimed with an exaggerated roll of the eyes.  “I, for one, have never met you.  I don’t recognize you from Stephen’s office.  What are you supposed to be, some grade school pal?  College buddy?  This is by far the strangest, most painful, and inappropriate pick-up scheme I’ve ever had the displeasure of enduring. And how dare you, by the way, for barging in on me with my husband’s name in your mouth!  What are you some stalker?  You freak!  Absolutely pathetic.”  She leaned over the table.  “Now, get out of here before I call the cops.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied David immediately. The scene had played out more or less how he had expected – minus the threat of law enforcement.  Some more tears, he had imagined.  Certainly shouting.  No physical violence had taken place, so that was one positive takeaway.  But as he gathered his belongings for an escape, it occurred to him that he hadn’t even gotten to the bad part before being shooed away.  He had done his research, traveled the miles, received his scolding, and yet he had not left it all on the table.  Nothing to lose now, he thought.  David stood, prepared to leave just as he had entered not fifteen minutes prior, and took a step toward her.  “I met Stephen after the accident.”

Slowly the woman came to her feet, though her knees visibly trembled.  Her eyes welled.  Her jaw quivered.  Her face ran red – nearly purple by David’s reckoning.  And even then, in that instance of manifest furor, he was overcome by her allure.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she stammered, punctuating with a slap across the face.

There’s the violence.

She had already fled by the time his cheek had stopped stinging.  The commotion of the coffee shop had all but ceased, and the attention of the entire establishment was pointed squarely in David’s direction.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.  He stepped out onto the sidewalk and into a steady rain.  He then pulled his sweatshirt hood up over his hat and began to walk with a purpose.  Only one thing left to do. 

David had always wanted to visit Seattle.  He preferred cloudy, wet days to the sunshine, and if pop-culture had taught him anything, Seattle was as wet as it got.  For years David had longed to see the Space Needle, to get a drink in the observation tower, marvel at the city below and Mount Ranier looming beyond.  He had dreamed of drizzly boat rides on Puget Sound, of strolling through Pike Place Market, dinner at a posh restaurant, and diving unabashedly into every tourist trap offered by the city – a city which he had only experienced on the big screen.  It was the vacation destination of his fantasies, to escape the ice and snow of a Boston winter, if only for but a few days – a trip on which his wife had sworn to take him.  But she was dead now. 

Presently, David stood before the walkway to Mara’s door, drenched and satisfied.  Just like it looks online.  The rainfall had not subsided for his entire trek.  He had woven through the suburban neighborhood as if he had committed the map to memory.  It would be a delightful place to put down roots, by his estimation – quiet streets, little parks, quaint homes, just like the one before which he found himself. No sign of life could be detected through the windows,  and so hastily he ran up the porch stairs.  From his backpack he pulled an envelope with a phone number scribbled on the front, and slid it beneath the door.  It’s up to her now.

David had not walked five blocks toward his hotel before his cell phone came to life in his pocket.  He halted in the deluge to answer.  “Hello… Yes that’s me… The same place?  Ok, I’ll be there.”

******

He found her at a corner table this time, out of the way of foot traffic, though the commotion of the café had given way to a noontime slump.  David pulled out the chair across from his host, much as he had done a couple of hours prior; but this time he needed not struggle for her attention, for she engaged him before he was fully seated.

“So this is you,” she stated, sliding a newspaper article across the tabletop.  “You’re David Galloway.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, as he picked up the paper that he had just delivered to her doorstep.  He examined the cut-out, reading a headline he had read a hundred times before: Fatal New Year’s Crash on I-95: Four Dead, One Critical.

“The only one to survive,” she spoke mournfully.  “Your wife… your two friends… I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” said David.  “And I’m sorry about Stephen.”  He paused.  “I was driving.  But, but the roads were so icy.  And before I knew it…”

“Please,” interrupted Mara, raising her hand.  “Please, don’t.  It’s not necessary.”  She pulled a lock of her raven hair behind her ear and licked her lips before continuing.  “This is… overwhelming.  That you would track me down, three thousand miles away, to have this conversation.  I don’t know where to begin.  I don’t know what you want from this meeting.  And I’m not sure that I even want to be having this conversation.  But you, you said that you knew my husband… after the accident…”

“Yes.”

“Stephen was on the way to the airport at the end of a business trip,” she continued with rising emotion.  “And he died on that highway.  So can you please tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”

David wanted to stick to the script in his head, but the page was blank.  He had practiced his speech in the shower, in the car, on the plane, but no rehearsal could prepare him for this dreadful stage.

“I met him, Stephen, I met him after the crash,” he spat out the words.

“What, on the side of the road?” she challenged.  “What are you talking about.”

“No, after…” he inhaled, “he died.  After he died.  We were all living together.  The five of us, living together like nothing had ever happened.”

Mara stared at the babbling man, wearing an expression of utter disbelief and disgust.  “So you’re insane,” she said. 

“I’m not, you see…”

“No, I’m sorry, that’s wrong of me,” she cut him off.  “You’ve been through enough yourself.  Look, I’m not sure if I can give you what you need.  I’m barely staying afloat myself.  I think that maybe you should see somebody.  Get some help, David.  And thank you for attempting… whatever this is, but I need to go.  I’m sorry.”  Mara stood to leave.

“To new beginnings!” he exclaimed. 

Mara froze.

“To new beginnings,” he repeated.  “He said that before every meal.”

******

David faced Mara’s door for the second time that day, only this time Mara herself was in front of him and in the process of unlocking it.   

“I still don’t fully understand what’s going on here,” she said over her shoulder, fishing for the correct key.  “But I need answers, and I’m not discussing this in public.  You seem like a nice enough man.  Still, I’m keeping my phone next to me and prepped for 9-1-1.”

“I understand,” said David with a nod.

“Alright then,” she said flinging the door open, “go have a seat in the living room.”

David stepped into a shadowy home, faintly lit by the gloomy, misty light of a cold and damp afternoon.  He blotted his shoes on the welcome mat and stepped into the living room – a space well-furnished in dark woods and taupe textiles. Pastoral paintings adorned the walls, and stylish baubles graced every horizontal surface.  It’s the way he had always hoped to decorate his home, if he had ever owned one.  Tasteful, classy, but warm, he thought as he took in the room.  David had passed quite a few minutes on the loveseat lost in reverie before he became fully aware of Mara’s voice from the other end of the house.

“It’s all just so strange, I’m sorry,” she called out over the sound of cupboards opening and slamming shut in succession.  “I shouldn’t be drinking… where is that bottle… with a complete stranger in my home talking about my dead husband… Jesus, here it is, finally… I just need a little something right now, I’m shaking… a glass, I need a glass… I’ll be right with you… the hell are the glasses, I can’t think straight… forget it, this will work.  Ok!  Wait, I’m just going to grab…”

Mara appeared around the corner with a mug in one hand, and a large kitchen knife in the other. She sat down across from him in an armchair, placing both the knife and the mug on the coffee table.  “Sorry about the knife… it’s just.”

“I get it,” said David in agreement.  “Can’t be too safe.”

“Right.” 

Mara took a sip from the mug, which David presently noticed bore an NPR Radio logo.  She’s a listener.  David and his wife had regularly tuned into Car Talk on Saturday mornings, and he began to wonder what her favorite program was.  So many books around here.  Sophisticated design. I bet it’s Fresh Air, with Terry Gross. 

“Now David,” began Mara, “could you explain to me exactly the nature of your… encounter with my husband. And how it is that you could possibly know so intimate a fact about him.”

He eyed the woman for a split second.  He saw a lovely woman.  A radiant woman.  A shivering woman, but not from the cold, he guessed.  He couldn’t match her stare, and so he turned his concentration to a painting of a grey log cabin, somber and lonely upon a hill of golden grass.  He scratched at the scar upon his head beneath his hat, ever trained on the bucolic scene.

“The last thing I remember is shutting my car door on a freezing Boston night.  And then I woke up.  The room was a fiery orange-red, as the pre-dawn sun fought its way through the curtains.  My wife, Evie, was still asleep, so I got out of bed to peak out the window.  Ocean waves were lapping at a gleaming shoreline that stretched out in either direction beyond sight. I pulled aside the drapes, slid open the glass door, and stepped out onto the balcony.  Palm leaves flittered in the sea breeze.  No sound, save the hush of the waves.  No movement, save the steady ebb and flow.  It was as if the world was dead, but more alive than I could ever describe.

“When I came back inside, Evie had gotten up.  I went to look for her downstairs, where she was already making breakfast.  She was stunning, beaming really – as if the same golden light of the beach sand was shining from within her.”

“‘Have a seat,’ she said, smiling.  ‘Everybody will be down soon.’

“I sat down at the dining room table as I was told, and lazily drank in the splendor of my home.  High ceilings, radiant white walls, and windows, windows in every direction welcoming the morning to our table.

“Then, one by one, the rest of our family came down from their quarters, beckoned by the smell of Evie’s good works.  Andrew, Jeffrey, and Stephen, each taking up a seat next to me.”

“My Stephen…” broke in Mara.

“Yes, and my two friends,” replied David unwilling to look away from the painting.  “The ones in the car with me when…”

“Go on,” urged Mara.

“Evie brought to the table… a feast.  But before we ate, Stephen stood with his glass raised and said grandly, but with such joy…”

“To new beginnings,” said Mara. 

David turned to Mara.  She hadn’t relinquished her wine mug, but upon her face the expression of intense suspicion had vanished.  In its stead was presently sorrow and distant memory and just the faintest hint of satisfaction. 

“Yes,” said David, and he returned to his cabin in the field. 

“That was his toast,” she said, nearly smiling.  “Every dinner.  Whether it was frozen pizza on the couch or filet mignon at our favorite bistro.  It was… his prayer.  His blessing.”

The room went silent, save the steady patter of rain upon the porch roof.

“What happened next?”

“We ate.  And we talked about everything, and nothing in particular.  We talked as if we had all known each other for an eternity.  There was laughter, and louder laughter, and tears from laughing so hard.”

“What did you talk about?”  asked Mara intently.  “Did he mention me?”

“I don’t know,” he said flatly.  “I don’t remember.  I don’t think so.”

“I see,” said Mara, not without disappointment. 

“After the table was cleared we made for the beach, the five us. We walked for some time, to no destination.  Just walked.  Walked and talked and laughed.  We would run into the waves and play in the foam like children, and then return to the sand and sit talk until the bluest sky waned purple, and then black.  There we sat, lying on the shore, pointing at the heavens  and drawing shapes in the stars, always in communion.  Always talking.  Always laughing.”

“It sounds lovely,” whispered Mara.

“It was,” David choked out through restrained remorse. 

“Then what…”

“Well, that was it,” said David after regaining composure.  “The night never ended, per say.  I simply woke up the next morning in bed with Evie.  Just the same as the day before.  And the same perfect day played out as the previous.  Breakfast and conversation and walking and playing and star gazing – all on a loop.  Day after day.”

“That wasn’t strange to you?”

“It wasn’t… at first,” said David.  “Because there was no time there, except for the passage of the sun across the sky.  There was no real sense of yesterday or today or tomorrow.  So there was no boredom, no pining for yesterday or hoping for tomorrow.  We just were, if that makes sense.”

“Oddly, it does,” said Mara.  “You said ‘at first.’ I’m assuming there’s a rather big but you haven’t gotten to.”

David pealed away from his safe haven on the wall and turned to Mara.  She was presently leaning back in the armchair, a leg crossed over a knee, mug poised just below her neck, head tilted ever so slightly, as if she were interviewing a potential new employee.  He felt a release of stress through his uncoiling toes. 

“One day at breakfast, I heard a voice,” he spoke.  “It was a voice I recognized, but not that of any of my companions.

“‘Did you hear that?’ I asked.  But they simply smiled and continued to eat and chatter.  I made nothing of it, but I heard it again.  A calm, soothing, calling voice.  Again, I asked of them if they heard what I was hearing, but they ignored me.”

“What was the voice saying?”

“I don’t remember.  But it continued, all through breakfast, as if it were emanating from the walls, or the ceiling, or from my head.  It continued as we left the house.  And for the first time since I had lived in that faultless place, I became distinctly aware of my surroundings and existence.  It continued, through the day, now hailing from the ocean itself – a crying, a summoning.  It became impossible to ignore, then unbearable to hear.  So I followed it.  I ran out into the ocean until I had to swim to keep after it.  I swam until my arms wouldn’t take me further, until my breath gave out.  I sank down below the surface, watching my flawless sun fade to gray.  And then I woke up.”

“Next to your wife?” asked an enthralled Mara.

“In a hospital bed,” sighed David.  “My mother sat beside me, holding my hand, crying over my still body.”  He flattened his beard to his face and nodded aimlessly.  “I’d been in a coma for two weeks.”

“My god,” Mara whispered.  “I can’t imagine.”

David forced an unsettled chuckle through his nose.  “Neither could anybody else.  Of course, everybody thought my story was… nonsense – some trauma dream.  I didn’t begin to believe myself, until I saw your husband’s obituary.  Seeing the face of a man I had never met before, yet knowing him like a brother.  I knew it wasn’t a fantasy.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, after a few weeks of intense counseling, and a few more weeks of intense self-medicating, I decided to find you.  I thought that if there were one person in the world that had a chance of believing me, it would have to be you.”

Mara set her mug down.  “I’m glad you did find me, David.”

Such sentiment welled up in David’s chest that he nearly choked on it.  “Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you,” he repeated.  It’s happening. 

“No, thank you,” said Mara assuringly.  She stood up and began for the door.  “This is a lot for me to process.  But… I believe you, to say the least.  I’m going to go to bed, but can we talk more tomorrow?”

“I have nothing but time.”

******

The rain had stopped, but David still found himself walking through a cloud.  A fog horn blew a low and lonesome note from the sound, resonating throughout Seattle.  The thick layer of stratus hemmed in the city, dampening the clamor of everyday life.  It was a comforting atmosphere for David, and he wondered aloud if Mara felt the same.

“You get used to it,” she said unconvincingly.

The two ambled down 2^nd Avenue, Mara with her eyes cast to the pavement and her moving feet, David taking in the scenery.

“So he seemed happy, then,” she mused. 

“Hm?”

“Stephen.  You’d say he’s happy now?”

“If happiness is even a thing in that place,” he remarked, woken from his trance.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain,” said David with a shrug.  “In comparison to here, sure, I’d say he’s happy.  We all were.  But when you’re in a world of infinite bliss, what’s happy?  It’s like asking a fish living at the bottom of the ocean ‘Hey, is it dark down there?’  How would he know?  He’s never seen light.  He’s never experienced anything different.  What can he compare darkness to?  That’s how it was… how it is for them.”

“I understand, I think,” she said.  “Do you think your wife misses you?  I mean, you were ripped away from her.”

David cleared his throat.  “I think I miss her more.”

Mara put her hand to his shoulder, her face turning a melancholy shape.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said solemnly.

Presently, the two came to a stop at an intersection.  David read the sign above his head.  Pike Street, he said to himself with a spike of joy.  “We’re close, aren’t we?”

“Yes, this left,” spoke Mara, but without his enthusiasm.  “You were supposed to visit the market with your wife, you said?”

“We were.”

“What was she like?”

His exhilaration waned.  They had walked nearly a block before he spoke again.  “She was… perfect.  She was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known.  Loved to read.  Always turning me on to great music, new food, indie movies.  She was artistic – really an amazing painter, for an amateur, you know.  And she was gorgeous.  My black Irish beauty, I called her.  Jet black hair, pale skin with freckles on her cheeks, and eyes as green a clover.”

“She sounds lovely,” said Mara.

“She was,” he agreed.  “Is that it?!  That’s it!”  he suddenly exclaimed upon turning a corner.

“That’s it.  Pike Street Market.”

“C’mon,” said David grinning.  “I’m sure it’s nothing special for you, but.. c’mon!”  David hastened off in the direction of his Mecca, followed by Mara, smirking at his childlike marvel.

“Ok, I’m coming,” she called behind him.  “But my lunch break is almost over.”

******

It was drizzling again when David arrived at Mara’s house, punctual as usual.  He rang the doorbell, then stepped back to adjust his ever-present hat squarely over the scar, and make sure that his shirt was tucked into his slacks properly.  It had been twenty-seven days since he had left his family and friends and psychiatrists back in Boston to find her, and he had spent at least an hour of the past twenty-six of those days in her company. Tonight’s the night, he thought as he polished the tip of his sneaker with his thumb and some saliva.

“Hey there,” said Mara jovially as she opened the door.

“You ready?”

“Let me grab my umbrella, and yes,” she said ducking back inside.

“Do you mind if we drove, instead of walked?” David called after her.

“Um, sure yeah,” she answered with a trace of uncertainty in her voice.  “You don’t want to go to Potbelly?”

“I had something else in mind,” he said from the side of his mouth.  “Hop in. I’ll give you directions.”

“Alright,” she said not impolitely.

The two situated themselves, and Mara backed down her small driveway.

“So how was work today?  Take the right at the end of the street.”

“Same as usual,” she sighed.  “Karen’s been no less obnoxious.  She wants to assign these ridiculously unrealistic deadlines, and then changes half the project specifications the day before it’s due.”

“Have you talked to Jeff about it?” It was dry office drama conversation, but David lived for it.  Twenty-six days ago he wouldn’t have dreamed of such exchanges.  For the first five days the two met during her hour lunch break for coffee, and the topic of discussion rarely veered from Stephen or Evie or his time with them together.  On the sixth day, they actually sat down for lunch together, like acquaintances might, and for the first time Mara shared a story about her parents – a delightful anecdote, by David’s assessment.  From that moment on, she gradually opened more and more of herself to her newfound companion.  Lunchtime discourses spilled over into afternoon walks, evening latte’s, and, by day fifteen, dinner at Potbelly Sandwich Shop, where they frequently ate dinner.  And with each passing day, he could feel it – the love between them waxing.  He watched as her sorrows melted away, as she unburdened, methodically removing each agonizing stone from the pack on her shoulders and casting it aside.  She was healing, the scars of trauma disappearing.  And it was all because of him – because he sought her out, to mend himself, to mend her, to mend themselves. “Jeff needs to shut her down before he tanks the entire department.  Go straight through the four-way stop.”

“Oh I know,” she said in agreement.  “She drives me insane.  But I don’t have the gumption for the office politics game.  Now, Stephen, he would march right up to the Karens in the world, look them square in the eye, and unequivocally tell them where to go. He had such a presence about…

“Take this right up here,” blurted David abruptly. 

Mara slammed heavy on the breaks.  “Here?!”

“Sorry, no,” he responded waving his hands wildly.  “No, not this next right.  It’s about a mile ahead.  Still new to the area, ya know. Sorry”

“It’s ok,” said Mara.  “Anyways, yeah, Karen.”

“What a bitch.”

“I know right?  This right here?”

“Yes. This one here.”

“Wait a second,” Mara said drawing out the words.  “Are you thinking about Luciano’s?”

“Hey, you guessed it!”

“David, this place is so expensive.  And I’m not really dressed for Luciano’s.  I’m not really sure if it’s the best idea.”

“C’mon, Mara,” said David with raised brows.  “I just got some money from my insurance company, and I thought it’d fun to celebrate.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I don’t think…”

“Please,” he pleaded shamelessly.  David could see the deliberation in her eyes – those bottomless, sparkling orbs from which he seldom turned away.  She has to say yes.  She’s going to say yes.  Make her say y…

“Ok,” she said grinning.  “Let’s do it.  Let’s celebrate.”

She brought the car to a smooth stop in the parking lot. David sprang from his seat and sprinted, almost comically, to Mara’s door, where he opened it for her with great fanfare.  “M’ Lady!” he said with a nearly imperceptible bow.

“Wow,” said Mara.  “You really must be excited.”

“Beyond a doubt.”

“Well… ok!” she said with a shrug.  “We have some celebrating to do.  But, God, David, I think we got the last parking space.  You think we’ll even get a table?”

“I think we might.”

The couple wove their way through the crowded lot, picking up their conversation where it was last left.  David held up his end of the dialogue without missing a beat, but it was all that he could do to not burst with rapture. He was in his glory – a cool, wet Seattle evening, his woman by his side, about to feast at one of the finest eateries in town.  He was suffocating on his own elation. Past a small line of bystanders in rain jackets and loafers he presently strolled with the utmost confidence, straight inside and directly to the podium of the mantra d’.

“Table for two,” he said.

“I’m sorry sir, but…”

“Galloway,” David interrupted.  “Reservation for two, for Galloway.”

“Very good sir,” replied the host.  “Your table is ready.  May I take your hat?”

“Actually, no I’d prefer…” he began, nervously pressing the hat to his head.

“It’s our policy sir, no hats.”

“Well, it’s just that…”

“It’s a medical hat,” chimed in Mara.

“Pardon me,” retorted the maitre d’with thinly veiled contempt.

“The hat was prescribed by his doctor,” she pressed on.  “You wouldn’t deny a patron a medical necessity, would you?  Are crutches not allowed?  Oxygen tanks?  Maybe your manager can come explain to us which disabilities you discriminate against.”

David looked on in awe as Mara stepped up to his defense with such fire, such passion.  He didn’t think he could love her more, and yet he stood corrected, completely speechless.

“Of course, ma’am,”  muttered the defeated host.  “This way to your table.”

The ambiance was superb.  The food divine.  The company enchanting.  The wine  flowing.  David had seen Mara have a glass after several of their walks, but never before had she drank so much.  David’s ordering of more bottles certainly made it easier.  He enjoyed its effect – how it served to loosen her tongue, heighten her animation, and add an extra sparkle to her pupils. 

“And that’s when my parent’s walked in,” she practically shouted, punctuated with a boisterous laugh.

‘That must’ve been so embarrassing,” said David, matching her energy, though he could hardly recall what she had been talking about.  He was fixated on her, on her every move, her every line.  He was there with her, but lost in her atmosphere, drowning in her presence.

There was a lull.

Now’s your chance.  “Mara, it’s been so great getting to know you.”

“You too, David,” she said sweetly.  “I’m so glad you found me.”

“I thought so too,” he continued with growing assurance.  “And seeing how, since we met, everything has only gotten better for me, and it seems like for you as well, I thought of a way to make things even better. 

“Yes?”

We could make this official,” spoke David.

Some of the amusement faded from Mara’s face.  “What do you mean?”

“Like, a couple,” he said.  “We’re perfect for each other.  I can’t imagine continuing on without you.  And I’m assuming you feel the same way?”

“Oh, David,” Mara spoke earnestly through the pinot.  “I can’t.  You’re a wonderful friend.  You’ve helped me climb out of a very dark place, but I’m still very much in love with my husband.  I hope to move on, but right now… I just can’t.”

“I see,” said David.  It’s not the answer for which he had wished.  But he was not unprepared for such a scenario, and so his good humor only waned slightly.  “I understand completely.  No big deal.”  There’s still another way of making things better.

“Maybe we should get going,” said Mara quietly.  She stood, bracing herself against the wine.

“Maybe I should drive,” said David.

“Thank you, yes,” Mara said.  She smiled and handed him the keys.  “You really are a good friend.”

Mara made her way slowly back to the car, David coming to her aid every now and again when her feet would not comply.  He helped her into her seat.  Fishing for the correct key on the chain, he took a deep breath as he walked to the driver’s side.  He paused for a moment, looking through the windshield at Mara – half asleep, legs folded on the seat.  To new beginnings, he thought.  Then he sat himself down behind the wheel, and shut the car door on a rainy Seattle night. 

And then he woke up.  The room was a fiery orange-red, as the pre-dawn sun fought its way through the curtains.  Mara was still asleep, so he got out of bed to peak out the window.  Ocean waves were lapping at a gleaming shoreline that stretched out in either direction beyond sight. He pulled aside the drapes, slid open the glass door, and stepped out onto the balcony.  Palm leaves flittered in the sea breeze.  No sound, save the hush of the waves.  No movement, save the steady ebb and flow.  It was as if the world was dead, but more alive than he could ever describe.

When he came back inside, Mara had gotten up.  David went to look for her downstairs, where she was already making breakfast. She was stunning, beaming really – as if the same golden light of the beach sand was shining from within her.