The Promotion
A short story
That night when Jack got back from dinner, Rebecca welcomed him home and they went to sit in the living room. Jack sat in his usual chair and read the paper. Rebecca sat in the middle of the couch and flipped idly through a novel.
Easing into the chair, Jack sighed with deep satisfaction. The old worn chair felt especially good. The wallpaper looked especially inviting with its deep green color and flecks of red and gold. The smell of coffee from dinner still played in his nostrils.
They had gone out to celebrate Jack’s promotion. Finally, Kellerman had recognized his potential and given him the job that Jack had been working toward. Vice president at only twenty-eight was truly a feat and the praise and gentle ribbing of the senior officers at the firm still rang in his ears.
Jack turned the pages of the paper until he came to the sports section.
He liked the occasional flutter but he really loved reading the horse race reports for the names of the horses. Gunner’s Shadow. Howdy-Do. Flick-and-Roll. Son-of-a-Gun. Horsehead Revisited.
Rebecca watched Jack read the paper. He was tall and thin with a high forehead and a serious thin-lipped face. It wasn’t always serious. She liked to see that face smile and beam with pride. Just like when he had told her about the promotion. She’d liked how he had looked, but somehow, not liked what he had said, like there was a sour note to the good news.
He was smiling now reading those silly race reports, just one of his little quirks.
Horses. He’d always liked horses. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he had grown up in a part of the city where they were the only large animals around.
“Any good ones today?” Rebecca said.
“Hmm?”
“I said, any good ones today?”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said, looking over at Rebecca, “what did you say?”
Rebecca suppressed her rising pique. “Any good ones?”
“Uh’hmm, yes.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Nevermind, Jack.”
Jack looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m just a little distracted right now.”
Rebecca smoothed her dress and opened the book. “Don’t worry about it.”
“How’s your book?”
“Fine.”
It was actually some nonsense about a young city lawyer moving to the country and falling in love with the farmer’s daughter which didn’t really interest her but she’d started it so she figured that she might as well finish it. She didn’t say any of this to Jack.
“That’s good,” Jack said.
He heard the sour note, the odd tone in his wife’s voice but he ignored it. Let her say what was on her mind if she wanted to. It wasn’t for him to pry things out of her. She usually wasn’t too shy about filing complaints.
But tonight she had been distant since he had gotten home with the news of his promotion.
Did she not understand what this meant for him? Financial freedom, stability, advancement, increased responsibility, increased respectability.
He flipped to the financial section of the paper.
Oil futures were up. Which stocks should he buy now that he’d have the money? Blue chips were blue chips for a reason but penny stocks offered potential high returns. He’d have money to splash around here and there.
He wondered if the other VPs would let him in on their trades.
Jack folded the paper and got up.
“Drink?”
Rebecca shook her head.
Jack went to the sideboard, opened the bottle of Johnnie Walker, and poured a generous dram in the cut crystal glass. The golden whisky sloshed around the glass sparkling in the light. He lifted the pitcher of water and poured a few drops into the whisky.
Jack took a drink, enjoying the warm bitter caramel sensation.
He looked around the room. The chair, the couch, the little writing desk. They’d have to move. This was no place for a vice president of the company to live. Maybe a house on the north side or in the western suburbs. That’d take a mortgage but he’d have the money now.
He could see it. Yes, long hours at the office but that wasn’t as hard as it seemed. And on the weekends, days at the lake, nights downtown. A house full of fine furnishings and real art. Not that he knew anything about art.
He looked at Rebecca on the worn striped couch. He frowned. She looked tired and small, her normally eager to please face with its cherubic cheeks and dark brown eyes pale and creased with tiny wrinkles.
He sipped his whisky again, holding it in his mouth.
Rebecca was dimly aware that Jack was looking at her but she kept her eyes on the book. She was re-reading her favorite part of the mediocre book, the part where the lawyer sees the farmer’s daughter for the first time and falls in love at first sight.
The lawyer’s car had broken down just down the road and he was walking up to the farm to ask for help. There in the yard was the young woman, a girl in her early twenties, full of youth’s first bloom in her white dress and the twenty-five year old lawyer, sweaty and dusty from the road was stricken as if by a thunderbolt as he turned into the farmyard and saw her.
That doesn’t happen, Rebecca thought.
Her back ached. She hadn’t moved for a while. She snapped the book closed and tossed it on the coffee table.
She didn’t look at Jack. She walked over to the little upright piano and sat on the bench.
She looked at the keys for a while, not sure why she had even gotten up and sat at the piano. She tried to think of a song, a tune, any melody but nothing came. Her mind was blank. Not in the inviting way of an empty canvas waiting to be painted or a quiet instrument waiting to be played but like a pure vacuum from which all light had been sucked.
Rebecca put one finger on a key and pushed. The key spoke the solitary note quietly as if afraid to make more noise.
She pressed the key again. Her finger felt weak, unsure, like her heart. Or her head. She didn’t subscribe to any of the nonsense about the heart. Why then was her head, her mind, unsure? There was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind like a single fingernail scraping down a chalkboard.
“Can you stop that?” Jack said.
Rebecca hadn’t realized she was still playing the same note over and over again.
“If you’re going to play, fine, go ahead and play but you don’t need to play the same note again and again.”
Rebecca heard the pique, the disdain, the resentment in his voice.
She stopped but remained sitting looking at the keys.
“Are you going to play something?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re just going to sit there?”
“Maybe.”
Jack snorted. She heard him move from the sideboard to the chair. The newspaper rustled.
“I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some?”
“No.”
Jack focused on the paper. The tap ran in the kitchen sink and the kettle clanged onto the stove. It was a loud clawing sound.
The chair suddenly felt uncomfortable constraining him so he couldn’t stretch out properly. His shoulders felt jammed together like he was in a straight jacket. His feet didn’t feel right on the coffee table. He crossed right over left, then left over right, then back again.
The kettle whistled in the kitchen, piercing and shrill. One, two, five seconds.
“Are you going to get that?”
The whistling stopped.
Jack got up. He set the whisky and the paper on the coffee table.
At the front door he put on his shoes and his jacket.
“I’m going out.”
“What?” Rebecca said, coming out into the hallway.
“I’m going out.”
“Where are you going? It’s almost ten o’clock.”
“Out, I’m going out.”
“Just out?”
“I don’t know. I’m going for a walk, okay?”
Rebecca watched the door close. She walked shakily back to the kitchen, her mind a jumble.
She sat down at the table and placed the mug of tea in front of her. The tag hung on the side of the mug, the bag steeping in the water. It stayed steeping until the tea was black and cold.
All the while Rebecca sat and thought, sometimes chewing her nails.
She wasn’t sure where or when or how it had all gone wrong but something had. Jack got a promotion and that changed everything. She had wanted to celebrate with him but he had gone out with the guys from work and she had sat there alone, waiting, dinner getting cold.
It was in the fridge now, lots of leftovers for lunch tomorrow.
Before the promotion, months before, there had been the rush of hope and excitement. They wanted to start a family. They tried but nothing came of it. She felt desperate, wild at times and her desperation. Jack didn’t like that. He liked order and normalcy. She had felt him pulling away as they tried and no child came.
And now the promotion that would allow them to move to a big apartment or a house with room for kids but there were no kids and Jack was an important VP now who didn’t even come home for dinner.
The door opened and closed. Shoes hit the floor.
Jack came in. He kissed her on the head.
She smelled the alcohol on him.
He went around the table and started opening cupboards. Open, shut, open, slam.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Time? No, I don’t.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“Oh, yeah, I lost track of time.” He turned and flashed a sloppy grin at her. His hair was disheveled. He went back to looking in the cupboards.
“How much did you have to drink?”
Jack slammed the can of coffee that he had finally found on the countertop and spun around.
“What the hell does that have to do with anything? I go out for a drink to unwind. Why can’t I go out for a drink? I think I earned it, VP and all. Just a little celebrating. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“For us?”
“Yeah, for us. I don’t understand what you’re being so miserable about.”
He didn’t understand. Understatement of the century. Of course he didn’t understand. That would mean he had to care or even have the capability to understand, which she doubted.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Typical. Just run off while I’m trying to have a conversation.”
“I’m not running. I’m going to bed. Good night.”
Jack watched her black dress disappear around the corner and went back to making coffee.
Always hysterics with her, he thought. What is she all worked up about? Because I went out for a drink. Give me a break. If she thinks she’s going to keep me on a short leash for the rest of my life she’s got another thing coming. I’m not going to be held back by her nonsense.
Jack made the coffee on the stove top then sat at the table with the newspaper.
The coffee was hot, bitter, and refreshing. Just the thing to ease him out of his drink.
He scanned the paper perusing the headlines. The new highway bill, tensions with the Soviets, the results of the Chicago mayoral election, the state sales tax debate, new regulations for boating on Lake Michigan.
Lots of change. Lots of opportunities for a man like him. The youngest VP in the company’s history, a man with the city at his feet.
Rebecca pretended to be asleep when Jack got in bed. She kept her eyes lightly closed, grunting and rolling over when he pulled on the sleeve of her nightgown. She waited until she heard even snoring coming from him and then let herself drift off.
The next morning Rebecca made Jack breakfast as usual. Eggs, bacon, toast, a banana, and black coffee. Jack kissed his wife on the top of her head as she sat reading at the kitchen table and left, briefcase in hand.
“Don’t forget about the lake this weekend,” he said, over his shoulder.
“No, how could I?” Rebecca said.
Jack walked the ten blocks to work and breezed through the day learning his new responsibilities as a vice president. New office, new phone, new secretary, new subordinates. He took to the job like a bird to the skies. It felt good, natural, like he was meant for it.
Caught up in his work, five o’clock came and went. The sun went down outside his office window. The lights came on in the street.
There was a knock at the door and Denise poked her blonde head in.
“I’m going home, Mr. Herrin. Is there anything you need?”
“That time already, Denise?”
“It’s seven o’clock.”
“Oh boy. I didn’t realize it was so late. No, I don’t need anything. I’m just leaving too.”
“Have a good weekend, Mr. Herrin.”
“You too.”
Jack shuffled the papers together and left them in a neat stack in the middle of the desk. Grabbing his hat, coat, and briefcase he took the elevator down.
He walked home briskly.
“Sorry, dear. I got caught up at work. We can head up to the lake tomorrow.”
Rebecca stood silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.
“It’s okay, Jack. How was your day?”
“Fine. Good, actually. Lots to learn but that’s the job. Let’s eat.”
To Rebecca, Jack seemed blissfully happy. She wondered if he even noticed that dinner was yesterday’s dinner reheated.
Yesterday’s conversation, if one could even call it that, wasn’t going to resurface on its own but Rebecca couldn’t bring herself to start it again. It was exhausting and she was spent. Talking would do no good. Nothing would make him understand how she felt home alone all day reading, half-heartedly learning to knit.
And no children to fill her days.
Not that she wanted children with him anymore. Somehow that didn’t surprise her. The realization just made her sad.
Even more so because she had urged him to pursue the promotion, had argued that they would need the money to move to a better neighborhood to raise their kids, to send them to school.
He was motivated but she had pushed and needled and now she regretted having pushed him and resented him. She resented him because he was happy and knew what he wanted and she knew it even though she would never admit it.
Resentment festered.
Rebecca picked at her plate as Jack went on about work and deals and the other VPs.
What a bore he’s become, she thought. Maybe I’m the one that made him what he is.
The next day they drove up to the lake. The lush green of late spring was on full display as the city gave way to the countryside.
They swept down the country roads in the burgundy Chevy Styleline, which had been purchased with the help from Jack’s bonus from the previous year. A new car was a clear statement that he was on the way up in the world.
They took the lake road through town that collared the lake a stone’s throw from the water and pulled up at the Lakeview Resort, one of the larger resorts on Lake Geneva that catered to the weekending crowd from the city. It had two floors with a common balcony on the outside of the building, a restaurant, bar, indoor and outdoor pools, and a small private beach tucked away from the public beach just up the road.
“I’ll grab the bags,” Jack said.
Rebecca smiled when he glanced at her but didn’t feel the smile extend to her heart. Instead there was a knot in her chest that made it hard to breathe. She followed Jack in his white shirt, gray slacks, and brown shoes up the drive to the front doors.
The doors were bright white but they looked forbidding, like an odd toothy grin. The sound of her footsteps on the driveway was loud in her ears and the fresh tar, warmed by the midday sun, made her nose wrinkle.
The resort was new and the room was nice: clean sheets, light wallpaper, a comfortable bed, and a small couch. The window and the balcony outside overlooked the water.
“This is nice,” Jack said.
“Mhmm.”
“Want to go down to the beach?”
“No, thanks. I’m going to sit on the balcony for a bit.”
Jack fumed. They had just arrived and she was already avoiding him. Well, he could play that game too.
“Alright,” he said as she went out the balcony door, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in her hand.
Jack changed into his bathing suit, put on a short-sleeved shirt and sandals, grabbed and blue beach towel and left.
He looked back at Rebecca once on his way across the grass toward the beach but she was staring out toward the water.
Huge oak trees dotted the lawn between the resort building and the private beach. A red and white motor boat hummed along just outside the swimming area. Faster speed boats zoomed across the greenish-blue lake farther out in the water.
Jack laid out the towel and sat down to enjoy the sun before going in for a swim.
A man and a woman soon joined him not far away. The husband looked rather anemic and hungry with a thin build and sunken eyes. The wife was a blonde with a painted-on complexion and red lips in a hat and sunglasses which made it hard to judge her appearance. Her figure, especially her legs, were certainly commendable.
The man said something Jack couldn’t make out.
The wife replied. “Okay,” she said in a pleasant soprano.
The husband stalked off, walking with a slight limp.
“First time up here?”
Jack looked around.
“I said, first time?”
The blonde looked over at him. Jack realized she had addressed him the first time without looking. An odd thing to do, that.
“Uh, yes. First time.”
“Nice place. Nice lake. Everything’s nice.”
“Glad to hear it. I’m going for a swim.”
Jack took off his shirt, got up, and made his way to the water.
“Let me know how it is,” she called after him.
Jack put a foot in. It was ice. Pretending not to care, he advanced steadily into the water. When the water reached his waist he dropped down to the bottom and came up exhaling hard. He wiped the water streaming from his eyes and slicked his hair back.
The blonde seemed to be watching him from the shore but he couldn’t be sure with her sunglasses.
He took a few easy strokes then picked up speed. One thing he appreciated about lakes was the fresh water. Ocean waves were murderous and the salt in the water disgusting but a freshwater lake made swimming a delight despite the cold. He put his face in the water completely and felt, rather than heard, all the sound of the world cut off.
Stroke after stroke he propelled himself down the shore to one end of the beach, breathing every few strokes. His body was becoming accustomed to the cold and it now felt merely cold rather than like ice water.
The movement of his arms and legs, the exercise and expenditure of energy was invigorating and seemed to loosen his muscles and lend them strength despite the taxing nature of the exercise.
He swam to one end of the beach, turned and swam back, then back again. Back and forth in even strokes, breathing to his side. Back and forth until he began to tire and stood up, wiped his eyes, and walked out of the water.
The blonde was still there and she was watching him.
“You’re a good swimmer,” she said.
“Thanks,” Jack said, shaking out his towel and drying off.
“I’m Gloria.” She took off her sunglasses and looked at Jack. “Gloria Malden.”
Jack inclined his head. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jack.”
She looked like Donna Reed, fairly pretty with a prominent nose and large eyes but a bit rougher around the edges. People always are in real life off the silver screen.
Her eyes, though large, were half closed, looking at him lazily; a predatory gaze that was trying to not seem predatory.
Jack felt compelled to cover himself and put his shirt on even though he wasn’t completely dry.
“Was that Mr. Malden?” he said, nodding up toward the resort.
“Him? Yeah,” she said, sounding disappointed. She looked back out toward the water.
“You folks from the city too?”
“Isn’t everyone up here?”
“I imagine there have to be some natives.”
She laughed. “You make them sound like Indians.”
Jack smiled. “Locals then.”
“Yeah, there are some. Not many. They’re boring anyway.”
“Why?”
“They’re always here so they become the place and the place becomes them. It doesn’t mean anything for them to be here. But you and me, we’re from the city. There’s contrast. It means something to come up here and get away.”
“Sure but it’s temporary.”
She laughed, bitterly this time. “Everything’s temporary.”
“I suppose it is.”
A boat sped by disturbing some ducks that had settled in the water. They flew up and away toward the far shore, deep green with pine, oak, and maple in the distance.
“Well, have a nice weekend.” Jack smiled and picked up his sandals.
“I’m in 108,” she said, still looking out at the water.
“What?”
She looked at him. “I’m in room 108. You should come by later.”
“Wouldn’t Mr. Malden mind just a little bit?”
“He won’t be there. What do you think people come up here to do?”
“I don’t know what I thought. Swim in the lake, I guess.”
“Come by my room later and I’ll show you what people come up here to do.”
Jack didn’t have an answer to that so he turned slowly and walked up the beach toward the resort.
Rebecca didn’t like the blonde harlot in the sun hat. Why was she talking to Jack? Where had her husband gone and why didn’t he keep her on a tighter leash? Unless he didn’t care. Unless he knew all about his wife and she about him.
Rebecca felt her lip curl. She despised such people, together but not together. Living separate lives in a marriage of convenience, or inconvenience.
The blonde had watched Jack swim and Rebecca had watched Jack swim but they watched in different ways. Rebecca was sad but mostly grateful for some distance. When he was out there in the water she didn’t have to face him or what they were together.
Jack, her husband, the company vice president, showing off for some blonde beach slut.
She tapped the pack of Winstons on her thigh and lit a second cigarette. Bits of sand ground under her foot resting on the rough painted concrete of the balcony. Beyond the wrought iron railing a boat passed full of loud music and loud laughing people. The wind picked up suddenly off the lake and sent a chill up her back, something she didn’t expect to feel on such a bright sunny day.
A second pull on the cigarette sent a thrill of nicotine through her and she sighed feeling suddenly relaxed.
The door of the room next to theirs opened and a skinny thin-lipped brunette sank into the chair next to her.
“Got a light? Thanks. Ah, good to get away from the husband for a minute, huh?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“Doesn’t do us any good to be joined at the hip.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“You just don’t want to admit it.”
“No, I think you’re right.”
“I’m Nancy.”
“Rebecca.”
“That yours out there?” Nancy said, inclining her head toward the water.
Rebecca nodded.
“Gotta watch out for women like that.”
Rebecca tried not to look too vicious. “I had the same thought.”
“Men need a reason to stick around.”
“And do you give your husband a reason to stick around?” Rebecca said acidly.
“Take it easy. I didn’t mean anything personal.”
“Sure.”
“Hey, you don’t know me. I don’t know you.”
“I think I’ll go for a walk.”
“See you around. Mind what I said.”
Down the stairs, across the grass, in the shade of a giant oak, Rebecca encountered Jack walking slowly with a far-off look in his eyes.
“Jack?”
“Oh, sorry. I was miles away.”
“How was your swim?”
“Good, felt good. Did you see me? I still do alright after all these years.”
“Yeah, I was watching.”
Jack shifted nervously. “Oh, good, good. Lunch? I’m starving.”
“Sure.”
Rebecca spotted the blonde looking their way. She hooked her arm around Jack’s and headed back up the lawn.
Nancy gave Rebecca a knowing look as they turned into their room. Rebecca ignored her.
They had a pleasant lunch on the patio by the water. Salad and a sandwich chased down with a beer for Jack and Prosecco for Rebecca.
They watched the boats coming and going at the slip; the young men in shorts, white shirts, and boat shoes running around taking the boats out of their trailers and bringing them in. Ducks and geese flocked to the long dock that ran along the shore playing in and among the boats lined up in the little harbor waiting for a crust of bread from one of the diners.
Jack looked at Rebecca over the top of his beer.
“Nice day,” he said.
She nodded but didn’t reply or look at him.
“Nice to get out of the city once in a while. With my promotion, this trip isn’t even a significant expense anymore.” Jack laughed. “All thanks to Kellerman & Co.” He drained his beer and went to get up. “All set?”
Rebecca didn’t look at him.
“Becky?”
She blinked. “Sorry, yeah.”
“What do you want to do now?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Jack’s shoulders and back tensed. He knew that tone, the one she used when she shut down and shut him out. Now he was annoyed more than anything.
“Is this how it’s going to be this weekend?”
“What?”
“What do you mean what? We’re here to have a nice time and there’s something wrong but you won’t tell me what so you’re just going to be miserable and pretend there’s nothing wrong. I don’t need—it’s not about need—I don’t want this nonsense. What are we doing here if we’re not going to at least try to have a good time.”
“I am trying, Jack. I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Jack threw his hands up. “Let’s just go.”
They walked in silence back to the room.
“I think they have a tennis court. Do you want to go play?”
Rebecca sat on the bed. “No, I’m just going to take a nap. You go ahead.”
“You’re going to take a nap. What did we come up here for?”
Rebecca’s eyes flashed. “My head hurts and I’m going to lie down. Is that alright with you?”
“Fine, whatever. I guess I’ll be back for dinner.”
The door slammed. Rebecca lay there for a moment then kicked off her shoes. Outside the air conditioner hummed. She lay there and listened thinking about nothing at all but thinking about Jack of course.
She wondered why she had to be so confrontational with him; why all of a sudden she couldn’t stand him but couldn’t stand to let him go.
It was the promotion, of course.
He had been working toward it, thinking about it, pushing hard at work always talking about it at home.
She felt him change, or at least she thought so. Maybe it was her imagination; maybe she was the one who had changed and that made it seem like Jack had.
Jack with his promotion; she at home with nothing and no hope. Not since before the miscarriage anyway.
She tried to stop staring at the ceiling, stark and white. She closed her eyes and tried to let her mind rest instead of just racing along as always.
She didn’t actually have a headache but maybe some sleep would help after all; help with the utter desperation she felt.
The sound of the door closing woke Rebecca.
Jack looked in. “Sleep okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to take a shower, then we’ll go to dinner?”
“Okay.”
Jack went over and closed the curtains then went into the bathroom. He smelled sweaty.
“How was tennis?”
“Oh, good. Actually, I saw Roger from the office over there. You believe that? He and Carolyn are up here for the weekend too.”
“Oh, isn’t that nice.”
Rebecca tried to forget that he had mentioned work, that the hard line between them had forced its way in again like a wolf breaking into the sheepfold.
Rebecca got ready while Jack showered. She felt like she needed to turn things over, make a new start in a way. She thought she was ready to try at least.
She did her hair and makeup and put on a fitting black dress with matching black heels and a pearl necklace and earrings.
Jack wore a gray suit and black shoes, his hair neatly combed.
Dinner was served in a large room with cream-colored walls and large windows overlooking the lake. The chairs and booths were a deep red leather and each table was set with a brilliant white tablecloth and a candle-lit lamp.
The room was sparsely populated and the maître d' showed them to an open table by the window.
Jack ordered a Bordeaux and they sipped and made quiet polite conversation.
Jack sensed something in the air between them, something desperate and dangerous, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up or whether he even wanted to. He was still upset with Rebecca for not making an effort on the trip but he could only guess why she was upset with him.
But, that evening, she seemed to be doing better. She smiled at him occasionally—looking at him at all was improvement—and didn’t take to just staring out at the water.
She looked pretty to him, prettier than in a while with her round cheeks and dark eyes and done-up hair. The jewelry was a nice touch, bright against her black dress.
They shared oysters Rockefeller. He had a Caesar salad, she had a hearts of palm. Pork chops for Jack and roast duck for Rebecca was followed by two slices of chocolate chiffon cake.
The Bordeaux went down easy and Jack found, to his surprise, that Rebecca was matching him glass for glass.
She let the wine go to her head, enjoying the feeling of letting go for once, laughing and being delightful. They talked of old times, the early days of their relationship when they got married and lived in a tiny apartment and had no money and didn’t need anything either. They’d go down to the lake and watch people feed the geese because their stale bread they used to make French toast on the weekend.
And Rebecca reminded Jack that she was a good wife and she still loved him.
Jack, unable to express himself in words, made up for his shortcomings by reaching across the table and taking her hand.
When something caught Jack’s eye and he looked and over at the door the maître d' was showing an overly made-up blonde and her limping husband to a table, Rebecca stood halfway up and laid a finger on Jack’s cheek to bring his gaze back to her.
He grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Eyes wander,” she said. “I don’t blame you for that little weakness.”
“It’s not—”
She tilted her head to the side. “I said I don’t blame you. I’m still here, you know.”
“Are you?” It came out harsher than he intended.
She looked away. “I guess I deserve that.”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t quite been myself.”
“I guess I haven’t either.” He paused and cleared his throat. “We can try again, you know.”
Rebecca shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. “I know.”
“We don’t have to think of it as trying.”
She smiled weakly. “Okay.”
The waiter walked up in that way that waiters always do when you’re having a sensitive conversation.
“Anything else I can get you?”
“Maybe a—”
Rebecca cut him off. “Nothing else. And you can just put it on our room. 204. Mr. and Mrs. Herrin. Thank you.” She smiled at the waiter to dismiss him.
Jack looked at Rebecca questioningly.
“Whisky can wait.” Rebecca smiled, coy and enticing. “You know the way to our room, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then lead on.”
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, strictly a product of the author’s imagination. Any perceived resemblance or similarity to any other fictional works, to actual events or persons, living or dead, and any perceived slights of people, places, or organizations are products of the reader’s imagination. This fiction is the result of a partnership between a human writer and the character(s) he accessed with his creative subconscious as he raced through the story with them. No generative AI was used in any way to write this story.