Place at His Table

"If a shooting star goes by,"

The band had joined him for this chorus. The swelling strains of synthesized strings enveloping his voice in a lush velvety accompaniment. She was sobbing openly now.

"I'd use that star to write 'I love you a thousand times across the sky."

She was aware of Herb moving behind her. She turned to see him putting on his coat. He had left a hundred dollar bill on the table with the check.

"Lucky guy, hon. Hope you can get him back." he whispered to her as he left.

"One thing isn't very clear My Love,"

She spun around for her favorite part.

"Should the teacher stand so near My Love?"

Every woman in the house was gazing at him with the look. She had seen that look on his groupies in the old days with his band. It was a look of pure lust. She knew how they felt, and was sure her face had the same look, if she'd had a mirror to check.

"Graduation's almost here My Love!"

She loved the way his voice always climbed above the written melody on that phrase, improvising itself into a range that made the most advantage of his delicate high tenor while bringing a natural climax to the phrase. She felt she could climax to that phrase too, if only she could get him alone, away from these damn drooling bitches in the club.

"Teach me tonight."

Jealousy coursed through her veins, they were coveting her man. She'd have none of that, she'd rip their eyes out if they got near....wait. She'd left him. She'd divorced him, and he'd let her have her way. Didn't he want her enough to fight for her??? She had aged gracefully. Ok, she wore a couple of pounds more than in her groupie days, but gees, she gave him 3 kids! She kept his house! How could he expect her to keep the magic she'd had when they were young???

A young woman stepped to the front of the stage with a tenor sax to take the solo. She knew he loved this solo on guitar, why was he giving it to this bitch? This usurper?. Damn this girl was a fox! She's almost as tall as Tom, and so lean. Just look at that flat stomach sliding into those hip hugging stretch pants. Look at that bubble butt and those long lean legs. Pointy toed riding boots, he always thought they were sexy. Nice big firm tits, well they should be firm she can't be more than 22. Oh he always loved long blonde hair, and hers is shimmery and smooth and to her waist. Look how he looks at her!

Her thoughts froze. She thought she had traded him in for a newer model, and wound up dating guys who were so boring she couldn't even get herself to go to bed with them. Six months since her divorce, and six waiting for it to be final, a whole sexless year because her dates couldn't measure up to this boring man who now had somehow recaptured his magic. Magic wasn't a strong enough word, damn, he was magnetic. Charismatic! Hot! Sexy! Perfect!

The young woman's solo concluded, Tom had shifted the key up and shifted his voice into high gear. His voice rang out loud and clear on the final chorus, and left the sound men scrambling to pull the mic levels down before he over drove their speakers. The girl stayed forward, her sultry sax sounds joining Tom's voice in a sensual duet....damn they were fucking with sound! Tears in the eyes clouded her view of the two, and put a Romantic haze on what she now clearly saw as a May-December couple. She had enough and ran from the room.

She grabbed her coat and had the woman at the reservation desk call her a cab. As she waited she noticed a poster advertising Tom as the headliner for that night. Through the tears all she could read was his name, but she felt a need to have it as a remembrance. A reminder of the night, and a reminder of how stupid she had been giving him up.

The cab ride was the lowest moment of her life. The driver recognized her tears and the need to be left alone, so he handed her his tissue box and kept mum. Her house felt lonely. She wandered upstairs and gently handled the artifacts of their lives left behind by the kids in each of their rooms. Though she dusted the bedrooms, they felt musty and old. The master bedroom was too quiet. Echoes of the squeaky mattress protesting vigorous lovemaking sessions, visions of him donning his shabby suits. She opened his empty closet and visualized it full of tuxedos and custom suits, she visualized guitars hanging on the empty wall, with an amplifier below for his late night practice sessions. She sprayed an old bottle of his cologne which remained on his dresser, one of the few things he had left behind. She fantasized a weekend in the mountains skiing all day and making love all night.

She suddenly realized it was her. She was what had made him boring. She made him stop skiing. He had sacrificed two potential glamorous careers, as a guitarist or as a symphonic trumpeter for the security a teaching job brought his young family. He had given that up, cheerfully sacrificing it for love, and in the end she gave him up. But he had never seen it as a bad thing, never expressed regret. He calmly went out and became the best middle school band director in the state. He made it glamorous and she couldn't see it. He took the kids everywhere, they lacked for nothing. His mini van made growing up glamorous, and she gave him up for it. Their kids were now beautiful adults. And now that she was out of his life, he was back to playing his music, dressing well, and damn it driving a luxury SUV to go skiing. I'll bet he finally bought either that Porsche or that classic 'Vette he always wanted.

Visions of Tom in a well decorated apartment with dozens of sports cars in the garage serving that pretty young blonde bitch his fresh chicken Marsala on a terrace over looking the water had her crying herself to sleep.

Morning comes too soon when sleep comes slowly. She woke to those stupid birds singing. Why should anyone be so happy when she is so miserable. How would she ever be happy enough to sing again. She threw her window open and screamed at the birds. "Ah, quiet."

Coffee might help. She went to the kitchen, and brewed a full pot, sure she'd need more than a cup or two. As it brewed, she grabbed the paper from the front porch and tossed it on the table. The picture caught her eye first. It was Tom and the blonde sax player. She was struck by how much the sax entering the girls mouth resembled a dick getting a blow job. The vision didn't help ease her jealous pain, but before the tears began to flow the headline on poster she had grabbed caught her eye.

Tom Jackson and Alumnae

Benefit for Adams County Flood Victims

Her head spun back to the article, eyes quickly dry and vision crystal clear. The article had a similar headline:

Benefit Concert Raises $165,000 for Adams Middle School Flood relief Drive

She read of the concert. Tom had called some of his most successful alumnae to play with him at the club to raise money for victims of a recent flood who were still struggling to recover. It had been a three night event, with kids collecting pledges, and local businesses rallying to help these poor people who were suddenly homeless. They had raised enough money to ensure that the families could buy clothing and begin to rebuild their shattered homes. The sax player was quoted in the article:

Jackson's most notable alumna, Sarah Davis ceased work on her new album, the first since her Grammy award winning effort, made the trip from New York City to join the man she describes as her favorite teacher and greatest inspiration in this noble effort. "I adore this man. I lived in that neighborhood when I was a kid. He is helping the family that lives in my old home! If my sax can help him half as much as he helped me when I was growing up, I'm there in a flash."

There was no need to read more. She had mistaken deep adoration and respect for lust. She had totally misread the way he looked back. The only blow job from the young blonde's mouth was one that resulted in a Grammy. His look in return wasn't lust either, it was pride.

She finished her coffee, and climbed the steps to shower. She hadn't showered in the bathroom in the master bedroom since just after he left. She took her time. She toweled off slowly, and had just combed out her wet hair when the door bell rang. She put on a thick terry robe and padded down the steps to answer the door. It was Tom.

"Hi.'

He stood their so confidently. Jeans and a sport shirt under a brown leather jacket. The combination of the smell of the leather and his cologne, the same she had sprayed last night, was enough to make her swoon.

"Hi Tom. I was just getting dressed, do you want to come in?"

"Yes, thanks. "

He stepped by as she gently closed the door behind him.

"I saw you at the club last night, and I saw you leave upset. You Ok?"

She nodded that she was fine, but her face betrayed her. She hadn't thought he would still be able to read her like a book, but he knew something was not right.

"Did Herb Stuart say something out of line? I saw him leave before you, and just toss some money on the table when you turned your back to him. I know it may not be my business, but I still love you enough that I can't stand by and watch some guy hurt you.."

She began to cry, and this time he didn't read her accurately. He began to rant and rave about how he was ready to deal with Herb, how you deserved nothing but the best, blah blah blah. She didn't hear a word. After all he had said "I still love you" and it echoed too loudly in her ears to hear anything else. His rantings slowed down long enough for her to quiet him.

"Herb was always a gentleman. I don't know why he kept taking me out, I treated him lukewarm at best , but he kept trying."

"Well you know there are plenty of fish in the sea as they say."

"Yeah I know, but I keep throwing them back."

Tom chuckled at that, and said good naturedly "Yeah, been there!".

"Oh no! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it that way!" she said horrified at how she had misspoke. "You look good Tom. I loved that song you know."

"Yeah, sorry about that. If I had known you would be there I'd have left it off the play list. Kind of lame of me."

"Oh no babe, I was so happy to hear it. It brought back so many memories."

"Yeah, got me out of a lot of time in the doghouse."

"No babe, not like that. It was beautiful. It brought back some disturbing memories. Memories that gave me time in the doghouse, and may have me there for life. Do you remember the things I said I was leaving you for?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm boring. Dull job, crappy car, dingy clothes, all that stuff. You were right too. I became routine. I took you for granted and bored you right away."

"Oh no babe. I was wrong! I was sooo wrong! I forced you away from the guitar, from the symphony, from tuxedos and nice suits, off your skis and into a shitty mini van. Then I gave up all those beautiful years of you raising and caring my family by telling you I was bored with you. I took the excitement out of you and then dumped you for being boring. Meanwhile, you were leading this exciting life teaching kids how to win Grammy awards and make such beautiful music and I couldn't see it. You put me in the dream house I asked you for, you put our kids through college, you were there in sickness and health and all I saw were the husbands of my friends in fancy cars going off to jobs I thought were so glamorous. Then I got out there dating, and the only men who wanted to spend time with me were fat, bald and boring. I haven't been able to ski a slope without stopping for some fool who fell, haven't gone to a concert where my date stays awake, haven't found a guy who can dance worth his salt, sing on tune, or cook a decent Marsala. I'm alone in a house full of ghosts of you and the kids, can't cook, can't make enough to eat out enough to successfully avoid my own cooking, can't afford to have my driveway shoveled when it snows, and when I finish it myself I come in and there's no one to warm me up, make me hot chocolate or rub my sore shoulders, this summer I'll have to mow my own lawn, and damn it Tom, no one measures up to you. No one! Then when I finally realized it, there you are with all your magic back. Trumpet at Symphony Hall in a tux, you know I love you in a tux, singing with a band at a club, your face in the paper, women drooling over you, lusting after you and I'm in the house jealous with no right. If you are boring then please sign me up! Baby, please forgive me and come home. Please come bore me for the rest of my life. I miss you so much, I was so wrong to change you. I was so wrong to ditch you after I did it please..."

He had heard enough and held up his hand to stop her tirade.

"Hon, this is a lot to digest. And pretty sudden. Truth is, I never stopped loving you, I've been waiting for you to at least talk to me about what's really going on in your life. You left it in the hands of lawyers, never looked me in the eye and told me what was going on. I had a feeling I'd hear from you sooner or later."

"You've been waiting for me all this time?"

He nodded.

"You've been playing, reinvigorated your life, and you've gotten in shape. You look great, you're living well. It hardly appears you've missed anything. You want me to believe all this time you were waiting for me?"

"Yeah, I always promised myself I'd come back to those all those things I really valued someday when the kids were done. Knowing they were there waiting for me made giving them up ok. Raising the kids was fun, much more than the stuff I gave up! Glitz and glamour are highly overrated. Now I'm free to live the golden years even though I hardly feel goldenly old! So I skied a lot this winter, even went to the Alps over Christmas break."

She gulped at that one, she'd always wanted to go to the Alps, and she missed the trip.

"I bought an SUV to make it easy to get to the local hills, and even bought a condo right on the mountain at Stowe."

She loved Stowe.

"I thought the SUV will also come in handy towing the sailboat this summer, but a slip became available at my condo go I'm docking it there and can actually see it from the deck off my living room."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Condo on the water...with a boat in a slip. She loved sailing.

He could see the questions in her eyes about his place. Yup he could sure read her.

"Oh I should have you over sometime, I love my place! It has a great kitchen and a wide open living room with a view of the sound. Three bedrooms upstairs, one with a small deck, and since I have an end unit I can play my music all night in one room without waking the neighbors. I have room for the SUV and my car in the garage."

"Let me guess, you finally bought the Porsche."

"Yeah, I couldn't resist. But I bought a little Hybrid for my day to day driving. I keep the Porsche and the antique in a garage I rent nearby."

"Antique?"

"Yeah, you knew I always wanted a car as old as me! I finally bought it. Hey I drove it here today, let's go for a ride in the country . We can stop for lunch, and have plenty of time to talk, catch up."

"I'd like that."

She followed him out to the car. There it was, a '59 'Vette, fire engine red with gleaming white leather interior.

He treated her as if they had never parted. She was with him again, and he focused everything on her. He looked her in the eye, as he always had. He spoke to her with a gentle voice, no trace of anger or resentment. Lunch was beautiful, he stopped at a little seafood restaurant and they sat outside in the sun. He ordered he favorite, chowder and a swordfish steak. He had always known what to order, and had never hesitated. Same old Tom. How did he always do that? How could she think that someone who could read her as he did was boring? He continued his drive north to a park they had loved to hike when they were younger. They climbed the hill to an old logging road that provided amazing vistas the surrounding countryside and of the sound all the way to Long Island.

It was an idyllic day, and she wondered why she had ever left him. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, at every turn reminded her of the dynamic young man he had been when they first met. He talked of the symphony, of the alumnae students who had come back to play and the wonderful careers they were pursuing in music as professionals. He told her of how much he had been writing, and that some of his songs had been bought and were being recorded by famous singers. He had paid off all his share of their pre-divorce debts and bought the cars with the advances he had received, and had traveled at every opportunity. They talked through the perfect sunset, and by the time they returned to her home, she was sure she wanted him back. He accepted her offer of a cup of coffee.

She never made the coffee. Once inside she broke down, and began to spill her thoughts all over him. She was devastated over how she had cast him aside, and only realized how much he meant once she realized he was truly gone. She begged him to giver her another chance. She swore to him that she hadn't gotten serious with another man, there had been no sex and she hadn't enjoyed kissing the few dates that had gone that far.

"Why is it important to tell me that?"

"I want you to know I have always loved you, that no man can measure up, that I've given myself to no other man. I'm yours if you want me!"

"If that's important though, I'm not sure you'll want me."

He stopped to look her in the eye.

"While it's true I've waited for you to call, I didn't stop having sex."

He described feeling lonely and how his eyes started roving as soon as the divorce was final. He told her he had never even considered cheating on her, but that as soon as he was free he had an incredible appetite for female contact, and that included a craving for great variety. He had begun running in the mornings even before she had noticed him missing, and had been stopping at a gym most afternoons to either swim or lift weights. He removed his wedding band the day he was served, and the women at the gym took notice of its disappearance that afternoon. Word got around the faculty too, and though loathe to begin a romantic relationship with a colleague, dinner invitations began at once, with single friends of the hosts always part of the gathering. The flirting level rose dramatically, and suddenly "accidental" peeks down blouses and up short skits at panty free views between uncrossed legs became common even with women he considered conservative. The day the divorce was final, friends threw him a party, where he was rubbed and groped every which way both at the bar and on the dance floor.

He had resumed his sex life that night, and soon found himself in the company of a lovely single woman nearly each night of the week. His music started to pay off quickly, and having money and nice cars only enhanced his image. He began dressing well again, since he no longer had family's needs to put first. The condo followed, and he had hosted several parties and gatherings there, never failing to entertain one special lady much longer than the rest of his guests, often until breakfast the next day. He had realized many of the fantasies they had playfully talked about, threesomes, foursomes, moresomes, public sex, sex on the boat, on the beach, on a pool table, in every room and position, mile high sex, sometimes romps that lasted an entire weekend. He didn't want to even think of exploring the beginnings of a serious relationship unless she understood this.

Her eyes were cast down. She understood, but something hurt terribly. She had set him free for this, and knew she had no claim once they were no longer married. Somehow she had believed that he would always be there as she left him, devoted to her, only for her. She left him for something more exciting, and not only had he found his old magic that made him exciting, he hadn't hesitated to use it.