Union in Partition

Note: A special thanks to my friend who inspired this story with his own. Another very big thank-you goes out to my editor.

*

I shut the door as quietly as I could when I got home.

Gerry was asleep on the couch. The TV was on. An infomercial was trying to sell my husband knives, but I left it on so he wouldn't be as aware of my shuffling around so late.

I slipped out of my best black shoes, feeling the straps move out of the grooves they had cut into my feet and the relief that went with it. I sighed when my heels hit the floor flat for the first time since dinner when I fed the kids.

I walked over, surveyed my husband in his nearly crotchless sweats, and turned off the TV. He groaned and rolled over.

"I'm going to bed, sweetheart," I said, covered him with a blanket from the back of the couch, then started up the stairs. The dress went back into my closet. I took my time removing my makeup, and brushed my teeth. I surveyed myself. Here, in front of the mirror, was the woman who belonged with the man downstairs. Whatever glamour I had mustered for going to the play was gone. I smelled stale from the perfume I'd put on earlier in the evening.

It had been a surreal evening. Three weeks ago, a friend had e-mailed me about tickets he'd gotten for the play, but he warned me that it was a dress-up occasion. He didn't tell me what the play was, but I was to give his name at the box office when I got to the theater. I'd find out what the play was once I got there.

I agonized over what to wear, and finally found a dress behind three others that weren't quite right. It was black, very simple. With the right jewelry and makeup, it would be perfect.

When Gerry found out about the play, he raised his eyebrows.

"Sounds like a date," he said.

"It's not, you know that. I'm going with Luc. He's as married as I am." I went over to Gerry and kissed him. "Besides," I announced hearing my four-year-old daughter behind me, "I have munchkins to tickle that night."

"What?" complained Melanie. "I'm not a munchkin!"

"Okay," I agreed, picking her up and rocking her on my hip. "I have a sweet pea to cuddle." I peered through Melanie's hair and saw Gerry smile.

"Permission granted."

"He's not your daddy! He's not the boss of you."

"No, indeed. He's yours," I told her while passing her to Gerry, who already had his arms open for the hand-off.

Last night was hard, since I had been thinking all week about the play. It was on the calendar, on the off chance that Gerry would forget to come home from work right away instead of running errands. Normally, the errands were a godsend, but I didn't want to be late. The play started at 7:30, and it was 6:00 when it occurred to me that Gerry had forgotten. I was getting Ben's fish cut up into finger-food when Gerry walked in.

Ben began shrieking in greeting, kicking in time to his fists pounding the tray of the highchair. Melanie ran to Gerry and wrapped her body around his left leg.

"Hey, what's new at the zoo?"

"Monkey shines. I need to get ready to go. Can you handle the kids' dinner?

"Where you going?" He was taking his coat off while guiding Melanie back to her chair.

"I have that play to go to tonight, and it's across town. I want to get there a little early."

"I forgot all about that. I stopped to get a movie for tonight. 'Army of Darkness,' just for you."

"I can't. Rain check for tomorrow?" I was already moving past him and was on the last step when he came to the bottom of the stairs.

"Why is this so important, Lexi? Why do you need to go to that play tonight? Is there something you need to tell me?" His voice was low, threatening. I could hear Melanie telling Ben how to dip his tater tots in the ketchup without getting it all over his fingers. It was rare that she got this motherly with him -- she must have noticed the tension between Gerry and me.

I sat on the step and sighed.

"It's just that I need to get out, and I haven't seen a play for a long time. I know you don't want to go, and that's fine. I need this. I do, and I can't explain it better than that."

"I love you," he said, looking old for a moment. I could see how weary he would look in ten years. "I went to the trouble to stop to get you a movie you like as a treat."

"I know, and I appreciate it. I love you, too. The fact is, the play is tonight, and the movie is a cheap rental."

"Daddy, Ben is wearing his tater tots on his head," Melanie called, failing to stifle a giggle while she tattled.

Gerry put his hand on my knee. "Don't be late for your play."

I rushed through getting ready, being as careful as possible while running half an hour late. I was unsettled by the conversation with Gerry and the fact that Melanie and Ben had heard it all. I had vague memories of my parents fighting in front of me when I was little. The memories of how much I hated it as I stood in front of the mirror still haunted me.

I put on the dress and shoes I had picked out over a week earlier and looked in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. I put on a mist of a rose-scented perfume and wondered what I looked like to someone else.

The actual escape from the house was a blur that I can only remember as a maddening effort to kiss the kids without getting covered in ketchup. I waved to Gerry, who was at the microwave warming up his food.

I drove as quickly as I could without tempting a speeding ticket. The traffic was bad, and by the time I got close to the theater there was no parking within blocks. My feet moved as quickly as they could in the heels, which weren't designed for walking.

I'm sure when I walked into the building I was flushed from the cold. The clock in the lobby said I still had five minutes. It was a relief but I still had to get the ticket, which turned out to be not too difficult. I checked my coat, and then began to search for my seat.

I looked, and then saw him. He was dressed in a nice suit, and raised his arm partway to be sure I saw where he was. I squeezed down the row until I was next to him, and smiled. I was shy all of a sudden. There was no reason to be, I knew, since he was just someone with whom I shared a simple interest. I trusted him and could talk to him about almost everything.

We met when I was crying, coming out of a movie. It was one of those indie films that most people never see and fewer people appreciate. He handed me a tissue and I could see the movie had gotten to him, too. We had coffee and talked about the movie, then other things. There was a kinship with him that I didn't feel with many other people. I looked forward to going to little plays we found out about, and the occasional movie.

He offered me an escape from toy cars and cartoons when I needed it most. He filled my need for intellectual exchange that Gerry didn't care about. It was also nice that he was married, and understood some of the issues that my single friends didn't. He was kind, and didn't judge me, even when I admitted to acting foolishly with Gerry.

I settled into my seat while trying not to look over at Luc. I felt him there, and sensed his excitement with the crowd, ready for the curtain to open. The low buzz of the crowd was punctuated by laughter scattered here and there. The mood of the theater started to sink in through my skin, until I felt like I was vibrating.

When I looked at him, I realized that he had been looking at me for a little while. To him, I wasn't someone's mom, or someone's wife, I was myself, and he approved. I felt a wave of gratitude and affection for him, and then took a moment to study him. The man next to me, with whom I had spent many hours, was handsome, with intelligent eyes and a warm smile. I watched him fade as the lights came down.

Without thinking, I slipped my hand in his, and felt his fingers slowly wrap around mine. For reasons I can't recall, it felt right. My heartbeat slowed a little, and I finally got warm from being outside.

As the room hushed, I wondered about him, what life would be like with him beside me for more than the occasional evening out. His cologne was unfamiliar but comforting, and his hand was dry and warm. I looked at our hands, my right hand in his left with the ring on his finger. No one looking at us would suspect we weren't married to one another, and I eased into my role as Scene One unfolded on the stage.

After the play, we decided to keep our tradition of post-entertainment coffee. I was glad, since it was cold out, and I was getting tired. I had gotten up early with Ben, who still had a hard time sleeping through the night. I also wanted to savor the evening. It wasn't often that I got out of the house, and less often that I dressed like this. I felt elegant, if only for a few hours.

The coffee shop we normally went to was too far away to be a consideration, so Luc asked one of the ushers about someplace a little closer to the theater. He wanted to drive, and then bring me back to my car later on. I was grateful since my car was so far away, and it would be something else new for us. I wanted to see if my picture of him as a careful, thorough personality was correct.

He had a sensible black car, with only a few things in the back seat. I had expected this from him, since we had met before.

I was surprised when he opened the door for me. He put his hand on my forearm and guided me in. I hadn't known that I had wanted him to do that, but as it happened, I did. As I sat, and he shut the door, he looked at me again before glancing away.

We didn't talk during the drive over to the local coffee shop. It turned out that we were overdressed, but I slid into the booth and shrugged out of my coat anyway. I rarely had the luxury of looking too nice for a public place. With the kids, I was lucky to look like I had combed my hair when I went out on errands.

Luc had taken off is his coat, too, and was looking out the window with his chin resting in his left hand. His ring glowed a little in the dim light of the room, and I looked away.

"I was wondering what you thought of the play," I started.

"It was wonderful, and I was glad you made it. I wanted to share it with someone, and you seemed like the right person," he said, now looking down at the table where his hands were folded.

"What's the matter?"

He looked up at me for just a moment. "I can't say."

"I suppose it's the same reason I'm feeling funny tonight. What changed?"

"I saw you, really noticed you, and I'm not free to do anything about it." He met my gaze directly. "Neither are you."

I was surprised he had been so direct. Normally, we talked about themes in the movies or plays.

"The real problem is, for the first time, I feel right with someone. Rather, the second time. Catherine, of course."

"Yes." I had visions of Gerry in front of the TV, with a Disney movie playing for the kids. In my mind I saw them piled on the couch, content and happily chatting about the action. For the first time, I felt guilty about coming out with Luc since we started meeting for our movie and play outings.

"I suddenly don't feel right. Is it okay if we skip the coffee?" The waitress hadn't shown up and I realized the place was crowded,.

"Of course. I'm sorry to bring you all the way over here for nothing."

"It wasn't 'nothing,' Luc."

"No, it wasn't."

We made our way back out to his car and sat there for a minute after he started the engine. I was wondering why we weren't moving when he turned to look at me.

"This is so hard. I didn't think it would be, did you? I used to think about all of this, what we did tonight, as ideal."

"It's torture," I said, under my breath.

"Yes, that's the word. Torture."

"It seems like no matter what we do now, it will be the wrong thing." I wanted so much to be able to take advantage of the moment, but he was right, we had other obligations.

"I don't know what to do, Lexi. I know what I want to do." His voice got lower, more raspy as he spoke.

I felt my face get red, and I could feel him look at me. I could tell he wanted me to answer, to decide. When my eyes met his, I knew that what would follow would make us miserable.

"I want that, too," I confessed, and felt his lips on mine, soft, warm and urgent. My hand went to his chest. His heart beat hard enough to feel through the coat and jacket.

"I don't understand," he said, after we parted. After our kiss, our eyes were locked in the dark.

"Understand what?" My face was still red, and my lips tingled with the memory of him.

"Timing, the universe, all of it."

I laughed. I didn't know either.

We drove back to my car, and we sat again in the lot, with the engine running. Mine was the only one left there. It was ten years old, and had some rust spots on it. The back had the kids' seats strapped in.

"I don't want to go back yet."

"I don't want you to go, either."

"Is this real, Luc?"

He took my left hand and brought it to his lips. "Right now, this second, is real. I promise."

"It's over, isn't it."

"Not yet." He kissed me again, gently. "I want to remember this."

"Will you want to tomorrow?" I was already feeling guilty for loosening my ties to reality with him.

"Yes. I won't want to think of what it means to my marriage, but I won't forget what this means, here, now."

"This is cruel. Wherever God lives, I feel like knocking on his door and lodging a complaint."

He laughed. "I'll be second in line."

I opened the car door and got out. Above us, a streetlight glowed, with a halo around it from the slight mist in the air. It diffused the light, and made the parking lot look like a scene in a dream. He got out, too, and waited for me to walk around to the driver's side of my car, near his door.

He took my hand, pulled me to him, and held me. "This doesn't seem real," he said into my hair.

I shook my head in agreement and rested against him. He pulled away and kissed me on the forehead.

"Start your car, Madame. I'll wait."

The car started uneventfully - Gerry kept it tuned and maintained as well as he could. I turned on my headlights, and Luc put his car in gear and left the parking lot, going the opposite direction I would go to get home.

The next morning Gerry wanted to know about the play.

"It was good. The theater company that put it on was better than I had expected."

The company was one out of Chicago, and had a very good reputation. It didn't seem important now.

"Which play?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"Don't tell me. Is it a comedy? Tragedy?"

"More of a fantasy, honey," I said, then lightly kissed him on the lips.

"Oh," he replied, and lost interest as I knew he would.