Might Have Been Ch. 08: Conclusion

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Minneapolis -- July 15, 2012

"Lance?" Amber was surprised, and did not appear happy to see me. I had obtained the address from her father, and found her in Uptown, in an apartment building overlooking Lake Calhoun.

"I was in town and thought I would check up on some old friends."

"My apartment isn't clean. You should have called first, and we could have met somewhere." She stepped outside her apartment door, and began shutting it, when a voice inside called, "Amber, who is it?"

I recognized the voice -- Sidney.

Before the door could shut, I called inside. "Hey Sidney, I was looking for you too."

"Oh wow, Lance?" Sidney came to the door, and encircled her arm absent-mindedly around Amber's waist. Amber shoved it away, then fidgeted when she realized she hadn't been subtle about it.

I broke out laughing. My meddling in the alternate universe had only brought them together a little sooner. Some things were just going to happen anyway, and that thought made me happy.

Amber frowned at me while Sidney took offense. Sidney reacted first. "What the fuck are you laughing at?"

She was shushed by Amber. "Lance, you can't let my father know."

I raised my hands in a placating gesture. "I won't tell a soul without your permission, and I'm laughing because, oddly enough, I was certain you two should be together, and I'm pleased to be right."

Mollified, Sidney put her hand back around Amber's waist. "See, Amber, most people back home won't care."

"Most people aren't my father."

I changed the subject. "I need to hear how you two got together. How about I buy you both lunch, and you tell me the story?"

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New York -- August 25, 2012

Sarah glared at me with mock disapproval as she left the bathroom after reattaching her bra. The tone of her voice was more encouraging. "So far, so good, Lance. One last hurdle."

The second challenge had been obviously intended to make it impossible to meet my self-imposed deadline, but Sarah must have known I would eventually succeed. She had just been stalling for time, and would be a good sport about her failure, particularly since she had one more challenge left. For her third task I was expecting something subjective -- something that allowed her to decide whether or not she had been seduced. I wasn't wrong.

"Your final challenge is to explain why I should date you, when I'm already seeing someone else."

I showed no surprise or disappointment. Women like Sarah were only single when they wanted to be, and she was too sociable to stay single for long. "Who are you seeing?"

"A former classmate from Julliard -- an orchestra geek."

I set down my cup of coffee. I wanted to watch this. "Does he think he can know the dancer from the dance?"

Sarah impersonated an old song, turning a whiter shade of pale. She had stopped breathing, and was silent for several seconds as her eyes gazed far away. "What did you say?"

"You used to have that couplet in your locker. I already said that your breakup with Dave was beautiful, but I didn't say why I thought so. Your dreams were heading in different directions. He needed to go to Madison. He had a rare combination of talents in visual art and computer programming, and is now one of the hottest game designers in Silicon Valley. You have loved dance ever since you were fourteen, and needed to be here. The two of you had to choose between love and your own identity, and you were strong enough to choose identity. Isn't that what the Yeats quote means to you? Without the dance -- the dancer might as well not even exist?"

Sarah was silent, her face haunted. Breaking up with Dave had been one of the toughest things she had ever done, and I was giving her what she had sought from me so desperately in the pool parking lot, several universes away -- absolution and understanding.

I kept talking. "If someone you love won't allow you to be the person you are meant to be, the relationship is doomed. Tasha taught me that."

Sarah's lips were starting to move, but no words came. Her eyes welled with tears, which she didn't brush away.

I could never decline a chance to monologue. "Ten years ago, we were both strongly interested in each other. To me, you were a force of nature, the walking epitome of everything I thought was sexy and cool. But because you were dating my best friend, we only loved each other as friends. After the breakup, you and I were never possible for the same reason you and Dave couldn't work out. But that has changed -- I'm here. We're both pursuing our dreams while living only a couple miles apart." I took a deep breath. "I think you will break up with your boyfriend because you were always curious about what was possible between us. The two of us connected in a way you have only experienced one other time in your entire life. You're a woman who makes opportunities and seizes them, and I think there is no way in hell you will let this one escape. We can dance with each other, and I won't step on your feet."

The last line bordered on the maudlin, but I was betting Sarah would take it with the sweetness I intended.

Sarah finally spoke, gaining a measure of control over her emotions. Tears were flowing freely. "My first dance teacher in Rochester had that Yeats quote up as a poster in her studio. I asked her what the answer was. She said, 'the dance never tells you it's pregnant two days before you go on tour'."

I laughed at that.

Sarah smiled briefly, before continuing. "I had forgotten something I hadn't thought of in years. You just brought it all back."

"What?"

"Um... I never told anyone this." She had grabbed a handful of Kleenex, and was cleaning up her brightly blushing face.

"Yes?"

"The night before I flew to New York, I went looking for you."

It was my turn to say nothing.

"Dave hated me for breaking up with him. I felt like shit, and I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared I had lost you both. You were my best friends ever." Her expression was cute and sad.

"Why did you look for me?"

"I thought maybe..." Her voice faded into reminiscence.

"Yes?"

She closed her eyes in annoyance, and opened them. "Fuck this. I'm not a tongue-tied teenager. You said we were interested in each other. Hell, yes. The sexual tension between us would have fueled a dozen years of sitcoms."

"Why do you think I'm here, Sarah?"

"I loved both you guys. I kept thinking I would have been happy spending the rest of my life with Dave, if only we weren't heading in different directions, but you..."

"Yes?"

"I felt guilty about this through the last two years of high school. I always wondered if I had chosen wrong when Dave asked me out the night we made all the snowmen. I wondered if I should have held out for you. You were so talented, creative, and smart, and you knew it. Nothing would stand in your way. You were going to be a comet, and I wanted to watch you blaze through the sky."

It was my turn to blush.

"It was impossible," Sarah said. "Still, I always wondered."

"So what happened the night before you went to New York?" I prompted.

"I stopped by the pool searching for you. I was stupid, depressed, and half-drunk. I wanted you to help me. I couldn't see a way for us to be together. I was going to New York. You were going to Chicago. But you were so smart and I wanted you to find a way to make it work anyway. I wanted you to find a way where we could be together and still share our dreams. The Yeats poem kept coming to mind that night. It meant to me what you said."

"I remember that night. There was a storm. We closed early that day and I went home. I wasn't there when you stopped by."

"Yes, and I got too drunk in the parking lot and passed out. I never told you what I wanted to say."

Not in this universe.

Sarah grew more animated. "Don't you see, Lance? Everyone else has regrets in their life. They spend their time wondering what things would have been like if they had made different decisions. But that's not me."

"No."

"I don't have regrets in life. I'm proud of that. I'm proud of what I have tried, and my failures are just fertilizer that help me grow."

"No regrets at all?"

"Just one. Just you." Sarah's smile was radiant, powered by the exultant release of a confession.

In all my inter-temporal wanderings, I had realized I never had a real chance with Sarah -- there was no moment in the past I could change to convince her to be with me. She was not my Might-Have-Been.

I was hers.

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Chicago -- August 4, 2012

Once or twice, Tasha and I tried to socialize as friends, but there was too much history and pain. I did still check up on her from time to time. She had no close friends or family in the area, and if she were heading to a bad place, I wanted to know. I didn't plan on intervening personally, but I would call her father or mother, who had always liked me. If I told them she was in trouble, they would believe me, and hopefully help her out. So I had been calling her once a month. This would be the last time.

"Tell me honestly, how are you doing?" I asked.

"Lance, you weren't indispensable. I can live without you."

"I always knew that, but I wasn't sure you did."

"Don't patronize me. If you must know, I have a new job in pharmaceutical sales, and I'm dating a doctor."

Maybe he will have more luck getting you to take your Zoloft, I didn't say. "I'm happy for you. I'm moving to New York at the end of the month."

"Well, good luck, Lance. I know it's what you wanted." I heard resentment in her voice. Tasha always resented anyone who made her feel guilty.

"Good bye, Tasha."

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New York -- August 25, 2012

Sarah pulled out her phone and punched a number. After a few seconds, I heard, "Hey John."

...

"Yeah, um, I had fun too. I need to talk to you. We need to break up."

...

"Well, there's not someone else, but there will be soon. An old friend showed up in town and I want to give this a try, but I need to do the right thing with you first." She waggled her eyebrows at me.

...

"We only had five dates. Phone breakups are fine for anything less than ten dates." She sounded defensive.

...

"Says me, that's who. Look on the bright side -- your next girlfriend might not conspicuously wear earplugs when your orchestra plays Schoenberg."

...

"OK, I need to go. Best of luck!"

She hung up, and leaned forward. "There is more about that night before I left for New York. I remember promising to myself that if you figured out a way for us to share our dreams, I would grab it. I gave up after you sent that email, and I had forgotten, but this is a promise I would love to keep." She paused, letting her words sink in.

Sarah always had a sense for drama. Her half smile was back, projecting anticipation and mischief, and her eyes were shining. "Step Four, Lance. I want you to Step Four me, hard."

Step Four: Have wild sex with Sarah.

"Sarah, I just want to say--"

She interrupted me with an exasperated laugh, throwing her hands up in the air. "God, you don't know when to shut up. Just kiss me, dumbass." I rose, and suddenly she was in my arms, melting into me -- lips as soft and yielding as I remembered from that day at the pool. I was improvising now, my careful planning only took me this far.

Sarah's hands caressed my back, shoulders, waist, and ass. She kneaded my flesh, as if assuring herself of the reality of my presence.

Her mouth pulled away from mine, and I opened my eyes to see her smiling at me. Her full lips were stretched wide over perfect teeth. This was no half-smile -- no Mona Lisa smile -- this was Sarah with joy unchained. Her hands clutched at my belt as she stepped backwards, pulling me toward the couch, with my weight pressing down on her.

Unfortunately, she had pulled before I was ready, and my foot caught the table leg, tipping bagels and cream cheese onto the floor, and the remnants of hot coffee onto my leg. "Ow!"

Sarah saw the stain on my pant leg. "Oh shit!" she said. "I'm sorry. I got too excited. Do you need ice?"

"No, the pain is already fading. It wasn't that hot. If you want my pants off, you need but ask."

Sarah laughed into my ear as she kissed it. "We will clean up the food later. This is more important." Her white neck swanned back as she pulled my face down to kiss her flesh. The skin of her neck was soft and warm in my mouth. She sighed in pleasure as she ran her fingers through my hair -- nails raking my scalp and running down my spine, causing me to shiver and press my hips against her.

She felt my stiffness, and thrust herself against it. "Yes," she sighed.

I started to lift her shirt, but she stopped me. She pulled my face to meet hers and said, "We have had a dozen years of foreplay, Lance. We can practice that later. Right now I want you inside me, looking at my face. I want to see you. I want you to make me believe this is real." As she spoke, her hands unbuckled my belt, and tried to unzip my fly -- but it was stuck.

Her fingers worked with futility for several seconds before she threw up her hands in bemused frustration. "You have fifteen seconds to find a way to get them off, or I'm fetching a crowbar. I'll be getting in them -- now. Chop chop. We have a schedule to keep."

I stood, and quickly shimmied out of them -- I would fix the zipper later. Sarah started working at the waistband of her own shorts, then stopped. "Don't forget your condom," she said.

"Umm..." Fuck.

Sarah was dumbfounded. "You planned every step of getting in my pants within an hour of seeing me for the first time after ten years, and you didn't bring protection?"

"Sorry," I said, feeling sheepish, "I seem to have had the most amazing run of luck where every woman was on some other method of birth control."

"What, they don't have diseases in Chicago? Eww. There's some on the coffee table. Get one." Sarah pointed behind me, looking almost as embarrassed as I was.

I found one and put it on. "If you pass the one-month test," she said, "I'll go back on the pill, but you ain't riding bareback, cowboy, until I see some test results."

Finally satisfied at my prophylactization, Sarah grappled me again, and in a flurry of hands and kicks we were both naked from the waist down. Anticipation lit her eyes as her hands embraced my face, pulling my mouth to hers. We shifted our hips, and her smile opened into an expression of rapture as I slid into her. I exulted as a hot, tight wetness enveloped me. She closed her eyes only briefly, fastening her gaze on mine once more.

I touched Sarah's face, exploring her soft warmth. Her skin counterfeited porcelain, but surrendered on contact, just like her lips. I lost myself in the uncanny texture of her skin, and the luxuriant black waves of her hair.

Her mouth bit down gently on my hand, tasting it. Sarah's eyes roamed over my face, drinking in my features. Flickers of disbelief, passion, and joy played out across her face.

A thrust of my hips opened her eyes wide as she gasped. Her own hips pushed back fiercely against mine, and her dancer's legs wrapped themselves around my thighs. I had wanted to see if she preferred it slow or hard, and I had my answer.

I watched her expression change with each thrust. Her smile, as she felt me slide within her, was an aphrodisiac undreamt of by gods and men. Every parting of the lips, every roll of the tongue, every flare of the nostrils, every moan and sigh, screamed to me how she felt to be in my arms, with me inside her.

My feet found purchase on the arm of the couch, providing leverage for my hips. I pushed my legs against the furniture, and Sarah cried my name. I pushed against the armrest again -- and flinched at the harsh sound of snapping wood.

I looked behind me to see how much trouble I was in.

"Did you just break my couch?" Sarah peeked over my shoulder to survey the damage. The armrest was jutting out at a thirty degree angle, with exposed upholstery and splintered wood making it resemble a compound fracture. "Impressive. That's one we can tell stories about."

"I'll buy you a new couch."

"Don't worry about it. The wood in the couch wasn't tulgey enough, unlike yours." She squeezed me with her inner muscles. I seized her face and brought it forward to my mouth. I breathed her scent as my kisses devoured her lips and tongue. I thrust harder, faster, each movement bringing forth a moan from the depths of Sarah's throat.

She pushed my face back so she could look me in the eyes as she spoke between my thrusts. "This... I have wanted this... for years. I have wanted... to feel you... inside me."

At my next thrust, her sexual fervor drove her to spin underneath me, spilling us off the couch and onto the floor.

Something sharp stabbed my side. The pain was excruciating and I couldn't stop the expletive. "Motherfucker!"

Sarah was giggling uncontrollably. "Your pillow talk could use some work, Lance."

I torqued my back, and fished out a solitary black stiletto heel. "I think I ruptured a kidney."

Sarah covered her face with her hand. "I need to clean better."

"I'm only disappointed you weren't wearing them when I knocked this morning." The heel was going to leave a bruise, but the pain was fading at Sarah's touch.

"Someday soon I'll wear them and nothing else, just for you." Sarah was grinding hard onto me as she spoke. She shifted her hips to change the angle of my thrusts to one she preferred, and she cried my name again -- only this time the vowel rose an octave and she held it as her thighs tightened around me. Sarah used her legs to bring me deep inside her.

My own pleasure, and the waves of Sarah's climax coursing through her body, brought me to the same place. Her blue eyes were my entire world as we felt the culmination of our long contentious relationship. Love and fire, truth and victory, exaltation, imagination, mischief, wit and wisdom all danced together in the depths of her eyes.

As my shudders subsided, she stayed on top of me, smiling and caressing my face. I saw her eyes fill with tears, which fell and rained on my own cheeks. Sarah blushed but did not look away. She was happy to display her joy.

Make her laugh. "I have made a woman cry once before during sex, but it involved chili peppers."

She only chuckled. "I don't think you would understand."

"Try me."

"Take me to the bedroom."

I rolled out from underneath her, lifted her in my arms, and navigated our way toward her bedroom. The apartment proved to be an obstacle course. I reached her bed only by leaving a swathe of destruction in my wake. I bonked her elbow on the door frame, stubbed my toe, dinged my shin, and capsized a potted plant, which I righted with my foot while balancing Sarah in my arms. Sarah just laughed at every misstep and accident, and held my face in her hands.

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Batavia, Illinois -- August 6, 2012

"When are you leaving?" Dr. Nguyen asked.

"The twenty-second is my last day, then I'm driving to New York. I wanted to thank you for the letter of recommendation."

"I wish you the best of luck, Lance, but that isn't why I asked you to come to my office. We have an unusual situation, and I wanted your input."

I sat.

"As you may know, we've already posted the opening for your position. One of the applicants put you down as a reference, and frankly, she needs one."

Uh oh. "Who is it?"

"Irina Pugacheva."

"Ah."

"'Ah', indeed. Frankly, I wasn't even aware she had a hard science background. It's impressive, but out of date. She wants to use this as a stepping stone to American academia, and to pay her way now that she is divorcing her husband."

I hadn't heard that. I suppressed a smile.

Dr. Nguyen continued. "However, Mrs. Pugacheva has a certain... reputation." Fermilab was affiliated with the University of Chicago, and sexual gossip was the only thing that could travel faster than light.