The Chance Meeting

Adrienne stepped outside of her townhouse eleven blocks east of Rittenhouse Square. She was on her way to the library to renew two books she never got around to reading. Feeling a sting in the air, she wrapped her scarf around her neck and tied a knot under her chin. The remaining snow against the curb had turned black with exhaust. On a whim, she looked to the right and up the street. It was then that her heart stiffened.

The scar on his chin confirmed it. It propelled her back seven years to the night in his bedroom when she'd hurled a small lamp in his direction. He'd knelt between the bed and the dresser, holding his head as the ceramic hit the wall. The lamp and its cord had formed a mosaic on the floor around him. A piece of light bulb managed to imbed itself deep into the side of his chin.

He approached at a casual pace, eyes hidden behind black shades. Hands were stuffed in pockets of an army surplus jacket. He stared ahead, unwavering.

She kept her head down and to the side, pretending to zip up her bag. His footsteps came closer. That familiar cologne struck up a conversation with her memory as he neared. He passed without a word. She lifted her head and watched him walk away. Then he stopped.

He turned to catch her staring and removed his shades. His dark brown eyes, like weapons unsheathed, caught her off guard. She looked in the opposite direction, as if she hadn't seen him.

"Adrienne."

It wasn't a question. She contemplated just walking away and pretending to be someone else.

"Sean?"

She winced in his direction where the sun was setting. Needing something to fidget with, she plunged an arm into her bag and felt around until she withdrew a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth.

"Need a light?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I've got one."

She continued to rummage. No results. Her eyelids lifted at the sound of a match being lit.

"Here."

The flame, cupped in his hands, neared her face. He was careful to shield it from the wind. His face was the same. But his eyes held more secrets. His body had matured. Teeth were straightened. She didn't want to see the scar anymore. The sulfur stung her eyes when she inhaled. Backing up a foot, she blew the smoke in another direction and wiped her eyes.

"You live in Philly?" she said.

"For now."

"What do you do?"

"Working as a teaching assistant while I get my masters."

"Film?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "And what, pray tell, is little Adrienne doing these days?"

"Proofreading."

"Where?"

"Wherever they'll let me."

"Pays the rent?" he asked, sizing up the brick townhouse behind her.

"I do ok," she said.

"Roommates help, I'll bet."

"I live alone."

She kicked herself for sharing that much with him.

"I don't mean to pry, but how does a freelancer pay for a Philadelphia townhouse alone?" he asked.

"Well," she said. "She rents a room on the top floor, and agrees to helping out with yard work on the weekends."

"I see," he said.

He stared up, wondering which window looked into her room. They were silent.

"Well, I..." she said, putting one foot forward.

"What's your number?"

"Jesus Christ," she said.

This was not on her agenda for the day. All she wanted to do was go to the library and pick up some tilapia for dinner. Not get an old wound ripped back open for the sake of small talk.

"Does he charge by the minute?" Silence. "Look," he said. "I owe you an apology. I think that maybe if we sit down and talk someplace, we can get this sorted. No hard feelings."

"We were 17, Sean. Every feeling we had was hard."

"I still would like to talk," he said.

He was hopeful. She was almost done with her cigarette.

"I don't know," she said.

"Well, where are you headed? Maybe I can walk with you. We can talk. If you don't want to talk anymore after that, then call it a done deal. What do you say?"

"You'd make a good car salesman."

He was relentless in his enthusiasm.

"I'm glad you think so. Now, where are we headed?"

She paused before speaking.

"Why is this so important to you?"

He looked up the street to where an old man had trouble stepping down off the curb.

"It doesn't have to be important. But you're standing here in front of me. And I'd like to find out why."

"I thought you were an atheist," she said.

"Your point?"

"Atheists don't care why things happen."

"Did you read that in the Atheist's Handbook?"

She rolled her eyes and flicked her cigarette across the street.

"Let's go," she said.

***

Sean carried a cloth grocery bag into Adrienne's third floor apartment. The entrance revealed an open space, larger than he'd expected, with a kitchen on the left, a table and chairs to the right of the kitchen, sitting area with a couch, television and stereo forming an island in the center, and a bed on the far right. At the foot of the bed was an open door that revealed light coming from the bathroom window. Another window made way for the breeze alongside the quilt-covered bed. Adrienne flipped the light switch.

"I like your place," said Sean.

"Thank you."

She took the bag from his hands and removed its contents, setting them on the kitchen counter. Sean took their coats and scarves and hung them up by the door. The menu for the night consisted of baked tilapia in a garlic and herb marinade, steamed green beans, and seasoned pan-fried potatoes. The meal would be paired with an inexpensive Chardonnay she'd opened the night before.

"How long does the fish need to marinate?" he asked.

"Twenty minutes."

"Want me to start it?"

"That's ok," she said. "I've got it. You can get the wine out if you want."

He opened the refrigerator and peered inside, taking a mental picture of her food likes and dislikes.

"No severed heads," he observed. "Always a plus."

"Wine's on the bottom of the door."

Sean opened the bottle as Adrienne mixed the marinade.

"Glasses?"

"Second cabinet," she said without looking up.

He found them and filled them half way. He drank and continued to watch her massage the fish with oil.

"Do you cook?" she asked.

"Occasionally."

"Go ahead," she said. "Impress me. What's your favorite thing to cook?"

He paused to think.

"Favorite? I like a nice spaghetti marinara with bread."

"Classic."

"Tastes good. It's easy," he said.

"You make your own sauce?"

"When I have time."

She stopped chopping and looked up at him to be sure she was hearing him correctly. She had a hard time fathoming a guy who makes his own sauce, and who is apparently trying to get in her pants.

"You're not gay, are you?"

He laughed.

"Would that bother you?"

"Because I'll be damned if I'm letting you drink my wine, thinking I'm getting laid tonight, when all you want is to trade Grandma's marinara recipes."

She wanted to shove her foot in her mouth. She saw him smile that quizzical smile. The one he always smiled when she revealed something about herself to him. He loved it. She wanted to die.

He cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about. Getting laid was the last thing on my mind."

The sarcasm was clear. The smile never left his eyes. She glanced at the small scar on his chin and felt like a fool.

"So much for romance," she said to her cutting board.

"Here," he said, offering her a glass. "You need to relax. I mean, if we're going to be getting laid and everything."

"Stop saying that."

She took the glass and took a generous swig.

"Stop saying what? Laid?"

She tried not to spit.

"Shut up."

"Got any whiskey?"

She laughed, her armor falling to her feet.

"I got her to laugh?"

He smiled a delicate smile and smoothed her hair out with his hand, cupping her chin briefly as he withdrew it.

She looked at her feet, feeling strange after being touched by him for the first time in years.

"Look," she said. "I didn't invite you up here so you could take advantage of me. I'm not an idiot."

His smile faded.

"I'm not here to take advantage of you, Adrienne. I just want you to accept my apology for what happened."

"It was a long time ago, Sean. What's done is done. We've both moved on since then."

"I hope I haven't damaged you."

She looked at him, then beyond him, and wondered how many times he'd used that line.

"Tell that to my exes," she said.

"How many were there?"

"I don't really..."

"I've been with one other person since you."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious."

"You want me to believe you haven't had sex since you cheated on me?"

"What? No. I've had..." his eyes glazed over as he attempted to recount his many affairs. "I'm talking about relationships."

"So, this other relationship. Was it with the bitch?"

"No."

"What happened to her?"

His eyes darted from a picture of a Yin Yang on her wall to Adrienne's eyes.

"It was a one time thing."

Adrienne stared at him for a few seconds and slammed her glass down.

"I'm glad it was all worth it, then."

"Can we sit down?"

"No."

She wanted this to be as torturous for him as it was for her. Sean pulled out a chair and sat at the table, glass in hand. He nudged the chair cattycorner to him and motioned for her to have a seat. Adrienne rinsed her hands and put the marinating bowl of fish in the refrigerator. She grabbed her glass and her pack of Marlboro Milds, and sat down at the table.

"What happened with this other relationship?" she asked.

She lit a cigarette and pulled the ashtray closer.

"She told me she never loved me," he started. "This was two years after we'd been together, mind you. I just went numb. I figured I had it coming."

He watched Adrienne's fingers play with the stem of her glass as he talked.

"You didn't get angry?"

"I didn't throw a lamp at her, if that's what you mean."

Her eyes darted about his face and spotted the scar again. It was a deep cut that had healed into a bent sliver about half an inch long. He kept his face clean-shaven, as it looked like hair would not grow in that spot. She made eye contact and then looked down again.

"You never loved me," she said quietly.

"That's not true."

"I wasn't enough for you. I wasn't doing something right or else you wouldn't have gone off looking for something else."

"I was stupid, Adrienne."

He looked down and played with his hands.

"Are you still stupid? Or do you expect me to find that out the hard way again?"

"We made damaged goods of each other," he said. "I don't expect you to do anything."

She choked on a drag.

"I made...I made damaged goods? Of you? Fuck you!"

She pulled her fingers through her dark hair and scratched the back of her head. He watched the smoke funnel out between her lips and took another sip of his wine.

"Remember this?" he pointed to his chin.

"I didn't throw hard enough."

"Well, you left your mark. That's all I meant by damaged goods."

She took a sip and decided to be civil.

"So tell me more about the girl who never loved you," she said. "How did you meet her?"

"You really want to know this?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"We met online."

She thought on this and decided not to laugh.

"Did you love her?"

"Yes."

"Do you miss her?"

"Sometimes."

"What happened?"

"I guess she just lost interest. We dated in college. You know how the first two years you're away at school, you sort of cling to whoever gives you the time of day? Everyone's a stranger, and you can be whoever you want to be?"

"Something like that."

"Then," he continued, "the last two years, you focus on your major, and grow up a little. Maybe get your own place with a roommate or two. Buy your own drinks. Meet other people."

"She got a life without you in it."

"Something like that."

***

"You can have a seat on the couch," she said. "I'll do the dishes."

As she worked, Sean thumbed through her crate of vinyl on the floor. He found a Mose Allison record and put it on the stereo. The quiet jazz was simplistic and laid back. It thinned out the mood slightly, taking the edge off this chance meeting. He sat back on the couch and sipped his wine.

Glass in hand, Adrienne came over to the island, where he sat, wiggling his foot over his knee in time to the music.

"I like this record," she said.

"I've been meaning to download some Mose," he said.

"That's an oxymoron if I ever heard one."

They were silent as she took a seat on the couch next to him and lit up a cigarette. The music played for a few minutes before they spoke again.

"Dinner was very good, thanks," he said.

"Sure."

Mose sang a few more bars. Adrienne took another drag. Sean took another sip.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" he asked.

"No."

"Were you seeing anyone?"

Adrienne shifted her legs beneath her peasant skirt so that she leaned toward him, but was not touching him.

"I've been in relationships, yes."

"Any highlights?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that I feel strange talking to you about my love life."

"Love life," he repeated. "Were you in love?"

She took a sip and placed the glass on the end table next to her.

"Once upon a time."

"Was he in love with you?"

"I thought he was."

"A timeless tale," he mused.

"Well, time moves on even when the fairy tale ends, doesn't it?"

He looked at her where she was sitting. Her legs were crossed in his direction. Her bare foot rubbed backed and forth against the red, Oriental rug beneath them. He remembered how she always kept her toenails painted black. They were in their natural state now.

"Mind if I take my shoes off?"

"Go ahead. Make yourself comfortable."

He put his toes to his heal and slid off his Adidas, kicking them to the side. She moved her feet up to the cushion and sat Indian style, turning to face him.

"Can I tell you a funny story?" she said.

Sean admired the way her eyes lit up just then. It made him feel at home.

"By all means."

She took a drag from her cigarette.

"When I found the other girl's hair in your bed, I wanted to kill you."

He shifted uneasily. "Adri..."

"I don't mean that figuratively. I wanted to kill you. As my luck would have it, you weren't the type to collect hunting knives or decorative swords."

"Just bedside lamps from Penney's," he said.

"After high school, I went on this trip to Europe. In Hungary, I bought this little knife. It had a silver handle with carved curlicues all over it. Managed to sneak it past customs by hiding it in my checked luggage. It's in my nightstand over there."

"I think I know where this is going," he said, reaching for his shoes.

"No wait," she said, putting her hand on his outstretched arm. "I'm not out for blood or anything."

He looked down at his arm where her fingers touched, and then at her. Her mouth was turned upward into a kind of non-smile. Clearly buzzed from the wine, she slowly placed her lips around her cigarette and inhaled.

"I don't want to go, but if you don't want me to stay..." he said.

"Stay," she insisted. "We need to clear the air."

The malice in her voice stung him as she blew her smoke. He told himself it was just the wine.

"You have every right to hate me, Adrienne. I don't like myself very much right now. But I'm working on changing things in my life. Seeing you today, out of the blue like that. It was like destiny being served to me on a silver platter."

She laughed.

"You know," she started, "I had these friends who always pissed me off. Probably because they reminded me of us. The guy cheated on the girl. And it was a shame because they had a really meaningful relationship. Probably more meaningful than any relationship they would ever have again. So, the girl had no choice but to move on. But the guy, being a perpetual asshole when it comes to relationships, kept meeting girls and then would never pursue them after he slept with them. I think he's going to die miserable and alone with a venereal disease."

Sean crinkled up his nose at her last sentence.

"How do they remind you of us?"

"You say you've been with a lot of girls, but only had one other serious relationship?"

He took a long sip.

"I use protection, if that's what you're after."

"Good. But that's not what I mean."

"Go on then."

"Do you think that maybe you were holding out for the possibility of us getting back together? That is, until you decided to have this other relationship."

"I don't know. Maybe." He sighed. "You know, I worry it might be true, what you said about your friends."

"What'd I say?"

"The thing about losing a relationship more meaningful than anything they'd have again."

She put out her cigarette and sighed. Her arms fell to her lap in resignation.

"Maybe I'm just being melodramatic."

"I wish that wasn't true," he said. "Because I haven't felt the same since."

"Relationships change people, Sean. That's just life."

"Yeah, but here we are, after all these years. Don't you think we owe it to ourselves to get back what we had?"

"I don't know if it works that way."

"I don't know either, but we can find out," he said. He looked into her blinking eyes. "Can't we?"

The record needle skipped a groove as the album's side came to a close. The arm automatically reset itself on its perch and the turntable stopped.

***

As Adrienne rolled over in the middle of the night, Sean sleeping beside her, she couldn't stop thinking: What the hell am I doing?

The first kiss was gentle. Sean had leaned in on the couch and cradled her face in his hands. She saw the look of complete vulnerability in his eyes, and it frightened her. She didn't want to be responsible for whatever was to happen. But his mouth felt so warm and familiar, that she couldn't help but give in to it.

"I've been wanting to kiss you all day," he had whispered as he nuzzled her ear.

Electricity sprinted through Adrienne's body in response to his words. With her chin resting on his shoulder, she held onto him and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry about your chin," she said, pulling back to view the scar.

"It's ok," he said. "I deserved it."

"Yes, you did."

She then placed her mouth on his, feasting on his lower lip and tongue. Her body overtook his and they were laid out on the tiny couch, his head against the armrest, her legs straddling his waist.

What the hell am I doing? She mouthed to the dark. His breathing was steady. His cologne tickled her memory as the breeze brought it by her nose. She sat up and put her feet to the floor, her naked back facing his sleeping body. The jostling of mattress coils stirred him from his slumber.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," she said. "Go to sleep."

He touched her skin, running his hand down her vertebrae. She shivered.

"You're cold. Come on," he said lifting the blankets for her.

The warmth from his body could be felt from beneath the covers. She stood up anyway, and walked toward the bathroom.

Sean lay in bed, the moon shining on his face through the window. He pulled the curtain back and peered up at the nighttime sky.

Meanwhile, Adrienne sat on the toilet, panties at her knees. The remainder of Sean's cum made its way out of her body.

While they were on the couch, and he was hard against her, he mentioned he didn't have a condom. She told him she was on the pill and that it would be fine. Concern left his mind. He then proceeded to stand, with her legs wrapped around his waist, and move to the bed.

Adrienne heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Are you ok?" he asked from the other side.

"I'm fine."

"Mind if I come in?"

She hunched down, covering her breasts with her arms, and rested her forearms on her thighs.

"I'm done. Two seconds."

She wiped and pulled up her panties just as he opened the door. They stood and stared at each other in the dark.

"What's wrong?" he said.