The Corner Table at Mickey's Pt. 04

About ten minutes later, the path was wider, and the two men exchanged only a "hey" as Tom passed a second time.

As he finished his third and last lap, Tom spotted Jim sprawled on a bench. He hadn't been there long judging by the mopping of a feverish face with a shirttail.

"Less chance you'll cramp if you move slowly for a bit." Tom reached down and gave his friend a hand up.

As the two men walked, Jim glanced at Tom's shirt. "You're barely sweating." The awkwardness at his own drenched clothing was obvious.

"Been doing this almost every day for twenty years."

"Bet you're surprised to see me doing this without the pitchfork-wielding demon behind me."

Tom laughed at the characterization. He'd heard a few grumbles from Jim over the months about Mallory's inflexible approach to things. "A little, yeah."

They continued until Jim's color had returned to normal and he felt able to speak easily. "Running's important to her. I can see how much she misses it while she's hurt, and I don't think it's all about keeping in shape. She just loves it."

"But you don't."

Jim shrugged. "I want to do things she loves with her."

Tom spread his hands and looked around, clearly saying, But no Mallory.

"If I'm a drag on her, she'll be frustrated, even if just a little, so I'm practicing in secret."

"Mal runs in this park on Saturdays, you know."

"I've got a few weeks before she's back on the trail. And then, she shows up religiously at seven o'clock and is gone by nine at the latest, even if she does a long run. I don't come until eleven. I thought you came early too; I was hoping I wouldn't meet anyone who knew me."

"Sorry, bud. If it's good weather, I come later with Shannon. She's over there." He nodded in the direction of the small food pavilion.

"Don't say anything."

"No prob. How close are you?"

"I'm not sure of my target. I've got to worm it out of her without being obvious."

"She's not a fast runner, about a nine-minute mile, but she's very steady and can keep that pace for a long time. Get a little below that so you're not dying on the final half-mile, and then join her on a short one."

Mallory was not a good patient. She fretted and badgered and prodded her doctor until he finally said, "Okay, you can walk. If it hurts or starts to swell, you stop. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I understand I can turn myself into a pathetic cripple if I don't heed every word you say."

"That's better."

So, she left her doctor's office one Saturday morning and went for a walk, an easy one because she didn't want to reinjure herself. And the inevitable happened.

Far in the distance, she saw a figure she'd recognize anywhere. She didn't quite believe it, but there he was. She had no hope of catching up with him. Even with a pace she could tell was slow, he was far faster than she was in her current condition. She hobbled her way toward the path that would cut the diameter of the mile circuit. Maybe she could make it to the other side before he did.

She heard people calling to each other. She kept going, cursing her damn knee and ankle. "Mallory!" Realizing one of the calls was for her, she turned. Tom was jogging toward her. He was shaking his head.

"Tom, I--" as he got close.

"No. It's a surprise. Don't ruin it." She didn't catch on right away. "He wants to surprise you when he thinks he's ready to keep up."

"Oh," she said. They turned and looked at the distant figure together.

"He looks like he's working hard." She missed the frown on Tom's face.

"Are you expecting him to be running a 10K? Because 10K Josh wasn't such a keeper."

"Oh!" She was startled by the acerbic tone. "No! I ... No!" She was flustered. "I'll walk somewhere else so he doesn't see me." She turned to go.

"Glad you're able to start getting out."

"You and me both," Mallory said aloud. Inside, she was barely paying attention to Tom. Instead, her mind was focused on the figure jogging in the distance behind her. I can't believe it. He was so emphatic that he'd reached his goal. She picked up her pace, ignoring the twinges, anxious to make the park exit two hundred yards away. I guess he's got a new one. One that involves me.

She felt something flood through her that she hadn't felt in a long time. There'd been imitations, but their faux nature was apparent when the real thing came along. Her cranky and pitiable mood a thing of the past, she scooted through the gate and turned behind the hedge.

Later that evening, she talked with Jim on the phone. As he finished what he was saying and she didn't respond, he got concerned.

"Mallory?"

"I love you."

There was a startled moment of absolute silence. Then he said softly, "I've loved you for a long time now."

Another pause. "I'm glad you said it back. I believe every 'I love you' should get one in return."

"Count me in."

The two of them sat there in contentment, phones to their ears.

Jim had a birthday that week. He didn't tell folks at the bar about it. He ignored a voicemail from Lori offering to celebrate along with some of their friends. If they're friends, they know I don't want to be celebrating that way.

Unfortunately for his plans to keep things low-key, his assistant--who, though never having met her, had become quite enamored of this Mallory woman who caused her boss to smile the way her Jimmy had years ago--peeked in her boss's Outlook contacts and made a call to rat him out.

As a result, the Friday dinner included surprise cake, amusing gifts, smooches from two of the women over pseudo protests from their men-folk, and an absolute lip-lock from the third. To quite-vocal amusement around the bar, of course.

The Jameson came out. Mallory's dry comment about cake plus alcohol was obviously not meant to be taken seriously. As the six sipped in silence, she ran her fingers up from where they rested on Jim's shoulder to his hair. "What do you think about a little longer? Just a touch."

"Huh? Umm. Never thought about it."

"It would look good, I think," offered Shannon. Robin nodded. The three men looked at each other and shrugged.

One Jameson turned to two, turned to more for four of them. Tom and Shannon had stopped drinking a while back to make sure they could manage if a late-night rush materialized. Robin and DH called for an Uber to take the drinkers home.

To Tom's surprise, Mallory hopped onto a barstool a while later.

"I don't know why, but I'm still wired," she said as he came over.

"I thought you were with Jim."

Mallory laughed. "He was, let's say, beyond comfortably numb. I poured him into his apartment and Ubered back."

"Because ..."

"He was starting to get a little amorous, and I thought it was time for him to sleep it off." She laughed as she said it.

Tom's expression said he failed to see the humor. "I guess he's not hot enough for you yet?" His voice carried a hint of reproach, and she could see a stillness on Shannon's face behind him.

"It has nothing to do with that!"

"Glad to hear it." Tom's expression showed exactly how much he bought what she was selling ... not a penny's worth.

Calm down, girl. Mallory clamped down on the spike of temper. It's fair given your track record. It's different now, but how would they know that?

Maybe if you, like, actually told them?

"Look, I am so going to hit that"--his eyebrows went up at the traditionally male line in her mouth, bringing back her smile--"but the time isn't right, and it has nothing to do with love handles."

"Then what?"

"Our first time isn't going to be when he's hammered."

Tom's look was on the order of: We'll see. Shannon gave her a thumbs-up behind Tom's back.

"Yoohoo!" Robin poked her head through Mallory's front door. She had texted Mallory when they arrived.

≫ We're here.

≪ I need a few more minutes. Door open if you want to come in.

Jim had bought six tickets to a charity event in his company's name, and their Friday dinner at Mickey's was being replaced for one night by a buffet, a silent auction, and a cash bar ... which caused Tom to prophesy, "I'm going to be physically ill seeing how much they get away with charging for drinks."

DH had volunteered to be designated driver, although as a corporate sponsor, Jim was already at the venue for some pictures. Tom and Shannon were driving separately as they planned to leave early to get back to the bar.

DH settled onto the sofa while Robin went back to the bedroom. "Need something hooked? I can--" Robin broke off as she met her friend's eyes in the mirror. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Robin studied the somewhat-red eyes, the teabags sitting in a saucer on the edge of the counter, the hand in the act of setting down the blush. She'd seen her friend getting ready for a girls' night out, and Mallory was one who always did makeup first, clothes second. They'd argued good-naturedly about it several times. And yet, here she was, fully dressed but reaching for the eyeliner.

"Do you not want to go?"

"I want to. I'm fine."

Robin thought the first part of that sounded sincere. The second part sounded a little forced. "Wait." She rooted around in her purse. "All I can say is that you look gorgeous! I can't believe that's my friend in the mirror. I'm so jelly I'm jam. You so have to give me tips later."

Mallory gave her friend a grateful smile. Robin came up with the pencil she was looking for. "Blue eyeliner makes the whites of your eyes look whiter, disguises a little of the red. A trick my grandma taught me."

As they came out into the living room, DH gave a wolf whistle. "And you look like you're moving well."

"As long as I don't do anything high impact, the pain's gone."

Twenty-five minutes later, Mallory followed her two friends into the hall looking for Jim. All three burst into laughter as he walked up. The tie and cummerbund covered with neon-pink, googly-eyed flamingos were hilarious against the black tuxedo made in a cut so traditional it could only be called "timeless."

"They said, 'creative black tie,' and this is a Susan G. Komen event." He leaned in for a cheek kiss. "Robin, you look beautiful. Daniel." A handshake.

"And Mallory ..." Jim saw the flawless makeup and the dress that looked light as air with embroidered, delicate netting above a strapless bodice. He took in the elaborate updo that gave the curve of her neck a regal look and the diamonds that twinkled at her ears in a display of restraint that screamed classic. "You ... you are beyond stunning!"

DH saw only the broad smile of pleasure that lit Mallory's face. Robin, sensitive because of what she'd seen in the apartment, also saw the faint tightness around the eyes, although she didn't understand.

"Thank you. Skills bitterly won," Mallory murmured.

Robin was startled to see awareness flood into Jim's expression. She was even more surprised at his soft response.

"And yet the woman in yoga pants and a hoodie with her hair in a ponytail caught my eye. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to look this way for you, for you to see this me."

And then Robin understood. This was New York Mallory, a persona deliberately set aside out of self-preservation along with the loathsome man who fashioned it. How did Jim understand that? And instantly. He just knew.

The moment was saved from awkwardness by a shriek. "Oh my God! Is that an Elie Saab?"

"Saab? A car?" Jim's confusion brought a peal of laughter from the woman talking to Mallory.

"The dress designer, silly!"

Mallory's answering snort broke the mood. "He's a man. He's handicapped. And yes, it is."

The next hour flowed along smoothly. Tom and Mallory clubbed together and put in a bid on a set of four Penguins tickets. Jim bid on a hot-air balloon ride. Mallory shook her head. "You're on your own on that one, buster. I'm not going up in one of those. They have no steering."

"I'm your girl," Shannon put in quickly.

"Hey!" both Mallory and Tom said simultaneously, to everyone's amusement.

It went well until a couple walked up to the table. "Jim."

"Ed!" He rose and shook his friend's hand, exchanged air kisses with Kim. He turned and made the introductions.

Everyone at the table was perspicacious enough to spot the quick note Kim made of who was seated with whom, to see the quick assessment of Mallory behind the façade of a polite greeting, to read the subtle turn of Kim's shoulder. "Jim, Lori came with us. Would you come over and say hello? One of the organizers would like to thank the two of you together for your contributions over the years. I'm sure your friends will excuse you."

They saw the stiff nod of a man who felt forced by public manners and the spirit of charity to agree to something he didn't want to do. Five long minutes later, four pairs of eyes glanced at Mallory, whose gaze was on Jim, barely seen through the press of bodies, moving onto the dance floor.

"Is that Lori?" Robin asked.

Mallory's voice was flat. "How many other women would be dancing that closely with him?"

Surprisingly, it was DH who made the comment. "Doesn't hold a candle to you."

"Thank you but--" She broke off as a figure materialized beside her.

"May I have this dance?" Ed asked, holding out a hand.

Flustered, Mallory took it out of reflex, but she didn't answer. He winked and drew her to her feet. "Please tell Jim he owes me for the bullet I'm about to take from my wife."

Four people broke into smiles as they saw Ed two-step Mallory expertly through the throng and lead her in a graceful twirl that put her right beside Jim; saw his lips frame the traditional "May I cut in?" as he extended his free hand toward Lori while surrendering the woman on his left; saw him catch Lori perfectly into the music's beat and two-step her off.

As Jim helped Mallory with her chair a while later, he looked at the others. "I am forgiven. I've been informed that you can't blame a mere male for being trapped by a woman, let alone a pair of them."

Mallory smiled. "He made a few ungentlemanly remarks about what happened ... which made him my perfect gentleman." She looked at her girlfriends. "You may each have a dance with him if you'd like," she said with the gracious nod of a grande dame. "He's quite good at it, darlings. Then I do believe I shall have one more." She spoiled the act with a giggle. "Then we blow this popcorn stand and get a beer at Mickey's. Whaddaya say?"

Patrons at the bar that night were treated to three women in elegant evening gowns at the corner table, although the redhead kept getting up and poking her nose into the kitchen, only to be dragged back out by a tuxedo-clad bar owner. Plus, they got to laugh at the sight of a man wearing flamingos and hot pink socks ducking behind the counter to grab drinks hollered at him by the other five.

"I'm serious, you are stunning, but it wasn't necessary."

Mallory thought about blowing it off, deprecating it with "an old dress I had" or "What makes you think this isn't the way I always dress up?"

But she wanted him to know something. "I don't want scar tissue from a loser to run my life. I wanted you to know that looking good for you is important to me."

"You always look good to me!"

"And that is why doing this tonight was what I wanted despite a few anxieties."

"But--"

She interrupted his protest, deflecting. "And besides, on the subject of doing things for other people, when were you going to tell me about your Saturday runs?"

At his comical look, she got a cat-who-ate-the-cream expression. "I wormed it out of Tom. He was putty in my hands."

They both grinned at that unlikely thought. She waited; he didn't answer.

"Well?"

"When I was able to keep up for two miles. Twice around the park, and then I'd get an iced coffee while you finished."

"And?"

He shook his head. "I'm not quite there yet."

"You'll let me know?"

He smiled and nodded at the rhetorical question.

"I've been hoping we could do that someday."

"I know." He stepped close for a kiss. "I'd like to come in, but I--" He noticed the faint shift in her expression. It didn't look like rejection, but ... what? With barely a break, he went on. "--need to be up before the crack of dawn for inventory."

"One of these days, maybe we'll have breakfast before you go to work."

Again, he tried to figure out her expression. Anxiety over the obvious corollary to breakfast? No, surely she'd meant the implication. He was still trying to figure it out as she kissed him. She leaned back.

"I can't tell you how happy I am that you want to run with me. I can't wait until that day."

She's waiting for a moment like that, he guessed. She's not holding me off because she doesn't like my looks. She wants it to be a moment.

Jim's legs were feeling wooden and his fine control over them was slipping. He concentrated on maintaining the rhythm of his pace, but each time he came to a cross street the odd step down off the curb and then the one back up on the other side threw him off balance.

As he rounded the bushes at the final corner, he could see the pink and black form standing in the distance by the playground. His mind knew it was only four blocks away, but his entire body was telling him it was more like four miles. He pushed that thought aside and tried to suck more air into his starved lungs as he focused on the steady slap-slap of his feet.

It was six thirty in the morning so very few people were out, and a glance left and right showed no cars coming. There was the slight jar down onto the street, a few strides, then the jar coming back up: three blocks to go.

The pain in his side was growing almost impossible to ignore, and the thought crossed his mind that it wouldn't be that big a deal if he slowed for just a few steps, just enough to get some air into desperate lungs, then he could run again. Fuck that for noise! Dignity, dude!

Before he started, Mallory had looked at him with a mocking air and asked if he was sure he was ready for this. He hadn't been sure inside, not at all, but he had smiled in pretend confidence and signaled for her to start the timer. The slight sting of that skeptical look was enough: he told his body to shut the hell up.

Look left, look right, no cars ... bump down ... bump up ... two blocks.

Halfway down the block, he heard, "Woohoo!" She was bouncing on her toes, waving him on. He was getting close enough now that he could start to see her face clearly, and he tried to unclench his own and let go of the grimace of pain he knew was there.

Bump down ... bump up ... one block.

He could hear the yell. "Come on! You've got this!"

He reached inside for something, anything, just one more inch of speed. It wasn't much, maybe just the tiniest change in his gait, but she must have noticed because her grin got bigger, and she nodded her head up and down and yelled even harder. As he swept past her, her thumb stabbed down and he heard an exultant "Yes!"

It was if he were a puppet and someone cut the strings with that word. His legs turned to rubber, and he stumbled to a stop. He doubled over as his lungs frantically tried to suck in air.

A moment later, he felt a hand pull gently on his shoulder as another pushed on the small of his back. "Straighten up. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just walk a bit." He let himself be guided around in small circles.

After a minute, his body began to acknowledge that, just possibly, he might live. He looked at Mallory and saw that the grin was still on her face. She held out a bottle of water. "Tiny sips. Let me know when your breath is back."