Page 41 of Clued in to Love
This was a mistake.
She shifted the car into reverse, but his voice stopped her.
I sent you Samesh.
The words repeated again and again.
Perhaps hearing your dead husband’s voice in your head is another reason not to go inside, Darby told herself, but then she put the car in park and got out before she changed her mind.
Samesh was already seated at a table for two with a classic white linen tablecloth, red napkins, and a tapered candle dripping with wax. “You look wonderful,” he said, standing as she approached the table.
“Thanks.” Darby managed a small smile.
“It’s really picking up out there.” Samesh sat and commented on the weather.
The weather was a great equalizer in conversations. She could talk about the snow and the threat of freezing rain for hours. Darby was a bit of a weather junkie. Jim used to tease her about her obsession with winter storm warning alerts. He had been convinced that she had a not-so-secret crush on the weather guy from Channel 8 news. She didn’t, but she did admit to having an affinity toward storm chasing. Some of her fellow English teachers abhorred the use of weather references in writing. Not Darby. She encouraged her students to explore how they might use the eerie quiet and eggplant-colored clouds that rolled in before a snow squall as symbolism for emotions in their writing. She wasn’t a proponent of cliché references. She challenged her students to go beyond the “it was a dark and stormy night” weather trope, but done right, weather could add atmosphere, act like a character, or become the catalyst for transformation.
“I’m sorry, you don’t want to discuss the weather.” Samesh cleared his throat. “Forgive me. I’m nervous, but I promise I won’t be so lame as to make small talk all night.”
“I love the weather.” Darby shrugged off her coat and placed it on the back of her chair.
“You do? I didn’t know that.” He unfolded his napkin and spread it on his lap. “Did I ever tell you about the time I got invited on a storm chase in Kansas with a bunch of tornado hunters?”
“No.” Darby clasped her hands together. She wanted to ask how she possibly would have heard that story since they hadn’t been in touch in years. It was almost as if Samesh thought they were back in school. How would she know anything about his life?
Samesh launched into a tale about being in Kansas at the height of tornado season for a parks and recreation conventionand somehow got talked into riding along with a group of storm chasers.
Darby found herself laughing as he spoke with animation, letting his hands fly while he emphasized how close he’d come to the eye of the storm. He was a good storyteller.
They ordered a bottle of wine and pasta, falling into an easy rhythm. The conversation flowed from stories of their twenties and thirties. Darby’s disastrous first year as a teacher and Samesh being confronted by systemic racism in city government, even in Southern California, where there was more diversity than in Bend.
The candle in the center of the table burned low as they traded stories from two lives fully lived. When the musicians came by to play a song for them, Samesh requested “Hopelessly Devoted to You.” Darby couldn’t believe the trio knew the song, nor could she believe that Samesh had remembered.
“You made me watchGreaselike four million times,” he teased after the musicians had moved on to the next table.
“That might be an exaggeration.” Darby shook her head, knowing he was right.
“Not much.” He raised his wine glass. “Although a toast to you for introducing me to musicals. Did you know that to this day, I can still recite the movie and every song word for word?”
“No.” There was so much about him she didn’t know, and yet he was also so familiar.
There weren’t any uncomfortable lulls in the conversation or awkward pauses. It was as if no time had passed, and they were undergraduates again, ready to take off on great adventures across the globe.
Only Darby wasn’t a naïve, bright-eyed twenty-something any longer. She was a mature grown woman. Catching up might be fun, but she needed answers. She deserved answers.
Their dinner plates were cleared away. Coffee and slices of tiramisu were delivered. This was Darby’s cue to follow through with what she’d come to do.
“Listen, Samesh, I’ve enjoyed chatting tonight. It’s like no time has passed.”
He leaned across the table. “Me too. You are so easy to talk to. It’s like being back in college. Remember how many nights we were up in your dorm room until two or three in the morning, eating Pringles and talking about nothing and everything at the same time?”
She added a splash of cream to her coffee and took a deep breath as she looked up into his kind eyes. “I do, but that was many, many years ago, and I have to be honest. I’m glad we’ve been able to catch up, but it feels so out of the blue. I need to know why you left me on graduation night. Everything I’ve told you tonight is true. I’ve had a wonderful life, a happy marriage, and a fulfilling career. I wouldn’t change any of it, and I don’t harbor any resentment toward you. After that night, I did, for a while. I was so confused. I’ll never forget standing in my cap and gown, holding two plane tickets to Europe, and hearing you tell me you weren’t coming, and it was over. We went from being best friends and lovers who were going to see the world and travel across Europe for the summer before we got real jobs and figured out what to do next, to nothing. Literally nothing. Not another word. You left, and that was it.” Darby’s voice quivered. She blinked back tears. These tears felt different than the constant ache of missing Jim. These tears were nostalgic. Reminding her of her first heartbreak that didn’t break her.
Samesh exhaled slowly like he was attempting to blow out the candle in the center of the table. He watched the flame with a quiet reserve.
“I honestly don’t have ill will for you, Samesh,” Darby continued. “I got over that long ago, and I’m grateful that ourbreakup led me to find Jim, but I would like to understand. It would have made sense if we had been fighting or were at odds about where we wanted to go next. I don’t remember that. Maybe I imagined that we were happy. Maybe you had been unhappy for a long time, but I wish you had told me. It would have made the hurt less.”
He balled up his napkin and tossed it on the table. “I know. Darby, I’m so sorry. I have lived with regret over the way things unfolded. I don’t know what I can possibly say that will make it better.”
