first genuine smile of the evening crossed my face. “You can have whatever you like—” I bit off the endearment I would have added two years ago. “I’ll have the bisque too,” I told our server. “Braised trout?” I asked my husband. The trout had always been his favorite. At his nod, I added “We’ll both have the braised trout” to our order.
Over bisque, Travis asked, “Remember when Bob was in eighth grade and wanted to play the trumpet?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Yes. And he scared poor Mrs. Henderson next door.” After that we’d warned our neighbors: aspiring jazz musician on the loose. The trumpet now gathered dust in the hall closet, along with baseball bats, tennis rackets, and a brown belt in karate.
Travis had taken his turn as our guide down Memory Lane, I offered up a memory of my own. “Or when we’d just parked the car at graduation and he realized he’d forgotten his mortarboard.” What a mad dash that had been, Travis taking control, leaving me and Bob at the school while he braved cross-town traffic.
Soon we’d finished our soup and the fish course arrived. Between succulent mouthfuls we continued to reminisce. “College applications gave me writer’s cramp from hell.” Travis rubbed his wrist, as though still feeling the pain.
“And the road trips! A new school every weekend.” Despite my protests of being torn from work, I’d enjoyed touring universities, reliving a few of my own college memories by retelling them to my family. Ah, those were the days. A heavy weight dragged at my heart. They shouldn’t have ended.
“And remember how we—” Travis scooped up a forkful of green beans amandine, whatever recollection he’d dredged up unshared with me. Right. No mention of “me and you” or “us” anymore. The only safe topic was Bob.
During our dessert of chocolate mousse, I couldn’t help but ask, “How’s the acting going?” No need to let on that Bob had already clued me in.
Travis’s spoon clattered into the crystalline dessert cup. “Not good, I’m afraid. There aren’t many good parts for a man my age.”
Living with someone for years teaches a man to recognize a lie. Well, not an outright lie, but a half-truth. He wasn’t telling me the whole story. Fear squirmed to life in my belly. He had to be sick, for I’d never known him to abuse drugs, the other option for why he’d sunk so low so fast. Sickness. That was the only explanation. I’d never seen him this forlorn.
Inspirations struck. “Let’s go to Whispers.” Maybe dancing would lift his spirits.
“We don’t have to.”
Travis? Turning down dancing? Who was this man and what had he done with my husband? “Why not? You love to dance.” I turned on the charm, batting my eyes. “They play oldies on Friday nights.”
“It’s getting late. You probably have meetings tomorrow.”
My nearly saying, “But tomorrow’s Saturday” wouldn’t have gone in my favor. Many a Saturday during out last year together I’d nipped into the office for a brief meeting, only to wind up spending the day. “No, my calendar’s empty.” I tried for the smile that used to melt his heart.
A pale echo of his former smile answered mine. “If you insist.”
I knew he couldn’t resist, especially not oldies.
After paying the check I drove us to a club we’d once frequented. The place still looked the same, furnished in Art Deco and hosting a lively crowd, kicking off the weekend with the classics from Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin, and other legendary singers.
We’d barely made our way through the door when I heard my named called. “Ian! Travis! How great to see you again.” The club’s manager approached, megawatt grin lighting up his face. Like myself and Travis, the passage of time had left its mark on the man.
“Good to see you, too, Jack. The club looks great. How have you been?”
We exchanged small talk. Damn, but I’d missed Jack’s humor. When was the last time we’d talked? After our breakup, Travis had neglected Anna. I’d neglected Jack. I made a mental note to invite him to lunch real soon.
Finally Jack embraced us both. “Excuse me. I need to go speak with a few people. You know how it is. Something always needs my attention.” A smile creased his cheeks and he hurried off. Travis and I found an out of the way table. The moment we sat down a handsome young man approached, wine bottle in hand. “Compliments of the house,” he said, pouring us each a glass. Mmm…