Vigil … (another short story…)

She sat alone, at dusk, in the rocker, as the cool lake air drifted onto the veranda.

She just sat, remembering.

He had taken her to a tapas bar on the fringe of what was then known as the trendy red light district in the downtown core. While standing at the noisy bar together, he had absent-mindedly twirled her loose-fitting watchband around her small wrist.

They were going on to the theatre after a few drinks.

He stopped twirling the strap and looked at the time.

“7:20 … Come on, we’ve got to get moving ! “  His hand lingered for a moment as his forefinger and thumb encircled her petite wrist in a gentle fingertip-touching clasp.   She had stood very still, allowing  him to possess her in this way.

It was the most intimate gesture he had ever made in their long 25 years of friendship.

She wondered now, as she gently rocked,  why she would remember that moment -  10 – or was it 15 ? – years later.  Her eye scanned the horizon as she absent-mindedly encircled her own wrist with her middle finger and thumb.

He was married now, so she’d heard,  to a much younger woman. Had had six small children.

She twirled her watch strap around her wrist.

She hoped he was happy.

She  remembered another incident.

She had gone to L.A. on business and had met up with one of his school mates for a late dinner. At dessert the male friend had bluntly asked,  “So, when do you think he’ll ask you to marry him?”  She had sat, stunned.

She had never – NEVER – thought that he would.

Yet, even so, somewhere lingered that unspoken conviction.  She had always had an immutable trust in their life-long friendship.  She had always believed in him for that.

She twirled the strap.

He had been a good man. He would likely be a very good husband and father. And she knew he would never approach her again.

She lifted her near empty glass.

She rose up and went into the house closing the veranda doors on that soft – no, seductive,  she thought -  night air.