You Always Leave Me Waiting

"Sorry, babe." Lena looked up from her phone to see Gavin running up, briefcase in hand, trench-coat in the other. The coat was brown, and it was well-worn, but for some reason, Gavin believed that it made him look distinguished. His dark hair bounced against his forehead, despite maximum-strength LA Looks gel. He breathed out deeply as he came to a stop.

"Gavin!" Lena shoved her cell deep into her purse and instinctively wrapped her arms around her longtime boyfriend's corded neck. He had, during their seven years together, been meticulous about his workout regimen. Sometimes he would text her after the work day had ended, saying that he would be stopping by the gym and "not to wait up." More than once, she had heard that familiar DING! of the notification unique to his contact space while putting the finishing touches on dinner. She pretended it didn't sting to blow the candle flames out and scoop everything into the fridge for later, tucking into bed alone. But it did.

"You're late-"

"-AGAIN. I know, babe. I'm sorry, I had that McOwen account that kept me tied up, and you know how important that is for us. Fifty percent commission, can you believe it! I'm set at this new gig, babe. Boss loves me."

The gig, Lena thought to herself. The prestigious wholesale and manufacturing firm that had hired Gavin right out of college, thanks to the fact that his wealthy father had made several contributions, off the books. But she knew he had talent. After all, he always seemed to slam down every argument they had together with ease. But it unsettled her that the only thing she knew about his work was that he was in office from 8:30 to 4:30 on weekdays, though he frequently worked late, and that he had a "boss." She swallowed her thoughts and linked her arm in his. 

"McOwen account?" She replied in a pleasant tone. "Why don't you tell me about it over dinner? It's date night. We can go anywhere. You pick."

A short spurt of noise, and Gavin was dumping her arm to scramble for his phone. "Oh, damn, Lena, that's tonight?" 

Lena watched as Gavin checked his message, standing still and patient. Strangers walked past, annoyed to have to shuffle around the couple who were taking up the narrow downtown Natchitoches sidewalk. "Yes," she replied as he chuckled at his phone, "we agreed to spend some more time together and settled on tonight. You don't remember?"

"I do." Gavin slipped his phone back into the pocket of his slacks and looked up at her face, as if surprised to still see her there. "I just didn't realize it was tonight. Look, babe, I'm sorry to do this to you, but a buddy at the office - Bret, remember me mentioning Bret? - well, Bret needs some help with some files back at the office, so I'm going to have to treat you later." He leaned over and kissed Lena on the cheek. "Sorry, babe. Get yourself some takeout and I'll see you tonight."

He turned to leave, swinging his briefcase with a SWISH. Lena stared at his back, unsure of why she was still in the middle of the walkway, when Gavin looked over his shoulder at her. "Don't wait up."

-

The college town of Natchitoches, Louisiana was a smaller one, but it was modern enough to have several wonderful coffee shops along Cane River Lake on Front Street. Front Street had kept its iconic brick road that was highly uncomfortable to drive along, but a victory for the preservation of the old Cajun-French feel of the place. 

Lena was trudging back the way she came, eyes darting up to read the shop signs posted above the sidewalk path. She felt numb, which, she supposed, was better than feeling pain. She loathed the type of pain that catches your breath, forcing a lump into the pit of your chest, squeezing the life from you and the tears from your eyes. She did everything she could to be in control of her focus, aiming it at something that would take her far from her worries. She did not want to feel hurt.

She was on her way to the StoryBrew Coffee Cafe, the quaint little coffee shop that occupied 780 Front Street, Suite 104. She had visited the cafe a few times, and had really taken a liking to its coziness and warm, delicious aromas. Gavin had never visited with her.

She was debating with herself on whether she would choose the spiced chai or the jasmine tea when she came up on the cafe, only to see that it had closed at 4 PM. Lena sighed, squeezing her eyes shut for just a moment. Then she turned and wandered across Front Street and its historic red-brick path to Cane River Lake.

The bank of Cane River Lake was situated lower than the street, but there were ample concrete stairs to ease you down closer to the water. When Natchitoches was founded in 1714, it had been known as the Red River. And still, today, it was the heart of the town. Lena herself had attended numerous festivals and events throughout her years here. Her favorite was the Christmas Festival, when all of the beautiful lights would create a wonderland along the riverbank. Last year there had been great local music, and Lena remembered fondly a band paying tribute to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama." The vocalist had changed the chorus to, "sweet home Louisiana." It hadn't quite fit, but the night was still great fun. Gavin had missed most of it, making it just in time for the last thirty minutes of the festival. 

Lena was wearing her favorite kitten heels in preparation for dinner, so she very gingerly made her way down the stairs. It wasn't a long distance from the bottom to a bench overlooking the glistening water, but she slipped her shoes off anyway and allowed herself to pad over barefoot. She had remembered reading something, somewhere, about how walking outside with bare feet helped to ground a person to the earth. The blades of green grass tickled the bottoms of her feet, but it felt good to stride with normalcy. She swept her skirt under her as she took a seat under an old, vast Magnolia. 

It pulled at her. What it was, she wasn't exactly sure. But she could feel the conflict in her bones, and she knew that eventually she would have to let it rise to the surface. She couldn't run from it forever. That thought alone was daunting.

She had just turned 21 when she met Gavin. Her best friend, Stacy, had taken her out for her first legal drink, despite all the times they had gotten blackout drunk together at home. They had driven to Chili's, and after two Patron margaritas, Lena was relaxed enough to start flirting with the bartender. She had slipped on her best Little-Black-Dress and let her sandy blonde hair down. She remembered feeling good about herself that night. She must have looked nice. The next drink was sent to her, compliments of the gentleman seated at the end of the bar. Gavin. Tall, tan, dark-haired like the half-Cajun he was. Very in shape, and very charming. They had exchanged numbers, planned a date, and Lena had believed that they had hit it off right away. Three months later, they were living together in Gavin's charming old white home that his grandmother had left him. It was located across the river, close to the Burger King and the dance studio where Lena had taken ballet lessons as a teenager. 

That was seven years ago. It felt like another life.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

Lena was pulled out of her thoughts with a start, and looked up to see a young man that she had never seen before smiling down at her. He was tall, with blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. It could have easily looked messy, but it appeared neat. He was wearing khaki slacks, boots, and a green knit sweater that matched the color of his eyes. Freckles just barely darker than the hue of his sun-kissed skin were peppered across his nose. His smile was warm, and it was reflected in his eyes. 

"I'm sorry?"

He pointed to the empty seat beside her on the bench, smile still intact. "I was wondering if you were alone, or...?"

Lena sat straight up. "Oh! No, I'm not waiting on anyone." After a pause, she added, "Feel free."

The young man nodded and sat down beside her, leaving half of a foot between them. He smelled of light cologne, hint of oak. He extended his hand to her. "I'm James. My friends call me Jimmie."

Lena slipped her petite fingers into his and gave him a solid, firm shake. "Lena."

"Nice to meet you, Lena." Jimmie extended his legs, relaxing as he leaned back against the bench. "So, native?"

Lena smiled. "No. Import. My parents are from Baton Rouge."

Jimmie's eyes grew wide. "What a city. Been there a few times, but my heart truly belongs to Orleans." He pronounced it the way one from New Orleans would pronounce it: "AH-lin."

Lena laughed. "Whose doesn't?" 

"You ever been down for Mardi Gras?"

"Of course!" Lena grinned wide, remembering the festivities lining the French quarter, women earning their beads, men trying their best to pass out joints without being caught by the undercover cops. "I've been to New Orleans twice. Once for spring break, though I didn't...um...GET any beads. At least, not the traditional way."

Jimmie chuckled and looked out toward the water. "I wish I could say the same," he replied. "I've got a whole collection back at home. I'm told I'm still famous in House of Blues." He winked at her. "Photo pinned up in the men's room, should you be in town."

Lena let out a horse laugh, and when he saw her reaction to his joke, Jimmie joined in. It took a few minutes for each to catch their breath, and Lena found herself wiping a tear from her eye. "Wow," she said, after a time. "That's a good one."

"Thanks." Jimmie's smile beamed at her, and Lena found herself significantly less lonely than she had in some time. That realization stunned her, and she suddenly felt less at ease. This wasn't Gavin. Should she feel guilty for sharing a laugh with another man?

"Hey, are you hungry? I know a great place for seafood. You probably know it already. Mariner's?"

Lena couldn't help but look over at Jimmie in surprise. She had only been a guest at Mariner's Restaurant once in her life. Built on the lovely Sibley Lake, it was a refined venue that was often booked for special occasions and dinner for the elite in the area. When Stacy's sister had gotten married, she had chosen Mariner's Restaurant for her reception, and Stacy had been sweet enough to select her as her plus-one. Gavin's firm often took large account clients to lunch there, although Gavin had yet to bring her there himself. 

"Um. Wow," was all she could muster to say. Then she heard the familiar, DING! of a message from Gavin, and she quickly followed with, "That sounds very nice, Jimmie. I'm actually engaged."

"Oh." Jimmie sat back against the bench, straightening. He was visibly disappointed, but he smiled and nodded. "I understand, Lena. I apologize if I overstepped, I hadn't even thought to ask."

Lena felt a little prick of something. What was it... guilt? Shame? She couldn't place it right away. "No, no! Really, I... it was nice to have someone to talk to."

Jimmie shook her hand again and stood. "It really was. Take care, Lena, it was great to meet you. Your fiance is a lucky man." He said it in a friendly manner. It did not sound inappropriate in any way.

Jimmie had been gone for a minute or two before Lena checked her messages. It was getting late, and the sun was beginning to set. One message waited from Gavin. 

Sorry, babe. Just got out. Meet you home in 15, I'll grab dinner. Love ya, G.

-

Fifteen minutes had drifted idly by four hours ago, and it was close to midnight. Lena, on any other night, would have already climbed into bed, kicked off her panda bear slippers, and floated into sleep. Tonight, though, she was plagued by wakefulness. Gavin was not home, and he was not answering her calls. 

When Gavin had not come home with dinner, she had poured herself a glass of Pinot Grigio and cooked up a plate of shrimp scampi. She made dinner for only one, and for some reason, seafood sounded perfect. She thought of her conversation with Jimmie, of that one little slip that she had made. She had claimed to be Gavin's fiance. 

Despite the years together, standing by Gavin's side as he completed his Bachelor's degree in business and then aggressively tackled his Master's, two funerals (his mother's, her grandfather's), and all of the promises without materialization, they had never even spoken of marriage. Lena had tried to bring it up, of course, but Gavin would shut down the topic in that irritatingly-smooth slide-of-hands maneuver he was so good at in conversation, or he would jump at the chance to answer his cell. There was no reason to think about the prospect of being engaged, yet, out of her mouth it came. And then, suddenly, what she had tried to bury came rushing to the foreground. She felt the pain. And it was time to deal with it.

Lena was parked rigidly on the love seat when the front door opened. Gavin stumbled in, obviously tipsy, holding two McDonald's bags. When he noticed her, his face fell. 

"Hey, babe." His voice was low, and contrite. When Lena didn't reply, he placed the fast food on the coffee table and walked around to her. He sat beside her, and they turned to face each other. Their knees touched. Lena pulled back a little, and Gavin looked down, surprised. 

"I met someone today." Lena breathed out, pausing for a moment before continuing. "He seemed interested. I told him I was engaged."

Gavin scoffed. "Why would you do that?"

Lena stared at him. "Gavin, we've been together for seven years."

He looked surprised. "Oh, really? That long?" Lena looked down at her feet, silent. Gavin was tense, but after a breath, he reached over and pat her leg. "Look, babe, I'm sorry I came home late. I was on my way to place an order at Edge, and I ran into one of my good buddies from college. We got to talking, and watching the game, and next thing you know, I had a few knocked back and it was after 11..." He stopped talking when Lena didn't acknowledge him. 

Silence filled the room, and you could cut the tension with a knife, it hung so thick. But Lena knew how she felt. "Gavin, you always leave me waiting. Always." She brought her eyes to meet his. At least he was paying attention this time. "I don't think I can wait anymore."

Gavin tilted his head, pulling back to contemplate what it was she had just spoken. "Are you saying...wait, what ARE you saying?"

"I want to ask you something." When Gavin nodded, she continued. "Is what we have...you always being gone, you working SO much, and us living separate lives what you want?"

Gavin sighed and hung his head. "No, Lena." He took both of her hands in his. "I know what this is coming down to. And...damn, babe, I love you. I do. But..." He met her eyes, and she was surprised to see him on the verge of tears. "Can't we work this out? I'm so sorry about date night. I PROMISE I will take every Friday night off, work be damned. We can-"

"No." Lena squeezed his hands firmly and quickly. "I want to get married. I want a family. I want a commitment. I don't want date night for another seven years." She turned his face up to her, asking for his attention. "Do you want to get married to me?"

For the first time during their discussion, Gavin squirmed in his seat. "Uh," he stammered, and for Lena, it was enough. "Yes, babe. Um, sure. I mean, I know we will get around to it."

Lena reached over and hugged Gavin. Her arms did not slip around his neck, but rather, it was the sort of hug you would give to an old friend. One you did not expect to see again for a long while. "Goodbye, Gavin." When she pulled away, she stood, and grabbing the small suitcase that lay against her side of the love seat, walked out of the door and into the night.

-

DING!

Lena resisted the urge to check her phone while she was driving. She felt giddy, and nervous, and every emotion in between. It had been five months since leaving Gavin, and finally, she was ready to see what the future had in store for her. She was on her way to Mariner's Restaurant, 7 o'clock reservation for two. She was only one mile away. 

The waterfront eatery came into view, and five minutes later, she was stepping out of her old faithful Toyota Corolla, 2013, and smoothing the front of her emerald green cocktail dress. She checked her phone. Time delivered: 6:47. Message: Be there in 10.

Lena looked up as a stylish sedan pulled in beside her, and she couldn't help but smile as Jimmie shook himself out of the driver's seat, holding a bouquet of Gerbera daisies. He flashed her an inviting smile. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting!"

"No," Lena replied, taking the flowers. "You're right on time."