Page 32 of Compassion
“What makes you say that?”
“Because her husband is having an affair. Affairstypicallymean shitshow.”
“He’s cheating on her?!” The gasp comes out of me is unintentionally dramatic. “What?! No. Seriously?Shut up.”
Baffled at the several phrases that just spewed out of my mouth has his face scrunching in confusion. “Okay that shit was a little hard for me to follow, sweetheart. Which of those am I supposed to answer?”
Slight embarrassment is followed by a small bite to my bottom lip. “I meant…how do you know that? How do you know he’s cheating on her? Did you see him?”
“Overheard him.Plus, a person’s garbage speaks volumes about their life.”
Holy shit, does yours? Doesn’t that statement now make you feel a little more self-conscious about what you throw out?!
Not wanting to know what mine says about me, I simply ask, “What sounds good for breakfast? Oatmeal? Cream of Wheat? Bagels? Oh! Oh! Should I make us coffee andthendecide what we’ll eat?”
“How much time do you have before work?”
“It’s a late day for me, so quite a bit.”
He pauses his movements rather than continuing to close the gap. “Why’s it late?”
“I um…I don’t like to drive in the sleet or recently sleeted roads, so typically, I go in late or not at all.”
“It has something to do with Chris’s death, doesn’t it?”
There’s no stopping the way I shrink inward.
Tense.
Struggle to nod.
“What happened?”
My fidgeting carries on in the form of rocking on my sock covered feet and flicking random curly strands away from my face and chewing on the inside of my lip, all the things that usually buy me enough time for a person to change topics, yet he doesn’t.
He silently stares.
Waits.
Demonstrates patience and the willingness to remain that way like the long-lost saint of widows.
Wow. Guess this whole learn about each other’s past thing isn’t going to be a one-way street, huh?
“He was driving home on a night like yesterday about three years ago, about a week before Christmas,” my voice slowly begins, “and in a typical Chris fashion, he acted as though he knew better than everyone else – the weather itself included. To my best understanding, he figured he could make it home from our downtown penthouse before the sleet got too bad. He drove like there was no real need to slow down. Like the roads weren’t as bad they really were. According to the traffic report and investigation, he lost control of his Porsche on an icy bridge. Crashed.” Tears threaten to stop me from talking, but I force myself to push past them, and the discomfort that comes from sharing the information with someone new. “I was coming home later than usual from work that night – he had a whole I couldn’t bring the office home with me thing – and when I got here, my father – who was on duty that night – and his partner were waiting for me. Everyone in the local PD knew exactly who Chris was. He always wrote a huge check anytime they had any kind of fundraiser, plus he was dating a cop’s daughter. The officers first on the scene recognized the car and immediately called my dad. He showed up and simply waited to tell me in person rather than over the phone.” Sniffling away my sadness is easier than expected. “So, yeah. I don’t really like to drive on the roads like this.”
Archer offers me a compassion-filled nod prior to a gentle joke. “I’d offer to drive you but no form of valid ID, remember?”
The playful jab exiles the remaining sadness prompting me to smile. “We’re gonna have to do something about that.”
“One thing at a time, Jaye.” He casually returns to heading my direction. “Coffee, first.”
“Breakfast next.”
“Lending me a book to read to keep me occupied while you’re working should be after that.”
Holy. Fuck. Is it weird if the homeless man who was eating out of my trash turns out to be the man of my dreams? Huh. Yeah, I heard it, but I’m gonna pretend I didn’t say it.
“That can certainly be arranged.” Backing inside occurs at the same time I state, “I gotta stop by the grocery store when I get off – it’s my designated grocery day. Do you have a preference onwhatyou want for dinner? I’m pretty open to making just about anything orGooglinghow to make just about anything.”
