End of Story(41)

I was still searching for something to say when he walked straight up to me and kissed me stupid. This was nothing like last time. His tongue slipped into my mouth and stroked against mine. There was no easing in. No messing around. The man was passion unleashed. His hand slid beneath my hair to grab the back of my neck and hold me in place as his mouth claimed mine. And he had skills. It was hot and wet and oh so good. All lips and tongue and teeth. His other hand slid around my waist to the small of my back, pulling me against him. I clutched at his shirt as my head spun in dizzy circles. The sounds of need he made deep in his throat... I’d never heard the like. Every inch of my body was wide-awake and wanting.

We startled apart at the sound of the car horn beside us. How rude.

“My, um, my ride is here,” I said, stating the obvious. Since when was standing, breathing, and thinking at the same time such a struggle?

In an apparently similar state, he just stared at my lips.

“Any chance you’ve made up your mind about us having sex?”

He paused. “Not yet.”

“Okay.”

Just over his shoulder, I could see Aaron standing outside the bar watching us. He was not happy.

“C’mon,” said Lars.

He ushered me to the car and opened the door for me. As soon as I was settled safely inside, he nodded and closed the door. Then he took a step back and waited, watching me. The car pulled away from the curb and we drove off. I did not turn around and stare at him until he was out of sight. I was not quite that desperate and all up in my feelings. Not yet, at least. But I was dangerously close to getting there.



Ten


Lars: Working all of this weekend on a rush job. Catch up with you next week.
Me: Ok.
Lars: I’m not ignoring you.
Me: Ok.
Lars: Are you sure you’re ok?
Me: Yes. Positive.
Lars: Last night was unexpected.
Me: Was it really?
Me: Do you regret it?
Lars: No.
Me: I’m glad.
With the divorce certificate in hand, I stood outside the legal offices of Johnson and Cavanagh on Monday afternoon. They were the lawyers mentioned on the decree. Though on the document they were Johnson, Cavanagh, and Yeoh. It was just your regular glass-and-concrete commercial building. Nothing special. But at the same time, it was all so very bizarre. Lars and I hadn’t even slept together. However, years from now, this was where I’d apparently come to end our marriage. I checked the address on the certificate for the hundredth time. Still the same.

The internet confirmed the place existed, but I needed to see it for myself. And there it was. As with everything to do with the document, there were no answers, just more questions. I wondered what my frame of mind would be when I walked through those doors in ten years’ time. How broken would I be, heart and soul?

Insert sigh here.

I hadn’t told Lars about my plans. This was something I wanted to do on my own. Every morning I stared at the certificate. Made sure it still existed and remained this cryptic weird ass mystery. That I would, one day, feel so much for someone that it would overcome my abhorrence of marriage. And that my hopes and dreams would be rewarded in the worst damn way. Love sucked.

It was helpful of fate to put a hipster bar next door to the legal offices. No doubt, many sought solace there and I decided to do the same. The inside of the place was cool with a neon sign saying Ballard. Just in case you got so drunk you forgot where you were. The lunch rush was over when I took a seat at the bar next to a woman in a pink blouse, and ordered the bread with goat’s cheese and honey. Along with a glass of sauvignon blanc, for medicinal reasons.

It was hard to think of the divorce certificate without feeling down. In the beginning it had been a mystery. Something sort of thrilling. But now...were we truly doomed before we even began?

“You look so sad,” said the girl behind the bar when she passed me the glass of wine. She had a shaved head and the best eyebrows I’d ever seen. “Next drink is on the house.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and folded up the certificate. “That’s kind. But I’m okay.”

“Divorce, huh?”

I just winced.

The woman beside me was eating a wedge salad. She dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Better things ahead.”

“Right. Yes.”

“Any regrets?” asked the bartender with a suddenly serious gaze.

Apparently I was in the mood to pour my heart out to strangers because I said, “My feelings for him are...complicated.”

This was quickly turning into one of those random personal conversations with strangers that tended to happen in bars. They usually took place in the bathroom late at night under the influence of alcohol, but whatever. Such conversations were enduring proof of the sisterhood.

“Charlotte here is a divorce lawyer,” said the bartender, nodding at the woman in pink.

“Oh,” I said. “Do you work in those offices next door?”

Charlotte smiled. “That’s right.”

“You must get sick of talking about this sort of thing.”

She gave an elegant shrug.

To think, I could be sitting next to my future legal representation. I didn’t know what the rules of time travel were, but the certificate didn’t disappear or anything due to Charlotte and the document being in the same place. Guess that was as good a sign as any that I wasn’t breaking the space-time continuum.