Free Insipid by Christine Brae Page A

wanted it to happen, I was just too naive to see that as it was taking place. I pick up my phone to call him, figuring he must be getting ready to break for lunch.
    He answers on the first ring. “Hi.”
    “Hi. Did you get back okay last night?”
    “No, I was accosted by those hot young servers and we spent a wild night in a threesome.”
    I let out a forced laugh. “Good for you.” I gather up the courage to proceed with the reason for my call. “Hey, about last night. I’m sorry I didn’t get in the cab with you.”
    “It’s okay. I wasn’t going to force you to do anything.”
    “No, it’s me. I’m so clueless sometimes. I’ve never really done this before so I didn’t quite understand what was happening…” I let out a slight pause before gathering up the courage to say it out loud, “but I do now.”
    “You do what, now?”
    “I want to see you. Are you at lunch? Can we meet at your lobby in a few minutes?” My tone is low and seductive. This statement has so many meanings, but I no longer care at this point. The problem with wanting someone so badly is that you put yourself out there, oftentimes at the risk of rejection. I’m so consumed with these indiscernible feelings that I don’t even think of the consequences of my actions.
    “Jade,” he says with a sigh, “why are you doing this to me now? You know I would love to, but the client is waiting for me. We’re having lunch with their underwriters.”
    “Oh.” I try to hide the disappointment in my voice. “Okay. Go, don’t be late. We’ll talk later.”
     

     
    SIX O’CLOCK. STILL no word from him. I don’t know what to think about anything. I’m beginning to wonder whether I’ve scared him off. Maybe I came across as some neurotic, desperate woman. I feel foolish and stupid, so I turn off my phone and bury myself in a myriad of open items. An hour later, as I trudge down the long hallway on my way back to my office from the pantry across the street, I see my old friend, Matt, from one of our divisions in Ohio.
    “Hey, stranger!” he greets me excitedly. “How are you?”
    “I’m great, Matt! What are you doing here?” I ask as he reaches out to give me a hug.
    “Just got out of a sales meeting. Where are you off to?” His trademark smile and wavy blond hair makes me remember how many hearts he broke when he was assigned to the Chicago office.
    “Oh, nowhere. Back upstairs. Trying to finish a report due tomorrow,” I lie. I’m inexplicably at the beck and call of some smug guy who thinks I’m sitting around waiting for him to call. And I’m ashamed to admit that he’s right.
    “Can I buy you a quick drink before you retreat back into your cave?” he asks, his fingers encircling the crook of my arm. “It’s been so long, we have a lot of catching up to do.”
    “Oh, hell, why not? One drink.”
    No more waiting.
    Matt and I go way back to when he was on the sales force in Chicago. We traveled overseas together, sometimes for weeks at a time, and so I missed his friendship when he was transferred to Ohio a few years ago. He’s my age and divorced with two children. He and his ex-wife have an amicable relationship, which makes him very active in his family’s life. His marriage was a casualty of the life of a road warrior. He lives alone now but is never outside of a relationship.
    We decide to walk to a different bar, blocks away from the office. No matter where you go in this town, the nightlife is hopping. We sit at the bar on a dead end corner where there’s nothing else next to me but the bathroom wall. Matt walks away for a few minutes, only to return with my usual drink and a whiskey straight on the rocks for him.
    We catch up on his life in Ohio. He’s seeing three women but misses the settled life that he had with his wife. He tells me that he wants back into his marriage. He realizes that what matters are his children and what he hoped would be a best friend and lover that he could come home to at