Free Love's Awakening by Stuart Kelly

David’s. Celia glued on a smile and kept her head high as she walked to her desk. People grinned. Some went up to her and introduced themselves. No one seemed to know about David. Celia had specifically asked Ted not to say anything. She did not want whispers and furtive, apologetic glances behind her back.
    At noon, she joined a group of secretaries from throughout the building for lunch. Several of the women complained about their boyfriends or husbands.
    He leaves his underwear on the floor.
    He leaves the toilet seat up.
    He’d rather watch football than make love.
    He goes golfing all weekend and leaves me with the kids.
    Celia said nothing. What could she add? My husband got in a wreck on purpose, he was a woman, I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, and he left me with a newborn. If that’s not enough, I had the most fantastic, most incredible kiss with my stepson. I want more. More, more, more.
    “You’re not married?” one of the secretaries or glorified assistants asked, glancing at Celia’s bare fingers.
    Wife.
    I’d like you to meet Davina, my wife.
    Celia’s stomach constricted. She couldn’t say the name. She wanted a man, not a woman. “Actually, I am married. I’m a lucky woman.”
    The other women leaned in, their expressions expectant. Celia brushed away her apprehension. “My…my…” My wife. “My husband,” Celia said, “His name is David. He cooks. He does laundry. We have a baby, and David’s great with Caleb. He gets up in the middle of the night to help.”
    Murmurs of admiration and jealousy rippled through the circle at the table. Celia continued speaking, talking about how David loved to sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to Caleb. The lies came quickly and easily. At one p.m., the group headed back to work. No one walked with Celia. Undoubtedly they were weary of hearing about her saintly husband.
    *****
    Celia brought Caleb for dinner at her mother’s house that night. She and Lynn had chicken, mashed potatoes and biscuits from KFC. Celia nibbled on a plump leg, the lines from earlier at work continuing to zigzag in her mind.
    He leaves his underwear on the floor.
    He leaves the toilet seat up.
    He’d rather watch football than make love.
    He goes golfing all weekend and leaves me with the kids.
    “Penny for your thoughts,” Lynn said.
    Celia scooped mashed potatoes onto a biscuit. She added gravy. I wonder what Oliver’s children look like.
    “Tell me about your first day at work,” Lynn prodded.
    “It was good. Everyone’s nice. I mostly typed and answered phones.”
    “What’d they say about—you know—about David?”
    Celia pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “Excuse me. If I go out for an hour, will you watch Caleb?”

Chapter Eight
    Every table in Azizi was occupied for happy hour and dinner rush, and so were all of the bar stools save two. Most of the clientele were men and women in business suits. Two waitresses roamed the floor, and Oliver stood behind the bar. Still with his cast on, he chatted up a customer, a fiftyish or sixtyish woman. She wore her graying hair piled atop her head. Oliver leaned into her just a leeeetle too much and flashed his white smile just a leeeetle too much. The customer lapped it up.
    Yes, Oliver was good at his job. Oliver would not judge Celia, would not pester her with questions she did not want to answer.
    Oliver looked up, met Celia’s eyes, and the bar’s hustle and bustle faded away. Celia tried to ignore the rush of pleasure in Oliver’s grin and the shivers of her own body. A momentary panic seized her. She had not realized how much she wanted to be here until she saw Oliver.
    Celia tried to cover up her reaction as she sat at the bar. “Coke,” she said briskly. “Only Coke. Well, a little vodka, too. Vodka and Coke. I can’t stay long. I have to get back to the baby.”
    Oliver offered an easygoing smile. “Sure. I’ll take a break soon.”
    Celia looked away. The top two buttons of