John Nance - Headwind

Linda slipped from the bed into a green silk robe, tying it loosely around her waist. Jay didn’t have a class to teach until late afternoon, and she was taking the day off. No reason they couldn’t spend the next few hours in bed. After breakfast, of course. All it would take, she knew from experience, was a glimpse of her getting up from the table with the robe falling open and barely covering her breasts, and he’d scoop her up again and head for the bedroom. He was an incredible lover, totally focused on her pleasure, as if his enjoyment of sex depended entirely on the level of ecstasy he could coax her to achieve.

She smiled and nibbled on a fingernail, feeling sexy and decadent, and wondered if their torrid six-month affair was about to get more serious. At the ripe age of forty-two and weary of being divorced, she was ready.

But he was the question mark.

Linda rounded the corner of the kitchen and stopped, completely puzzled. “Jay?”

“Yep,” he replied without looking at her.

“Why are you dressed, baby? There are still some springs we haven’t broken.” She came over to him, holding him from behind, her arms loosely encircling his waist.

He turned and smiled at her, the same sad, vulnerable smile that had attracted her so in the first place. “Let’s eat, Linda,” he said in his metered way of speaking, each word following the other at a comfortable, reasoned pace. “And then we should talk,” he added.

“Talk about what?”

She circled around in front of him and reached up to pull his mouth to hers, but he resisted.

“No… let’s eat first.”

She studied his eyes, which he averted, and she felt a small trickle of alarm. “I don’t want to eat. I want to know what’s wrong.”

“Linda, let’s just sit down, and…”

“No, dammit!” she snapped. “When a woman gets up from her lover’s bed and finds him dressed and distant, the last thing on her mind is food. What do you mean, ‘We need to talk’? Suddenly you don’t want to kiss me, and you want to talk? What’s wrong? Are you mad at me for something?”

“No! Of course not, no.”

“Then what? Tell me,” she said, an overwhelming sense of panic engulfing her.

“Now?” he said, hopeful she might change her mind.

“Now!” she replied firmly, suddenly not sure she wanted to know. She had seen that faraway look in his eyes before, when the ghosts of his past gathered in the room around them.

He nodded and turned down the flame under a pan of hollandaise sauce, wiped his hands, and put his arms around her, holding her, but not too close.

“Linda, I… this is very difficult, but I’ve got to leave Laramie.”

“ What ? Why? Have you done something terrible I don’t know about?”

“No.”

“Jay! Get a grip, honey. They’re about to offer you tenure, and I’ve got a very good position here I don’t want to leave.”

“I’m going to accept an offer to teach at a small college in Kansas.”

She looked stunned. “You applied without telling me?”

“I wanted to tell you, Linda, but…”

“Is it a law school? Would you be a law professor?” she asked evenly, struggling to keep control.

He shook his head no. “Liberal arts. Business law.”

She pulled away from him and backed up, her eyes flaring. “That’s what you’re teaching here! If you were… were going to get your law career back…”

“I’m still a lawyer in Texas. My suspension’s up.”

“But… why Kansas if it’s not the law? I mean, I don’t want to move, Jay, I love it here…” she gasped as her hand went to her mouth in disbelief. “Oh my God, you’re… you’re dumping me, aren’t you!” she said, staring hard at him.

“No, I’m… that’s a terrible term, Linda. It’s just that… we’re getting too close.”

“Oh?” she replied, her voice hardening. “Too close? And precisely how close would that be? Like a while ago? Physiologically, I’m not sure we can improve on that performance!”

He hung his head. “Linda, I care about you very deeply.”

“Then… why ?”

For a short eternity, he stared at the floor, his right hand gesturing silently, before looking up at her.

“Because when I’m holding you, I can’t get her out of my mind. I doubt I’ll ever be free of her, and you don’t need that.”

She ripped the robe off and threw it at him, marching naked into the bedroom to find her clothes, her voice angry and hurt as it raged back through the open door.

“Damn you, Jay! You don’t have a clue what I need!” She disappeared around the corner, then burst out again carrying a bra and a small framed picture of a woman on a mountainside, her blonde hair blowing free in the wind, her eyes haunted by things unseen as she stared an unfathomable distance off camera.

“Here!” Linda snarled, pushing the picture frame into his chest. “I’m sorry as hell she’s dead, Jay! I really am!” Tears were streaming down her face now and her teeth were gritted in anger. “But you know something? Believe it or not, you’re still alive, and you’ve got a helluva lot to offer! DAMN!”

She turned and rushed back to the bedroom, her voice echoing around the corner. “You are not responsible for her death, Jay. You gave her everything you could. But you ARE responsible for your own life, and if you won’t live it, no one can help you!”

He moved slowly to the bedroom door. “Linda, please…”

She turned. “Don’t Linda me! Dammit, Jay!” She finished pulling on her panties and jeans and buttoning her blouse, sticking the bra in an overnight bag as she struggled with her shoes. “Look, if you ever decide you’ve something better to do with your life than camp on her grave and cry, give me a call. Maybe I’ll still be around. Then again, maybe I won’t.”

“I just need some more time,” he said.

“No! You need to make a commitment. To life. To one particular town and college. Maybe to some poor girl who’s been throwing herself at you for months, warming your bed, and… and… loving you!” She tried to fight back a flurry of sobs, but it was useless.

“I’m so sorry, Linda.”

“I am, too,” she said at last, dabbing at her glistening face with a Kleenex.

He followed her to the door and held it after she yanked it open and turned back to him.

“I just might have been in love with you, Jay, but I can’t live with a ghost, too. I should have fallen for a simple cowboy with an old pickup and an IQ of six. At least then I could expect to be dumped for the next rodeo.”

She pulled the door from his hand and slammed it hard. He could hear the door of her Firebird open and close. The sound of squealing tires melded with the ring of a telephone as she burned out of the driveway and careered down the street.

Jay walked slowly back to the kitchen trying to ignore the phone and wishing he knew how to lose himself in a bottle when life got so painful. But he’d always hated getting drunk. It solved nothing. The pain was always still there in the morning, with the added agony of a headache.

He yanked the receiver up at last just to silence the bell.

“Yes!”

“Jay? Jay Reinhart?”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Yes. Who’s calling?”

“Your old senior partner and employer, Jay. John Harris.”

A shuddering cascade of memories flooded Jay’s mind. “Mister President ? What…? I mean…”

“I’ve been out of office a long time, Jay. Please call me John.”

“Yes, sir… John. How are you?”

“That was going to be my question to you, Jay. Is Karen okay?”

Adrenaline squirted into Jay’s bloodstream at the mention of his dead wife’s name.