Flirting with Fifty

Driving back home, Paige wanted to phone Elizabeth, her best friend since high school, and a fellow Orange professor, but what would she say? That she was panicked about teaching with Jack because she’d slept with him thirty years ago?

That, worse, she’d acted like she didn’t know Jack, further complicating everything?

But obviously Jack didn’t remember her, either. He’d merely said she looked familiar but couldn’t place her. If he’d known her, wouldn’t he have said so? And wasn’t it better if they were strangers for the duration of the semester? It’d be easier to teach with someone who didn’t remember that she’d had a mad crush on him.

Good lord, she’d had a crush on him.

So no, she couldn’t call Elizabeth.

Back home, too restless to sit and too wound up to talk to anyone, Paige changed into shorts and a T-shirt, put on her walking shoes, filled her thermos with water, and drove to one of her favorite hiking trails high in the hills overlooking Dana Point and Laguna. It was hot, but she had her favorite floppy hat to shield her eyes from the sun, and the heat and exertion helped her work through her anxiety.

She ought to have come clean with Jack. She ought to have been casual and amused, remarking on coincidences, and how here they were, thirty years after Paris, teaching together. Instead, she felt like Peter denying Jesus. Okay, it wasn’t that big, but still, it was stupid of her, creating complications where there didn’t need to be any.

So what if she’d slept with him one time? It was so long ago; she’d been a different person then. How could that one night matter? It didn’t. One brief sexual encounter when she was twenty was nothing in the scheme of things. Not even a blip on her radar. And yet, she was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because she’d run away from him and their night together, because she’d felt so much, and she’d known he didn’t feel the same way. He liked sex, and he’d liked her, and so it had been easy for him to sleep with her. But for her, it had been still such a new thing. She’d only had a couple of sexual experiences. Jack was her third. The first two times had been disappointments. Jack had not been a disappointment. But Jack was a free spirit, and she wasn’t, and rather than get her heart bruised, she’d left Paris and returned home.

He’d never tried to track her down later, and she’d never reached back out to him. She’d put him firmly from her mind, and after a while it was as if it had never happened. But when she dated, she’d find herself comparing the lovemaking to Jack, comparing the pleasure to what she’d felt that night in Paris, and it was never the same, never as good.

Then finally, she told herself she’d made up the pleasure, that the experience hadn’t been all that remarkable, that it was Paris that had seduced her, not the sexy, confident Australian. In fact, she added, correcting her memory, Jack wasn’t that attractive, or sexy. He’d been confident. Cocky. Brash. And yes, he’d had an appealing accent, but honestly, he wasn’t someone to put on a pedestal. He’d been good in bed because he’d slept with dozens of women, and the whole I’m-charming-Jack-King was part of his schtick.

After Paige met, and then married, Ted, she’d truly forgotten about Jack. Jack was part of the past, and there were new experiences, and more precious memories to cherish as she and Ted bought their first house and had their first baby, creating the family Paige loved more than anything.

Paige reached the top of the hill, the brush dry and sun-bleached, the sun hot. She faced west, her gaze drinking in the blue of the sea. It was a clear day and she could see Catalina, as well as a fleet of boats in the water, taking advantage of the weekend. She’d grown up on the West Coast, not far from the ocean, and she’d missed it while living in North Carolina, missed the expansiveness of the view, of a blue horizon that stretched as far as the eye could see.

She was happy being back in California, happy at Orange, happy with her daughters and her friends. Everything was good in her world. She was in a better place than she’d been for years. So why hadn’t she acknowledged that she knew Jack? That they’d gone to the same international summer program together?

But on the other hand, Jack hadn’t recognized her. He’d said she reminded him of someone, but there had been no immediate click, no Oh, this is Paige from Paris. So why should she bring any of that up when he’d clearly forgotten her? It was a relief actually. Since he didn’t remember her, he wouldn’t feel awkward about teaching with her, and since he wouldn’t feel awkward, she didn’t need to, either.

Paige took a quick swig from her water bottle before re-capping the bottle and heading back down the mountain. All was good. Everything would be fine. But on reaching the parking lot she checked her phone. She’d received texts from Michelle and Elizabeth, both asking about her meeting with Jack.

She bit her bottom lip for a moment before answering both with the same text: Went great. Should be an interesting semester.

Maybe too interesting, she added silently, starting the car.