Flirting with Fifty

It was a good week, a productive week, and Paige attended a department meeting where Jack had been asked to share a little bit about his work, what he was teaching this semester, and what he’d teach in the Spring. He charmed the faculty with his charisma and wit. Paige tried to suppress the warmth she felt, listening, watching. He was incredibly appealing with his strong jaw and quick smile that reflected in his clear, bright eyes.

He looked fit—virile—and a little too much like a movie star. At least, she felt rather dazzled. The attraction was still there. The pull to be near him. She wished it wasn’t. It would be so much easier if all she felt was a polite, detached professional respect, and yes, she respected him, but she also felt more. The man had a brilliant mind, encased in a sexy, confident package—face, body, charm, athleticism. She’d find him less appealing if he was one of those intellectuals who took themselves too seriously and didn’t know how to laugh at themselves, but Jack laughed at himself, and his humor made her smile, even if she kept her smile to herself.

She’d found him watching her on more than one occasion, a speculative gleam in his eyes.

Had he recognized her?

Or was he trying to place her?

Either way, she couldn’t get close to him. She’d been close once, and it had almost done her in. True, she was older now. Experienced. But Paige didn’t know if she could handle what he represented: Sex. And probably sex without commitments. Sex that would be just for the fun of it. The pleasure.

Uncomfortable, Paige crossed her legs, shifting in her seat. It had been a long time since sex sounded like fun. Since sex gave pleasure. By the end of her marriage, there had been no sex. The last few years she and Ted practically slept in separate bedrooms, or if the girls were all home, she’d take the couch. Ted would come looking for her, though, when he’d had too much to drink, and there was nothing she wanted less than sex with someone sloppy and drunk. Ted accused her of not caring for him, of not being a good wife, but if he wanted to save their marriage, maybe he could have given up the alcohol and tried to be present. A little bit kind. Maybe focusing on having a relationship—friendship—would have helped save their marriage, although Paige privately doubted it. If she were honest, she’d stopped feeling love years before, but she’d been taught that even if one didn’t feel loving, one should still act on it, and so she tried to at least act loving: making dinners and coffee in the morning. She’d tried to be warm and cheerful, welcoming when he came home, but when he started coming home already drunk, everything inside of her iced over, hardening with distaste. Maybe some men could handle their alcohol, but Ted wasn’t one of them. Inebriated, he became obnoxious, grabby, and demanding. Even now, remembering, she felt sick on the inside. Those had not been good years.

Faculty were asking Jack questions now, and she forced herself to focus. He answered one question, mentioning her by name, and he looked at her and smiled as he talked about the upcoming field work they’d be doing during the last part of the semester.

Mentally, she corrected, field work he’d be doing, even as Jack’s smile did something to her, sending a ripple of energy. The fact that she was still so drawn to him troubled her. Relationships were like ropes—entangling. Entrapping. She didn’t ever want to feel trapped again. She never wanted to invest so much in someone only to have her heart thrown back at her face. Far better to be single, safe, unencumbered.

Jack sought her out as the meeting ended. “How did I do?” he asked. “Do you think the department heads were happy?”

“You did what you always do—charmed everyone.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed by your expression. You looked . . . bored.”

“No. Definitely wasn’t bored. You just got me thinking, so I might have been lost in thought. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that I wasn’t interested, because that’s not how I felt.” And then she flushed and gave her head a quick shake. “I’m always interested in your insights. You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever taught with.”

“It’s okay. Not criticizing you,” he said.

She grew warmer as his gaze settled on her face and then focused on her mouth.

*   *   *

She was on day two of migraines triggered by the Santa Ana winds. The worst of the Santa Ana’s were still ahead, coming later in fall—usually October—but they’d hit hard early this year, and the combination of hot, dry wind, low moisture in the air, and her head did her in. Light sensitive, she’d spent the weekend living like a vampire: curtains closed, blinds drawn, sunglasses on.

Even now she couldn’t handle the light from her phone or computer, making it impossible to get work done. It was maddening to fall behind but getting upset didn’t help the situation. As soon as her head was better, and her eyes less sensitive, she’d get back to grading.

In the meantime, groceries were getting low, both produce and dairy virtually gone, but she was too frugal to use any of the popular shopping and delivery services. It made no sense to spend an extra twenty on tips and fees when she could do it herself as soon as she felt better. And she would soon feel better. She had to feel better tomorrow as it was Monday, and she wouldn’t miss a day of work, not for a headache, no matter how bad. Sick days were for things like stomach bugs and transmittable viruses. For those she stayed home. The rest—she’d get through.

And yet, as she shuffled around her kitchen and eyed the contents of her refrigerator—egg whites, a little bit of feta cheese, a bag of baby carrots, a pitcher of unsweetened ice tea—she felt nauseous and closed the door again. She was hungry but she’d had an egg white omelet yesterday and had used up her spinach then. She didn’t want more egg whites today.

This was one of those times when she wasn’t a fan of living alone and wished one of her daughters was closer. But honestly, even if her girls were closer, would she bother them? It was unlikely. Paige hated to be dependent on anyone. She didn’t like to ask favors. Far better to do it herself than to be beholden to someone.

She’d always been independent, self-sufficient, but in the last years of her marriage she became even more determined to manage on her own. Maybe it’s because the marriage had taught her she had no other choice but to do it herself. Marriage taught her that there was no such thing as a true partnership, that at the end of the day, she was still ultimately responsible for virtually everything. Or at the very least, the things that mattered most to her, like love, patience, kindness, compassion.

Ashley had phoned yesterday, and Paige had chatted with her, hiding the fact that she felt terrible, focusing instead on encouraging her daughter before the next audition coming Monday morning. They discussed the role and how Ashley was preparing. Ashley was excited that she needed to be prepared to sing and possibly follow some choreography. It sounded as if the show was a musical, and Ashley loved musicals, even if dancing wasn’t her strongest skill.

Paige had also briefly checked emails early that morning, and finding two from Jack about some of the students he was worried about in class, she answered his second message, letting him know she’d been off-line most of the weekend due to one of her Santa Ana–induced migraines, but that she’d try to catch up with emails and messages later in the day.

She’d logged off then and had taken a nap and was just now trying to rouse herself, when a knock sounded on her front door. Paige dragged her hat lower, adjusted her sunglasses, and headed for the door, peeking out the peephole. It was Jack on her doorstep, backpack on his shoulder, a paper bag in his hand.

She unlocked the door and opened it. “What are you doing here?” she asked huskily.

“Checking on you,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her. “Migraines can be debilitating, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

Jack didn’t think she looked fine. She was wearing a dark blue baseball cap and oversize sunglasses in the house, the lights off behind her. He glanced past her, into the dark shadows of her apartment. “I wasn’t sure you had anyone here helping you.”

“No, but there’s not much anyone can do. I just need to wait it out.” She reached up and smoothed her long hair, as if trying to flatten it against her shoulder. “The good news is that I’m on day two, which means I should start feeling better soon and will be able to teach tomorrow. Elizabeth has promised to pick me up for school so that I won’t have to drive.”

“Don’t you think you should take the day off?”