Should Have Known Better

It was too late.

A. J. was walking across the street with his microphone in his hand.

“Who’s that?” my mother asked.

I closed the car door and turned to A. J. as he came up on the sidewalk where I was standing. I saw the faces of the women in the house pressed against the window. Some had come out to the porch.

“Yeah. Hi. Hey. What’s going on?” I held my hand over my forehead.

“Working,” he said, holding out his microphone.

“Yeah, I saw that. I was going to say hello, but I figured, you know, that you wouldn’t remember me.”

“Please. Men don’t forget beautiful women.”

“Thank you?” I said like it was a question.

“So what brings you down here?” He looked at the house. “Some kind of sorority house?”

“No, it’s just a support group for women,” I said. “And what about you? Why are you working down here?” I tried to change the subject.

“A story I’m working on about international attorneys operating without licenses in the state . . . very interesting stuff.”

“Sounds like it.” I chuckled.

“Yeah, I didn’t feel like coming out here so late, but it was the only time we could catch this particular attorney on camera,” he said. “But now I’m happy I did. I got to see you again.”

Just like in the office, his kindness was effortless. Almost unbelievable. Men like him didn’t say things like that to women like me. I was a librarian. I had gray hairs. I was covering my unibrow. I could hear my mother asking who he was from inside of the car.

“It’s nice seeing you again, too,” I said.

“Hey, I was wondering, are you free . . . like ever? Maybe we could hang out.”

“Hang out?” I asked, hearing my mother’s calls for attention getting louder. I bent down and looked at her in the car and said, “Mama, wait!” very harshly and stood back up to face A. J. I forgot to cover my unibrow. “I don’t hang out.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m married.” I couldn’t believe I was saying that, but it was the only way I knew to respond to that kind of attention from a man. And it was the truth. I was still married. Even if my husband was sleeping with A. J.’s coworker.

He looked at my ring finger. “Guess I should’ve noticed that sooner.”

“It’s fine. And I’m very humbled, but I’m not dating.”

“Whoa, I asked you to hang out! Not out for a date,” he pointed out.

“So you’re saying you didn’t mean a date?” I was so embarrassed.

“I did, but since you’re saying no, I’ll change that motion,” he said and we laughed.

“Look, you seem like a nice guy, but right now I’m going through some things,” I said. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this to you of all people, but maybe another time.”

“So, get back to you?”

“Yes.” I laughed.

“The pretty ones are always the hardest,” he said. “Well, you know where to find me.”

“I sure do.”