After the Concert

It was all too soon that the ferry arrived at its destination, and to my astonishment, I started to feel a little panicky; I didn't want the conversation to end! I threw out a Hail Mary.

"Look, Catja, I know this is nuts - I'm way older than you and we've known each other for maybe a half-hour. But I DO know that I don't want to never see you again. I know that's like a triple negative or something but..." She stopped my babbling by caressing my cheek with her soft hand, and I regrouped.

"Sorry. I feel like a teenager! So, we're vibing, as my daughter would say, and you've been very kind to listen to my ramblings. Might I return the favor by inviting you to the orchestra tomorrow? I know it's short notice, but I have an extra ticket and I'd hate for it to be wasted. Please tell me you'll come? Strictly platonic, I promise. They're doing "Rhapsody in Blue."

"Oh, that's not fair; I love Gershwin. Can I think about it?"

"Sure, of course. But can I sweeten the offer by buying you dinner beforehand?" I looked a little embarrassed, adding, "I have reservations at Volvér."

Her eyes went wide. "Greg!"

"It was before I even met you! So again, I would hate to waste the opportunity."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think..."

I stopped her, taking both her hands in mine. "Catja, you're a remarkable woman. How could a man not fall for you? But right now... well, I made all these plans with the intent of spending them with my wife and celebrating our anniversary."

Grimacing, feeling the pain of Monique's betrayal returning, I whispered, "But she clearly has other priorities."

Making an effort to push those feelings aside, I looked at her earnestly. "I don't want you to think that you're a substitute; nothing could be farther from the truth. I have enjoyed spending time with you, and honestly, the past 30 minutes have been such an unexpected delight that I would hate for it to end.

Releasing her hands, I sat up straight. "Here's my offer. We don't exchange any contact information."

She looked at me, just a little surprised, as I continued. "I'll wait for you in front of the restaurant at 6:00. If you decide against it, well then there will be absolutely no hard feelings. Just the memory of a very pleasant ferry ride."

Contemplating me for a few moments, Catja replied, "That sounds fair. And... it was very nice to meet you, Greg." She looked at me pensively, then gave me a quick little smile and went to join her friend.

><><><><><

I got a text from Monique at about lunchtime on Saturday. It just said, 'Sorry again for having to cancel our weekend. See you tomorrow.'

I replied, 'Oh, it 's not canceled. I went without you.'

About ten minutes later, she answered.

'Oh. Well, have fun.'

I didn't bother to reply. I certainly wasn't going to wish her the same.

><><><><><

I was surprisingly nervous as I stood outside the restaurant. It was a perfect evening; perhaps a little cooler than expected for that time of year. I found my thoughts drifting. I should have been here with Monique. But surprisingly, the expected feeling of guilt - or anger - never came.

I was startled by a soft voice beside me. "Penny for your thoughts?" She put her hand on my arm and wore a small smile on her face.

"Catja!" I breathed as I beheld her. She was wearing a cobalt blue dress, understated and elegant, and heels. Just a touch of makeup. Taking her in from head to toe, I exclaimed, "You're stunning!" Her cheeks went just a bit pink, and her smile widened.

Then she affected a stern expression, but I could see the teasing grin behind it. "I really should be angry with you for leaving me NO time to properly prepare for such an evening! I mean, Volvér and the symphony! I had to beg my hairdresser to squeeze me in." She giggled merrily at my goldfish impression.

Patting me on the chest, she said, "I'm only teasing." Taking me in, she continued, "You clean up well yourself."

I gave her my best 'Aww, shucks' smile, then gave her my arm. The sudden frisson when her hand gripped my bicep caught me by surprise, but my musings were interrupted as we entered the restaurant, and the hostess greeted us.

I gave her my name and she led the way down a short hall, past a long wine rack - complete with ladder - that extended into the restaurant. As we moved into the dining area, I was immediately struck by a beautiful abstract mural that covered nearly the entire far wall. I turned to see that Catja was equally amazed. Noticing our reactions, the hostess smiled and told us it was called "Quiet Rain" and was made from hand-dyed burlap and buttons. All in shades of blue, to me it seemed like we were looking down on a storm-ruffled pond covered in lily pads.

The staff were superb. We had barely been seated when our server appeared with menus and a wine list. They had what they called a "pre-theatre" menu, and Catja and I perused it carefully. She surprised me by agreeing to my suggestion of the grilled baby octopus appetizer along with a Spanish Rioja. We both admitted to never having tried octopus before, and her eyes twinkled as she toasted, "To new things."

It was delicious. Smoky, crisp, slightly sweet, with barely any hint of fishiness. For our main, Catja ordered the pan-roasted chicken breast, and I had the cioppino. We wound up sharing a few bites. There were only two desserts on the menu, so we each got one and again, shared. There's something... intimate... about sharing food, especially when your companion offers it to you from her own fork, one hand cupped under your chin to catch crumbs, and a little smile on her face. The lemon cake was bright and fresh, and the chocolate was rich and decadent.

What an experience!

The meal was excellent, but the company was stellar. I studiously avoided any topics related to my personal life, and instead told Catja, again, how happy I was that she had decided to join me.

As we sipped our coffee, I said, "Right now, I'm the envy of every man in here."

She looked at me from under her lashes. "Oh, that's very smooth. I thought we were friends?"

"You're right. That was over the line. True, but over the line," I grinned. "I promise, no more flirting. Unless it's an emergency."

Her eyebrows went up. "Emergency flirting?"

I held my hands up. "Can't rule it out."

She shook her head, smiling, as we continued to chat. As it had been on the ferry, the conversation was easy and relaxed. I told her that I hoped I hadn't gotten her into any hot water with her friend.

She laughed. "Oh, Ashley gave me the third degree after I left you last night! Wow." She affected a high-pitched annoyed tone. "Who was he? What were you thinking? He's old enough to be your father!"

I winced. "Sorry."

"Don't be, I enjoyed our talk."

"As did I."

She smiled, toying with her cup. "Well, I gave it to her right back; did she think I was looking for a hookup? Did she think that little of me? And why was she so rude when you clearly went out of your way to try to include her?"

"You said that?"

"Bet your ass. But don't worry, we've been friends for 20 years; we can say that stuff to each other. Anyway, after we calmed down a little, I said, 'Look Ash, to be honest, I don't really know why. But he's a nice guy, and I enjoyed talking to him.' Then I told her about your invitation for tonight.

'Surely you're not going,' she says. And - please don't take this personally - up until that point I wasn't sure one way or the other, but when she just... dismissed the idea... well, I said, 'I believe I am,' and she just stared at me."

"Remind me to thank her," I grinned, not the least bit offended by her self-confessed indecision.

><><><><><

We were almost finished with our coffee when she looked at me with a contemplative expression. I put my cup down, mid-sip.

"Catja?"

She sighed. "No, it's nothing. I have a few things on my mind, but I don't want to spoil the evening. It can wait." She smiled, looking just a bit melancholy.

"If you're sure?" At her nod, I said, "I can live with that. I know I hinted at some things too, but you're right, let's enjoy the concert." I stood and offered her my hand. "Shall we?"

"Let me freshen up, then let's."

"Of course." As I waited, my phone pinged once. I turned it off.

><><><><><

When she returned, I offered her my arm again, and we strolled down to the Kimmel Center.

I had splurged a bit on tickets; we had excellent seats. And I think I was as enraptured with Catja's enjoyment as I was with the music. As I may have said, they began with "Rhapsody in Blue," and the clarinet glissando is one of the most recognizable openings in music, but I still felt a chill hearing it. Catja must have as well because she grabbed my hand and sat forward in her seat. I kept sneaking glances at her, watching her enthralled expression and sparkling eyes.

There's something very special about a live performance. Being there, feeling the connection with the musicians, and the emotion with which they played. And sharing it with a companion like Catja only heightened the experience. Simply lovely.

Afterward, as we applauded the final notes of the evening, she turned and sighed breathlessly, "Oh Greg, I'm so glad I came! That was wonderful!"

I agreed. "So glad you enjoyed it, Catja. Having you here made it more so."

She looked at me, and I said, "Was that too forward of me? Sorry, I promised I wouldn't. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just being honest." I almost tried to make light of it, saying it was an emergency, but it didn't seem to be the time for joking or deflections.

Her eyes seemed darker, unreadable, but she merely thanked me and took my arm again as we made our way out of the concert hall and back to the plaza that fronted Broad Street. Once the crowd thinned out slightly, her hand slid down from my elbow and she interlaced her fingers with mine. As she did, I felt a thrill of tingling warmth rush through me.

Again, the thought struck me, this should have been Monique and I sharing this feeling, but again, I felt no remorse, being here with Catja instead. We were new friends, enjoying each other's company.

She must have felt the same, because, turning to me, she took a deep breath and all in a rush, said, "Greg, I'm having too much fun for the evening to be over. Can we perhaps find a place to go dancing?"

I know my eyes widened in surprise, but quickly replied, "I'd love that."

We had a brief wait in the taxi queue, and when we were finally ensconced, the cabbie asked where we would like to go, in a friendly island accent.

Catja asked, "Where's a good place to go dancing?"

He grinned at her in the mirror. "Ahh, you want for young or old?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, you - you're young, but not so sure 'bout your grandpa... can 'e keep up now?"

"Hey!" I protested, but his easy grin told me he was only teasing.

Catja laughed, and I mock-scowled at her.

He laughed too. "Jus' kiddin', mon! Let me tink, I..." He scratched his chin for a moment. "Ya, I got it. It's de Raven Lounge for you."

><><><><><

Wow, what a place. It did make me feel old, but young at the same time. I was definitely the oldest person there, but I didn't care. The place was filled with nicely dressed twenty-somethings, and they were playing some music that I wasn't familiar with but didn't hate. I noticed Catja bobbing her head a little as we entered and began to explore.

We checked out the multiple levels, and it was amazing, the eclectic variety of things they had packed into the place. In the back, we found a wheel of fortune, that instead of prizes, had a range of mildly inappropriate "Truth or Dare" type questions on it. We read a few of them and quickly agreed to give the naughty wheel a pass.

"Maybe next time," Catja laughed, and I thought, 'Next time?' but let it slide.

On another level, we found a photo booth and spent a couple of bucks taking goofy pictures. One with me looking serious and her making a silly face. Another with us cheek-to-cheek, and regular smiles. Her surprising me by kissing me on the cheek. My expression afterward, as she laughed. Exiting the booth, I made sure to print two copies. We looked at them, smiling, and I stored them safely in my jacket pocket.

Finally, we found the dance floor, and she gave a little whoop and dragged me out there. After about 20 minutes straight, I begged for a rest, and she agreed.

"Wow, Greg, I'm impressed! You move pretty well for an old grandpa!"

I laughed. "Blame my mother. She made me take dance lessons as a kid, promising that I'd thank her one day. She was right."

I went to grab us a couple of drinks, and I returned just as a gorgeous young blonde woman was asking her to dance. Catja looked at me, and I just shrugged with a big grin on my face. She crossed her eyes at me and accepted.

Just imagine my surprise, as I was enjoying watching them move together when an equally striking young man came up and asked me to dance as well! Definitely an LGBTQ-friendly place. Catja was watching me, eyes wide with mirth. Well, two could play that game. I stuck my tongue out at her and accepted his offer. He was respectful, charming, and a very good dancer. After two songs, I thanked him and went to collect Catja.

As we started to leave the dance floor, a slow song started. We paused, and as I turned toward Catja, she moved straight to me, molding herself to me, and placing her arms around my neck. I saw the young woman she'd danced with, and she stuck out her tongue at me! I gave her a big grin in return, and she smiled as she danced by with her new partner. The young man I'd danced with winked at me and gave me a thumbs-up. I nodded to him and wrapped my arms around Catja just a little tighter. She sighed and snuggled.

But all good things must come to an end.

It was well after midnight when we found ourselves outside. It had cooled down, and I draped my jacket around her shoulders as we waited for our Uber. We decided to share, just to be able to spend a little more time together.

Once in the car, she turned to me. "Greg, you continue to amaze me." She cocked her head at me. "You're... quite a man."

"Thank you, Catja. I feel the same about you. Tonight..." Then I laughed out loud, and she looked puzzled.

"What?" she prompted.

"Well, I was going to say that tonight was wonderful - and it was, don't get me wrong - but then I had this vision... it just popped into my head, I swear... me standing here holding a shoe, while you're tearing off in a pumpkin-coach and four."

She covered her mouth as she giggled, eyes twinkling. "You're an idiot," she smiled at me.

"You're probably right. But... the rest? I think you bring it out in me. Being with you... I feel... shoot, I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't."

Suddenly quiet, she murmured, "No, what were you going to say?"

I took a deep breath. "Okay. I know I've hinted at... things in my life right now... so my emotional state is probably suspect. But I don't think so." I paused for a moment. "Catja, I feel very comfortable around you. Granted, I'm on my A-game right now, having planned such a great weekend." I buffed my fingernails on my lapel, and she quirked her lips.

"Anyway, can I make one more proposal?"

"Greg! This is so sudden!" She fluttered her eyes at me.

Confused, I looked at her. Then I realized what I'd said. "Oh! No, not that! Oh my gosh."

"Sorry, I was just teasing. You should see your face," she giggled.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Well, you got me, you brat. No, I was going to ask... well, I was planning to go to the art museum tomorrow; would you perhaps like to meet me there and we can talk? About those things that we've been avoiding?

"Again, I'll leave it up to you. We can part ways now, and have some wonderful memories - I know I will treasure this weekend forever - or we can tell each other our stories, and maybe leave the door cracked open for... friendship?" Even as I said it, I knew how hollow that sounded. Clearly, I was hinting at something more. Catja knew it too, but merely said she'd consider it.

The Uber had arrived at my hotel. As I reluctantly got out of the car, she called out to me. I turned back, and she slid over, reached out, and pulled me down to her, giving me a gentle kiss. Just a moment longer than a friend's peck. She pulled back, caressed my cheek, and said goodnight.

A little while later, I lay in my hotel bed, thinking that I couldn't remember a more perfect evening. And it had not been with my wife.

><><><><><

As pleasantly exhausted as I was, it still took me a while to get to sleep. My thoughts continued in the morning, and I realized how tremendously Catja had helped me to cope with my wife's casual disregard, and if I was correct in my suspicions, her blatant disrespect, and - as difficult as it was to admit - her infidelity.

Thinking about Monique's actions led me to consider my own recent behavior, and I realized I was being a little hypocritical. Justified or not, here I was, dealing with my wife's affair by considering one of my own. I had to admit that it was true, at least emotionally. Regardless of how Catja felt about me. I knew she liked me, but beyond that?

I shook my head. No point in dwelling. I'd go to the museum, and we would see.

><><><><><

To my delight, she came. I was standing by the Washington Monument Fountain, when, damn it, she snuck up on me again.

"Oh my God Catja, you have to stop doing that. You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

She just giggled, and said, "But why, when it's so much fun?" When she hugged me, I decided to forgive her.

We walked south-ish, toward the river, pausing to watch the skateboarders and rollerbladers in Paine's Park and admire the eclectic street art - mostly chalk, drawn right on the concrete. Then we walked the trail around "Dead Tree in Middle of Lawn in Front of Philly Art Museum." I swear, that's really what it was called.

Then, deciding that our conversation wasn't suited for the bustle of weekend tourists in the museum, we made for the relative isolation of the Lower Trail, and gazed out over the Schuylkill River.

As we walked, she took my arm, a habit of which I was quickly becoming fond. It wasn't something that Monique did. Banishing those thoughts, however, I thanked her again for coming. I asked her if she would like to start, or should I, and she smirked and reminded me of the 'age before beauty' rule.

I grinned and told her that was certainly true in our case, and pretended not to see her blush.

Taking a deep breath, I began. "So how much have I told you? Beyond that, this was supposed to be an anniversary trip?"

"Pretty much just that. And that she had... I think your words were 'other priorities?'"

I nodded, grimacing. "Right. That... her blithely telling me she couldn't... more like wouldn't... make this trip with me, was what finally opened my eyes." And I slowly told her everything. Finding her briefcase. Calling her secretary. A few other things. About how it made me reassess her behavior over the past year, and then how I started looking even farther back. I told her about the exclusivity talk we'd had in college.

"We were young and thought we were maybe falling in love, but we were going to be apart for a while. She said she didn't want to lie to me, but from a guy's perspective, it just sounded like she wanted to be free to fool around. I guess she could have said 'Sure, we're exclusive,' and then fooled around anyway. I'd never have known and been fat, dumb, and happy, but she would have felt guilty. The way she did it, she absolved herself of guilt, but hurt me pretty badly in the process."