The two women sat together at a cafe table under an umbrella in Old Fairhaven. It was a nice day. They sat in shade but bright blue sky lit the canopy above them, making the silver in their hair shine softly.
"Whose birthday?" asked the companion to the first.
"Someone I knew a long time ago. A very long time ago. Happens once in a lifetime you know someone like that." She dropped her eyes, and stirred her tea with a spoon. The second woman put her hands in her lap and gave her full attention to her friend as she spoke.
"I saw him a couple of weeks ago. I was at Larrabee Park walking the dogs. He was sitting on a bench, and I thought, that's him. I'm pretty sure that's him, but I hadn't seen him in fifteen years or more. So I walked closer to have a better look, and he said, Cynthia, is that you? And I said yes, it's me. Sit down he said, and I did, and I settled the little dogs at my feet. I didn't know quite how to talk to him, but once he began to speak to me there were suddenly lots of things to say. And trying to recall it now, I'm not sure I remember what we talked about, but there we were and it was wonderful.
"I'm sure we talked about our families and our children, and how they'd all grown. And the books we'd read and the places we'd been. The people we knew and how they'd changed or moved on. And that peace came over me, I wish I could describe it. It's that feeling that's always been there when I'd see him. I could see he still felt it, too. So familiar and welcome it was. I could smell his cologne mixed with the tobacco of his pipe, as it always was. His blue eyes were the same though they shone through a lined face. His smile still slow and wry. Timeless, I thought, the word here is timeless.
"I don't know how long we sat. A woman approached and sat down at the other side of him. He said, Cynthia, this is Angela, my wife. We've been married ten years now. And I said, it's good to meet you, Angela. I'm just an old friend, I said, I knew your husband when he was a young man. She said my husband has known many women, I could not keep track of the stories he's told me. She took his hand and squeezed it, watching my face.
"She's a nice looking woman, that Angela. She looks foreign, maybe Latin, and I could tell she was very pretty when she was a girl. I'd like to say she doesn't match with him, but how can I say that? How would I know who suits him? And she smiled at me, and he turned silent. It was awkward. I stood up and said I had an appointment, so I had to get going. Polite goodbyes were exchanged.
"I looked over my shoulder, just once, as I walked away. I could see that she was talking rapidly to him, and he was nodding at her words as he looked over the lawns toward trees and ridges. I felt just a whisper of that peaceful feeling as it rose upward and out of me, leaving a chill behind.
"I received a note from him shortly after that day. He said it was good to see me after so many years and that we should meet sometime, soon. I tucked into a shoebox, afraid my husband would see it. I should throw it away. I have not answered the note. I wouldn't know what to say.
"And just now when I see those Latin women, there, over by the fountain with their grandchildren, I feel like getting up and walking away. It's silly, I know, and I'll stay right here.
"It feels cold, suddenly. Could you hand me my sweater?"
"The heart has it's reasons whereof reason knows nothing." Pascal
