A candid chat with Jason

“You know where my face is, right?” I re-direct Jason, whose eyes seem to be having a conversation with my chest at this moment.

It may have been four years since our last meetings, but no matter how much time may muddled my memory, I don’t remember him being this uncouth. I stand up from our dinner table and grab my handbag, preparing to leave just as our waiter brings Jason’s whisky and my cocktail.

“Madam?” the waiter pauses and looks at me askance, his hand poised over my drink on the tray. “Are you leaving?”

“No, she’s not, she’s just playing,” Jason smirks, then waves his hand in the direction of the tray. “Put that drink down on the table.”

“Yes sir,” the waiter nods, putting down the glasses and quickly walking away.

“You can drink it yourself,” I spit out, then turn on my heel.

“Wait, Liz,” Jason shouts out after me. “I’m sorry!”

That stops me in my tracks. I have never heard him apologise before. I stop, turn around, and go back to the table. I don’t sit down though; instead, I stand right in front of him, looking over his seated frame, forcing him to look up at me.

HOT AIR

“When did you turn into this arrogant b*****d?” I snap. “The Jason I knew back when was polite. A gentleman. A man I considered settling down with. When did you become…” I wave my hands up and down “…this?”

Jason looks repentant. “I’m sorry,” he bows his head. “Please, sit. I’ll behave, I promise.”

I raise a skeptical eyebrow and sit down, but on the edge of the seat with my handbag perched on my lap just to make it clear that if there is any more nonsense, I will not hesitate to walk away.

“So anyway, I missed you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward. “I’ve been meaning to call you up and see if you wanted to link up but…” he trails off.

“But what?” I raise an eyebrow. “If you really missed me that much you would have called me. But since you didn’t this is clearly just hot air.”

“Liz,” he looks me deep in the eye. I can see his vulnerable side. I place my purse on the empty seat next to me. “I mean, I knew you were upset with me. I guess a part of me didn’t want to confront how much I had hurt you. I couldn’t bear to see you in so much pain.”

“Well…” I shuffle my backside towards the chair’s backrest. “You didn’t hurt me thaaaat badly.”

“It didn’t matter if you were a little or a lot hurt. It caused me pain to know that you were in pain. And that I had caused it.”

“Hmph,” I snort, then I pick up my glass and take a sip of my cocktail. “How’s Sheila?” I ask him.

“She’s fine,” he shrugs. I start to see purple; I thought he intimated that it was over with her!

“Oh? How many children now?” I bait.

He laughs. “You know how you women are,” he says.

MARRIED AND AVAILABLE

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“None, but she keeps saying she wants some.”

“Oh,” I nod.

“But… let me just make a confession here,” he continues, taking another sip of his drink and setting his jaw as if he is about to tell me a really big secret. “You know, I don’t want to have children with her. That’s why we don’t have any. I’m not happy in my marriage.” He looks up and gives me such a mournful look that I almost believe him.

“If you’re not happy why don’t you just leave?”

“Because… you know she’s the one who supports her family. Her mother has cancer. There’s a little brother in university. Sheila is struggling to keep the family together. I don’t want to add to her problems by also leaving her.”

Now I feel a slight ping of sympathy. “It must be really hard on you,” I say softly. I reach out my hand across the table and grasp his in reassurance.

He nods. Stares into his glass. Sniffs sadly. Then he looks up at me and smiles brightly. “But life goes on, right?” And then we talk and talk for the next hour, and time flies by, almost as if we are friends again.

Only later that evening as I am sitting on my couch, surfing my Facebook account on my tablet, does the thought occur that I should stalk her page – as I used to do many years ago. A few clicks later, and I find her account.