From Now On (10 page)

             
“Jo, you don’t understand.” He shifted enough so that she could see his face in the light of a nearby streetlamp. Again there was pain in his voice, in his eyes. “Things are just too complicated in my life right now.”

             
“I know,” she said, braving to touch his arm lightly. Briefly. “But that’s how I know you need a friend now more than ever.”

He shook his head. “Jo—”

“And I know I could sure use one,” she said quietly, hoping the plea in her voice didn’t sound too desperate.

             
He hesitated. Just for a moment he hesitated, staring down at the keys in his hand. Then he nodded, as though he had made a decision. “Why don’t we…why don’t we go get dinner somewhere.”

             
Jo nodded, a subtle movement that belied the happy pounding of her heart. “I’d like that.”

             
They went to a little steak house half way between the office and her apartment. Jo knew it well and was pleased when the hostess remembered her and led them to a prime table in a secluded section of the dining room.

             
“You come here a lot?” Mark asked.

             
“I used to, but it’s been a while. I’m surprised she remembered me.”

             
“You’re memorable.”

             
Jo blushed at the compliment, but figured her habit of tipping over the average fifteen percent had more to do with it.

             
“So, what’s good here?”

             
“Hmm, the prime rib is excellent. But you’ve never had ribs like their baby back ribs.”

             
“Then the ribs it is,” Mark said with a smile.

             
They ordered the same thing, a huge pile of ribs and French fries, along with a bottle of Zinfandel. Jo made herself stay conscious of the amount of wine she was drinking, aware that social situations often made her drink more than she should. Tonight, however, she wanted to be present, to be aware of everything that was happening, instead of dulling the edges as she often desired.

             
“So how’s life been?” Mark asked over his own wine glass, and then he chuckled at himself. “That was completely cheesy.”

             
“Yes, it was,” Jo agreed. “But it’s better than, so I hear you lost out on that promotion. Or, how’s the wedding you’re planning for your sister and ex-boyfriend going?”

             
Mark inclined his head slightly. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He studied her for a minute, his gaze almost unnerving, as though he could see right through her. “How are you?” he asked with gentle compassion.

             
Jo dipped her finger into her wine and rubbed it against the rim of the glass. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “It’s been a difficult few months.”

             
“But you still get up and face the morning each day.”

             
“That’s saying something, isn’t it?” Jo asked.

             
“Yes, it is.”

             
It was her turn to study him. “And what about you? How are you?”

             
He shrugged. “I still get pleasure from seeing my children. From listening to music and watching old movies. So I guess I’m still doing alright.”

             
“Old movies?” Jo asked. “What kind of old movies?”

             
“Westerns mostly, I guess. John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. That kind.”

             
“Like
The Sons of Katie Elder
? Or
Pale Rider
?”

             
Mark’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. You know their movies?”

             
“Sure. My dad was a huge fan. We used to sneak down to his workshop on the weekends and watch them together.”

             
“Really?” Mark grinned. “What’s your favorite?”

             
“That’s tough,” Jo said, sitting back and pretending to think about it for a minute. “I think my all-time favorite is
The Shootist
.”

             
“Oh, yeah,” Mark agreed. “That is definitely the Duke’s best in his later years. Almost like his own eulogy. But I think some of his earlier films are even better. There has never been a film like
Red River
.”

             
“Is that the one where Montgomery Cliff played his son?”

             
“Yeah.”

             
“That’s a good one, too. But I still think
The Shootist
is his best.”

             
“Then we agree to disagree,” Mark said as the waiter arrived with their meal.

             
Jo dug in immediately, unsure when she had last had an appetite. The food was amazing, with just the right amount of spice on the ribs and the perfect crunch to the fries. Jo laughed when Mark poured ketchup all over his fries, getting a big glob on the sleeve of his blue button down. He rolled his eyes at her and then used a wet wipe to dab at the stain.

             
“I can’t take you anywhere,” she sighed.

             
“I guess not.” He shook his head, as though giving up any pretense at trying to be neat. He picked up a thick, gooey rib and took a big bite, leaving stains of barbecue sauce on his cheeks. Jo laughed again, then did the same.

             
“Nobody ever said barbecue was a neat freak’s meal of choice,” Mark said as he wiped some of the greasy mess from his face.

             
“I’ve never met anyone who could eat ribs daintily. Though I’ve seen a few try.”

             
“A lack of stain suggests you didn’t enjoy the meal.”

             
“Well, then, I think it is very clear that we are enjoying this very much.”

             
Mark chuckled in agreement.

             
All the tension that might have existed between them melted away. As the meal progressed, they talked about almost everything under the sun except the few topics they seemed to have agreed, without actually having acknowledging it, not to talk about. His divorce, his kids, her family, and work. Everything else was fair game and Jo was taking advantage.

             
“How can you listen to country?” she asked, pretending indignation.

             
“We live in Texas. It’s kind of a requirement.”

             
“But modern country has nothing to do with country. It’s more like pop. I mean, have you ever heard a Taylor Swift song? It’s hard to tell the difference between her and Katy Perry.”

             
“True.” Mark nodded, a twinkle in his eyes that might have been a trick of the light. “Personally, I enjoy the old masters—Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash—but I also like the occasional Toby Keith song. And, of course, George Strait.”

             
“Of course. George Strait is definitely the king.”

             
Mark smiled, nodding in agreement. “So what do you listen to?”

             
“The Cure, The Cardigans, stuff like that.”

             
“The Cardigans?”

             
“Yeah. They’re getting back together for a reunion tour this year,” Jo said in response to the skeptical look on Mark’s face. “Thank God for
Glee
. They’re reviving all those great 80s and 90s bands.”

             
“Do you listen to Maroon 5?”

             
“I like some of their songs. That new one, about the payphone, is pretty catchy.”

             
“I know. I’ve heard it a million times. My daughter, she’s only eight but she thinks she’s sixteen. She loves Maroon 5 because their lead singer is on some singing competition show she watches at her mother’s.”

             
“
The Voice
.”

             
“Is that what it’s called?”

             
Jo reached over and stole one of his French fries. “Yeah. You should keep up with these things if you’re going to raise teenagers.”

             
He groaned. “I was hoping they would stay small a while longer.”

             
“I think all parents do.”

             
“I suppose.” Mark picked up the wine bottle and poured the last few ounces into his glass. “But I have to admit, it is nice to go out and be an adult once in a while.”

             
“I think that’s normal, too.”

             
Mark looked over at her gratefully. “Sometimes I feel guilty for wanting to get out of the house. They spend all day at school and then daycare. The only time we get together are the few hours between after work and bedtime. And the weekends. But there are times when I just want to have an adult conversation that doesn’t include a discussion of grades, behavior problems, or homework.”

             
“They spend some time with your ex, though, don’t they?”

             
“Yeah, a few days a week. But then I miss them like crazy and I worry that I’ll miss a phone call or a Skype, so I stay around the house.”

             
“It’s a difficult situation.”

             
Mark nodded. “You don’t know the half of it. I used to dream about having a family, used to think being a father would be the ultimate achievement. But I never imagined it would be like this.”

             
Jo wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand, to show him some measure of compassion, but fear that he would pull away and shut down again stilled her. Instead, she swirled the last of her wine in her glass and watched the dim light play in the moving liquid.

             
“I’ve put a damper on the festivities, haven’t I?” Mark asked.

             
She shook her head. “Of course not.”

             
“Sorry,” he sighed, swallowing the last of his wine. “I guess I should take you home now.”

             
Jo put down her glass and gestured behind her toward the restrooms and said, “I’m just going to go clean up a little.”

             
She could feel him watching her as she walked away. She wanted to turn, wanted to toss a flirty smile toward him as she had seen Emily do countless times with complete strangers, but she knew her flirty smiles always made her look as though she were in pain. So she kept her eyes forward.

             
Jo quickly washed her hands and wiped her face with a wet paper towel. She caught her reflection in the mirror and saw something she hadn’t noticed in a long time. There was a light in her eyes, a happiness that was barely contained by the darkness ever present in her soul. Rather than please her, however, it only made her that much sadder. Jo knew deep in her heart what it was that had given birth to that light and she knew it was destined to bring her heart break.

             
She was in love with Mark.

             
Mark opened the door for Jo, slipping the key out of her hand as she tried to slide it into the lock. When it opened, he slid a hand across the small of her back and gently urged her inside. Jo glanced around the living room and was silently relieved that she hadn’t left anything too embarrassing lying around. Just stacks of newspapers waiting to go to the recycler, work files scattered on the coffee table, and a couple of t-shirts she had absentmindedly forgotten to shove into the laundry basket over the weekend. Jo discretely picked up the shirts and slid them behind a silk hibiscus in the corner.

             
“Thank you for walking me up,” Jo said.

             
“Are you kicking me out?” he asked with a smile.

             
“Of course not.” She gestured toward her couch, offering him a seat. “Do you want a drink?” she asked when he was settled.

             
“What do you have?”

             
Jo opened the fridge and bent to look inside. There were plastic food containers stuffed throughout the refrigerator, leftovers of her many forays into the world of gourmet cooking.  She could barely see anything but Tupperware and the few expensive herbs that required refrigeration to remain optimal.

“Not much,” she called. “A couple bottles of water and a flat diet coke.”