When her second husband decides to leave her, at first she thinks it’s not going to be the worst thing. He doesn’t leave like a coward in the middle of the night, and there aren’t any drag out fights. At first. At first she feels strangely mature about everything, like at 45 she’s finally a real grownup. She should have known that real life always has a way of intervening. Somewhere along the line the words, “I got a hysterectomy for you,” stop being a legitimate argument in his book. One weekend with a lawyer turns into two weeks and the custody battle turns into an all out war. When all’s said and done, she knows it’s time to do something for herself. Jake is driving her up the wall these days, and Wendy’s off handling things like a perfect angel but decides she’d rather be with her dad, and she just knows. It’s time.

She decides to take a cruise. It would be just what she needs to relax and start fresh. She goes to the travel agent and plans it all out- leaving out of Fort Lauderdale, six days five nights sailing the Caribbean, fruity drinks in hand and not a care in the world. She gets as far as telling Michael she’ll be taking her vacation days a little early this year when she realizes the futility of it all. She wakes up one morning two weeks before her trip with a pain in her chest that she can’t shake. It’s a sick feeling of loneliness, and a solo vacation could only exacerbate the situation. Taking a cruise by herself? How pathetic. It may be relaxing but then the idea of everyone staring at her, wondering why, having to sit at the Lonely Hearts table. No thanks. Maybe she could just work some overtime instead and take Jake on a trip to the Poconos when it gets a little warmer. Or maybe she’d grow a garden, something to cultivate on her own- really get a fresh start. Maybe.

*****

Meredith’s to-do list for that week is fairly straightforward: dry cleaners, find a new babysitter for Jakey, straighten out that delivery order that Michael inexplicably had shipped to a grocery store in Dunmore instead of an elementary school in Carbondale, go to the market and pick up that juice that Wendy liked since she had her for the weekend. It certainly didn’t involve celebrating her birthday a month early and crying in front of all her co-workers. Nope. Not on there.

She thinks she’s taken more than enough when Creed claps her on the back and says, “Marilyn, you’re a hell of a salesman, and a tough old broad with a heart of gold. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” She has to bite her lip so she doesn’t start crying. Or punch him in the face. So she’s more than ready to get out of the office by 5:00 when she senses someone standing by her desk. She turns to face Ryan, the new kid. They haven’t talked much since he started working. Just a couple of exchanges; if he could borrow a pen, if she needed any help making spreadsheets- he was kind of bored.

“Uh, hey.”

“Hi Ryan.”

“Um, this may sound weird, but can I give you a ride home?” She finds herself nodding, not sure if she’s saying yes or agreeing that it is weird.

“Great, okay,” he says.

She shrugs into her coat and follows him out of the office. She tries to not worry about her van out in the parking lot. The amount of embarrassment coursing through her veins is enough to make her not consider how she might be getting to work the next morning.

“Thanks,” she says, a little sheepishly as they pull out of the lot. “You didn’t really need to do this.” She looks down at the floor of the car; it’s pretty messy- fast food wrappers, empty water bottles, and couple of textbooks litter the floor.

“No problem,” he says as he flicks on the radio. “I figured you had kind of a rough day.”

“Are you in school?” she asks, nudging one of the books with her foot, eager to change the subject.

“Oh, not right now. I’m studying for an entrance exam. To business school?” He pulls up to a red light and glances over at her, almost as if for approval. She suddenly feels as old as Michael’s comments in the fucking “bird-day” card would let on.

“Wow, that’s great.” She has to smile at him. What else can she do?

“Yeah. I guess. Shows ambition, and all that…”

“Ambition. Heh. What’s that like?” She doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but he thankfully doesn’t seem to hear her.

“Hey, do you want to uh, stop for a drink or something? It’s still kind of early.” He looks over at her again. “You know, a birthday drink, maybe?”

She thinks about her to-do list. She thinks about crying and not getting to eat her own damn birthday cake and all the reports that she didn’t get to finish that day and the cruise she’ll never take, and in spite of it all answers, “Sure, why the hell not?”

*****

Sitting there at Poor Richards with him, it all begins to make sense. This is the shitty route her life is going to take from now on. First the divorce, then the uh, other divorce, and now she’s drinking with the new guy who’s half her age, at least. Fantastic.

“It's like rain on your wedding day. It's a free ride when you've already paid-“

It’s his second song of the night and he isn’t doing a half bad job of it. Although she’s also about six Sam Adams’ in, and everything’s starting to sound a little fuzzy anyway. She’s the only one who claps and whoops when he finishes the song.

He flops onto the bar stool and it spins underneath him.

“Whoa,” he says, catching himself on the bar. Charlie, the bartender, raises his eyebrow at her and she just shrugs and takes a big swig of her beer.

“I suck,” Ryan concludes.

“No, it really wasn’t that bad.”

“No one liked it.”

“Well, you did a little better with ‘My Prerogative.’ Maybe try not to pick such a girly song next time, champ.” She pauses and gives him a sympathetic smile. “But this crowd’s pretty light, anyway.”

Ryan looks around the bar to see that she’s right. There are only a couple of other locals hunched on nearby barstools, all of them looking wholly uninterested in karaoke. Poor Richards is having its bi-monthly contest but Meredith is pretty sure she shouldn’t know things like that. She’d only started going to the bar every once in awhile as an after work thing, but once or twice she found herself there alone, and now...well, it doesn’t really matter.

“What a day, huh?” he says as he spins back to face the bar and begins nursing a Budweiser. She notices that his lip curls slightly as he says it. She knows she probably shouldn’t notice something like that either, so she just shakes her head.

“Yeah. Michael’s...a piece of work.” She begins picking at the Sam Adams label. “A real piece of work.” She cringes at the thought of Michael reminding her of everything wrong in her life. In a birthday card. A month too soon.

“How do you tell your boss that he’s an ass, to his face?”

It’s a rhetorical question but Ryan laughs softly. “No clue. He didn’t seem that bad when I first met him, but there’s definitely something…off about the guy.”

“Definitely.”

“Uh, don’t tell him I said that, though.” Ryan leans forward on the bar slightly and begins sliding his beer from one hand to the other along the bar, leaving a trail of condensation. She watches him for a few moments before he says, “It’s actually my birthday today.” He suddenly has a look on his face like he regrets saying it as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“Wha-? Then why are you out…with me?” She takes a long sip of beer, slightly afraid of the answer before remembering to feebly say, “Happy birthday.”

His regretful look turns into a soft smile. “Eh. It’s Thursday. All of my friends are busy and we just planned on doing something this weekend. You know how it is.” He looks at her, his big blue eyes starting to look at little droopy. Maybe he was drunker than he let on. “But you know, like I said, I thought you were the one who could use the drink tonight.”

“Huh. Right.” He was right- damn right- but the sentiment made her feel...old. Again. She realizes that he probably hasn’t been in the working world long enough to be making gestures like that. His willingness to be helpful around the office was somehow clouding his judgment, was all.

“Why does everything have to suck?” she asks, almost as an afterthought.

“It’s your birthday. Everything is supposed to suck on your birthday.”

“Yeah. But it’s not even really my birthday today. Fucking Michael.” She finishes her beer in one gulp, only to realize that Ryan’s staring at her. “Oh, yeah. By the way...”

“Oh, uh. I knew. That it wasn’t..."

She doesn’t really know what she’s doing anymore, but she smiles at him. He’s just too young and probably doesn’t know any better.

“Well, happy birthday to us. Let’s get drunk!”


*****

Her laugh is long and loud. Maybe too loud? She can hardly hear the music anymore so she yells at the bartender Chuck (or Charlie or Charles. Whatever) to turn it up. She loves this song!

She turns to Ryan and says, “I was...just...don’t let anyone ever tell you an associate’s degree in accounting is going to get you anywhere in life.” She points a cheese fry at his chest for emphasis. “Because it won’t.”

He nods at this thoughtfully. “Duly noted. Why don’t you sit with the other accountants?” He bites into a cheese fry and signals for Chachi to bring him two more beers.

“Only three desks,” she says. “Also, I’m not an accountant anymore. I work in supplier relations.” The title feels heavy on her tongue and it comes out as “shup lighter relations” instead. “It’s just. I had to change. Angela...she’s such a bitch.”

“She is? I didn’t really notice when I was talking to her...today.” He laughs a little at this for some reason and as Chuckie hands Ryan the beer he knocks one of them over onto the bar. “Whoaaaaa. Party foul!”

She laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen. And it is. It’s the best thing that’s happened to her all day, and it didn’t even happen to her. Ryan starts to mop up the beer with some napkins and Meredith puts her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh man. You’ll learn. You’ll learn so fast.” Her hand starts to slip off his shoulder and he catches her fingers. He doesn’t seem to even notice he’s doing it, but suddenly she’s all too aware of her hand in his and what breathing feels like. In. Out. She needs another drink. Fast. Suddenly she feels very sober.

She doesn’t know how it happens but all at once his lips are on hers. Or her lips are on his; she can’t really be sure. Before she can think to pull away, she opens her mouth slightly and he tests her tongue with his. There are way too many things wrong with this scenario, but her mind is having trouble keeping up with her lips. It makes her miss her ex-husband. The first one. The one who was also young and stupid and got out of it all when she was too young and stupid to protest. She thinks about what Monday will be like. Awkward? They probably won’t ever talk again unless Michael assigns him to help her on an order. While she wonders if she should be thinking about this stuff at all when Ryan’s hand is on her thigh- especially when Ryan’s hand is on her thigh, he’s pulling away, opening his eyes and looking at her, as if for the first time all night. His eyes register a mixture of...sadness? Disappointment? Maybe just drunkenness.

She doesn’t want to think about it so before she can, she leans in again, but he’s already there whispering, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Things are happening very, very fast. Like the whole night has been happening inside of a Tilt-o-Whirl. Ryan’s fingertips are on her back as she fumbles with the lock. She shivers at his touch even though she has on her big winter jacket. She tries to convince herself that the cab driver hadn’t raised his eyebrows when Ryan toppled out of the cab first, and Meredith handed over a bunch of dollar bills. That had to be in her imagination, right?

*****

He kisses her up against the doorway, long and hard. She can taste the beer on his breath and his hands are running through her hair. She loosens his tie, he fumbles with the buttons on her sweater as her coats falls to the floor. She feels old and young all at once, but alive and dangerous, like a teenager praying her parents won’t wake up. She kisses him eagerly before realizing with a sick sense of dread that while she’s way past her parents catching her, her son might. Meredith pulls away and stumbles into the family room where the babysitter, April, is half asleep on the couch with the TV still on, Jake curled up in a ball at her feet.

Meredith is suddenly in full on Mom mode, apologizing profusely to April as she stuffs the rest of the twenties into her hands while sending her out the door. Jakey, in his zoned out state, doesn’t seem to notice Ryan standing awkwardly in the doorway, suddenly very intent on straightening his tie.

“I’ll be up in a minute, sweetie,” she says as Jake shuffles past Ryan and up the stairs.

After all the flourish, it’s suddenly way too quiet in the room. Meredith wishes the floor would open up and swallow her.

“Well?” he says finally, his tie no longer his main focus.

“Yeah.”

Ryan walks forward slowly, reaching his hand behind her neck. “So…” He leans in.

“Ryan. Wait.”

“Yeah.” He stares at her, resigned almost.

“Here. You can...crash on my couch.” Meredith steps away and begins busying herself with straightening pillows. She hands him a throw blanket and he catches the back of her hand with his thumb, pressing down lightly.

“This isn’t exactly how I thought today was going to go,” he says.

“Yeah, trust me. Me neither.”

*****

The next morning a hazy fog sets in behind her eyeballs when she sits up in a fit of panic, vague scenes from the night before invading her memory. Singing Bobby Brown. Eating cheese fries. Kissing Ryan. Ryan on her couch. What if Jake woke up and found him out there? Talked to him? Said something wildly inappropriate like, “Are you my new dad?” It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened. Meredith throws on her ratty blue bathrobe, propriety out the window at this point. When she gets to the family room the couch is empty, the throw blanket rumpled at the end of it. She’s strangely relieved. After she wakes Jakey up, she makes him eggs for breakfast, which he eyes suspiciously since he’s used to getting Pop Tarts or cold cereal.

She takes four aspirin and calls a cab to take her to the office, and when Ryan isn’t there it doesn’t hurt as much as she had braced herself for.

*****

In the spring when she gets the urge to start that garden project again, maybe buy new tools and gloves from the hardware store, she just ends up at the bar instead. He’s not there, he never is, which she decides is for the best, absolutely. Sometimes things are better left untended.