A Promise Is A Promise

By Pam Martin-Lawrence

I’ve been trying to be open to new experiences.

The day the divorce was finalised I made myself a promise. That things would be different. That instead of hiding away in the basement in my head, duck-and-covering so hope couldn’t destroy me, I would sit out on the front porch and scan the horizon for opportunities. And I’d wave when I saw one in the distance.

So when the chance came up to go back to school, I took it. Now I live in a tiny, picture-perfect town in Vermont, and attend an even tinier college. It felt like fate, or the perfect revenge: Treacherous Trent, my ex, hated New England, and my half of the settlement covered the tuition for my liberal arts degree almost to the cent.

It’s beautiful here. My roommates are cool, classes are challenging, and every day a little more of me-before finds its way back home. I’m still lonely, of course. Oh, there are plenty of invitations. Coffee klatches, arthouse cinemas, keggers. But in your twenties ten years is an eternity.

But him. Ben. We share the front row – it’s how I know he’s a returner too. That, and how he carries enough spare pens to resupply the class. I watch stealthily as he neatens his notepad. His lean, ink-smudged fingers visit me at night, and I wish they’d never leave.

We always chat casually as we get settled, but I want more.

Maybe he does too: “I wondered. . .it’s such a great day, too good to waste inside. What’d you say we cut classes and go for a run?” How haven’t I noticed until today that his eyes are turquoise as sea-glass?

“Um. I mean, yeah, why not? Let’s do it!” My chest ignites, fire licks my throat, and my cheeks flame.

We sneak out giggling like fifth-graders.

“Meet you in an hour at Fiddlehead Trail. I recently discovered naked running, and I’m a complete convert. It’s so liberating, nothing but the sound of your breathing, birds calling, and the slap of your trainers on the trail. Have you tried it yet?”

“Ahhhh, no, not yet. So, not quite naked, then?”

“Not quite. . .? Oh, yes, ha, I see what you mean.” I‘ve always been a sucker for a snorty laugh. “So wanna try it with me? Naked running?”

NOOO, because jiggles! Although there are other naked activities I could definitely get behind. But there’s that promise I made.

“Ooookaaay.”

######

Oh good gravy, he just pulled into the parking lot. I might barf.

As I leave the safety of my old clunker everything slips into slo-mo. Loosening the belt on my robe, I shrug it off my shoulders, unable to look in Ben’s direction. For an eternity the warm September sun caresses my skin, and Ben was right. It is liberating.

When I dare to peek, Ben is staring at me, scarlet-faced. But he’s smiling, and oh my, his running gear has joined my robe on the ground.

🩷🩷🩷