She was right. There was a reason that I had come to peer out that bakery's window for almost every day of the week. I wanted to get away from my wife. I loved her, but being around her for longer periods of time ruined the perfect image I held of her. So I usually ended up there, reminiscing about the times where we were actually in love, instead of seeming like we were.

The coffee that had long been abandoned had left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. It always did. I enjoyed it though, making me think that I wasn't the only bitter one in the world. I had come in here with the hopes of hearing her soft voice rise above the rest to welcome the incoming customers, but I was met with Rebecca's face. I greeted her like any other day, but ordered the croissant instead. Her quizzical eyes demanded why I suddenly changed, after so long, and the urge to tell her that I screwed my wife over was too strong. Instead, I blabbed to her that Jamica told me the croissants were good with the coffee. Which wasn't a complete lie. Jamica had told me that was her favorite thing to eat, croissants with flavored coffee, which allowed me to have a reason to actually adopt the combo as my own. In no shape or form did I want to be tied back to Mildred, no matter how small it was. But that was a difficult thing to do, especially when many a time I had spilled my seed into her and she birthed our three children.

It had been two weeks. Two rough, long weeks. Mildred had done all but threaten me for every penny I had, making my life more difficult that necessary. But I took it in strides and reminded her effortlessly why we were in this shit can in the first place, because she could not keep her goddam legs closed. I swallowed the coffee, and it stung my throat. The burn kept me from thinking bad thoughts of my wife. I tried desperately to not see her as some monster who only loved me for my money, but it was difficult. Especially when I could only remember our most intimate moments resulting in her manipulating me into giving her my credit cards or cash. That was the hardest part, convincing myself that the person I loved was an angel, but had been a monster all along. Nobody ever wanted to disrupt that image, or even change the slightest thing of their loved one. Damn it was difficult thing to do.

But I found fault in my ways. For years I had convinced myself that there was a reason for all of this, why she repeatedly cheated on me, and now that it was time, I had the choice of finding out what she did. Where her tales all began. She was not willing in telling me about her passionate relationships, but I knew one thing about Mildred. She had a soul somewhere behind those bright silver eyes. It may not even be five years from now, but I would get a confession out of her one day. It was just up to me to wait for it. And there was that concept again, time. It was such a strange concept, especially when people sung out that time would heal all things. But as time drug along I had not been healed of her infidelities. Time was brutal to me and my feelings. I felt as if I stuck in a state of purgatory, where nothing every changed but the intensity of pain that I felt in my heart.

Before she had gotten out of the car, she had touched me again. Again, it was the simplest of touches, a young lady, the same age as Georgie, but with eyes the age of an old soul. She had looked at me, and she had me promise her to give it time. I held no feelings towards her, nor any obligations towards her, but I felt that the promise I made to her was worth more than my marriage had been in the past eight years. I had left her there, standing beneath the Food Lion. Even as I turned out of the parking lot, I hesitated in leaving her. Her small frame had hoped out of my car with her belongings, and blessed me with another smile of hers. Her hand lifted, and she waved to me. Then made me promise again. I felt obedient to this stranger. And that's what I had to remind myself, that she was just a stranger, nothing more, nothing less. But she had provided to me what I had needed the most, a shoulder to cry on.

I had invaded her personal space. My mouth blew hot, airy breaths on her neck while her fingers played with the hairs at mine. Her attempts to soothe me did not work. The more she touched me the more I longed to be loved. I was so goddam broken. First it was my father, depleting me of any love that he could have given me if he wanted to. There was never a, "Good job Ken." It was always, "Bust your goddam ass harder than that. I didn't raise a loser, and a loser you will not be!" Those words were glued somewhere between hatred for him and hatred for myself. I hated myself because I could not be who he wanted me to be, and I hated him more because he made me feel like I could not be who he wanted me to be. He chastised me for never owning up to him. The man was still alive. And I reiterate, still alive.  But like she said, there was a reason for everything. Those were her final words to me. Her delicate voice had glued itself somewhere between my ears and my heart, alongside that hatred, and I longed to hear it again. It offered me comfort where there was pain. Anything to take that away.

I had not seen her since, even on the days she usually worked, she was not there. I made an attempt at playing it safe. I came in one night to ask how everybody was doing. I mentioned Jamica, and oddly enough Cara or Rebecca couldn't tell me how she had been and that they had not seen her. So I was back to square one, sitting, waiting. I was not going to lie though. I enjoyed the way she held me, as if she wished she could erase all the wrong that was done to me, as if she actually cared. It scared me, however, to look into another person's eyes and want to trust them. Mildred had ruined that, my ability to trust people on whim, for I had become blindsided. She led me through the Valley of Darkness and I willingly obliged.

I wanted to get away from the habits of bashing her now. I never had the desire to hold an ill grudge against anybody, or forge a reason to curse their names. Even after Mildred slung my name through the mud, I refused to conjure up the energy to call her out of her name. In part, our failed relationship had been my fault too. I allowed her to cheat on me. Of course, I had done what I thought was right to make her stay, to make her want me, but in the end it was not enough. That in turn forced me to only wish for her happiness, and if happiness, even in the most sensual form lied in other men so be it. At least her heart was still with me right? Wrong.

In these instances I was always wrong. Nothing about Mildred now was what it seemed. She had found a lawyer, one I'm sure her father was paying for, to fight against my divorce agreements. So far, they were getting nowhere, just as I had liked it. I bust my ass to appease her for twenty years. Although I was back and forth with the decision, I leaned heavily on the thought that she deserved absolutely nothing. One could argue that I often worked long nights, trying to meet deadlines for people who believed that one day consisted of one hour. Many a night I fell asleep writing out codes in my head that actually worked for these bustling, up and coming businesses that needed software installed. Was I physically depriving her of my body? Yes, but it was not intentional. Mildred had always failed to understand that everything I did was for her. I wanted to see the twinkle in her eyes again and the red in her cheeks from joy of me, not other men. I was often left confused and depressed, because I never felt good enough. Even when my pay rate rose, and I fell into making one-hundred thousand dollars a year, it was never enough to fund her ways. So I worked harder to be promoted or even to be switched to a better job with better pay. Mildred was happy, but she demanded more, and so did I. There was one point in time when I asked her about another child, when Georgie had grown old enough, but I was quickly shut down. Mildred didn't have time, nor the patience for another child. Soon, I dropped the subject and agreed with her. I had decided that I did not want another child to be subject to the mistreatment she already exposed our children to.

I should have been happy, but to me, another child meant that she loved me, and for once would give me something that I wanted. It wasn't until much later that I realized Mildred had never been selfless. And I guess that's what you get when your wife was raised the daughter of a prominent socialite and top surgeon in the tri-state area. Oh no, pretty, sweet Mildred was not foreign to getting her way. Just like many others, including guys before me, I had fallen prey to her once gentle eyes. She demanded to be looked at. She demanded to be served. I had chased after her for a couple of years before she caught wind of my sniffing. Her mother and my mother ran in the same circles, and we, the children, happened to come up in a conversation. In their minds, they were trying to convince the others that their children were the best. In our minds, it was our first official date.

We were meant to be shown off, like a trophy. Me, I was on the wrestling team and the football team in the on seasons. In the off seasons I took up tennis and headed the Mathletes. I was a nerd, but the sexiest nerd one would ever encounter in boarding school. I never took pride in my looks, only because in my mind they were just looks at first. But then, on a drunk weekend away from school, and two hours later, I had stumbled across Mildred. Her shorts were yanked high to her belly button and her hair grazed carelessly across the peaks of her nipples poking through her shirt. I knew who she was instantly. A lot of guys back at school talked about her as if they had known her in the most intimate of ways. But I, I had never experienced her. Never intended to until she had lazily rose her arms up in the air and swayed her nonexistent hips to the soft, thumping guitar. I became mesmerized. A few seconds of watching her, studying her and my eyes had burned holes into her lids, wishing that she would grant me access to her soul. It was then that she stepped to the side, turning her body in a way that the move seemed effortless. Her backside had turned to me and I watched her bare feet sink deeper in the sand. She had turned her head, but only slightly. I was so transfixed on her form that I hadn't noticed her eyes gazing at me, daunting me.

It was an invitation, and from that moment I decided that I had wanted to be lost in her, but not in the way the guys had. I wanted her mentally, physically, and emotionally. I wanted to drink her in so that I could nourish my soul. I just wanted her. But she wasn't what her mama made her out to be. They said that her mother said she was poised, and carried around an air of dignity. That her gait was soft and slow and she was a homebody. Boy, did they lie. I received none of that when I met her the second time. Her eyes were devoid of life around her mother, as if she was tired of hearing her mother dote on her. My mother's comments never bothered me, nor did I make it a habit to stop her. Her comments were filled with love, and appreciation. Mildred's mother's comments made it seem like she was reading her accomplishments from an obituary. It was then and there that I decided to save her from them, her parents, but she had other plans.

That night, she attempted to familiarize herself with my body, while I desired to familiarize myself with her mind. I wanted to get inside of her head, because none of the boys ever bragged about knowing what her favorite color was or what made her tick. But I did, and I was surely proud of it. That was when I decided to dedicate myself to her, and no one else. Not until I knew what made her burn inside and what needed to be done to put out the fire.

It was a fire running ablaze in my mind when I felt it. It was a small touch, a quick hand to the shoulder to make one acknowledge your presence in passing. It was her, she was walking past me, but her head had looked back to make sure she had caught my attention. There was a smile of knowing on her face and a small one formed on my face, but it was a sad smile. I had expected more, for her to come in and wrap her arms around me and tell me again to give it time, but that's what I got. Time, I chanted in my head. I didn't spend any more time than necessary while I watched her disappear to the back. She looked pretty today. She had twisted back the sides of her hair to gather at the back, while the rest hung. She wore an off the shoulder bohemian shirt that exposed the browns of her shoulders. Many would not have noticed, but I caught sight of the dark markings that marred her shoulder, stretch marks. My eyes traveled down to the black leggings she was wearing, that disappeared into the brown heeled boots. They kumped with each step she made, and accented the sounds the bangles made that adorned her wrists. Yea, she looked pretty today.

It was a beautiful day outside. Fridays were my day off, if I had ever had a week day off. They came in went, never being something permanent. When they were I would hop into the SUV and gather the kids and make a play date like we would do years back. I would sometimes surprise them at school, saying they had a doctor's appointment when really I missed seeing the faces of my children. Those days usually resulted in Mildred caring about their attendance in school and our bellies full of ice cream. Now that they were older, my heart longed to have some type of company from anyone. Today was no different. The last time I had seen Mildred's face was when she appeared at the divorce meeting about a week ago. I sighed, and moved to leave. The croissant had been long gone and the coffee had died. I guess I wasn't going to get what I came for.

I moved to tuck in my chair, when I felt another hand on my back. My head jolted to see her arm retreating back to her side and a smile still on her face. But she was moving, and she was moving fast. She made sure however, to speak.

"Hi, Ken." She was confident in saying hi, but my name had fell from her lips in a whisper. I watched those lips form into a smile as she moved out the door. I had become transfixed again and my body had upped its speed. I bid the associates a farewell before I was walking, almost jogging out the door to catch up to her. Her hips were swinging in a brisk walk to get up the slope of the hill. I followed those hips up it.

"Jamica." I didn't want to seem frantic in the coming and going traffic. I recognized that we were surrounded by people who deemed themselves to be classy, so I slowed my gait and raised my voice a little louder.

Her head moved to the side, as if she thought she heard her name, but she kept it moving. One thing I could give her, was that she walked pretty damn fast.

"Jamica!" I hollowed out my voice so that it could reach her. I watched as she continued to walk but slowed her gait, just so she could peer behind her. The confusion that was etched in her face quickly disappeared at seeing me. Instead, it was placed with a smile. I did that. Before turning to approach me, her steps faltered and she glanced down at the watch on her hand. I watched her sigh heavily, as if she was debating something heavy inside of her mind. I took the time to walk slowly to her, giving me more time to study her frame. I stood a good six foot two on a good day when I wasn't slouched over a computer. On my best days I was an inch taller. Many days I walked hunched with my hands in my pocket, as if I was fending off the rain. It was a bad habit of mine. One that I had yet to pay for.

That's how I had stood when I came to a stop in front of her. The sun wasn't hot out today, giving her the excuse to not wear her jacket. Instead, it gave her an excuse to shield her eyes from the impeding light just so she could look at me.

"Hey honey." A smile played at her lips, and all I could do was look down at her. I couldn't remember the last time somebody had called me honey, but I was damn sure it didn't sound as nice. The word made it hard for me to breathe, and I smiled back at her. When I didn't respond, her hand went out to grab forearm and she began talking.

"Are you feeling better?" I fixed my eyes on something else at that question. I was never one to lie so I wasn't going to start now. I had still yet to come to accept and process the changes that were happening in my life. Instead of explaining it to her, I casted my gaze on her.

"Yea, I'm getting there. Thank you for asking. And thank you-" She held up her hand to stop me, and I laughed. I knew why that hand was up.

"Ken, I told you in the car. You will never," she paused, just as a car had rounded the corner to enter the parking lot of the chain of stores. That small movement had brought her closer to me and I caught a whiff of scent. She smelled like a flower musk again, like she had been laying in a field of daisies all day.

"Have to apologize to me. I was an interruption in your life when I shouldn't have been. I did my duty of offering you for what you needed and in no way, shape, or form did I feel as if you were burdening me. Okay?"

Upon hearing her words, my head had moved to peer down at her. She no longer shielded her eyes from the sun, but instead allowed the rays to dance across her face. And as she spoke to me, I had decided she was an angel. Because only an angel would do something without wanting something in return, or because they feel they are pressured into doing it. Many a times I felt this way with Mildred. But Jamica, no, not with her.

Her big, brown eyes blinked up me, waiting for an answer. There was no rush in her eyes, as if she demanded an answer. Instead, she gave me time, and I liked that. For the five seconds that she gave me her soul I searched it. Her windows were wide open and I took the chance to fall gracelessly in. All of a sudden I had the dire urge to know what she was about, and the need to know ate at me like never before. Instead of agreeing with her, I diverted the attention away from me.

"How was your day?" The hand that had been wrapped around my forearm fell. She was waiting for an answer until that moment. When I asked the question she immediately released her gaze from me, along with her touch. Coldness had filled the spot where her fingers once were.

For a moment, I expected her to not answer or me, or if she did, give me such elaborate details that would force me to understand how exhausting it had been. She caught herself before sighing, and instead scrunched her eyebrows and smiled at me. "There are always better days, right?"

To say I admired her would have been an understatement. Even when I felt down in the ugly, I never thought of my better days, because all of them seemed like a dooms day. In all my life I had never saw the good in bad, and in one day, she had changed my way of thinking.

I took her admission as an opportunity to know more about her than her name and that she worked at a bakery.

"Would you like to talk about it?" I saw her hesitation. It was the same hesitation that had danced across her face the day I had beckoned for her to get into my car. I glanced down briefly to see her knee bend, and she took a step away from me. I was losing her, and the thought scared me. I needed the company right now.

"I would love to but I have to catch the-"" Her eyes traveled down the sidewalk in the direction of the bus stop she had previously stood at it. To catch her attention I thought of the only thing I could think of.

"Ice cream." Her head snapped back to me and she shook her head in wonderment.

"Huh?"

"Do you know that ‘huh' is not considered a word?" I watched her smile push her cheeks up to greet her eyes. I loved that face. I loved her face. And before it could be stopped, the atmosphere was being filled with her laughter again. It was a small, boisterous laugh. It was enough to warm my life. Through her giggles she managed to talk. "Says who?" Her words sounded more like, "cez hoo?" Her voice never ceased to sound like a melody to me every time she talked. I grinned. She had took a step toward me again, and again, my nostrils were invaded by her scent.

"Webster." Her grin widened at my answer and she shook her head and looked away. But the smile was still on her face.

"What?" I became inquisitive. Especially when she refused to meet my eyes through my intense gaze. I just wanted her eyes on me.

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. But her eyes looked back to me, and her lips toyed with a smile. It was then that the wind decided to blow, bringing her shirt to flow in the direction of my person. I don't know what I was thinking, but I took that moment to reach my fingers out, and tugged on the hem of her shirt. The movement didn't break her gaze, and I was glad for it. It had been one of the most intimate moments I had had in a long time. I had only touched her shirt, but my fingers felt on fire because I was touching a part of her.

"I never thought you to be a smartie." I grinned. Who used the word smartie anymore? Nonetheless, it did to me what the rest of her words had. I had let the shirt fall, because the urge to tug her body to mines had become too much. I hadn't wanted to scare her away, so I decided to let her go.

"What did you think of me then?" It was a simple question. One that could have been answered simply, but it was a loaded question. I searched her eyes to tell me what she had thought of me. This was my third time seeing her in my entire life and I wanted to know her opinion about me. I needed to know what she thought of me, especially since we had shared a moment together. She knew nothing of my marriage except from what she could derive from the mangled words that filled my car. She's gone seemed to be the only words I could say. Even after I had lain there in the silence, my cheek resting against her chest, and my hand gripping her shoulder, she did not ask me a question. And for that I was forever grateful.

She didn't shrug her shoulders this time, only blinked up at me with the truth in her eyes.

"You're a man. But before you are man, or a husband, or a father, you are a human being." She looked away then as the winds whirled again, but her lips were still moving. It was hard to catch, as if she didn't want me to hear it in the first place.

"I think somewhere along the way you forgot that you were a human being," She shrugged her shoulders then, and moved closer to me, conquering what little reserve I had left to not touch her. My fingers moved to once again play with the hem of her shirt that fluttered.  "That we are all human beings." I mouthed the words back to her. She smiled, then nodded. Before I could register what was happening, the fabric of her shirt was slipping through my fingers and she was walking away. I believe that she had told me she needed to catch the bus, but my mind had been lost to those words. I had wanted her to stay, almost begged for her to stay, but she was gone, already making her way further up the hill. It was there that she left me, thinking, we are all human beings.