The first time I cheated on Henrick, we had been together for 3 years. By then his love felt like a warm blanket that I'd been under for far too long. We had come to be comfortable with each other. Like an old married couple we fell into routines, and finished each other's sentences. I didn't even know I was bored until I met Daniel.Daniel was in my 10 o'clock pottery class. I had no idea what drew me to take a pottery class, let alone one that met on Thursday nights at 10, but I suppose I felt compelled to get out of the house. I was romanced by the image from that movie Ghost, hoping maybe I could be as sexy as Demi in a cut up old t-shirt swirling messy clay in between my fingers.
Our instructor's name was Fawna, like the fairy from Sleeping Beauty. She had wildly springy straw like curls the color of nickels. Her class room smelled like dust and gum but surprisingly wasn't at all stuffy. We were a class of 9; a strange looking bunch. There were a few house wives, and a few old ladies, there was even a French couple named Ames and Margo who both had red hair which seemed a bit incestuous. I sat at the front of the classroom with my orange denim tote bag, already bothered by an attractive man behind who didn't seem to have any manners. The sensation of his eyes on me was so strong I could feel him blink.
The class was only 45 minutes, and Fawna had gone over what the class was about. The basics of pottery, and the many levels at which one can begin. The kinds of clay we would use, the materials to buy. She instructed us all with the whimsical waves of her lanky arms and fingers with their index and thumb rings.
Me and my note taking. As if I would miss something so pertinent. I was still packing up my notepad as everyone was filing out. The man with the staring problem stopped and pressed three knuckles against my desk, giving his weight over until they turned white. His nose was crocked and wide like a Europeans, and his eyes were sad and pinched in the corners, which made him look a little like some cliche dream boat; Rock Hudson without the homosexuality. Scruffy thick eye brows, carelessly dressed, his body was in good shape; that I could tell even through his cord-knit sweater.
"What?" I asked, pausing only briefly and then retuning to my task of packing up. I finally finished and he hadn't said anything. I got to the door before he even spoke a word. Arrogance, was something I never pretended to have patience for.
"What's your name again?" he asked. I repeated my name trying not to sound interested,
"Nice name. Headed home?" He said pulling a cigarette from the pack of Marlboro's in his pocket.
"It's almost midnight. It's Thursday and I smell like this classroom, of course I'm headed home." I was outside and suddenly I realized that a strange man was following me to my car. I wondered if I should be afraid, on guard for his unwanted advance in the empty community center parking lot. Daniel laughed through a cloud of smoke.
"What do you want to smell like then?" He asked holding out his Marlboro's. I don't know if it was the fact that I was glad it was still warm out, or that his face felt strangely familiar. But I took the cigarette, let him light it and laughed with him for a second. As a thank you for the cigarette (and the chuckle) I obliged him to lean on my car with me and share a few more fags.
Daniel was a pianist who worked at a hotel in the city. He said it was a lonely job, but people liked him because he never said much. He kept to himself, and people found comfort in it, maybe because they felt un-judged. Sitting in a hotel lounge at 1 am listening to a piano man, I supposed not feeling judged would have it's benefits. Thursday was
his night off, and he said simply with no apologies that he had always wanted to learn how to make pottery. He said he took a new class every few months, just to try a trade. When he asked about me, I suddenly felt naked and remembered my watch.I glanced at it, and saw that it was almost 1 o'clock. Henrick hadn't called. We had that kind of relationship. He wouldn't call because he'd figure I had a perfectly good reason for coming home late, a reason he wouldn't even ask for when I got home. Henrick didn't suspect out of not loving, but out of preferring the comfort instead of the suspicion. It was something I both admired and detested about him.
"I have to go." I said. Daniel asked if I had work tomorrow.
"No," I said, "I don't work through the summers." He slid himself off of the hood of my car and landed on his workman's boots.
"Well OK," Daniel said, "Then I guess this is goodnight." He stood over me, well above a foot taller. Looking down at the top of my head as I searched for my keys. His fingers were lifting my chin up towards his face by the time I heard the jingle of my monkey key chain.
"I don't suppose this class is for me." He said, his mouth now inches from my nose.
"Why?" I stammered, swallowing marbles.
"Because I'm going to take a chance and kiss you. Somehow I think after I do this being in a pottery class with you will be pretty tough."
"Don't quit on my account." I replied, his eyebrows softened. He was surprised I didn't object to the kiss. He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, and then his tongue into my mouth. He was warm and cool at the same time. His arms grabbed my waist. I couldn't resist, I couldn't even think.
Eventually I pulled away, and looked at him. I felt like the moment to slap his face and curse his shame before driving away was quickly passing. In a few seconds I would be guilty.
I put the key in the door and opened it, then started climbing into the back seat. He stared at me as I pulled away my skirt and then my panties. I didn't say a word, neither did he.
The community center parking lot was totally empty. And when I got home, Henrick didn't ask a single question.
ChristiWicked
