The First Man You Meet(13)

‘‘It seems Janice can't attend, either.''

Hearing the other woman's name, the woman Mark loved, had a curious and   unexpected effect on Shelly. Her heart sank, and she felt a sharp pang   of disappointment. She rebounded quickly, however, forcing a lightness   into her voice, a blitheness she didn't feel. ‘‘Listen, there's no need   for you to miss the play. I'll call the ticket office and see about an   exchange.''

‘‘No, I will,'' Mark offered.

‘‘That's ridiculous. Jill really wanted to see this play and-''

‘‘Would it really be so terrible if we both decided to attend the same performance?''

‘‘Uh … '' The question caught Shelly unprepared. Mark was the one who'd suggested they avoid each other.

‘‘What could it possibly hurt? You have your ticket and I have mine.   It'd be absurd to let them go to waste because we're afraid of seeing   each other again, don't you think?''

Forming a single, coherent thought seemed beyond Shelly at that moment.   After her long talk with Jill the day before, followed by the pep talk   she'd given herself, she'd recovered a degree of composure. Now, all of  a  sudden, she wasn't sure of anything.

‘‘I don't think it should matter,'' she said finally, although it did matter, greatly.

‘‘Good. Enjoy the play.''

‘‘You, too.''

The theater was within walking distance of her apartment building, and   Shelly left as soon as she'd finished talking to Mark. He was right.   Just because they each had tickets to the same play was no reason for   either of them to be penalized.

So Mark was going to see Street Suite. It wasn't the type of play she   would have thought he'd enjoy. But the man was full of surprises. Riding   mopeds on the beach, kissing so spectacularly, and now this …

Shelly's mind was full of Mark as she hurried down the steep hill on   Cherry Street. The theater was only a block away when she saw him. Her   pulse soared and she wasn't sure if she should smile and wave or simply   ignore him.

She didn't need to do either. He stood on the sidewalk, waiting for her.

‘‘You're late,'' he said, glancing at his watch. ‘‘But then you   traditionally are.'' His grin was wide and welcoming. ‘‘I couldn't see   any reason not to watch the play together,'' he went on. ‘‘What do you   say?''

‘‘You're sure?''

‘‘Positive.'' He offered her his arm, and she reflected that it was the   kind of old-fashioned courtesy, the kind of gentlemanly gesture, she'd   expected from Mark.

The usher seated them and smiled constantly as if to say they were a   handsome couple. Shelly was terribly tempted to explain that Mark was   engaged to someone else; luckily she managed to hold her tongue. Minutes   after they'd settled into their seats, the curtain rose.

The play, a clever satire about urban life, was as good as the reviews   claimed, and Shelly enjoyed herself thoroughly. Throughout the   performance, however, she was all too aware of Mark sitting next to her.   She found herself wondering if he was equally aware of her. She also   found herself wondering how long it would be before they ‘‘bumped'' into   each other again-and hoped it was soon.

By the end of the play Shelly felt inspired and full of enthusiasm,   eager to start a new project of her own. As she and Mark left the   theater, she talked excitedly about her idea for the ‘‘ocean moods''   series. He asked a few questions and even suggested some shots. Before   she realized it, they were several blocks past the theater, headed in   the opposite direction from her apartment building. Shelly paused and   glanced around.                       
       
           



       

‘‘There's an excellent Chinese restaurant in this neighborhood,'' was   all Mark said. Without giving her the opportunity to decline, he gently   guided her toward the place he'd mentioned.

It was early for dinner, and they were seated immediately. Although   they'd been talking comfortably during their walk, Shelly found herself   suddenly self-conscious. She toyed with the linen napkin, smoothing it   across her lap.

‘‘I hadn't expected to like the play as much as I did,'' he said after a while.

Shelly thought it a bit off that he'd ordered tickets for this   production, but perhaps he'd gotten them because Janice had wanted to   see Street Suite.

‘‘It's a little frightening the way we keep finding each other, isn't it?'' she ventured.

‘‘I can see how you'd find it disconcerting,'' Mark answered.

‘‘You don't?''

Mark shrugged. ‘‘I haven't given it much thought.''

‘‘I'll admit all these … coincidences do throw me,'' she said, running her   index finger along the outline of the fire-breathing dragon on the  menu  cover. Chancing a glance in his direction, she added, ‘‘But I'm   learning to deal with it.''

‘‘So you feel you've been caught in something beyond your control?'' Mark surprised her by asking.

Shelly lifted her gaze to his, amazed by the intensity she read in his   eyes. ‘‘No, not really. Well … a little bit, maybe. Do you?''

‘‘It wasn't my aunt Milly who had the dream.''

Shelly smiled and dropped her gaze. ‘‘No, but as my friend Jill reminded   me recently, no fifty-year-old dress is going to dictate my life. Or   yours,'' she felt obliged to add. Then she realized why he'd asked the   question. ‘‘You must feel overwhelmed by all of this. All of a sudden   I've been thrust into your life. There's no escaping me, is there?'' she   said wryly. ‘‘Every time you turn around, there I am.''

‘‘Are you going to stand up and announce to everyone in the restaurant that you refuse to marry me?''

‘‘No.'' Shelly was appalled at his remark until she remembered that she'd done exactly that the first time they met.

‘‘If you can resist doing that, then I think I can bear up under pressure.''

Shelly ignored his mild sarcasm. ‘‘I'm not interested in marriage yet,''   she told him seriously-just in case he'd forgotten. ‘‘I'm content with   my life. And I'm too busy for a husband and family.''

She hadn't noticed how forcefully she was speaking until she saw several   of the people at other tables glancing in her direction. Instantly she   lowered her voice. ‘‘Sorry, my views on marriage seem to be more  fervent  than I realized. But I'm not about to let either my mother or  my dear  aunt Milly determine when I decide to settle down and marry.''

‘‘Personally, I can't see you ever settling down,'' Mark said with a   small grin. ‘‘You don't have to worry. When you're ready, you'll know   it.''

‘‘Did you?'' She hadn't meant to bring up Janice, but now seemed as good   a time as any to remind him-and her-that there was someone else in his   life.

Mark shrugged casually. ‘‘More or less. I took a good, long look at my   life and discovered I'd already achieved several of my professional   goals. It was time to invest my energy in developing the personal   aspects of my life. Marriage, children and the like.''

Mark made marriage sound as if it were the next chapter in a book he was   reading or a connect-the-dots picture. Shelly couldn't stop herself   from frowning.

‘‘You have a problem with that?''

‘‘Not a problem, exactly. I happen to think of marriage a bit differently, that's all.''

‘‘In what way?''

He seemed genuinely interested, otherwise she would have kept her   opinions to herself. ‘‘People should fall in love,'' she said slowly.   ‘‘I don't think it's necessary or even possible to plan for that to   happen. Love can be unexpected-it can take a couple by surprise, knock   them both off their feet.''

‘‘You make falling in love sound like a bad case of the flu.''

Shelly smiled. ‘‘In some ways, I think that's exactly how it should be.   Marriage is one of the most important decisions in anyone's life, so it   should be a deeply felt decision. It should feel inevitable. It's the   union       of two lives, after all. So you can't simply check your  watch  and announce ‘it's time.''' She was suddenly concerned that she'd  spoken  out of turn and might have offended him, but one quick glance  assured  her that wasn't the case.