After a long day of travelling, Claire followed Robert through the hotel lounge to a table by the window. Soft piano music played, mingling with the low hum of conversation from customers seated sparsely throughout the lounge. The circular bar in the center of the room was empty of patrons, and behind it a bartender mixed drinks at a leisurely pace while talking to the lone server. Robert held Claire’s chair for her, then sat down across the table, their chairs angled so that they were not directly facing each other, but rather, looking out into the room.

The server approached the table to take their order. She was a friendly looking young woman, with thick, luxurious eyelashes and long flawless nails.

Claire studied Robert as he conversed amiably with the server. His shirt appeared neatly pressed, despite the day spent in the car, the sleeves folded back, and as always, he wore his gold wedding ring. His hair had passed from red to grey to white over the years, but it was still thick and neatly styled, his face tanned and clean shaven. She felt a familiar combination of attraction and pride.

As the server left, Claire sighed contentedly and relaxed in her chair. “This is nice.”  

“It is.” Robert agreed.

Two young girls walked in laughing and chatting, drawing Claire’s attention across the room. They looked pleasantly trail worn, with sun kissed skin, their shorts, t-shirts and hiking boots showing traces of dirt and dust. Taking a seat at the bar, they slung their backpacks down at their feet, and ordered two pints of draft from the bartender.

As she watched the girls, Claire was reminded of a younger version of herself. She had met Robert on a hike, over fifty years ago. Falling in step along an otherwise deserted trail, they had chatted the entire way, stopping every now and then to feed the chipmunks, or to feast on wild blackberries. The early fall day had been unusually hot, and they were both sweaty and exhausted when they stepped out of the fragrant evergreen forest onto the edge of a turquoise lake, a glacier rising spectacularly from the opposite shore. They had stood awestruck for a moment, then, locking eyes for a beat, they stripped off their outer layers and plunged into the icy water, their laughter ringing out across the lake.

The server stopped briefly to set their drinks down.

“Thank you.”  Robert said, picking up his scotch. Claire smiled and nodded at her, before taking a sip of her wine. It was crisp and cool, perfect for a late summer evening.

Claire was relieved to be halfway through their drive, and eager to get home the next day. Closing the beach house for the season was always so much work, and the drive took more out of her each year. Long hikes in the mountains were out of her reach these days, but perhaps when they had unpacked and settled, she would suggest a walk along the river. In a week or two, the blackberry bushes would be laden with berries. They could bring along containers and fill the freezer.

Claire looked over as a cheer arose from a group nearby watching the baseball game. Playoff season was coming up, which also meant Thanksgiving was approaching. She supposed it would be at their house again this year. The younger generation did not seem to want to volunteer, although several of her nieces and nephews had the space. But never mind, it was fine. She had always enjoyed hosting, both having the place bursting at the seams, and later, cleaning up with Robert, quietly putting the house back in order.

Finishing her wine, Claire went in search of a washroom. Finding the ladies, she walked past the long marble vanity and entered the last stall. The doors went down to the floor, and each stall contained its own tiny sink. She had finished washing her hands when she heard the bathroom door open.

“Oh my god, look at me. I’m a mess. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We’ve been hiking all day, we’re both a mess!”

The sound of heavy backpacks being set on the counter echoed through the bathroom. Claire hesitated to interrupt the girls who clearly thought they were alone.

“I’ve got to do something about this hair.” 

Claire heard one of the girls enter a stall while the other rummaged through her bag, placing items on the counter.

“Oh come on, who cares? Who will we run into in this pokey little bar?”  The toilet flushed and a stall door opened.

“What are you talking about? That bartender is hot.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”  After a pause, the two of them dissolved in giggles. Claire smiled, a wave of nostalgia washing over her, and she had the odd sensation of being witness to a version of her younger self. “Okay, I noticed. Give me that brush.”

“Wait a minute, I thought you were seeing that guy from your chem lab.”

“Kind of. We’ve gone out a few times, but I can’t get a good read on him.”  Claire began to feel foolish lingering in the stall and was about to leave when the girl continued. “Did you see the couple sitting by the window?”

“The old couple?”

Claire froze, her hand on the latch.

“Yeah. You know, I haven’t seen them say a word to each other the whole time we’ve been here. Not one word. Jesus, can you imagine? Whoever I end up with, I hope we never run out of things to say. It seems so sad.”   

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll never run out of things to say. Sometimes I wish you would.”

“Hey!”  The girls exited the bathroom, their laughter bouncing back down the hall before fading into silence.

Claire emerged from the stall and stood quietly in front of the mirror. She took in her wispy, gray-blond hair, the crow’s feet around her eyes, mouth slightly downturned, her skin soft but dry looking, no matter how much she spent on moisturizer. Her dress was wrinkled underneath her cardigan, the outfit looking as tired as she suddenly felt. The longer she stared at her reflection, the less familiar it seemed. She pulled her sweater tight around her, feeling self-conscious and exposed.

As she returned to the table, eyes purposefully avoiding the bar, the server was walking away.

Robert looked up. “I ordered you another glass of wine.”

“Thank you.”

Claire sat down and took a sip of wine. The taste lay bitter in her mouth. She focused her gaze on the swirling pattern in the carpet and tried to regain her previous ease, but was distracted by Robert, tapping his wedding ring lightly against his glass, looking deep in thought. Tap, tap, tap. It was a habit of his, most of the time she didn’t even hear it, but right now it was like a woodpecker tapping against her head. Incessant. Annoying.

“Robert.”

The tapping continued.

“Robert.” She said louder this time, sharper. “You’re tapping.”

He abruptly stopped. “So I am. Sorry.”

She glanced around the room. The backpackers had left, but their empty pints sat uncleared, residual foam souring in the glasses. The bartender snapped at the server over the roar of the blender as she drummed her fake nails impatiently on her empty tray. The sound of the piano was lost under the noise from the bar and groans from the baseball fans, complaining about another misplayed ball. Claire shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked across at Robert.

He noticed her looking at him and smiled. “You good?”

She nodded tensely. “I’m fine.”

“You know what I was thinking about?”  Robert turned in his seat, and despite her feeling of upset, perhaps because of it, Claire was curious to see where his thoughts had taken him.

“No, what?”

“The day we met.”

“Oh?”

“It’s funny. I can remember the taste of warm blackberries, the feel of chipmunk feet on my palm, the smell of the woods, and the view of the lake with the glacier climbing out of it. But for the life of me I can’t remember how the water felt when we jumped in. And yet, it must have been freezing.”

Claire gave a surprised laugh. “It was! How can you not remember that?”

“Well, after you stripped down to jump in, I couldn’t notice anything but you. God, you took my breath away. You still do.”

“Oh, go on.” Claire waved her hand, then settled it on the nape of her neck.

“I know, you don’t like it when I fuss, but it’s true. Anyway, remembering that day has given me a craving for blackberry pie. Let’s go for a walk once we are organized at home, along the dyke where they grow. We can pick a bunch and freeze them, maybe make some pies for Thanksgiving dinner. I’m sure we’ll end up with the whole crowd again. Wouldn’t that be good?”

“It would.”  Claire’s voice caught and she paused to clear her throat. “It would be lovely.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  Robert looked at her quizzically.

“I am.” 

“Ready to turn in?” 

Claire looked at Robert, studied his face and then beyond, to their entire shared history, a lifetime of love stretched out between them. 

“Let’s sit a little longer.”

Claire took another sip of her wine as they slipped back into companionable silence. It was delicious.

– Kelly McLean