11-09-2026, 03:19 PM
OCTOBER 5, 2005 -- WEDNESDAY - 3 P.M.
She had thought she was too late. By the time she had found parking at Jacksonville International Airport, made her way to the departure terminal and found the ticket counter for United, it was already 3 p.m. She knew that Clint was flying out on a 5:30 flight and he’d said he had to be at the airport by 3 at the latest to make that flight.
She looked around trying to make out his slender frame topped by dark hair streaked with gray, but there were so many people. This was a silly, foolish thing to be doing, but even though they’d said goodbye the night he told her about his African adventure, she felt like there was too much unsaid.
He found her. She turned around and he was standing there, two suitcases at his feet.
“You’re really trying to make it hard for me to leave, aren’t you?”
She was in his arms and kissing him as hard as she could. She heard laughter and even a little applause from passengers streaming around them. Finally they separated and she saw that his shirt was wet with her tears. He looked at her strangely and she realized his eyes were misting.
“Why are you doing this, Debbie? I know you don’t love me. I’m your friend but I never thought or said I was anything more. Have I been misreading the signals all this time?”
She took his hand and said, “Can we talk? Do you have a few minutes?”
He looked around, then said, “probably a few minutes. Let’s find someplace to sit down and have a coffee, but I can’t take too long.”
They found a Starbucks and he ordered while she sat at the one free table in the place. In a few minutes he came over with their Cappuccinos and said, “Somehow this feels like Déjà Vu all over again.”
She drank, to have something to do with her hands and to avoid having to look at him directly.
“I’m glad you came, Debbie. I’m glad I had a chance to say goodbye, but what’s going on? What the hell was that kiss all about?”
She finally made herself look up at him. He was just Clint. That made her feel so damned good, yet terrified her at the same time.
“I know...”
She took a breath.
“I know that you said you didn’t love me. You’ve never made a secret of that and I never said I loved you. We’re friends with benefits, but I love you like a friend. You don’t know how important you’ve become in my life. No matter how shitty I’ve felt, no matter how guilty I’ve felt, no matter how bad I’ve felt, you’ve been there for me.”
He grinned that familiar grin and made a casual gesture toward her body and said, “Okay, Deb, but it hasn’t been hardship duty. There’s a world full of guys that would have killed for the pleasure of consoling you. As the old saying, goes, it’s a rough job, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
“I know, Clint, but all I gave you was sex and you could have gotten that a lot of places. You helped me keep my head on,”
He reached out and took her hand.
“You value yourself too lightly, Deb. You remember what I said. There are guys who would die for your smile - not your body, not sex with you, but your smile. If I could have loved anybody, if I could ever have got my head on straight and got over my wife, I could have seen myself with you. The thing is, by the time I got there, you’ll be back with Bill. The timing was never right for us.”
“Why do you say that? Why won’t you believe me when I tell you Bill and I will never get back together, ever?”
He smiled and ran a finger along the side of her face.
“You’ll never know, unfortunately, what it’s like for a guy just to look at you. You can’t think like a man, so you’ll never know how we look at female beauty.
Trust me, you’re a very rare treasure. Why I’m so sure you’ll be back with Bill? Because you still love him, because you get a look on your face when his name is mentioned, because you get so damned angry when his name is mentioned. You don’t get angry like that at people you’ve left behind.”
“I’m not going back because I don’t want to. Our marriage died a slow, painful death and I won’t go back to that but, even - even - if I wanted to, he would never take me back. I can’t tell you why, but he won’t. He’s moved on.”
“I won’t say writers are psychics, but we do have a pretty good grasp of human emotions, and I’m pretty good at reading people as an old newspaper reporter and writer. He was in love with you that night that I met him at your place. It was written all over him.”
She had thought she was too late. By the time she had found parking at Jacksonville International Airport, made her way to the departure terminal and found the ticket counter for United, it was already 3 p.m. She knew that Clint was flying out on a 5:30 flight and he’d said he had to be at the airport by 3 at the latest to make that flight.
She looked around trying to make out his slender frame topped by dark hair streaked with gray, but there were so many people. This was a silly, foolish thing to be doing, but even though they’d said goodbye the night he told her about his African adventure, she felt like there was too much unsaid.
He found her. She turned around and he was standing there, two suitcases at his feet.
“You’re really trying to make it hard for me to leave, aren’t you?”
She was in his arms and kissing him as hard as she could. She heard laughter and even a little applause from passengers streaming around them. Finally they separated and she saw that his shirt was wet with her tears. He looked at her strangely and she realized his eyes were misting.
“Why are you doing this, Debbie? I know you don’t love me. I’m your friend but I never thought or said I was anything more. Have I been misreading the signals all this time?”
She took his hand and said, “Can we talk? Do you have a few minutes?”
He looked around, then said, “probably a few minutes. Let’s find someplace to sit down and have a coffee, but I can’t take too long.”
They found a Starbucks and he ordered while she sat at the one free table in the place. In a few minutes he came over with their Cappuccinos and said, “Somehow this feels like Déjà Vu all over again.”
She drank, to have something to do with her hands and to avoid having to look at him directly.
“I’m glad you came, Debbie. I’m glad I had a chance to say goodbye, but what’s going on? What the hell was that kiss all about?”
She finally made herself look up at him. He was just Clint. That made her feel so damned good, yet terrified her at the same time.
“I know...”
She took a breath.
“I know that you said you didn’t love me. You’ve never made a secret of that and I never said I loved you. We’re friends with benefits, but I love you like a friend. You don’t know how important you’ve become in my life. No matter how shitty I’ve felt, no matter how guilty I’ve felt, no matter how bad I’ve felt, you’ve been there for me.”
He grinned that familiar grin and made a casual gesture toward her body and said, “Okay, Deb, but it hasn’t been hardship duty. There’s a world full of guys that would have killed for the pleasure of consoling you. As the old saying, goes, it’s a rough job, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
“I know, Clint, but all I gave you was sex and you could have gotten that a lot of places. You helped me keep my head on,”
He reached out and took her hand.
“You value yourself too lightly, Deb. You remember what I said. There are guys who would die for your smile - not your body, not sex with you, but your smile. If I could have loved anybody, if I could ever have got my head on straight and got over my wife, I could have seen myself with you. The thing is, by the time I got there, you’ll be back with Bill. The timing was never right for us.”
“Why do you say that? Why won’t you believe me when I tell you Bill and I will never get back together, ever?”
He smiled and ran a finger along the side of her face.
“You’ll never know, unfortunately, what it’s like for a guy just to look at you. You can’t think like a man, so you’ll never know how we look at female beauty.
Trust me, you’re a very rare treasure. Why I’m so sure you’ll be back with Bill? Because you still love him, because you get a look on your face when his name is mentioned, because you get so damned angry when his name is mentioned. You don’t get angry like that at people you’ve left behind.”
“I’m not going back because I don’t want to. Our marriage died a slow, painful death and I won’t go back to that but, even - even - if I wanted to, he would never take me back. I can’t tell you why, but he won’t. He’s moved on.”
“I won’t say writers are psychics, but we do have a pretty good grasp of human emotions, and I’m pretty good at reading people as an old newspaper reporter and writer. He was in love with you that night that I met him at your place. It was written all over him.”
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