Buy you a drink?

“Why do we spend so much time here?” Kristen asked. She was standing at the door to my cubicle. It was 9:00 and folks were starting to head home.

I had a couple of smart ass answers, but I knew that Paul had recently left her and she was probably hurting. I swallowed them. “I’m told that it might be worth it someday.”

“Maybe” she shrugged. “Can I buy you a glass of wine?”

“Sure.” I saved the file I was editing and followed her out to her car. The top was down – we drove that way to her favorite wine bar near the office. The wind noise prevented much of a conversation.

Once inside we got a table in a corner. She got a good bottle of cabernet. I took a taste. It was really good. “Rich, I want to thank you for the bottle of wine the other day. I really needed it. Not the alcohol, but getting a gift. It really made my day, an otherwise crappy day.”

“I’m glad it helped. I could kinda tell something was wrong." Understatement of the year. "Are you all right now?”

“No.” she snorted a sarcastic laugh. “He left me.”

“Paul?” I’m not sure why I asked. I already knew he was gone, and there was no one else that she could be talking about.

“We won’t use that name anymore. From now on he will only be referred to as ‘unmitigated beast.’” She said this rather conversationally, without too much anger.

“Uh, unmitigated beast, he left?”

“Yes.” She took a large swallow of wine – as if she intended to get drunk. And she was my designated driver. “He snuck out while I was at work. Such a cowardly way to get out of a relationship. He wasn’t even man enough to look me in the eye and tell me he was leaving. He left his crap all over my house. His clothes, his books, his trash.”

“He didn’t take anything?”

“He took his art. All of his paintings and drawing and art supplies, he left everything else. Did you see the drawing of me that was hanging in the living room?”

“The black and white calligraphy nude?”

“Yeah.”

“I remember that. It was beautiful. You were the model for that?”

“Yup. He painted it for my birthday. He gave it to me. Then he took it, and left the frame. He pulled the picture out and left the frame on the fucking floor.”

The painting was of a nude woman seated with her back towards the painter, with dark hair flowing down her back. It was done in bold calligraphy strokes in black, with a couple of hints of red and purple. Only a little of the subject’s face was visible, so I didn’t know it was her. But now that I knew, I could see that he had captured both her strength and her beauty. I can understand why she was angry that he had taken it. I had seen some of his art, this was easily his best work. “The bastard.” I replied – trying to be supportive.

“You’re starting to get the idea” she replied.

“It’s bad enough to dump you, but to steal from you.” Of course, I reserved judgment that he might have considered it to be his. This was probably more a case of misunderstanding than theft, but I didn’t think that she needed to hear that now.

“He’s up in Seattle, shacking up with his kayaking instructor.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. And what’s worse is that I paid for him to go up there. I paid for his trip. I paid for his kayaking lessons. I paid for him to meet her. I paid for his expedition this summer. And – just by coincidence – last week was the last date to cancel and get a refund.”

“Wow. I am so sorry.”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it.” She looked at me questioningly.

“No, I mean, ‘I’m sorry’ as in ‘my deepest condolences.’”

“Oh, right. Thanks, Rich.” She held her head in her hands. “God, I gave him everything he asked for. Even more. He never gave me any indication that there was any problem. We didn’t fight. He never even showed the slightest sign of being unhappy. I just came home to find a note on the fridge. ‘Dear Jane, I’m boffing my kayaking instructor. No hard feelings.’ How can someone do that?”

“Having just had my heart run through a meat grinder, I know that there are no words that can make any difference right now.” She took another big swallow of wine. “I wish I could tell you what would make it better. But I can’t.”

“The gym” she said “exercise is a great way to burn off anger.”

“That’s why I paddle.” At that moment I realized how angry that I have been. Up until that point I had only though of it as sadness. But now I knew that I was working through a hell of a lot of anger, too. “You want to join me? I seem to be in need of a paddling buddy.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized how stupid they were.

“Rich,” I could tell that she was trying not to be offended by my remark. She was giving me the benefit of the doubt. “I don’t want to have anything to do with that sport.”

“Sorry. I understand. That was pretty insensitive of me.”

We finished the bottle of wine. Hearing the story from her perspective, Paul really did sound like an unmitigated beast. He had cheated on her with his kayaking instructor, and snuck off like a coward. I’ve always done my breakups face to face. If you cared about the person at all it is the least that you can do. Even if you didn’t care about them.

Of course, I didn’t have Paul’s side of the story. I know that he probably was tired of being a lap dog – but you’d think he could say something. Perhaps try to work out a new arrangement. Kristen was a very strong woman, assertive - OK bitchy. But she usually seemed to be a reasonable person – well, except for last week.

“Rich, are you OK to drive?”

“Yeah, you drank most of the bottle”

“Good.” She handed me a credit card looking thing and ordered a double Grey Goose vodka.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s the key to my car. Just put it in your pocket and you can drive the car.”

OK. This is a $100,000 car. I know that my insurance won’t cover it if anything happens. I only had a glass and half of wine, so I’m OK – but this sobers me up quick. “I can drive you home, but then what?”

“Oh, take the car home. Bring it to the office in the morning.”

“How will you get to work?”

“I have unmitigated beast’s car at home. I’ll take it.”

She downed the vodka in a single gulp.

She got in the passenger side of the car. I climbed in behind the wheel. I fumbled looking for how to start the thing – there were no keys. She pushed the button on the top of the gearshift and the engine roared to life. Oh. I drove her home and walked her to her door and made sure that she got inside OK. She wasn’t really drunk, but it was probably a good thing for her not to drive. I got back in the car and put the top up (a push of one button and a hardtop folded out of the trunk). This thing is amazing. I drove home, following the speed limit the whole time, and being very, very careful. (picture the scene from "Risky Business" after Joel has the Porsche cleaned up.)