In The Mind's Eye

I came back to the apartment complex, back to everything familiar, and it was just as if time had somehow stood still. After over twenty years, everything still looked identical to the way I had remembered, if possibly a little smaller sometimes. But after standing there a few minutes right in front of my old apartment, with the realtor talking and the unfamiliar neighbors nearby, I began to realize. I came back searching; had I found anything? Yes. And no. I had come back to everything—everything but you. That is when the old, ever-present sadness flooded back over me, washing my pain anew.

My cell phone rings. It is my secretary reminding me of the important board meeting and presentation on behalf of the president this afternoon. I am an officer, the board secretary; I must be there. Catching the irony, I smile to myself and shake my head. "Yes, I must get back to work now. Thank you; I will call," I tell the realtor. I shake his hand and then return to the parking lot. As I get into the car, I smooth my gray pinstripe skirt and place its matching blazer casually onto the back of the passenger seat. I cannot help but steal one last panoramic view of the nostalgic landscape, our old stomping ground. I put my key in the ignition and turn. I must go. There is no other choice. I am now ready to leave the scene. . .forever.

Determined to return to the present, I stop by the ladies' room and give myself a quick mirror appraisal upon arriving back at work. I have not changed all that much; time has been good to me. Except for a few wisps of graying hair at the temples, some inevitable character lines in my face, and only a slightly fuller figure, the woman staring back at me has become a refined version of that young girl so long ago. In fact, I am very much like the gray suit I am wearing: still the classic beauty, if somewhat a bit faded when compared to its ebony black counterpart. I check my blouse and the seams of my skirt. I then go out to face the assignment before me; undaunted, I am taking on the task at hand.

Once inside the boardroom, I feel my confidence returning. Here, I am in my element. Here, everything is organized and controlled. I am well on time for the meeting. All the members are milling around, getting ready; many of them are helping themselves to the coffee and hors d'oeuvres from the side buffet. Maggie, my secretary, comes in the room, walking purposefully toward me. Since my office also handles public relations affairs, Maggie and I play dual hostess roles anytime we have visitors. Today, I am hoping she has good news or at least no bad news. She informs me that Becky, who works for our board president Dan, said the presenter is on his way but could be running a little late. Oh, that is fine; no problem. We have some private business we can discuss first anyway. The presentation was Dan's idea anyway; as president, he will handle that.

Dan calls the meeting to order, and then I rise and give my report. I ask for comments on new or old business. We touch on only a couple of issues briefly before I turn the floor back over to Dan, who begins to speak of our new vision and the purpose for our presentation today. As I return to my seat, I see Maggie's questioning face at the edge of the boardroom door, ajar as it is. She and I have known one another so long that much of the communication between us is unspoken. I nod and beckon discreetly with an index finger.

The door opens. Someone—a man—enters alone, carrying a briefcase and immaculately dressed in blue silk shirt, platinum grayish-white tie, and deep navy slacks. Very classy, yet I notice that the sleeves of the gorgeous shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing tanned, nicely shaped arms. Well, it is still rather hot and muggy out. . . No jewelry, I notice, except for an expensive watch. Placing things down, he turns. He has dark hair; he has a mustache. Shaking hands perfunctorily with Dan, he then seems to look past everyone and everything in the room. His eyes quickly and decidedly seek me out. I see they are a deep steel blue-gray. . . Could it be. . .?

It could. . . It is. . . It is YOU! I gasp, in spite of myself, hoping it escapes the others' attention. Can it really be true? It has been so long! How surreal it is to see you standing before me! In utter disbelief, I find myself maddeningly enduring the banality of the meeting that ensues. Except for brief respite breaks in eye contact with me, so that you can keep up appearances with the others, our eyes lock once again. And then again and again and again. . . While you speak on such important, yet now seemingly irrelevant topics, your eyes travel the length of my body. Although I am, of course, fully clothed, I feel your piercing eyes undress me, taking in every tiny detail. Knowing, remembering. . . I blush and quickly glance to see if I can tell what the other members are noticing. Do they know; can they tell? Are they sensing this heat, this intense air of sexuality between us? How can they not, when it is almost palpable!

I shift in my seat, but this time it is not because I am nervous. Though a trace of nervousness naturally remains, it is another, more powerful feeling that overshadows it. Instead, you fill me with an accelerating sense of anticipation and excitement. I know time is transporting us both back to innocence and discovery—back to experiencing first-hand the raw emotions of that special day. The quickened breath, the beating heart, the sensuous skin. . . I can tell that you have not forgotten it either—that long-remembered 'almost' day--our nude day when you saw me so naked, so vulnerable, so wanting. . . Amazingly, it is as if time really has stood still. Did time also wait for us to pick up where we left off? Can the surreal become real?

Is that what today is about?

Your eyes. . .your eyes are still on me. I lean back, closing my eyes. Dreamily, I see you leaning over me, kissing me ever so softly and gently. In my heart, I hear again, "I will come back to check on you. I will always come back to check on you." I open my eyes again to meet yours. You smile then. Your smile broadens. . .The old familiarity is returning. . .

Your eyes say, simply: "Yes."

We have the rest of the afternoon . . .

I have no idea if a Ferris Wheel will be involved this time, though I believe we can count on the fireworks. . .

but this time. . .

In my mind's eye, they are no longer in the distance.