Four Exits Later

Annie's CD was playing in the car and the music was wrapping itself around Harry like cigar smoke at a poker game.

James Blunt's "You're Beautiful." Harry had hit the replay button twice, each time somewhere in the song. He wasn't letting it end. He kept pushing that off.

Annie had sent him the CD in the mail. That was funny.
Harry had once expected anything Annie sent him to contain an explosive of some sort. "I think of you every time I hear that song." That was funnier. Annie was the one person in the world, other than Chris and Harry that knew about, Chris and Harry.

Annie was Josette's best friend. Or more precisely put; former best friend. Or most precisely put; best friend whom Josette had turned her back on a long time ago. But Annie was a woman for the ages. She was endurance personified and she sat back and stayed a best friend while Josette let the friendship decay into lunch every six or eight months and promises to keep in touch and call. She didn't.

At first, Annie blamed Harry. Annie and Josette had been friends through high school and into college, where Josette had first met Harry. He was the awkward English major with a sharp wit with no built in self editing mechanism. Josette thought he was a sexy scoundrel who was not afraid to throw barbs at anyone. Annie thought him smart but a bit of a loudmouth and one night when Harry had had one too many he lived up to that perception. Nasty things were said to Annie about her appearance and her manner and her walking in Josette's shadow. Harry thought he was being clever the way most drunken assholes think they are. Annie took it all in quietly and, when he was done she said:

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I think you're going to regret those words." Then she left and never stayed in Josette's company again while Harry was around.

When Harry and Josette were married, Annie was working on a master's degree on the opposite coast. She sweated getting the planefare together for eight weeks but could not come up with it and it tore her apart. She was afraid that everyone would think she was staying away to spite Harry, which everyone did. Annie sent cards apologizing, a small gift apologizing, Christmas and birthday cards to both apologizing and when she moved back to the city with her degree completed she took them both out and apologized. But Josette was already drifting away. She recognised that Harry had been drunk and decided to treat him civilly but never quite opened up to him.

For Harry's part, he appreciated the gesture and knew that he had something to take care of. Being Harry though, it took him a while to get around to it and that was too long altogether.

Six years after Annie moved back, while Harry was working as a managing editor and Annie was hammering an Ionesco script into something more contemporary and comprehensive for the theater company she owned and ran, they both went out for a glass of wine. It was originally to have been a foursome; Harry and Josette, Annie and Eric, her second husband and director at the theater. But Eric had come down with a cold and Josette had begged off for some last minute historical committee she had volunteered for so it was Harry and Annie and glasses of Chateau Awkward.

Harry finished his wine and put the glass down and waved off the waiter trying to refill it. Annie graciously did not follow suit but Harry asked her to stop drinking it for a moment.

"I want to say something and I don't want a lot of liquor talking or listening." He began. "And when I'm done you can tell me to fuck off or hit me or walk away. Whatever. But this has to be said."

Annie looked at him.

"I know we've never been close and never been the friends we once were and I know why. I insulted you Annie and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I said the things I did, I'm sorry that it drove you away, and I'm sorry that I haven't had the stones to do anything about it for this long. For whatever its worth, you're a good person with a heart of gold and you did not deserve any of that."

Annie said nothing.

"Anyway. That's all. I'll take care of the bill. Thanks. I appreciate your listening."

"Another glass?" Annie asked Harry as she sipped hers.

"If you would like me to stick around? Yes."

"Friends forgive each other."

"Yes they do."

"You can be an asshole Harry. But an asshole with character and a sense of right and wrong. Nonetheless, an asshole. Now forgive me for that."

"I forgive you."

"Then we're even."

And Harry and Annie found it easier to be civil, even friendly to each other. Harry sometimes wished Josette and Annie would stay closer and asked Josette about their friendship but did nothing else.

Josette had been gone, had moved out and been gone for two weeks when Annie called.

"I'm so sorry Harry, I didn't know."

"Its ok. I know you didn't." And he did. Annie never lied.

She invited Harry out to dinner with herself and Eric and Harry went and the three of them got to know each other again and she and Harry started to email each other regularly and Harry was thankful that Eric was as secure as he was, and should have been, in his marriage.

Annie become a touchstone for Harry. She was an emotional outlet and he alternatively was grateful and felt like shit because he was now exploiting the incredible emotional depth of a woman he had once been so cruel to.

But he didn't stop and one night, with Josette long gone and Chris having had "a friend coming in for the weekend" Harry told Annie all about Chris and how, without Josette ever knowing about the affair, Chris had been the catalyst for the breakup.

Annie didn't state anything. She only asked questions. And then she said that Harry and Josette had been equally to blame and that was that. If she judged anything, she kept that judgement to herself.

So Harry told her more about Chris and how things were going now that she was in town on a long term freelance project for Owens Media. They were working at the same office. So was Chris's friend Evan. They would have lunch together. A lot. It bothered Harry. A lot. But Harry was wrapping up the divorce from Josette. He didn't have the emotional energy to worry about Chris and Evan. After all, he and Chris were an item, albeit a secret and illicit one. Right? Harry ignored any suspicions he was having.

Annie did not.

She had mailed him the CD after they had spent the night on the phone, Harry telling her about his plans with Chris. She was seeing a lawyer and was waiting for the right moment to file the divorce papers to Rob. She wanted out and she wanted her freedom. Harry wanted her freedom too but he also wanted their relationship to continue, now out in the open.

Annie sent the CD and said: "Listen to 'You're Beautiful' I think of you when I hear it."

The song was about loving a woman from afar and never being with her. Harry let the lyrics play out in the car, finally let the song end. Then he turned the radio off and signalled for his exit off the freeway.

Route 611 off of I-78 led to Easton in the north and ultimately Philadelphia in the south. It was four exits beyond where Harry should have gotten off and he didn't realize it until he had stopped at the end of the off ramp. He turned right, pulled onto the shoulder and stopped, turning off the engine.

There was a box of Marlboro in the compartment on the car door. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He'd stop this soon, he promised as he opened the window.

Right now, something has to be said he thought. And he began to run through all the ways he was going to try and tell Chris he loved her and wondered how she was going to react. Then he thought about how he was going to finally tell Annie that he loved her and why and he knew exactly how she was going to react.

Harry smiled, turned the radio on again and started the car.

The Worst Fish and Chips in London

Harry had felt some pain in his knee two nights ago when he and Lou had run Regent's Park.

Last night, on a short sprint around the inner circle the pain had gotten a little more intense. Harry had ignored it and not wisely.

Something about how he stepped off the tube pulled something out of place in his knee and the pain was like a hot knife just to the right of his kneecap. He began to hobble. Outright limping was more like it by the time he had gotten to the "way out" staircase at London Fields.

This was great. Chris was expecting her running fit physical specimen to come bounding in the doors for her and this hobbling middle-aged guy is going to show up. How good is that going to be? Answer, not good at all. Oh, and look, the road up to the photo archive is a lovely little hill, just what he needed to exascerbate the pain.

Harry thought about calling Chris on her cell and lying about having to run into a last minute meeting. And then he thought otherwise. They were here for a finite time and every moment with her had seemed to have some new magic to it. They had gone out to the same restaurant two nights running and each dinner was like a new adventure into the mystery that was Chris.

He had never met anyone like her. Harry was a little introverted and awkward. He was not a good conversationist and sometimes the long pauses while talking to somebody else, especially a woman, freaked him out. He began to wonder what she thought of him and self doubt would begin to crawl into his mind. Not that it had mattered all that much up until now because he was, after all, married and at the end of the day he did not have to impress anyone in any kind of mating ritual anyway.

Until now.

The marriage was heading south and going there fast. They were in counselling but Harry felt like a plane circling LaGuardia. He was moving but getting nowhere. When the London trip had come up, her only reaction was "Maybe the distance will give us both a little time for some perspective."

Harry didn't know what that meant. He also didn't want to try and figure it out.

What it meant was she was talking to a lawyer and closing out a savings account but that revelation was to come later. For now Harry left her and the cat with a clean litterbox, a note with his itinerary and, unknowingly, being worth all of $600 once he landed in London not counting what was in his wallet.

Talking to Chris reminded Harry of rainwater falling off the leaf of a tropical plant. An easy flow so natural and expected it looked effortless. He felt at times like he was living in a perfect movie where he knew all the lines and they were all good and he delivered them perfectly.

Harry could be a wiseass. Usually, he was a smart aleck as part of a persona that overcame his awkwardness. He also could be biting when he liked someone and the more he liked someone the more biting he could become. Trouble was he sometimes tested the limits. There was something about Chris that engendered trust and confidence and he knew he liked her from the moment he had first met her in the lobby to go out to lunch. And he knew, the more time he spent with her, that he liked her a lot. So he made some off handed remark at dinner that pissed her off and she glared at him.

He looked at her.

"You know, your eyes flash the greatest electric blue green when you're angry."

"I know, and I'll kick the shit out of you if you ever make fun of me like that again."

"The pleasure in the pain."

"You can be such an asshole."

And they were both smiling and the point was made and the offense was forgiven and Harry had never been so at ease with a woman in his life.

Like water falling off a leaf. Almost effortless.

"Chris Adams please. Harrison Moss to see Chris Adams." Harry told the receptionist. She spoke into the phone, listened to some instructions from the other end of the line and put the receiver down.

"Miss Adams is in the plate glass storage area. If you'll go through those double doors and continue straight to the back of the building, I'm sure she'll be easy to find. Please don't touch anything on your way. We're not supposed to let in visitors unescorted but I'm sure you won't be there long."

No I guess not. Didn't she just want to come up here? This was lunch, wasn't it? But Harry followed the directions and at the very back of the big box that was the building that housed Hulton's archives, he found Chris.

She was on one knee looking through a box of kraft wrapped glass plates. She had an oversized pair of white gloves on, a man's white dress shirt, blue jeans and New Balance sneakers. She looked up at Harry as he limped down the narrow aisle. She smiled and Harry thought her eyes were greener than blue today but what did it matter? They were still the deep pools that he had a crazy mental image of diving into.

"What's with you?"

"Knee."

"Poor baby." That was it. Statement of fact. No sarcasm.

"It'll be ok."

"You should stay off of it."

"Not an option."

"Uh huh. You can take the cape off, it's me." She walked the last five feet to meet him. Harry stopped. Chris put her arm out straight and rested it on his shoulder. She looked at him and moved her mouth to his, stopped. Opening her eyes just before what Harry thought was a kiss, she looked at him, lips slightly parted.

"I felt the strangest thing today." she said.

Harry cocked his head slightly.

"I missed you." She closed her eyes and pressed her mouth to Harry's hard. He fell back slightly and she caught him with her left hand hooking around the small of his back. Harry wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back as hard as she had kissed him. No one had missed him in a long time.

"Silly." Harry said, "You just saw me and I just saw you four hours, fifty three minutes and eight seconds ago. Not that I'm counting."

They kissed again.

"So why are you limping?"

"Something got fucked up in my knee." Chris' hand had come off his shoulder and was being run up and down his chest. Then she moved it over his belt and down.

"Kiss it and make it better?"

"Knee. You're a little too high."

"I'll get there. You've just got to be patient."

"Um. I know we're in an isolated corner of this place, but aren't you a little concerned about being walked in on?" Chris was back down on one knee.

"Lunch. They're all at the worst fish and chips joint in London. But it's the only show in town."

"Apparently."

At the Hulton

"How'd you like to have lunch at the worst fish and chips place in London?"

Harry thought about how he couldn't refuse, the invite coming from Chris on the other end of the phone. Let's go swim near the intake pipes of the power plant? Sure, let me get my bathing suit.

"Is this payback for taking you through the Imperial War Museum Sunday?"

"No, this is me bored and not wanting to eat alone. Payback for Sunday is gonna hurt a whole lot more."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the Hulton Archive. North end of town. Take the Picadilly line about five stops and then change to the Jubillee line. Hang on, let me get the tube map."

"So you think I have time to drop everything and come charging out there just for lunch?"

"No, actually, I'm only hoping."

That locked it up. Chris, in the days since they had first met, had struck Harry as an incredibly self-possessed woman who did not hesitate to speak her mind and didn't shy away from language, expletive or otherwise. She was tough, she was hard, she was determined. And she had a soft, vulnerable side a mile wide that Harry had found when they talked about painful things in their life. He wasn't sure how he had broken down that wall that quickly and why she had let him in so soon but he did know that it was real and not pretense. Chris did not have to feign vulnerability, Harry never went for the role of protector and they had already hit their stride in this relationship as equals. But she had shown her soft side nonetheless and to Harry that showing implied trust and trust was something Harry had not had in his relationship with a woman in years. That was what made it so attractive and that was what hooked him into Chris. The beautiful thing was too that Chris had no idea.

She finished giving him directions to the photo archive and Harry hobbled out into the street.

He and Lou had gone running a few nights ago. Harry and Lou were friends who ran regularly when stateside and they had heard of London's parks and the mecca they were for runners. Regent's Park was no disappointment. The paths were smooth, clear and cut through gardens, past fountains and around makeshift football pitches. Trouble was Harry had sensed his knee aching ever so slightly when they headed out. He ignored it at first and then at his peril, as the thing got worse and worse. During a final sprint to the gate of the park, his knee had flared in pain to the point of stopping him short of beating Lou to the street. That was not something that happened a lot, Harry was fiercely competitive.

They walked back to the hotel. The streets were had runners interspersed with Londoners heading home from the office. Pashmina shawls next to Nike breathable tops. A block from the hotel, Harry spotted Chris walking towards them on the sidewalk. There was a young couple, runners just heading up to the park, stretching between him and Chris. They leaned up against the building and, hands flat against the wall, stretched hamstrings by leaning forward against the stone surface. Harry ran to them. Flattening himself against the building, he called out:

"I'll hold it, Lou, the building's collapsing, go get help!"

Chris stopped. "What are you doing?" And to the runners, "Sorry, he's American, he doesn't know what he's doing."

The London runners laughed and began to walk up to the park. Lou, Chris and Harry stood in a circle.

"That was so out of character for you." she said.

"Actually," Lou said, "That's pretty much in character for him. You two should get to know each other better."

Lou didn't know and that had come close to the truth of the last few days.

"I'm taking a walk." Chris said. "You should take a shower. Maybe we can have a drink later."

"Sure." Harry answered. Or maybe I can linger and you can join me in a hot bath. Lou turned and began towards the hotel. "See you later. I've going to look over some of the circulation figures tonight. Don't count on me at the bar."

"Later."

Harry dawdled. Chris was pretending to look in a shop window. It was a tobacconist so the illusion was weak. What saved it was Lou just not paying attention.

"Hey," she said.

"Drinks later?"

"Maybe, but it's a quick walk. Don't lock your door."