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."