Ashleigh's Dilemma by J. D. Reid

saying a quiet, “Later...,” as he disappeared into the night.
    Not a word was said between them about it afterward; not then, not ever, and it never happened again. It was as if it had never happened, even though she found herself thinking about it all the time – another involuntary reflex, she realized. No matter what she tried, from staying up late, to redoing homework for a third time, to eating an entire box of chocolates at one sitting, she couldn't help herself from having the memory his kiss. The warmth, the wetness, his eyes closed, hers open intruded into every thought for days and days, repeating over and over, her heart each time swooping and dropping like it had that night. It lasted until she saw him try the same thing on another female student, and then she felt nothing other than a brief sense of relief due to the fact that, with another woman involved, the likelihood of him ever approaching her again was very remote indeed. After that realization, neither he nor his kiss entered her mind again. Not until now, that is.
    She had not thought or felt the same about Patrick’s kiss; just sometimes at night in the warm comfort of her bed as she was falling asleep did she feel that way again, like an echo from the past.
     
    Ashleigh gathered the plates and spoons, knives, and forks and set them on the counter, ready. She glanced at the clock – any minute now. She was wearing black slacks and a high neck tan sweater that showed her figure. She wore a silver pendant about her neck that Patrick had given her for her birthday – although, technically, it wasn't really her birthday. He had been a day short.
    “Happy birthday, Ashleigh!” he had said, seemingly proud of himself that he had deducted the correct day out of three hundred and sixty five possibilities – except for leap years when there’s three hundred and sixty six.
    “It's not my birthday!”
    “Well, if you're not going to tell me your birthday, how am I ever supposed to know?”
    “I suppose you could look it up; it’s easy enough to do so, I'm sure. Ask my secretary; she'd probably volunteer it.”
    “I'm not going to do that – I'll only know if you tell me.”
    “Then you will never know.”
    “I will just have to guess – and I've guessed that today is your birthday.”
    She could feel her color rising. He was impossible , she thought, but said, “I hate to disappoint you!”
    “I'm not disappointed – here's your gift.”
    It was a pendant, a Mayan figure engraved in silver. It was beautiful. It wasn't what she had expected at all. “Thank you. Thank you, Patrick!” was all she could say.  She almost kissed him to thank him, but then changed her mind, not wanting to give him any ideas.
    “Happy Birthday, Ashleigh.”
    She had felt like a fool but at the same time oddly pleased. Later, she thought she should have kissed him, just quickly on the cheek. It wasn't as if she didn't kiss people; she had kissed possibly hundreds of people when you added them all up to include family members, Christmas parties, New Years, colleagues one has known for many years leaving the office and moving on. It was expected. She should have kissed him, she knew.
     
    The doorbell rang. He was on time. He was always on time. She wondered how he timed his arrivals so well. Perhaps he stood on her porch marking the minutes until it was time to ring the bell? How else could he be so exact, often right down to the second? He might have waited on her porch, examining his watch, watching the seconds tick by heading up to the hour. The neighbors would think him trespassing, perhaps a door to door sales person, or a religious zealot trying to sell their version of God They probably think about calling the police - except for the bags, of course: the Chinese food would give him a free pass to stand there for as long as he liked.  Or had he sat in his truck and waited? It would less conspicuous - except, of course, for that mammoth gas-guzzling truck of