A Different Breed

This Changes Nothing

Tacos. Tacos. Tacos. It was all she could think about all week. So when she called Terrence to let him know they needed to meet up because she needed to talk to him in person she knew the exact place she wanted to go. Cantina Rico. She picked a table outside under the expansive orange umbrella and when the waiter asked what beverage she wanted to start with she told them a mango mojito.

Virgin of course.

It might be rude to start eating before the other person arrived but she couldn't wait any longer. She was starving for obvious reasons and he was late. Twenty-plus minutes late. It was something she was used to as the wife of a surgeon. Some surgeries take longer than others and sometimes complications arose. It wasn't something in his realm of control so she didn't let it annoy her.

However, she did devour a bowl of guacamole and a trio of beef empanadas before he hustled toward her with his keys still in hand.

"Sorry." He said, reaching the table. "I got caught up. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"It's all good." Katrina's eyes followed him as he lowered his lean yet muscular frame onto the chair across from her. He looked the same; deep brown skin that the sun adored with tapered waves drowned in the most luscious oils. She was gifted with mysterious molasses eyes once he lifted the sunglasses from his face and tucked them into the front pocket of his denim shirt matched well with khaki chinos hiding well-toned thighs from years of cycling.

He looked good but something about his energy was off. It was in the way his foot tapped on the brick-laden floors or how his eyes couldn't hold hers consistently. He averted his sight behind her or around her. She didn't know if it was frustration or agitation. Maybe it was guilt because there was no way the empty cobblestone pathway was more interesting than her.

She dipped a salted chip into the steamy queso dip, "I hope everything went well. The patient's recovering well."

"Huh," His chin lifted.

"The surgery that made you late. I hope—"

He interjected with a shake of his head, "I wasn't at work."

This time she peered at him with confusion, "Then why were you almost half an hour late?"

"I was..." He took a deep inhalation, with slumped shoulders. His vision fell to the bowl of dip as if the chip in her hand had him in a trance.

Because he was with her. He was with Sage. The words abruptly sprung into her thoughts making her simmer with irritation. She didn't know why she still cared. She was divorcing him. His private life or who he spends time with was no longer her business.

"It doesn't matter." She asserted.

"It does." He leaned closer to the table with determination in his tone. "I was with my therapist."

"You're in therapy now?"

He nodded and their eyes locked as various conversations they'd had played seamlessly through her mind. She wondered if he was remembering the same thing. Remembering those times she urged him to talk to someone about the things that worried him, the fears that consumed him, and the things that were out of his control.

A soft smile tugged her lips up, "That's good."

His eyes darted away from hers as if those words wounded him. "I couldn't take it anymore. The quietness of the house." He swallowed hard, and rolled his shoulders back, straightening his posture to turn his gaze back to her. "The bed doesn't smell like you anymore. I can't take it, Trina. It's killing me." 

Katrina didn't know how to respond to his confession so she remained silent.

"Clive misses you."

"I miss him." She smiled to herself remembering the pup she raised but decided to leave, not having the energy to fight Terrence for the canine. He did purchase the four-legged cutie even though she was the one that cared for and trained him.