Mind the Gap | ✔️

June 2 @ 9:33 A.M.: Evan

"Again, thanks for letting me stay over," Carl said. He was hunkering on the seat opposite mine, his face even paler and puffier than usual. He looked like I felt—hungover. "Last night, after the party, I definitely wouldn't have found the train to take me back home."

The feeling at the base of my skull was not an actual headache, more like the concept of one—a faint pressure triggering occasional waves of nausea.

"Sure." I did my best to focus on Carl's headrest. Anything stationary was better than the cityscape rolling along the train's window. "It got kind of late yesterday."

Carl nodded, stifling a yawn. "I loved the party, though."

"Thanks, man. It was a pleasure having you and the crowd." When I had said "the crowd," I meant almost everyone from the institute. "Turning 39 deserves a celebration."

Carl wrinkled his nose at me.

"All right, all right. 40, I mean." I held up my hands in defeat.

For a moment, we just sat there without talking. Forty—I had finally crossed the threshold to the dark middle ages.

"Hey, who was that Venus chick, by the way?" Carl asked.

"Um... Venus?" I loosened the knot of my tie—it harassed my throat.

"Yes, Venus. The one that collided with Helen and your daughter in the doorway, and who got stare-stabbed by them as they left."

I felt heat slowly meld into my cheeks. "She... She's... just someone I recently met. I actually met her here in this train, by the way. We had dinner together, last month, and I invited her to the party."

Carl raised his eyebrows. "And..."

And what? A good question. We had had a nice and expensive evening at Mastro's. We had talked about books. She was into nonfiction; I was into fiction. We had also talked about movies. She was into thrillers; I was into romantic comedies. About our exes. She had many; I had one.

Our evening together had ended in an awkward goodbye—the kind of goodbye where both parties are not sure where things are headed.

The day after the Mastro's, she had left for a vacation, but I had invited her to my birthday party.

I shook my head. "And that's all."

"That's all? Venus did seem interested in you."

"Maybe she was, I don't know." I shrugged. "Women are impossible to read. But I don't think it's... it."

"It?"

"Yes, not it."

Carl tilted his head and raised one corner of his mouth.

"You know..." I didn't like the topic. "Venus is nice and pretty. But yesterday, I realized there's something lacking." I searched for words. "The spark."

"The spark?"

"Yes, the spark that lights the fire." I looked for another simile or a metaphor; for something smart, or deep an experienced man in his early forties would say.

After checking that the third man in our compartment wore headphones and wouldn't listen in, I leaned forward, closer to Carl and continued, voice lowered. "With the spark, 'the morning after'..." I used air quotes. "... is pure bliss. Without it, it's just awkward."

Carl chuckled, and then he spread his hands. "You know what? Why don't you just give yourself a break, man. Enjoy Venus, even if it's for a temporary stop. There are worse planets to land on."