The Encounter at the Bar
It was mid October on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. I was sitting at the beach bar with my wife, Sam. It was the same beach bar where I had a secret encounter this summer. No band was playing this afternoon; we were simply there to enjoy a drinks, appetizers, and college football on the TVs hanging above the bar. The atmosphere was lively, filled with the “hooting and hollering” of fans.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful younger woman walking hand-in-hand with an older gentleman. I did a double-take, thinking it couldn’t be her, and looked down with a smile as I remembered that previous Sunday afternoon.
Silent Games
Mindy, the younger, beautiful woman from the summer, looked back and smiled. She and her companion took seats at the bar catty-corner from Sam and me. My mind drifted to another time and place until Sam grabbed my arm; the bartender was asking if we wanted another round.
Every time I looked at my wife, Mindy was in my line of sight. We played a silent game of “cat and mouse,” exchanging looks she couldn’t openly acknowledge. During a trip to the restroom inside the hotel lobby, our paths crossed. Mindy walked straight toward me, grabbed my hand, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the ladies’ room. That brief contact energized me for the rest of the afternoon.
I walked back to my seat at the bar. The college football games were fun to watch and almost every one of the games on the TV’s were thrilling, and even though neither Sam’s team nor mine was playing, the energy was infectious.
The Group Dynamic
The older man, Jim, was an alumnus of one of the winning teams. Sam struck up a conversation with him, and soon we were all celebrating with rounds of tequila shots. While Sam and Jim became engrossed in a deep conversation about work and travel, I took the opportunity to sit next to Mindy.
Watching Sam, I was struck by how composed she was-discussing quarterly projections with a practiced, polished smile. She was in “business woman mode,” predictable. Across from her, Mindy was the total opposite. She didn’t want to talk about the future or work; she was purely about now.
Though we didn’t dare mention our summer encounter, the occasional brush of skin sent sparks through us. When Sam grabbed my arm to get my attention, it was the touch of a partner; reliable, familiar, almost invisible. But when Mindy’s hand brushed mine, it was a live wire. It reminded me of that July Sunday, the sweat slick on our skin and the reckless abandon of a day the didn’t belong to anyone else.
At one point, as the laughter at the bar reached a crescendo, Mindy leaned in a fraction too close. Her lips hovered near my ear, and for a split second, the mask slipped. “I still have sand in my car,” she whispered, her breath warm against my neck. It was a reckless admission, a “near-miss” that could have been overheard if Sam had turned her head just an inch. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that Sam hadn’t inspired in years.
I pulled back just as Sam leaned into and whispered something to Jim. I thought I heard the number “69.” I assumed it was related to business talk, perhaps a project code, but the way she laughed and touched Jim’s arm felt different. Her eyes had a brightness I hadn’t seen in months. It mirrored the very game Mindy and I were playing, and for a second, I wondered if Sam was also finding a “spark” in a handsome stranger.
To break our spouses away from the talk of work and traveling, Mindy and I ordered one more round of shots. My wife walked over to me and apologized for getting caught up in her conversation. I didn’t mind at all. I enjoyed the sparks shooting out of Mindy’s fingertips into my blood.
The Walk Home
As it grew dark, we said our goodbyes. Sam, always friendly, gave Mindy and Jim a lingering hug. I shook their hands until Mindy pulled me in for a hug of her own, her body pressing against mine just long enough to be a promise.
On the walk home, the salt air felt heavy. Sam commented on how pretty Mindy was. I kept my response brief, my mind still back at the bar. The Tequila had made Sam playful, and she talked about being intimate as we walked, but there was a performance edge to it, as if she were trying to reclaim the energy she’d just spent with Jim. I thought about the “69” I heard her whisper to Jim.
As soon as we crossed the threshold of our house, the salt air and the noise of the world were cut off by the heavy click of the front door. I pulled Sam in, my pulse still racing from Mindy’s hug, kissed her deeply. For a second, she leaned into me, but then her body went rigid.
She pulled away, her eyes slightly glazed from the tequila and the long afternoon. “Not here,” she whispered. Her voice wasn’t tired. it was distant, as if her mind were still back at the bar, tucked into the corner where Jim had been whispering her ear.
Sam’s Final Thought
She retreated to the sofa, kicking off her shoes with a heavy sigh. As I walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, I watched her sink into the cushions. She didn’t look at me. Instead, she traced the rim of her wedding ring with her thumb, a small smile playing on her lips that wasn’t meant for me.
Just before her eyes fluttered shut, she murmured something barely audible-not a name, but a question. “I wonder if he really meant it.”
Whether “he” was Jim, or if she was questioning my own presence, I couldn’t tell. Within five minutes, the tequila had won, and she was fast asleep, leaving the house in a thick, heavy silence.
I went out to the deck with my dogs and a fresh beer, staring into the dark of the night. The October air was cool, but in my mind it was still July. The summer didn’t feel like a memory. I saw the shimmering heat waves off the sand from that Sunday. I closed my eyes and could almost smell the salt and coconut oil in Mindy’s hair-the scent of a Sunday.
I took a slow sip of beer, the word “69” echoing in the quiet of the deck. I thought about Sam’s smile on the sofa and Mindy’s whisper in my ear. In the dark, it felt like we were both just two people passing by each other in our own house, leaving me wondering which one of us was keeping the bigger secret.
