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Naiya finds love and friendship with her roommate Megan.

When her eyes finally dropped from mine, we sat in awkward silence. There was much I wanted to say, too, but I wrestled my own fears, fighting for the sheer guts to say what I desperately wished to say.

"I don't know. I'm living with my parents, but . . . "

"You need a sugar daddy," blurted out of me.

My mind was racing and I felt like an idiot. Why did I say that? Why couldn't I just say what was in my heart?

"Oh?" Her eyebrows arched quizzically, her lips twitched in a restrained grin.

"Yes. You need a considerate older man who'd treat a wonderful young woman with all the kindness she deserves. He's in love . . . "

My heart pounded. I turned bright red. I'd no intention of saying that. It just popped out.

"Laurie, I . . . "

She started laughing. It was a hearty laugh with her eyes watering. Others in the restaurant turned and stared at her. She fought to restrain herself, gasping for air between giggles. Our waitress returned, eyeing me suspiciously. Laurie assured her everything was okay and she left us alone again.

"Where would I find such a loving older man?" Laurie asked, still restraining her laughter.

"Laurie, I didn't mean to come on to you."

"That's too bad. I'd have liked it if you had."

Aren't we humans an amazing complex of emotions juxtapositioned to stifle what should be easy communication? I held tightly to one level of our relationship because I feared her rejection if I revealed my own deep desires. Yet my desire was so great the words had leapt from my subconscious.

She put her hand over mine, squeezing gently. Her eyes twinkled as she handed me her pocket appointment calendar.

"The divorce was final on the twenty-fourth. Look on that date."

She watched me, her eyes bright and alive, as I looked. The notation said: "Divorce final. Quit putting it off. He's the one. Call him!" Him was underlined three times.

Puzzled, I returned the calendar to her, but she pushed it back toward me.

"Keep looking back."

Each day had a notation, "call him," and it was sometimes emphasized with underlines or smiley faces. Back and back through the days, I went. Finally, I reached the page she wanted me to see.

"Call Jack."

"Me?"

"I'm crazy about you, Jack. I thought about you many times when I was married to Bob. He suffered in the comparison. After we separated, I realized you returned over and over to my thoughts. Those thoughts were good thoughts, Jack, loving thoughts, caring thoughts. I decided to wait until the divorce was final to call you. I've picked up the phone countless times. I didn't know how to begin."

"Laurie, you're very special to me."

"You're very special to me, too, Jack."

We held hands across the table, lost in each other, relishing the silence and touch. As lovers have done since men and women were created, we were seeing each other in new ways, creating fantasies, one for the other, building on our own desires for the future. Jenny's cry broke our reverie.

"You haven't seen the changes I made to the house. Why don't you come over tonight? We could have dinner."

I got that fabulous smile of hers again: that sexy, warm, innocent, smile.

"Just dinner?"

"I have some etchings to show you."

Her eyes danced, alive with love and a gentle playfulness.

"Etchings? How wonderful! I love etchings. I've wanted to see your etchings for a long time, Jack."

I held Jennifer as Laurie repacked the stroller. I was at that awkward age: still wanting children; too young for grandchildren; my own already grown. Laurie watched me from the corner of her eye.

"I want more children. One or two, anyway."

She said it so softly I could have ignored it. Instead, I looked at her and smiled. We held hands as we walked to her car. Silence enveloped us as we searched each other's faces. We kissed, a long, loving, kiss. She flashed that smile at me as she sat down.

"See you at seven, sugar daddy," she teased.

When I opened the door that night, Laurie was wearing a white blouse with long, puffed sleeves.

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