Chapter 2: Sunday II

Laura swept a strand of her thick golden blonde hair behind her ear.

She’s not flirting with me. Is she?

“No. It’s Stephen.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Stephen.”

“Thank you…”

They looked at each other for a moment longer. Laura gave Stephen a sweet half smile.

“I’m sorry, Laura, I appear to be holding up the line, I guess I’ll be going.”

Stephen looked out the door into the bright sun. Impulsively, he turned back to her.

“You know, it’s such a nice day… I was thinking, it’s only a few blocks away, would you like to take a walk on the beach?”

Stephen immediately regretted having made such a suggestion as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth.

“What?” Laura asked, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Uh, I was just saying, wouldn’t it be great to take a stroll on the beach… but I’m quite sure you and your husband are busy…”

“I haven’t been to the beach in years… almost 3 years…”

After she uttered the word beach, Laura’s mind seemed to drift off. Stephen noticed her looking toward the shimmering stained glass windows, the sun pouring through them, her eyes narrowing wistfully.

“Anyway… I’m sure you’re both busy… sorry for holding up the line. Pardon me.”

On unsteady legs, Stephen somehow managed to make his way out the front door of the church. Laura watched him disappear into the sun.

Stephen’s Diary Entry: Sunday Night

Well, can you believe it? I’ve sunk to a new low – lusting after the body of the pretty minister’s wife. Since I can’t seem to take these debauched thoughts out of my mind, I’ve decided to stop trying to be someone I’m not. As for my faith, my body and spirit have always been at war within me, and now I know they can no longer coexist. Since God supposedly granted us all free will, and I have to choose, I choose the body. You will be better off without me Laura, lusting after you, fantasizing about you every Sunday, while your husband delivers the sermon. I’ll have to take that walk on the beach without you.

Laura’s Diary Entry: Sunday Night

Dear Diary, I finally have a bit of titillating news to report to you, after so many months and years of boring journal entries. The monotony of my life was relieved meeting a most attractive man at church today. (Listen to me, I sound like I have a schoolgirl crush.) He looked to be in his early thirties, so charming and handsome, with the scruffy golden light brown hair of a surfer, slender and well-dressed in a fashionable suit – European cut, perhaps? He greeted me in a most charming and gentlemanly fashion, holding my hand as if it were a delicate flower, then forgetting he was holding it as we lost ourselves gazing into one another’s eyes. He was quite nervous and shy, like a boy on his first date. Our whole interchange took less than two minutes perhaps, but so much transpired, I feel.

After some small talk, he surprised me out of nowhere by inviting me to the beach! Me, a married woman. I can’t erase this man from my memory. All day I’ve fantasized about meeting him there. All day. Which beach we’d go to, which bikini I would wear, one piece or two. I tried to take a jog to shake him from my mind. I ran harder and faster than I’d run since college or even high school, as if imbued with a new strength. But no matter how much I sweated, I could not shake him from my thoughts. So there he remains. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about him, but I can’t help it.

Dear Diary, I’ve tried to love my husband these last three years and tried to be a good supportive wife. I am devoted to him and respect him. But, though I feel quite guilty about it, I ask you, can’t I have just one day to feel these feelings again – the ones that I lost long ago? If only I could have met him 3 years ago, before… but I know now it is too late. When I am an old lady, dear diary, surrounded by my grandkids, and I stumble upon this diary in an old musty shoebox, pull it out and read this entry, I want to be able to remember his name.

Stephen.

His name was Stephen.