Colleagues Of Passion
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The first thing I do when I get to the office is to check my email. There’s a message from someone named “Kermit.” It reads: “I have some good news for you and your wife, but it may not be what you expect.”
My heart races as I open the attachment that follows. The picture shows me—and Sasha! —in bed together with another man. My jaw drops in shock.
“What?” says Sasha. She comes up behind me and puts her arms around my waist. “Is this about our marriage? Did they send you pictures of us having sex?” Her voice has an edge to it like she’s afraid we’re going to break up.
I look at the screen again. Yes, there are two people in bed naked on both sides of me. And yes, one of them looks familiar…
“No,” I say quietly. “It’s just…” I can’t believe this is happening. But then I realize something else: This isn’t real. They’ve made these photos using computer graphics or something.
Sasha turns off the monitor before turning back to face me. “Are you okay?” she asks softly. Then she reaches out and takes hold of my hand.
We don’t talk much after that. We sit side by side looking at each other across the desk until finally, I speak up. “This must be a joke,” I tell her. “Someone sent me this as a prank.”
She nods slowly. “Yeah, probably. Someone who knows how close we were.”
I’m still trying to figure out if this is all a big misunderstanding when Sasha stands up abruptly. “Let’s go home,” she says. “You know, right now, I’d rather sleep alone than stay here with him.”
That night, we lie awake holding hands beneath the covers. Neither of us wants to admit that we might have been wrong. Maybe Kermit really did send those pictures without knowing what he was doing.
But neither of us believes it. Not completely.
***
A Few Days Later
After work, I meet Sasha at the mall where we had lunch last week. As soon as we walk into the food court, I spot Kermit sitting alone at a table near the window. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, his hair pulled back in a ponytail. His eyes catch mine immediately and he smiles broadly.
“Hey!” he shouts over the noise of the crowd. “Sorry about yesterday. You guys seem cool so far. Let me buy you dinner tonight. Or drinks. Whatever you want.”
He keeps talking as though nothing happened between us. Like everything is normal.
And why shouldn’t it be? We haven’t done anything wrong. Right?
Except maybe I should have told Sasha sooner. Maybe I could have prevented this whole mess. If only I hadn’t waited so long. Now I feel trapped. Because I know that if I try to explain things to her, she’ll see through me. She won’t accept any excuses.
So instead, I keep walking toward the entrance, pretending I didn’t hear him. But even as I turn away, I can’t help feeling guilty. What am I supposed to say to her? How will I ever make it up to her?
Finally, I stop outside the door and wait for Sasha to join me. When she does, I take her arm and lead her inside.
As we head down the corridor toward the restrooms, Kermit calls out to us from behind. “Hey! Where are you guys going?”
When we reach the men’s room, I push Sasha ahead of me while I stand guard by the exit. Once she’s safely inside, I let myself in too. A few seconds later, Sasha emerges, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I tried to call you earlier today. But your phone was turned off.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. I went running on the beach.”
“Why?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I needed to clear my mind.”
I nod. “Okay. Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
“Of course I did. Don’t you think I would have called you if I wasn’t happy?”
I give her a weak smile. “Well, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Then I leave the bathroom and start heading back to the food court. But suddenly I run into Kermit coming out of the ladies’ room.
“Oh, hey,” he says. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you guys. Just wanted to say thanks for letting me hang out with you all day. Really helped put my life back on track.”
He gives me a quick hug and walks past me. As I watch him disappear into the crowd, it hits me hard: I’m never getting married again. Ever.
***
The next morning, I wake up early and grab some coffee before heading downstairs to check my email. Before I get there, however, I pass Sasha standing in front of our bedroom mirror brushing her teeth. Her hair is wet and her makeup smudged. The sight makes me pause.
For once, I actually like the way she looks.
She catches me staring at her reflection. “What do you think?” she asks.
Her question surprises me because I usually hate seeing her dressed up. It reminds me of the old days when we used to spend most weekends together shopping or eating out. And although I’ve learned to appreciate the new Sasha, I still miss the old one.
But then something else occurs to me. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen her look beautiful lately. In fact, every day since that night at the barbeque has been different. She seems happier than usual—more confident and relaxed. More comfortable around people.
Maybe it’s just a phase. Maybe she’s finally growing into herself.
Whatever it is, it feels good. So much better than the constant tension that always seemed to surround her before.
Still, I don’t tell her how I feel. Instead, I finish checking my emails and head upstairs to shower. When I come out an hour later, Sasha is already gone.
It takes me a moment to realize that she must have left without waking me up. Then I shake my head. Why would she do such a thing? Especially after what happened the other night.
Because she doesn’t trust me anymore, I decide. That’s probably it.
Without thinking twice, I grab my keys and head straight for the car. After driving for half an hour, I pull up in front of her apartment building.
Just as I expected, she answers the door wearing a pair of sweatpants and no bra. She glances up at me nervously but quickly returns her attention to whatever she’s doing on her laptop.
“Sasha,” I say. “We need to talk.”
She doesn’t respond right away. Finally, she stands up and turns toward me. “You’re here to apologize, aren’t you?”
My heart sinks. “No,” I answer. “That’s not it.”
Instead, I walk over to where she’s sitting and wrap my arms around her waist. She stiffens slightly but eventually relaxes against me. For several minutes, we stay like that until I manage to speak.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah. You were working at the diner and you came to see me.”
I kiss the top of her head. “And do you know why I asked you out?”
This time, her eyes widen. “To make amends for what I said to you at the barbecue.”
I chuckle. “Actually, I had another reason.”
After a brief silence, she whispers, “I thought so.”
I press my lips to hers. Then I pull back and stare into her eyes.
“When I saw you that night,” I say, “you looked…beautiful. Like a goddess. And I knew I wanted to be with you forever.”
A tear slips down her cheek. “So I told myself,” she continues, “that whenever I felt lonely, I’d only have to look at your picture to remind me of how lucky I was to have someone who loved me.”
I smile. “That sounds nice.”
“It really does,” she replies. “But now…”
“Now what?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Forget I even said anything.”
As she pulls away from me, I reach out and take her hand. “Don’t go yet,” I plead. “Please.”
Finally, she relents and sits back down beside me. We sit there silently for a few moments until I can’t stand it any longer.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?” I whisper. “About the picture and everything else?”
She shrugs. “I guess I just assumed you wouldn’t believe me.”
I nod slowly. “Well, I should’ve known better. Because if I hadn’t believed you, I would’ve called you crazy.”
She smiles. “Thank you.”
Then she reaches out and touches my face. “Can I show you something?”
I lean forward and meet her gaze.
“Yes,” I reply.
She removes her hands from mine and places them behind her back. Then she begins to unbutton her shirt. As I watch, she slides each button through its hole until all of her clothes are off. Her skin glistens in the sunlight coming through the window.
I’m mesmerized by her beauty. But then I notice something strange: she’s not looking at the mirror anymore. Instead, she keeps her eyes trained on me.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Is there something wrong?”
She shakes her head. Then she steps closer to me and kisses me again.
The next morning, Sasha comes downstairs dressed in one of her old cheerleading uniforms. It’s been years since she wore it, but I still remember how beautiful she used to look in it.
Today, though, she looks more gorgeous than ever. The way she moves makes me want to touch her all over. I especially love watching her legs move beneath her skirt. They seem to glide across the floor effortlessly.
“What’s going on?” I ask when she walks past me.
“Oh, nothing,” she says. “I just needed to get ready for practice.”
“Practice?” I repeat.
She nods. “Yep. Coach is making us run laps today.”
I laugh. “Coach isn’t running laps. He’s the coach.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Maybe he wants to try out for the team.”
I chuckle. “If you keep talking like that, you might actually convince him.”
She laughs too. Then she grabs her bag and heads outside.
As soon as she leaves, I rush upstairs to change my own outfit. When I come back down, I find Sasha standing near the front door. She has her fingers crossed and she’s biting her lip.
“Okay,” she says. “Let’s hope this works.”
I give her a curious glance. “How did you plan to do that?”
She grins. “Just wait and see.”
I follow her outside and lock the door behind me before turning around. Before I know it, she’s already gone. I hurry after her, but she disappears into thin air.
I search every inch of the yard, but no matter where I look, I don’t see her anywhere. Finally, I start to panic. I sprint toward the street, hoping she’ll reappear once I cross the road. But instead, I trip over an invisible object lying on the ground.
When I fall onto my knees, I hear a voice call out to me. “You’re safe now.”
I quickly rise to my feet. There’s nobody there, but somehow I feel relieved anyway.
Then I realize why I fell. A large rock lies directly in my path. I step aside and brush it off. Then I continue walking down the sidewalk. After a short distance, I spot Sasha sitting on top of a tree stump.
“Where were you?” I ask.
She points to a nearby bush. “There.”
I frown. “But I couldn’t see you.”
Sasha shrugs. “I’m not sure how to explain it.”
“Try me,” I suggest.
She turns to me with a big grin. “I was hiding behind the bush.”
“And you could have fooled me,” I say.
She giggles. “I wish I had.”
I shake my head. “So, how’d you manage to make yourself disappear?”
“I think it’s because we both believe in magic,” she says.
I raise my eyebrows. “Really? You’re saying you saw me, but I didn’t see you?”
She nods. “Exactly.”
“That sounds impossible.”
She glances up at the sky. “Not really.”
I stare at the clouds overhead. “This must be some kind of joke.”
“No,” she replies. “It’s real.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Because I’ve seen it happen many times before.”
I narrow my eyes. “Right. And what exactly happened between you and your mom last night?”
She hesitates. “Nothing much.”
“Sure,” I say sarcastically. “You two just talked about the weather or something.”
She rolls her eyes. “We weren’t even alone together.”
“Who else was home?”
“My dad and his girlfriend.”
“Your father doesn’t live here?”
“He does now,” she explains. “They moved in yesterday.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Why would they move in so suddenly?”
“Apparently, their apartment flooded during Hurricane Sandy,” she says. “Dad said he wasn’t willing to risk living in a place like that anymore.”
“Didn’t he tell you anything more?”
She shakes her head. “All he told me was that he wanted to spend Christmas Eve with our family.”
“Well, then,” I say. “Looks like everything worked out perfectly.”
I smile at Sasha. “Thanks for being such a good sport about the whole thing.”
She smiles back. “Hey, if I hadn’t helped you out, who knows what would have happened to you?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Probably the same thing that always happens to me.”
“Which is?”
“Someone trying to kill me.”
A small grin appears on her lips. “Sounds like fun.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t tempt me, okay?”
“Are you kidding?” she asks. “I love danger.”
“Me too,” I admit. “But only when it involves you.”
She blushes again. “Good point.”
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask.
“Going to dinner with my parents,” she replies.
“Can I join you?”
Her cheeks turn pinker than ever. “Of course. It will be nice to get away from them sometimes.”
“Maybe we could go somewhere afterward,” I suggest.
She looks up at the sky. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“If you want to,” I add.
She nods. “I might as well. Dad won’t mind.”
“Great!” I exclaim. “Let’s meet up at seven o’clock by the fountain.”
“Okay,” she agrees. “See you then.”
I watch her walk away. She steps off the curb and crosses the street without looking left or right. When she reaches the other side, she starts heading west.
“Wait,” I shout. “Aren’t you going the wrong way?”
“Nope,” she calls back. “I’m headed straight to the mall.”
I laugh. “The mall? Really?”
She keeps walking. “Yes.”
“Wow,” I say. “I guess you really do love danger after all.”
***
After school, I hurry over to the library to pick up my books. The librarian hands me the stack in front of me. As usual, I grab one book and set it on the table next to me. But this time, I decide to hold onto it instead.
“Excuse me,” I say to the woman standing behind me. “Do you have any other copies of these books?”
“Oh, yes,” she replies. “Would you like me to check the shelves for you?”
“Please,” I answer.
She disappears into the stacks and returns shortly thereafter with three additional books in her arms.
“Here you go,” she says. “Have a great day.”
I take the new books and thank her. Then I sit down at the table where I usually study and open the first volume. I start reading through the introduction, which talks about how the author discovered the story of King Arthur while researching another subject.
He claims to have uncovered evidence proving that the legendary king existed long ago—evidence that has been hidden from us until now.
I read further. Apparently, there were several versions of the legend, but all of them had a common theme: King Arthur was a brave warrior who fought against evil forces and saved Britain from destruction.
According to the author, the true version of the tale involved an actual person named Sir Thomas Malory, whose life was intertwined with that of the famous king. And since no one knew much about him, the author decided to write a biography based on what little information was available.
“This sounds interesting,” I mutter to myself.
I flip through the pages and find the section describing Malory’s childhood. Although the author didn’t mention his exact age, he claimed that the young man was born around 1430, making him approximately twenty-five years old when he met King Arthur.
The author also wrote that the knight was a member of the royal court. In fact, according to his research, Malory served as the personal page to none other than Prince Edward, the future King of England.
“Interesting,” I repeat.
I keep reading. The author describes how Malory became friends with many members of the royal family, including the prince himself. After serving the crown for some time, the two men grew close enough that they eventually fell in love.
However, the author writes that although Malory loved the prince, he couldn’t marry him because of his lowly status. Instead, the knight married a beautiful noblewoman. They lived happily together for seventeen years before she died during childbirth.
According to the author, Malory spent the rest of his life mourning the loss of his wife. To help ease his pain, he dedicated himself to God and devoted most of his free time to prayer. Eventually, however, his grief turned to anger, and he began to question why a loving god would allow such tragedy to happen.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I whisper.
I continue reading. At some point, Malory started writing poetry. His work wasn’t very popular at first, but eventually, he gained a small following among other poets. One night, after finishing a particularly moving poem, the poet went out drinking with a few of his fellow writers. While enjoying their drinks, the group talked about religion and the afterlife.
“Sounds like fun,” I mumble.
The author continues. A short time later, Malory joined in the conversation. He told the others that he believed in heaven and hell, but not everyone did. Some people refused to believe in either place. Others thought that if there was a god, he’d never let anyone suffer forever in torment. Still, others said that even though they didn’t know whether or not there was a god, they still wanted to be good people.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
The author explains that Malory agreed with those last statements. He felt that the only reason we should behave well is that doing otherwise wouldn’t make sense. If someone was kindhearted simply to avoid punishment, then he probably wasn’t being genuine. On the other hand, if someone acted badly just to get rewarded, he might actually deserve what happened to him.
“But that makes no sense,” I murmur.
I look back at the passage. Malory explained that both kinds of behavior reflected a lack of faith. Since the world isn’t perfect, neither are its inhabitants. We’re flawed beings who sometimes fail to live up to our own expectations. So instead of trying to control everything, it made more sense to accept reality and try to improve ourselves despite the odds.
“That sounds like a sensible philosophy,” I say aloud.
I turn the page again. The next chapter details Malory’s involvement in the war between France and England. According to the author, the knight traveled across the channel to fight alongside the English army.
When the battle ended, the French captured the British commander and executed him. But before the execution could begin, Malory intervened. He convinced the enemy soldiers to spare the man’s life by promising to give them a gift.
“A present? What kind of present?” I ask.
Apparently, Malory offered his sword as proof that he meant what he said. The Frenchman accepted the offer, and the two men parted ways. Later, the French leader learned that Malory had kept his promise.
The knight gave him his sword and promised to return home within three months. As soon as the deadline passed, Malory returned to the battlefield. This time, he brought along a large force of knights. Once the fighting started, he led the charge against the opposing army. By the end of the day, he destroyed the entire French army.
“Wow!” I exclaim. “He killed an entire army singlehandedly.”
I read on. Apparently, the victory earned Malory great fame and respect. Soon, he received offers from all over Europe to serve as a military advisor. Many kings hoped to use the knight’s strength and cunning to win battles. And since Malory always delivered results, many countries were willing to pay handsomely for his services.
“So this guy really was a hero,” I muse.
I flip through the pages. Most of the text focuses on Malory’s exploits. There are also several letters written by the knight, which detail his thoughts about life and death. In one letter, Malory wrote that he knew the difference between right and wrong. He understood that evil exists, but he also believed that every person has the power to choose his own fate.
“That sounds pretty cool,” I mutter.
I glance down at my watch. It’s almost noon. My stomach growls loudly.
“Time to eat,” I announce.
***
After lunch, I decided to take a walk around town. The sun is shining brightly overhead, and the weather feels warm enough to wear shorts and sandals.
As I stroll past the shops lining Main Street, I notice something strange. For some reason, most of the storefronts have been boarded up. Even the restaurants are empty. All of the businesses seem to be closed for business.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
I keep walking until I reach the edge of town. From here, I can see the ocean stretching out toward the horizon. The waves crashing gently onto the shoreline, creating a soothing melody that echoes throughout the area.
“It’s beautiful,” I remark.
I stand beside the road, staring into the distance. After a moment, I start to feel dizzy. I bend forward slightly, hoping to catch my breath. Then suddenly, everything goes dark.
When I open my eyes again, I’m lying on the ground. I sit up slowly, looking around. Everything seems normal—except for the fact that the sky is filled with clouds. They cover the blue skies above me, blocking the sunlight.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I mutter.
I check my phone. It’s still working, so I call Mom. She answers after the third ring.
“Hi, honey,” she says cheerfully. “How are you feeling?”
Mom sounds worried. That makes me smile.
“I’ve never felt better,” I reply. “Why don’t you come to pick me up?”
There’s a pause.
“Are you okay?” Mom asks anxiously.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I assure her. “Just a little tired.”
We chat for another minute or two. During the conversation, I tell her where I am and how long it will take to get home. Finally, we hang up.
I lie back down on the grass. A few minutes later, I hear footsteps approaching.
“Hey, Dad,” I say happily.
Dad appears from behind a nearby tree. His face looks pale and drawn.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“I got hit on the head during the storm last night,” he replies. “But I’m fine now.”
“You sure do look sick,” I note.
My dad rubs his forehead.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I guess I didn’t drink enough water yesterday.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I reassure him. “Come on, let’s go home.”
The two of us leave the beach and start heading toward the main street. We pass several abandoned buildings in our path. I wonder if they’re part of the city’s history.
“Do you know anything about these places?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head. “No idea. But I think they used to belong to the mayor.”
“Mayor?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” he explains. “Back when I was a boy, the town had a lot more people living here. About fifty years ago, the population started dropping off. Eventually, the Mayor decided to close down most of the schools and stores. Since then, the place hasn’t changed much.”
“Huh,” I murmur. “So what does your family do?”
“Well, I work as a security guard at the local hospital,” Dad tells me. “Your mom works at the library. And you’ll probably end up going to college, too.”
“College?” I gasp. “Really? Where would I go?”
“Maybe somewhere near here,” Dad suggests. “If not, maybe Boston or New York City.”
“Wow!” I exclaim. “Those sound like great cities! What kind of classes should I study?”
“History, English, math, science,” he lists. “And whatever else you want to learn.”
“Oh,” I respond. “Sounds good.”
Dad and I continue walking along the sidewalk. Soon, we arrive at the edge of town. As we approach the highway, I spot an old gas station. It has a faded sign outside reading:
GAS — 25¢
“Look at this place,” I comment. “Hasn’t been used since the seventies.”
“Probably because no one lives here anymore,” Dad remarks.
He walks over to the pump and starts pumping gasoline into the tank. When he finishes, he hands me the nozzle.
“Here,” he says. “Go ahead.”
I hold the hose in front of me, wondering what to do next. Suddenly, something catches my eye. There’s a large crack running across the side of the building.
“Did you notice that before?” I ask.
“Hmm… Yeah, I did,” Dad replies. “Let’s try to fix it.”
I stare at the wall for a second. Then I turn around and walk back to the car. Once inside, I pull out my toolbox. I search through the contents until I find a hammer. I use it to break off some chunks of concrete. After that, I grab a bucket and fill it with water from the cooler. Next, I pour the liquid onto the broken section of the wall. The cement dries quickly.
“It’s fixed,” I announce proudly.
Dad smiles.
“Thanks,” he replies. “Now let’s go home.”
Once we reach the highway, I drive the car home. My parents live in a small house on the outskirts of town. It’s surrounded by trees and fields. In other words, there aren’t many neighbors nearby.
When we arrive, Mom is waiting outside. She runs over to greet us.
“Welcome home, sweetie!” she cries excitedly. “How was the beach?”
“Great!” I answer. “I met someone new.”
“Who?” Mom asks curiously.
“His name’s Evan,” I explain. “He lives right here in town.”
“That’s nice,” my mother responds. “Where did you meet him?”
I point to the gas station.
Mom nods thoughtfully.
“Evan lives right near here?” she wonders aloud. “In the same neighborhood where you grew up?”
“Yep,” I reply. “We ran into each other while I was fixing the gas station.”
“Oh,” Mom says. “Well, that sounds promising.”
She turns away and heads inside the house. Dad watches her leave. He seems confused.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. “Should I call 911?”
“No, don’t be silly,” he laughs. “Everything’s fine.”
My father takes my hand and leads me into the house. Inside, I see that Mom has already set dinner on the table.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” she informs me happily. “But first, why don’t you take a bath?”
“Okay,” I agree. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven o’clock,” she answers. “Why?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” I say sheepishly. “Mr. Smith called today.”
“What about Mr. Smith?” my dad asks.
“Remember how I told you I’d have to give a presentation tomorrow morning?” I remind him. “Well, he wants me to come early so I can practice.”
“Tomorrow?” Mom gasps. “You’re supposed to be at school all day long!”
“But I’m only giving a fifteen-minute speech,” I protest. “I won’t even be gone very long.”
“Still,” Mom sighs. “This isn’t the best time to make changes.”
“Can’t we just skip it?” I suggest. “Or reschedule it?”
My parents exchange glances. They seem hesitant. Finally, they shake their heads.
“Sorry,” Dad says. “The principal doesn’t budge when it comes to these things.”
“So what am I supposed to do now?” I cry.
“Just relax tonight,” Mom says. “Get plenty of rest. You can worry about your presentation in the morning.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “Whatever.”
As I sit down at the table, I glance at my watch. It reads 7:15. Dinner should be ready any minute. But instead of hearing the sound of pots boiling or sizzling pans, I hear nothing but silence.
“Mom?” I call out. “Are you making dinner? Where are you?”
There’s still no response. I look around the kitchen. Everything looks normal—except for the sink full of dirty dishes. A few seconds later, I realize why.
“Uh oh…” I whisper to myself. “Something must’ve happened to the dishwasher.”
I rush to the door. When I step outside, I see Mom sitting on the porch swing. Her eyes are closed. And she appears to be asleep.
“Hey!” I shout. “Wake up! Are you okay?”
I run over to my mom. She stirs slightly as I touch her shoulder.
“Mom?” I demand. “Answer me!”
Slowly, Mom opens her eyes.
“Hi, honey,” she murmurs. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “I had trouble sleeping too.”
“Me neither,” she admits. “And now I feel like crap.”
“Do you want to lie down?” I offer. “Maybe you’ll fall back asleep if you get comfortable.”
Mom shakes her head. Instead, she sits up straight.
“Nope,” she replies. “It’s not worth the risk. We need to go shopping.”
The End