The Playboy from Fowlerville

A magnet held the snippet to Leah’s refrigerator door. She remembered the jagged hole the words left when she desperately cut the lines out of the Burgundy Square Gazette on that rueful May day in 1983.

The divorced man’s inability to commit is his problem and has nothing whatsoever to do with your supposed inadequacies. And the biggest mistake a woman can make is to assume she is responsible for a divorced man’s unstable feelings.

She knew she ought to throw the little nub of paper away. Whenever she looked at it, she felt a similar hole inside her that seemed to expand over time. The advice did not make her forget Robin, gentleman farmer from Fowlerville, owner of a thriving office supply business in Detroit.

Robin took a job straight out of college. He intuitively knew he was an excellent salesman and quickly created his own signature business. He invested time in hiring motivated employees and rewarded them with such things as a day on Lake St. Claire, a show at the Fisher Theater, or a game at Tiger Stadium. Relentlessly low key, Robin was absolutely certain about what he wanted out of life.

Leah, on the other hand, had been timid, unsure of herself, easily swayed into marriage. Motherhood soon followed. In recent years, she had gone back to college, and the experience had eroded her marriage to the point of divorce. The director of an up-and-coming museum, she was finally, in her forties, exploring what she wanted out of life.  

Each time Leah glanced at the clipping, her thoughts would wander through the apartment searching for Robin. Snippets of their time together hounded her, especially their last morning together.

They were nestled on the couch, drinking coffee. Her legs stretched across his lap. Soft blond-red hair, just the right amount of muscle, the perfect height at five feet, eight inches.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a deep pinkness spreading across the sky. “Oh, Robin, look, the sun is coming up.”

Robin put his cup down and ran his hand over the top of her legs. He leaned over and kissed her mouth, pulling her toward him. This time he put his hand under the sheet and edged it along one of her legs.  

“No, Robin. You should know by now that there’s nothing that can take me away from my coffee. Not even that. You’ll just have to wait a few minutes longer. Besides, haven’t you had enough?”

“I never get enough of you,” he said, settling back into the corner of the couch.

She slowly drank the rest of her coffee, holding each swallow in her mouth to make the deliciousness last.

When she finished, they got up, without speaking. The sheet fell to the floor as he pulled her warm body to his cool skin. They moved toward the bedroom, already melting into each other.

Afterwards, he lay back on the pillow, eyes closed. She leaned over and gently kissed each eye lid.

“Are you sure your mother never told you that you look like an angel when your eyes are closed?” she said.

  “Never,” he said, smiling.

“You have an angelic face, straight out of a Renaissance painting. How could your mother never notice?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a soft laugh. “God, your body feels good.”

She held his head in her hands and slowly covered his face with kisses. “Robin, do you think we’ll get tired of each other?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Leah spoke slowly. “I don’t know, either, but I’d like to spend enough time to find out.”

She brushed his hair back and glided her hand along the side of his face. “One thing I do know, if we don’t get moving, we’re both going to be late for work.”

“What time is it?” Robin asked.

She rolled to the edge of the bed and looked at the clock. “Six-thirty already. We better get cracking.”

“What time do you have to be at work today?” he asked.

“I don’t have any early morning appointments, so I can be a little late. What about you?”

“I’m gonna be later than I want to be. Tom never says anything, but I’m beginning to feel guilty about my slothfulness.”

“Well, he can’t fire you. You’re the boss.”

“That’s not the point. Tom’s such a good partner. And my lateness sets a bad example for everyone.”

“Are you going to shower here or when you get home?” she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Here.”

“Good. I’ll take one with you.”

They burst into laughter, as they swung their legs over the edge of the bed, knowing now they’d really be late for work.

He walked into the bathroom, pulled the shower curtain across the tub, and reached in to turn on the water.

“I’ll go first, tell you when it’s scalding,” she teased.

She was soaping up when Robin joined her. “Wash my back, will you?”

He took the bar of soap, and she felt his hands lather her back. “Hey,” she laughed, “the front’s all done.”

Leah turned around and spread soap on his body. She rinsed off and got out, leaving the hot water to caress Robin’s body.

After drying off, she pulled her robe around her and returned to the couch. By then the sky was rich blue lacing around dark trees.

“Where are you?” Robin called, emerging from the steamy bathroom.

“In here. I want a front row seat.”

“What do you mean?” he said, drying himself off with a large sea green towel.

He grinned when he saw his clothes scattered around the living room.

“I thought about picking them up, but it’s more fun this way.”

Robin walked to the crumpled pile of clothes, pulled out his shorts and slipped them on.

“Your slacks are a mess,” she said. “We should have hung them up.”

Robin moved toward his pale blue shirt. “I think your tie is next, but I can’t see it,” Leah said. He walked back across the room, buttoning his shirt. As he slipped into his pants, she got up and took the perfectly tailored suit jacket off the back of the chair and held it for him to ease into. “At least this isn’t wrinkled,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said, turning and kissing her. She wanted to hold him but instead walked over and picked up his tie from the floor.

“Leah, can I have one more quick cup of coffee before I go?”

She tossed the tie around his neck and went into the kitchen. When she came back, he was settled on the couch. She put the cup on the coffee table, sat next to him, and eased her foot toward his.

“You’re gorgeous,” Robin said. “Intelligent. Successful. Your sexiness is extra-added horsepower. Your clothes, house are simple, beautiful.” He paused, then said, “You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t think I am,” she said, embarrassed. She slid down and was resting her head on the arm of the couch.

“You look like a little girl, sweet and innocent.”

Robin moved toward Leah. She sat up. Robin put his hands on her shoulders and looked intently into her eyes. “Leah, I’m not going to see you for a month.”

She sucked in her breath, held it in her chest, frozen. When she was able to speak, she asked, “Why not?”

“I need some time to think about where our relationship is going.”

“That’s a long time, Robin,” she said, too stunned to say anything more.

He pulled her to her feet and said, “We’ve had fun and then some. Time for me to go.”

They walked down the hallway. He stopped, put his arms around her, and kissed her one last time.

“God, you are sweet, Leah.”

Robin pulled dark sunglasses from his pocket, put them on, and opened the door.  

Immobilized, she watched him move through the doorway.

He turned and took a long look before starting down the walkway. She walked slowly back into the living room in time to see him wave as he drove by the window.

She slumped to the couch, drew her knees toward her chest, and howled.

Leah finally got ahold of herself. She wondered how such sweetness could warp so swiftly into bitterness.

She went over to the phone and dialed her secretary. “Marilyn, I don’t feel well. I’m not coming in this morning.”

“You sound terrible, like you have a cold.”

“Yeah, I do, don’t I? If I shake this, I’ll be in this afternoon.”

Leah forced herself through the month, hoping Robin would call. He didn’t. Two more weeks passed; she was convinced their relationship was finished.

Leah was hanging out on her patio watching the sun cast a fiery spell as it dropped below the horizon when the phone rang. She was relaxing into the beginning of a weekend and was reluctant to take the call.

When she answered, she heard Robin’s voice. Her body cramped, became taut.  “Leah, this is Robin. Can I come over, talk?”

“Robin, hard as it’s been, I am adjusting to you being out of my life. Why call now?”

“I was waiting to see if you’d take the initiative, call me.”

“It would have been nice if you had explained the rules of the game.”

“Leah, this isn’t a game. I have something important I want to say to you.”

Leah didn’t trust where this was going, was silent.

“Please, Leah, give me a chance. I’ve missed you. I want to be with you again.” His voice was soft, forceful. She crumpled.

“Okay,” she murmured. “See you soon.”

Leah, tightly wound, waited for Robin on the porch.

As he walked up the steps carrying a white box, Robin said, “Let me put this down. I want to hug you,” his voice husky.

She was surprised at how they came together, like old times.

“I brought a cheesecake for you, chocolate swirl. I know how much you love cheesecake and chocolate.”

“I do. Thank you. Would you like to eat some on the patio or go straight to what you want to tell me?”

“Let’s eat first,” Robin said.

Cautious banter filled the spaces between mouthfuls of cheesecake.

“Leah, I mean it when I said I missed you. I have a checklist for the woman I want to marry, and you tick off everything, except for one important question. I want to have a second family, spend more time with them. Will you marry me, have kids?”

Surprised, Leah’s hand shot up, knocked her plate to the floor where it splintered.

“You have two teenage daughters. I have an adult one I’m fond of. That’s enough for me. I’ve just come back into the workforce. I like what I’m doing. That’s what I want right now.”

“I’m not asking you to give up your career. I’m fine with you doing both,” Robin said, persuasiveness charging his voice.

“No, Robin. I’m in my mid-forties. I can’t imagine being a mother again at my age.” Leah sat on the edge of the patio chair, her back rigid.

“I’m deeply disappointed," he said, then added, “I appreciate your honesty.”

Robin got up and walked toward the gate. “Bye,” he said, politeness biting his tongue.

Leah stood fixed, quietly whispered, “Bye.”  

Robin’s farewell didn’t tear at the hole in Leah’s heart. She knew the jagged edges were beginning to mend.

About the author: Fay L. Loomis leads a quiet life in the woods in Kerhonkson, New York, USA. Member of the Stone Ridge Library Writers and the Rat's Ass Review Workshop, her poetry and prose appear in numerous publications, including five poetry anthologies. In 2024, Fay’s first chapbook Sunlit Wildness (Origami Poems Project) was published. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee.