What the Other Woman Can't See

I knew it was

His voice

He was behind me

At another table

And I could tell

From the timbre

Of the conversation

He was having

That he was with
His wife

My friend noticed

My body stiffening

And asked

If I was all right

I told her that

It was a chill

Those odd things

That strike you

Out of nowhere

And she commented

That the restaurant was drafty

And should she signal the waiter

So that we could either order

Another round of coffee

Or ask for the check

I told her there was no need

And initiated what I knew

Would be another

Long story from her

About the man at work

She’s been seeing

And how things

Have already gotten bumpy

For the two of them

While she talked

I tried to concentrate

On what was happening

Behind me

His wife was insisting

That this time

Was the last time

And she had found

Yet another jacket

With another delicate touch

Of some other woman’s perfume

Abiding

He’s taken on his best calm

His best soothing tone

His way of shushing

Without creating offense

He learned to use his voice

And only his voice

When he learned that

All his beauty

Wouldn’t get me

To settle the way

All the other women settled

He had to find places

On me to contact

Sounds to make

That would lower my guard

And place sympathy

For him

Within myself

From what I could hear

Of his wife’s breathless

Exasperation

It was only working

As much as it was

Wearing her down

That’s what happened to me

He wore me down

And once I was flat as the floor

He went out for a run

And that was the last time

We were ever together

As soon as I become conscious of

The potentiality in front of me

I told my friend

I needed to use the restroom

And stood up

Making sure that I straightened my dress

Before I turned

So that I would be directly in the path

Of the sound

Coming from his direction

But then I heard the conversation continue

Had he not seen me?

I couldn’t tell

I froze in place

I listened a bit more intently

There was an accent there

One that never belonged to him

I was standing

In the path

Of a stranger

My friend asked

If I was all right

Because I had been standing

Stock still

For nearly a minute

I said I was

And made my way

Only hyperventilating

Once I was in a stall

And able to collect myself

Privately

Had I forgotten

The sound

Of his voice?

How ghastly

And redeeming

Since it was the only part

Left of him

I could remember