The Man Behind the Smile

The Beautiful Possibility of Again

Season One, Episode Two: The Man Behind the Smile

Daniel was halfway to his room when he realized he was smiling.

He caught his reflection in the mirrored elevator doors.

“Get yourself together, man.”

The elevator opened.

He stepped out, still smiling.

Well, so much for that.

He’d spent nearly an hour talking to a woman whose name he’d only just learned, and somehow she’d managed to insult his taste in coffee, question his sense of direction, and make him laugh harder than he had in weeks.

He wasn’t complaining.

His phone rang just as he reached his room.

Marcus.

Of course.

The man had a gift for calling at the most inconvenient times.

“What’s up?”

“Checking on you. How’s the hotel?”

“Nice.”

“Meetings?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Food?”

“Haven’t eaten yet.”

“Women?”

Daniel laughed. “Why is that always one of your questions?”

“Because you’re single, financially stable, reasonably attractive, and you’ve been acting like you’re eighty-seven.”

“Reasonably attractive?”

“I don’t want you getting arrogant.”

Daniel opened his room door.

“For your information, I met somebody tonight.”

Silence.

Then Marcus cleared his throat.

“Excuse me?”

“I met a woman.”

“Daniel.”

“What?”

“Please tell me you didn’t fall in love in a hotel lobby.”

“I said I met somebody.”

“Same thing with you. A woman smiles twice and you’re picking out china patterns.”

“Man, shut up.”

Marcus laughed.

“What’s her name?”

Daniel told him.

“Pretty?”

“Very.”

“Interesting?”

“Extremely.”

“Single?”

“I assume so.”

“You assume?”

Daniel dropped his overnight bag onto the luggage stand.

“Marcus, I met her an hour ago.”

“Well, did you get her number?”

“No. I gave her mine.”

Another silence.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?”

Daniel laughed.

“I invited her to dinner tomorrow. Told her to call if she was interested.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I hope she enjoys the rest of her weekend.”

Marcus whistled.

“Look at you. All emotionally mature and whatnot.”

“Expensive therapy, my brother.”

“Clearly. I might need your therapist’s number.”

“You’ve needed it for years.”

“See? That’s the kind of judgment that keeps people out of therapy.”

They both laughed.

Daniel had known Marcus since college.

They’d survived terrible haircuts, questionable fashion choices, early careers, and enough bad decisions to write a book neither man’s mother needed to read.

Marcus had also been there when Daniel’s marriage ended.

He’d watched his friend go from a young husband who believed he had life figured out to a divorced man who had to admit he didn’t understand nearly as much as he’d thought.

It hadn’t been pretty.

There had been some lonely evenings. Some difficult conversations. A few apologies Daniel wished he’d made years earlier.

Marcus had listened through most of it.

He’d also told Daniel when he was being an idiot.

That’s what good friends were for.

“So,” Marcus said, “what made this woman different?”

Daniel sat on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know that she’s different.”

“Here we go.”

“I’m serious. We had a good conversation. She made me laugh. I liked her company.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s plenty.”

Marcus was quiet for a moment.

“You sound good, man.”

“I am good.”

“I know. I mean, really good.”

Daniel smiled.

“I appreciate that.”

At forty-three, Daniel had built a life he genuinely enjoyed.

He was a partner in a small commercial development firm, the kind of business that required him to know a little about architecture, a lot about budgets, and far more about human personalities than he’d ever expected.

His work took him to different cities, usually for meetings that could have been emails.

This weekend’s trip involved a potential hotel renovation project. He had a morning meeting with the property owners and planned to spend the afternoon reviewing the site.

He liked his work.

He liked his home.

He liked Saturday mornings when nobody needed anything from him before ten.

He liked cooking, although Marcus insisted that owning six expensive knives did not automatically make somebody a chef.

Daniel disagreed.

He also had a standing Sunday dinner with his parents whenever he was home, a habit that had become more important as they got older.

His life was full.

It simply didn’t include a wife anymore.

He’d made peace with that.

Daniel and his ex-wife, Camille, had married at twenty-four.

They’d known each other less than a year when he proposed.

He could still remember the excitement of those early days.

They were young, ambitious, and completely convinced that being in love meant they were ready for marriage.

Everybody had an opinion.

Some people thought they were rushing.

Others said there was no reason to wait when you knew you’d found the one.

Daniel and Camille listened politely, then did exactly what they wanted.

Their wedding had been beautiful.

Their honeymoon had been wonderful.

Their first argument about money had happened approximately eleven days after they returned.

He laughed about it now.

At the time, neither had found it particularly funny.

They loved each other.

That had never been the question.

The trouble was that they were still becoming themselves.

Camille had dreams that changed as she grew older. Daniel did, too.

He became more career-focused. She discovered interests and ambitions that didn’t fit the life they’d imagined at twenty-four.

Neither transformation was wrong.

They just didn’t know how to make room for each other’s growth.

Daniel thought providing meant working harder.

Camille wanted him home more.

She wanted to talk about things he thought they’d already settled.

He wanted solutions when she wanted understanding.

Sometimes she’d grow quiet, and he’d interpret her silence as agreement.

Sometimes he’d withdraw from an argument to avoid saying something hurtful, never realizing that leaving the conversation unfinished hurt her, too.

They’d loved each other sincerely.

They simply hadn’t learned how to love the people they were becoming.

By the time they finally sat across from each other and admitted their marriage wasn’t working, there wasn’t much anger left.

Mostly sadness.

And affection - the kind that doesn’t disappear just because a relationship has reached its end.

The divorce had been final for five years.

Daniel had spent the first year convinced he understood what went wrong.

He’d spent the second discovering how much he didn’t.

Therapy had been Camille’s suggestion before they separated.

He hadn’t been interested.

After the divorce, he found himself sitting in a therapist’s office, explaining that he was a good man who’d tried his best.

His therapist listened.

Then she asked a question that irritated him for the rest of the week.

“Daniel, do you think trying your best means there’s nothing you could have done better?”

He’d stared at her.

She’d stared back.

He was paying entirely too much money for that woman to ask questions like that.

Unfortunately, she had a point.

Over time, he learned to recognize the difference between listening and waiting for his turn to speak.

He learned that being right didn’t always mean being helpful.

He learned to apologize without attaching an explanation that made the apology somebody else’s fault.

He learned that love required curiosity.

People changed.

Their needs changed.

Their dreams changed.

A lasting relationship needed two people willing to keep learning each other.

He’d also learned something about himself that surprised him.

He had spent years being dependable to everyone around him while struggling to be emotionally available to the person closest to him.

That realization had hurt.

It had also changed him.

Daniel didn’t leave therapy with a list of things his next wife needed to do.

He left with a better understanding of the man he wanted to be.

His phone buzzed.

A message from Camille.

Hey! Just checking whether you received the invitation to Mom’s retirement celebration. She asked me to make sure you knew you were welcome.

Daniel smiled.

He’d always liked Camille’s mother.

The woman made a peach cobbler that could settle international disputes.

I did. Thank you. Please tell her congratulations. I’ll check my schedule.

Will do. Hope you’re doing well.

I am. Hope you are too.

He set the phone down.

There had been a time when an exchange like that would have left him feeling unsettled.

Now it was simply a pleasant conversation with someone who had once been an important part of his life.

Camille was doing well.

He was glad.

They’d shared something meaningful, and he didn’t need to rewrite their history to appreciate where life had taken them.

Daniel loosened his tie and walked toward the window.

The city lights stretched beyond the hotel.

He thought about the woman downstairs.

Her laughter.

The way she’d challenged his questions.

Her certainty about what she wanted from a relationship.

I’ve just never had all the pieces in the same place.

He remembered that part of their conversation particularly well.

He understood it.

He’d once believed love was enough to hold everything together.

Now he knew love needed a few things standing beside it.

Patience.

Respect.

Friendship.

Humility.

A willingness to say, Help me understand what you mean.

He’d liked the way she spoke about relationships without sounding bitter.

She was funny, confident, and clearly comfortable in her own company.

He suspected she’d have enjoyed her evening just as much if he’d never approached her table.

Strangely enough, he liked that about her.

The following morning, Daniel woke before his alarm.

He showered, dressed, and headed downstairs for breakfast.

He was reviewing notes for his meeting when Marcus sent a text.

Any wedding updates?

Daniel shook his head.

Seek professional help.

So she hasn’t called?

Good morning to you too.

That’s a no.

Daniel put his phone facedown.

Five seconds later, it buzzed again.

Wear something nice to dinner just in case.

He laughed.

That man was going to get blocked before breakfast.

His meeting went well.

The owners liked his preliminary ideas, and the renovation had the potential to become one of his firm’s more interesting projects.

By early afternoon, he’d finished walking the property and was back in the hotel.

He stopped at the front desk to ask about a document he’d requested.

As the clerk searched for it, a familiar voice floated across the lobby.

“Now, I know good and well somebody in this hotel can tell me where to find a decent cup of tea.”

Daniel turned.

There she was.

He smiled before he could help himself.

She was speaking to a member of the hotel staff, who was doing a respectable job of answering her questions.

Daniel considered walking over.

Then he remembered something.

She knew how to find him.

He’d given her his number.

He had no reason to interrupt her afternoon simply because he was pleased to see her.

The clerk returned with his document.

“Here you are, Mr. Daniel.”

“Thank you.”

He started toward the elevators.

His phone vibrated.

An unfamiliar number.

He glanced at the screen.

Good afternoon, Mr. Directions.

Daniel stopped walking.

A second message appeared.

I have a question.

He smiled.

Good afternoon. I’m listening.

Three little dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Then…

Are you as good at choosing restaurants as you are at giving unsolicited directions?

Daniel laughed out loud.

The clerk looked up.

“Everything all right, sir?”

He grinned.

“Everything’s just fine.”

He typed his response.

Much better, actually. Would you like me to prove it?

This time, the reply came quickly.

You have one opportunity to impress me, Daniel.

He looked across the lobby.

She was smiling at her phone.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and headed toward her.

After all, he already knew where she was going.

He just hoped she’d let him come along.

To be continued…

Come back for Episode Three of The Beautiful Possibility of Again. It looks like somebody has dinner plans, and I have a feeling this is going to be good.

Until next time… Forward Anyway!

~ Leslie A. Council