Perfect Match. Dara Girard

longer met him in the park, but for dinner and then she was in his arms. There she always felt safe. Cared for. It was nice to have someone to lean on. And he always said the right thing, encouraging her as he had in the past. Lifting her up. Making her feel like a success when only seconds before she’d felt like a failure. She remembered the feel of her hand in his, the touch of his hand on her skin. She imagined it on her arm, caressing her face, sliding down her body.

      She hadn’t noticed a ring, but a guy like that wouldn’t be single. Even if he was...with her luck she’d likely never meet him again. A week later she went back to the park on the same day they’d met, hoping it was a habit of his to be there. She waited two hours on the same park bench with no luck. She felt foolish knowing that part of her wanted to see him so that her dreams could stop and she could face the reality of him. Still, a part of her liked him just being her dream man. Relationships weren’t her specialty anyway, and not seeing him again was probably for the best.

      * * *

      Across town Amal was also thinking about her, but not in the same way or for the same reason. She came into his mind quite unexpectedly as he tried to gently break up with his present girlfriend, Evie, who’d convinced herself that they were destined to be married. There had been signs early in their relationship. After the first date, she’d already started talking about marriage, babies and how “Mrs. Evie Harper” would look great on personalized stationery and matching towels.

      They hadn’t been dating long. Unfortunately, Amal hadn’t realized that it was a rebound relationship to help him forget about Jade. He did not love Evie and did not want to lead her on much longer.

      “What do you mean I’m too good for you?” she demanded, tears streaming down her face, her nose red. Clearly, her makeup wasn’t waterproof, because two black streaks stained her cheeks. She was still a beautiful woman with hazel eyes and curly short hair who was a magician at event planning and worked for a company that organized national conventions held in Raleigh.

      Amal quickly glanced around, aware of heads turning, sending him curious and judging glances. He’d thought that by taking her to a restaurant it would stop her from creating a scene. He’d guessed wrong. “Just that,” he said, keeping his voice soft and measured, “I’m not ready to settle down. I told you that.”

      Evie dabbed at her eyes, smudging her makeup more and making her look as if she had a black eye. “I thought I could change your mind.”

      “I’m no good for you.”

      “You’re perfect for me. I knew I’d lose a guy like you. You can get any woman you want. Is there someone else?”

      “No.”

      “Then just give me another chance.”

      “It’s not going to work.” Amal tried to get the waitress’s attention, but she was busy checking out her lipstick in the reflection of a spoon.

      “I love you, Amal.”

      “You hardly know me.”

      “I know you enough.”

      Amal glanced up again, wanting to throw a bread roll or something at the absentminded waitress so that he could pay the check and leave. He stopped another passing waiter. “I want to pay my bill.”

      The waiter glanced at Evie, concerned. “Is everything all right?”

      “My life is over,” Evie whined.

      Amal gritted his teeth. “The food was so delicious, it made her cry. Now, I’d like my bill, please.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “You’re angry with me,” Evie said.

      Amal drummed his fingers on his thigh. “No, I’m not.”

      “I can always tell when you’re angry. Your eyes narrow and your jaw twitches.”

      Amal counted to ten.

      “I hate when you’re angry with me,” she said and then burst into tears.

      Amal silently swore, wishing he’d gotten a private booth instead of just a table. He moved his chair closer and pulled her near his side to hold her. He didn’t care what those around him were thinking. Let everyone stare. Most already were. “It’s okay.” He hated to see a woman cry. And that’s when his mind floated to the woman who’d been crying alone, sitting on the park bench. For some reason her tears and misery bothered him more than Evie’s. Maybe because with Evie, he was relieved at finally letting her know there was no chance of them being together, or the fact that he knew she’d get over him quickly.

      The woman in the park smelled sweet and there was a heaviness he understood. She didn’t seem like the type to normally cry in public, although he could be wrong. But he’d felt helpless and had come up with the story that he knew her just to make her feel better. He was happy he’d been able to make her smile. He wondered how she was doing and if she’d been able to save her parents’ house.

      “Amal?”

      He blinked and glanced down. He’d totally forgotten about Evie even though she was wetting his shirt with tears. “Huh?”

      “Did you even hear a word I said? Don’t you care about me at all?”

      “Of course I do. But this is for the best.” He glanced at his watch. It was time to go. Besides, he was hoping to drop her off before the evening news started. And he’d make sure to never come to this restaurant again.

      * * *

      “How did it go?” his mother, Doreen Harper, asked the moment he walked through the door. She sat on the couch holding a glass. A plate of cookies sat on the coffee table. She noticed his pointed look and smiled. “Relax. It’s just water, dear.”

      “Mixed with what?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Hmm.”

      “And I’m not using it to wash anything down, either.”

      Amal was relieved but didn’t say so. His mother lived with him because he didn’t trust her on her own. She’d overcome an addiction to prescription pills, but was still susceptible to drinking more than she could handle and men attracted only to her money. She even looked like an easy target, with wide brown eyes, a petite build, easy smile and expensive clothing and jewelry. “I don’t wear paste,” she claimed when he’d once scolded her for wearing a ten-thousand-dollar necklace on a Manhattan subway. She’d been pampered and sheltered all her life until her husband decided to leave her with a small son. She always had money, but never had to manage it on her own.

      At age ten, Amal became in charge of the household finances, stopping anyone, from the gardener to the chef, from robbing his mother blind. She’d gotten into prescription pills to deal with the stress of her divorce. Thankfully, she’d conquered it by the time he was in college. But four years ago when a pool maintenance guy had convinced her to marry him, which did not happen thanks to Amal’s swift intervention, she had gone back to drinking. Amal had to step in again to keep an eye on her. Luckily, his then-girlfriend, Jade, hadn’t minded. He knew he couldn’t have her close by forever, but Amal had the space and didn’t mind the company, especially when everything else seemed to be going against him.

      Doreen took a sip of her water and then set it down. “You haven’t answered my question.”

      “How do you think it went?”

      “From the look on your face, not well.”

      Amal sat on the couch in front of her and then took a cookie from her plate. “She thought we were going to get married.”

      “And of course you’re never going to get married.”

      “I’ve never said that.”

      “You don’t have to. If she’d had half a brain, she would have seen it written all over your face. Didn’t I tell you that you should have married Jade when you had the