Rollback

Don sat on the floor beside the door, waiting for the session to end. He felt a surge of adrenaline when the door swung open — but it was only some guy wearing an All Blacks T-shirt stepping out to use the washroom.

Finally other classrooms along the same hallway started opening, but the door to Lenore’s room remained maddeningly shut. Don got up off the floor and dusted off the seat of his pants. He was just about to look through the window when the door swung open again. He stepped to one side, the way people used to with subway doors in Toronto.

When there was a lull, he looked into the room again. Lenore was down at the front, her back to him, talking with the final remaining person, a slim young man. Don watched until, at last, the man nodded and started walking up the stairs. Lenore, meanwhile, was doing something at the podium.

Don took a deep breath, hoping it would calm him, and he went through the door.

He got only four steps down before Lenore looked up, and—

—and her eyes went wide, almost fully circular, and her mouth dropped open, forming another circle, and he continued down, feeling shakier than he’d ever felt even before the rollback.

She clearly couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and she looked as though she was trying to convince herself that this was someone who just happened to bear a strong resemblance to Don. It had been a long time since she’d seen him, after all, and—

"Don?" she said at last.

He smiled, but could feel the corners of his mouth quivering. "Hello, Lenore."

"Don!" She practically shouted the name, and a giant grin grew across her face.

He found himself running down the remaining stairs, and she was coming up them, taking two in each stride, and suddenly they were in each other’s arms. He so desperately wanted to kiss her — but just because he was being greeted like an old friend didn’t mean she’d welcome that.

After all too brief a time, he felt her pulling away. She looked at him, her eyes flicking back and forth, staring first at his left eye, then his right. "What are you doing here?"

"I— I hope you don’t mind."

"Mind?" she said.

"I didn’t know whether you’d be happy to see me."

"Of course I’m happy! Are you taking a vacation down here?"

He shook his head. "I came just to see you."

She looked thunderstruck. "My… God. You should have called."

"I know. I’m sorry."

"No, no. Don’t be sorry, but…" She paused. "All this way just to see me?"

He nodded.

"My God," she said again. But then she tilted her chin down a bit. "I was so sorry to hear about Sarah. When was that? Four or five months ago?"

"Over a year," said Don, simply.

"I’m so sorry," she said. "I— I’m just so sorry."

"Me, too."

"And now," she said, a shift in her tone indicating that the enormity of the situation had struck her, "you’re here."

"Yes." He didn’t know how to ask his next question politely, or how to segue to it elegantly, so he just blurted it out. "Are you seeing anyone?"

She looked at him a moment longer, and it was clear that she understood the import of the question, and also understood that she’d been offered an out: she could simply respond in the affirmative and not have to deal further with him. "No," she said, firmly if squeakily. "No one."

He felt air rushing out of him, and he pulled her close again. "Thank God," he said.

He hesitated for a second, then gently tilted her face up, and kissed her — and, to his delight, she kissed him back.

Suddenly there was a loud sound, and another, and another. He turned his head and looked up, and—

And there, standing at the top of the stairs, were a handful of students, waiting to come into the room, and one of them had started to applaud, a big grin on his face.

The others joined him, and Don felt an even bigger grin splitting his own features, and he looked at Lenore, whose skin had turned bright red.

"If you’ll excuse us," Don said, and he took Lenore’s hand, and the two of them began walking up the stairs, and the students started coming down, passing them, and one of them slapped Don on the shoulder as he went by.

Lenore and Don headed out into the warm midday air, which was a wonderful contrast to the Canadian winter he’d left behind. There was so much he wanted to tell her, and yet he found it impossible to begin. At last, though, he said, "I like your hair that way."

"Thanks," said Lenore, still holding his hand. They were walking along the banks of the little river, which Lenore said was called the Avon; it made a pleasing background sound. On the opposite side of it were campus buildings and a car park.

The pathway was paved, and there were trees of types Don couldn’t name on its margin. Lenore nodded occasionally to passing students or faculty members.

"So, what are you doing now?" she asked. A couple of birds with black bodies, long curving bills, and orange cheek patches hopped out of their way. "Have — have you found a job?" She said it gently, knowing that the issue was a delicate one.