My Math Problem

I stared at the fire in her fireplace, watching it flicker as the flames danced, the logs fizzed, and an ember popped. It was soothing, calming, almost sedating.

"Clark? How much?"

I sighed. "Not sure. Twenty-something years?"

"Woah," she said before realizing it. When she did, she made a polite adjustment. "Well, that is a lot, but I'm old enough to have seen larger gaps."

"Yeah, sugar daddies and golddiggers?"

She laughed. "Yeah, there is that...but my oldest aunt married a guy who was almost twenty years older than her."

"Hmm, how'd it work out for them?"

"Mmmm...maybe that's a bad example. Anyway—"

She rambled a bit but I was only half listening as I blew on the chocolate and watched those flames. I realized she was winding down and I heard the last few words.

"—unless you try. So...are you going to call Melanie?"

"Ahem, maybe?"

Mrs. Katchekamp gave a little groan as she rolled her eyes. "Well, don't ever say I didn't try.

***

With my laundry in the dryer, I went out to Mrs. Katchekamp's storage shed and found a box. Having had some time according to the divorce agreement, I'd had time to go through my things carefully, discarding everything I didn't want or think I'd need, and carefully cataloguing what was left, with the contents taped to each end of each box.

As a result, I remembered that a box of camping supplies had some paracord that could be used in a camp setting; that it was brightly colored and left over from little bracelet projects with Andrea several years didn't matter. With my printouts on the boxes, it didn't take too long to find the right box and dig it out from under the stack of boxes atop it. There were a few buckles in addition to the paracord, so I went to work after estimating their sizes.

It was almost 7:45 when I called Melanie.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Melanie. It's Clark."

Instead of her usual happy exuberance, there was silence on the line.

"I've called to apologize," I added. "I'm sorry. I really appreciated your invitation, but I was really uncomfortable with the thought of spending so much time with you considering that we'd just met. I felt like I'd be intruding. I didn't think how declining might insult you and disappoint Jenna."

"Clark, you didn't insult me. To tell the truth, I was actually surprised to realize that I was disappointed, too, but I'm an adult and can deal with disappointment. Jenna, though, isn't and she can't. She kept thinking that you'd change your mind and come see her, even after I told her you weren't coming. She asked if we could take the cookie she made for you to your house, but I told her I didn't know where you live."

"Oo-ooh," I groaned. "I'm so sorry, Melanie. I know it's getting late, but do you think she'd mind if I were to stop by and surprise her before she goes to bed?"

"Oh, she'd love it!" The happy Melanie voice was back and I was smiling. "Do you think you could? Even for just a few minutes, it would make her Christmas."

"Be there in twenty minutes, okay?"

"Thanks, Clark. We'll see you then."

***

Jenna answered the door in her Christmas pjs. "Mr. Clark! You came! Come look at your gingerbread cookie!"

She took me by the hand and was dragging me toward the kitchen while I mouthed "Sorry!" over my shoulder to Melanie, who was standing to the side chuckling.

I knelt down next to her as she gave me my cookie. "We had fun making them and decorating them. I'm sorry you couldn't be here with us to have fun, too."

"Thank you for the cookie, Jenna, and for thinking of me. That makes me feel very special."

She threw her arms around me and gave me a hug, and I hugged back, remembering when my Andrea was that age. Then she was done, letting go and taking my hand. "Come see my Christmas presents."

"Hmm, speaking of presents, I think I have a little something here for you."

I saw Melanie shake her head just as I pulled the little bracelet out of my pocket, but when she saw it, she smiled even as Jenna squealed as if it was the best present ever.

"Thank you, Mr. Clark! Thank you!" she said, throwing her arms around me again.

"Here, sweetheart, let me help you with that." She held up her little wrist and I snapped it in place. Bright red and blue with a white buckle, it looked more like Independence Day than Christmas, but Jenna didn't care. It was a bit large, but didn't fall off and I knew she'd grow into it eventually anyway, if she hadn't lost it or got tired of it before then.

"Mommy! Look at my bracelet!"

Melanie smiled and nodded admiringly, making Jenna beam even brighter. I got Jenna's attention back with a tap on her shoulder and gave a conspiratorial "come here" with my finger. I reached in my pocket again and whispered to her as Melanie frowned at me, but she laughed when Jenna turned and shoved another bracelet, a little bigger, toward her.

"Look, Mommy! Mr. Clark made you one, too!"

Melanie laughed again, and I thought I saw a tear in her eye before she looked down to help Jenna put it on her wrist.

"Thanks, Clark. That's very sweet," she said, giving me a big smile that warmed my heart. "You didn't have to—"

"I know, but I wanted to," I said, waving her off. "Sorry if yours is a bit small. I didn't know your size and was running out of cord anyway."

She held it up, smiling at me. "No, it's just right. Snug, but not tight. Thank you."

***

For the second time that evening, I was sitting on a couch drinking hot chocolate, but this time, there wasn't a fire. Melanie had invited me to stay for a bit before she put Jenna to bed and we were sitting together on the couch, close together but not quite touching. I looked at her observing me, and I looked away rather nervously. The lights on Melanie's tree were fading and brightening, so I made a show of watching them for a few moments until she spoke.

"Clark, thank you for coming over. I may never get that bracelet off Jenna's wrist."

"I'm sorry I didn't think to ask if I could give it to her. By the time I saw you shake your head, she'd already seen it and it was too late to back out."

"It's okay. If it had been something expensive or inappropriate, we'd have had words, but that probably didn't cost too much and that you made it for her, for us, makes it special."

"I'm glad."

"Clark, are you okay? You look, well, a little, uncomfortable, maybe?"

I exhaled slowly. "I've always been naturally shy in a personal setting. I'm good in a business setting, for I know what needs to be done, but when it comes to people and emotions...well, not so much."

"Yeah, I think I can believe that. I've seen you at your work, remember? Tell me, are you nervous now?"

"A little, yeah. Melanie, I'm older, I'm recently divorced after being married for a long time, and I'm currently stuck in a job I hate—"

I noticed she hadn't grimaced or even winced when I mentioned age, but I was still surprised when her interruption wasn't about that or asking how old.

"Don't be hating on your job," she said. "You're really good at it, and I can tell you from personal experience that your customer service is top notch. You ought to be proud of what you do and how you help people."

I smiled and decided to skip mentioning my new job at the moment. I'd leave her to think good thoughts about my current one for now. Therefore, I asked a question and we took turns answering and asking as we got to know each other better. I felt more comfortable with her as time passed and it was something of a surprise when neither of us asked another question. She closed the last of the gap, leaning against me and putting her head against my chest.

I put my arm around her to hold and comfort her as I breathed in the flowery scent of her hair. It was almost a hypnotic feel to be together like that, and lightly I stroked her back, reveling in the touch.

"This is...nice," she whispered. "It's the first time anyone's held me like this since Mitch died."

She shifted, tilting her head up as if to kiss me, but suspecting what she was doing and not feeling comfortable with it, I looked away at the blinking lights of the tree.

***

There'd been no goodnight kiss a few minutes later, just a heartwarming hug that felt so right. When we parted, Melanie had thanked me again and asked if I'd like to come to dinner on Saturday night, just a couple of nights later.

"I'd like that," I told her despite my doubts.

I spent a lot of time thinking of Melanie in those two days, wondering if I liked her as much as I thought or if it was my Madeline-rekindled sex drive playing tricks on me, wanting to see her for convenience and the chance of nooky rather than because I really liked her.

"I do like her," I said aloud, as if to reassure myself, as I dressed for work on Friday, "but..."

There was that "but," the little word that so symbolizes doubts and troubles. I didn't know Melanie well enough to know how much I liked her, whether it was just the initial attraction or the chance of something more. And all the while, I was thinking about her age, wondering how old she really was and all the time thinking that she was too young.

Despite all the doubts, I showed up, arriving at Melanie's a little before dark on Saturday evening with a bottle of wine. Since it was the first time I'd been there with enough light to see, I saw that she had only the little Civic in the driveway. It looked to have seen better days. Peeling paint on the porch rail and a loose shutter told me that home maintenance either wasn't Melanie's forte or she didn't have the money for it. As neat as the interior of the house had been in my visits on Christmas Eve and Christmas night, I suspected the latter.

The door opened seconds after the doorbell rang to Melanie wearing a v-neck sweater dress, low heels, and a welcoming smile. She was beautiful and surprisingly sexy, revealing hints of curves I hadn't suspected.

"Welcome, Clark. Come in."

My searching look gave away my question and Melanie grinned as she answered it. "Jenna's spending the night at a friend's house. I figured that might be a good idea, to help keep the pressure down a bit."

"What do you mean?"

"Ahem...well, Jenna has...certain ideas. She likes you a lot, but I think she's getting way ahead of herself and ahead of us. "

"Hmmm. She misses her father, but...she'd like a...new one?"

Melanie nodded sheepishly. "The mind of a six year old sees the world from her perspective, with her own needs...and wants...at the forefront. She sees this week's opportunity and it becomes the center of her world, at least, until the next opportunity comes along. Long-term planning isn't really on her radar. Anyway, if she'd been here, I suspect it would have been like a one-girl full court press."

Having once had six-year-olds, I recalled the issue and nodded. I didn't have time to give it further thought, though, since, at that point, Melanie seemed to take up her daughter's mantle, stepping into my arms and encircling me with her own. Her face tipped up and our lips met. The world stopped as I held her close and she was the whole universe to me.

Her sweater dress was so soft, as was what was beneath it. Our embrace grew tighter, warmer, and more sensual, but when I realized the effect it was having on me, I shifted, trying to keep it from her. From the look she gave me with the biting of her lower lip, I realized I was too late. Embarrassment swept through me, even more so when I realized the bottle of wine was still in my hand.

"Ah...sorry."

I was surprised when she blushed, too. "Don't be, Clark. It's actually, well, nice, to feel wanted."

She took my hand and turned, leading me into her little living room. "Please, have a seat. Dinner's almost ready but we can talk for a bit and drink a glass of wine, if that's okay?"

We sat on the couch, side-by-side, turned slightly, with her knee touching mine. With her legs crossed just below her knee, the front of her foot slid in behind my calf and rested familiarly against me. I would have welcomed it under most circumstances, but my concerns about our relative ages rushed to the forefront and made me a bit uncomfortable. Still, I didn't attempt to move away as I poured the wine and offered her a glass.

"Cheers," I said as we touched our glasses together.

We talked for a few minutes, with me all the while feeling as if I was staring at her, barely able to take my eyes off her baby blues. She was watching, though, matching me with both the intensity and interest of her look, smiling all the while. When she stopped speaking, I said nothing, leading her to give a little shake of her head before she leaned in for our second kiss of the evening. My eyes closed and all of my doubts slowly faded away, surrendering myself to Melanie and the moment.

The buzzer in the kitchen startled us, bringing us back to reality and the present with a laugh.

"I better get that or it will burn," she said rather reluctantly. I believe we both wanted to return to what we were doing rather than eating, but she'd worked hard on the meal so I nodded, helping her up and with her work in the kitchen.

All through dinner that evening and in our phone calls in the few days that followed, I could feel it, that strange link that forms, bit by bit, tendril by tendril, over time between two people getting to know each other and falling in love. It's such a great feeling to care about someone and to feel their care in return, to know there's a chance to build something, a future, together. And, unfortunately, as much as it hurt, I knew it had to be stopped before it went too far.

***

Jenna met me at the front door the next Saturday night.

"Hi, Mister Clark! I've missed you!"

"I've missed you, too, sweetheart! And I think you've grown an inch while I have!"

She grinned at me and gave me a hug as Melanie came to the door.

"Hi, Clark," she said, giving me a quick kiss, before turning to Jenna. "Young lady, what have I told you about opening the front door?"

"But it was Mister Clark," replied Jenna with a pouty expression.

"Well, it was okay this time, but it could have been someone else. Let me open the door, okay?"

"Yes, Mama." Jenna gave me a frown about her mother's rules that almost made me laugh before Melanie sent her scampering.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to cause problems," I told Melanie when Jenna was in the other room.

"It wasn't your fault, Clark. You knocked on the door like a normal visitor, and Jenna opened it instead of asking me if it was okay."

Another knock followed before I had a chance to say more. Melanie peeked out before opening the door and a high school girl, Jenna's sitter for the evening, entered. She gave the girl her instructions, we hugged and kissed Jenna goodbye, and we were off to Grafelli's for dinner.

I tried to hide my emotions during our meal, but Melanie noticed.

"Clark, are you okay? Something seems wrong tonight. Talk to me. I'd like to help if I can."

We'd know each other for less than two weeks, but she'd become very special to me in that time. The calendar doesn't lie, though, and I knew what I had to do before it went too far.

"Melanie, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, Clark. What?"

"How old are you?'

She smiled. "I'm 28 now and will be 29 in April. On April 10th. Why?"

I thought sure she'd say something silly like "Age doesn't matter" or something else to defend the huge gap in age between us, but not even recognizing it—or at least acknowledging it, anway—surprised me.

"Melanie, my birthday is in a couple of weeks. I'll be 51 years old."

Again, she didn't seem to get the point. She smiled, leaning across the table to give me a kiss on my cheek before whispering, "Happy Birthday, Clark! Why didn't you tell me earlier? I would have suggested we change our plans if I'd know that!"

Holding my hands up defensively, I shook my head. "No, Melanie, that's not the point."

"Okay, I'll bite. What is?"

As much as I loved looking in her eyes, I couldn't do it now. I was looking down at the table where the server had just taken my plate away, as if I was a teenager again. The words didn't want to come out, but I forced them and they tumbled forth.

"When I turned eighteen, I was a geek and none of the girls in my town would go out with me. I tried and tried to get a date for prom, but, even though I was a senior, I was striking out with everyone I tried. Now, being somewhat shy, it's not like I was asking hundreds of girls. It was a small school in a small town so there weren't even a hundred girls in my class," I said with a laugh.

"So what did you do?"

"Well, I finally decided to try one of the time-honored traditions of geeky guys everywhere."

She grinned. "You asked a younger girl?"

"Ah, so you've heard this story? Probably not my version of it though. When I talked to my dad about it, he said "no" and explained why. There's a rule, well, an equation anyway, called 'Half Plus Seven' that is a good guideline for whether a relationship will work. If the older person takes their age, divides it by two, and then adds seven years, it gives a minimum age that is seen as appropriate by society at large and which generally has a decent chance of working in a long-term relationship."

"Sounds like a lot of wishy-washy, weaselly words in there if you ask me. 'Seen as appropriate,' 'generally,' and 'decent chance?' One word like that makes an argument questionable, two make it silly, and three?" She laughed. "You know, like the lottery; I've never played so I've never won, but I could have if I'd tried...even though most never do."

I nodded, for she was correct on at least part of it. "Well, Dad told me that relationships that don't meet that rarely work and that he wasn't going to have his son robbing the cradle with a freshman who didn't meet it." I sighed, remembering that time. "I ended up going to the prom alone."

"Oh, Clark! I'm so sorry! I wish you'd been able to ask me. I'd have gone with you."

She didn't realize it but she'd just proved my point. "Melanie, you hadn't been born then. You don't meet Half Plus Seven for me, and I don't meet the reverse of it for you. We may like each other a lot, a whole in my case, but the chance of it working out for us in the long term is..."

I held up my finger and thumb, pressed tightly together, with my elbow on the table. I couldn't even look at her, staring down at the table in front of me as my head fell forward to rest against my hand.

She put her hand on mine and held it, giving a gentle nudge to make me look up.

"Clark, look at me. I'm 28 years old. I've been married and been an army wife. We had a wonderful daughter together before I lost him to the army, so I'm raising Jenna on my own. I went back to school when she was a baby and finished my nursing degree, and now I have a job that makes me walk a very fine line to keep everything going and spend enough time with her. I own a house, with the bank, and only have a few payments left before I'll own the car outright. Neither one of those last two are anything to brag about, but I've never missed a payment on either one. Now tell me, am I a responsible adult?"

"Melanie, of course. You're one of the most responsible people I know."

"Then why, damn you, are you trying to impose an artificial constraint instead of letting each of us make up our own mind? If you don't care about me, I'll be disappointed and I'll hurt and cry 'til I eventually get over it, but if you won't see me again because of a stupid equation..."

Tears were streaming down her face as she shook her head fiercely, unable to go on.

I drove her home in silence and walked her to her door, all the while trying to think of the right words. They didn't come, but something did.