The Choice Not Taken by Jodi LaPalm Page A

Hoping I might become better aware of the thoughts, I struggled to pay mindful attention to any worries or fears passing through my head.
     
    I didn’t push anything away. I simply noticed them.
     
    Only this time, the more I wanted to leave them alone, the greater my anxiety rose. Staying in position, my wrists ached from the rigid hold on my elbows, and my upper body involuntarily rocked as if soothing a baby.
     
    But still I didn’t stop. I knew if I failed to acknowledge these images, I’d never effectively detach myself from them.
     
    And before too long, Philip came back to me, as I knew he would.
     
    ***
     
    After we talked that night in the bar, we didn’t make contact for another month. But I did think of him.
     
    His face, his voice–even his smell-invaded my thoughts at the weirdest times. Yet, oddly, when I tried to remember him, I couldn’t.
     
    Whenever Marnie and I chatted on the phone or in person, I found myself hoping she’d mention his name. She never did. However, she and Carl were hot and heavy now, officially a couple. And assuming it a safe subject since I’d met him meant it was pretty much all she talked about. I eagerly obliged in an effort to remain in the loop about Philip.
     
    One day I nonchalantly asked-out of pure aggravation and extreme curiosity–whether she ever saw him at the office.
     
    “Sure. He’s there a few days a week. He pretty much comes and goes as he pleases. I mean he is the owner after all,” she joked.
     
    “He’s the owner?” was my astonished reply.
     
    “Yep. He owns it and six other outlets. I think that’s why he’s gone a lot. He visits branches on different days of the week. Of course, ours is the biggest so he comes in more,” she explained.
     
    The conversation ended, and I didn’t pry further in case she became suspicious. But when I met her and Carl for a drink the next time, I secretly prayed he’d be there.
     
    He wasn’t.
     
    In quiet hours of the night, I began to devise different ways to see him–verify if the person I now envisioned in my head was indeed the same man. I even considered enrolling in another course just so we might be in the same building and possibly cross paths.
     
    I didn’t need to do anything, however. Two weeks later I saw him at the drug store.
     
    It really was fate to discover Philip standing in confusion and embarrassment at the end of a personal care product aisle-smack dab in front of the tampons-while I happened to pick up a prescription. He must have sensed the heat of my stare, because he looked in my direction.
     
    “Courtney! What are you doing here?” he smiled with surprise.
     
    “I live nearby. What are you doing here?”
     
    “I live nearby, too. I guess it’s strange we never ran into each other before.” Returning his gaze to the shelves, he blushed deeply.
     
    “I’m, um, looking for something for my daughter. She’s staying with me, and she just...um...got...um,” he stammered.
     
    He never mentioned a daughter.
     
    “Oh, okay,” I replied, now equally embarrassed but concealing it. “Well, do you need help or...?”
     
    Giving a relieved nod, he took a willing step back. “She’s twelve, and it’s only her second time,” he bashfully confided.
     
    “No problem.” I bravely selected three products I thought would help her and stacked them in his outstretched arms.
     
    “Wow that was easy,” he said in amazement. “I would’ve been here all night. How about I repay you with a coffee or something?”
     
    I mechanically shook my head yet muttered a quiet “yes.”
     
    We drove separately to a retro coffee shop by the local campus. And after settling into a cozy couch in the corner, I glanced nervously at the college-aged boys seated nearby.
     
    “I like this place. The music is cool, and the atmosphere reminds me of my hippie years,” he laughed.
     
    “You were a hippie?” I immediately became intrigued. His clean shaven features and