When Your Wife Leaves You For a Younger Man, You Go to Outer Space

Andrew saw the buxom barista behind the gleaming wooden counter. He felt a flicker of hope for light-hearted conversation make a crack in his hardened heart. Beautiful, smart, sexy Beth left Andrew only last week. And, for who? For Todd, that's who. Todd, a cocky twenty-something.

How had Andrew's marriage ended like this?

“Sir. Sir!” the barista cleared her throat noisily.

Flustered, Andrew answered, “Sorry about that. My head had me spacing out. Love on the rocks-stuff. But you don't care about that. Could I please get an iced mocha?”

What the hell did he just say? Andrew wondered--he didn’t even like chocolate.

“Sure. $4.25,” the barista smiled and looked him in the eye. Was she flirting?

Andrew paid with a 20 dollar bill and left the change. Being rich and generous felt good. He wondered what it would be like to have a modest amount of money after investing his life’s savings in the NASA trial training program. His childhood dream of shooting off into space was finally happening.

Take that Beth. And, Todd.

Andrew grimaced at the memory of them sucking face in the grocery store parking lot.

Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to trade in for a younger model? But, that wasn’t his style. He had looked forward to growing comfortably old with Beth. All gone to a black hole now.

“Andrew! Mocha!” the sexy barista called from behind the counter with a slightly low and husky voice. Andrew said thank you and sat down at the bar.

He looked at the barista again. Curly brown hair, doe eyes — an oceanic blue-green sparkle. She looked older than the other baristas. Around his age. Probably in her late 40s or early 50s.

The morning rush had slowed down. “Anything crazy happening in your life today?” the barista asked lightheartedly.

Andrew stirred his straw around the mocha, knowing the drink would be too sweet. “Going to finish paperwork for a NASA trial,” he finally said.

She squinted her eyes trying to figure out if he was being serious. She decided he was. “Wow! What kind of trial?”

“An adaptability study. They’re sending a few Americans to the moon. Since our resources will soon run out.” A heavy sigh.

“Ugh. Humans make me sick sometimes,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Look, I don’t usually do this, but you piqued my curiosity. If you’d like to go out sometime, text me. Here’s my number.”

Andrew took the napkin and saw her name, Sheryl, with Barista scribbled to the side — a reminder of where they met. He smiled and said, “That would be nice, Sheryl.”

***

Suited up and waiting for the anti-gravity test Andrew began to have second thoughts. 45 days on the moon. So much could happen in six and a half weeks.

Being lighter than a feather makes some people nauseous. Andrew felt relaxed and happy; the joy of an unfathomable childhood fantasy was being fulfilled! While he was floating he decided he couldn’t yet forgive Beth, but he could let her go. Floating around the anti-gravity chamber he decided life was too short to fester on things already done.

When he got home he texted Sheryl:

I hope you’re willing to wait for me. I’m going to Outer space for 45 days. After that, may I take you to dinner? There’s a little Italian restaurant, Rizzo’s, around the corner from my place. July 2nd. 7:30. If yes, please text me your address.

A bit formal. Oh well. Andrew sighed again — maybe he could have outer space and love.

Sheryl didn’t text back.

In outer space, Andrew wondered about his marriage. Did Beth get bored? They never fought. They never talked much. Sexual encounters had become few and farther between the older they got. He accepted all this as normal parts of marriage. Had they grown too comfortable?

45 days on the moon passed very slowly. After the initial rush, it quickly got lonely up there. The other recruits were younger. Their naive optimism drove him a little crazy. They hadn’t yet found their depth of character.

***

Back on earth, Andrew sat on his leather couch and cuddled with his chihuahua, Pork Chop, who he’d scooped up from boarding. Acclimating to being back home he let his eyes wander and saw Sheryl’s name on the napkin by his laptop. Maybe he’d reach out to her one more time.

Picking up his phone, Andrew saw 5 unread message alerts. One was from an unknown number. It read:

Sure! Take me to Rizzo’s on July 2nd. I’ll meet you there. 7:30.

July 2nd was tomorrow. Andrew went to bed with a little more hope for love sprouting in his tender heart.