Tequila Americano

3. decision

December, 2011

"Ingrid!"

Ingrid turned around, clutching her laptop to her chest and a large latte in her other hand. "Hey, Jack."

"Hey, beautiful."

She smiled as he kissed her cheek and followed him into his office, where they sat down together at the visitor end of his desk. There was a twinkle in his tired old eyes whenever he looked at her, which always brightened her up.

"How's it going?" He casually rested his hand on her exposed knee.

"Pretty good." She set her laptop down and fought the urge to cross her legs away from him. "I'm almost done with my application."

Jack frowned. "Application? The one to Columbia, you mean? But... isn't it too early?"

She shook her head. "I'm enrolling into the spring term."

"Spring?" His eyebrows jumped up. "I thought you wouldn't start until next fall."

He reclined in his chair, his hand falling off her leg in the process. His wrinkled mien looked distantly thoughtful.

"No..." Ingrid raised her latte to her lips. "My internship will be over soon. I figured I could benefit from student accommodation covered by my loan after my lease expires. And I'd have plenty of time to find some part-time job before term starts, too, so I can... What's wrong?"

His face had changed colours as she spoke.

"You're not staying on, then?" Jack whispered.

"I..." Ingrid looked away. "I felt it'd be best not to, considering..."

He suddenly leaned forward and took the coffee cup from her hands, so he could hold them instead.

"I want you to stay on. Please."

"Jack..."

His dirty hazel eyes pleaded with her. His hair, combed back and greyed at the temples, gave him an air of sombreness that Ingrid often found intimidating. She glanced down at his bony fingers.

"Listen, I'm very grateful to you – "

Jack propelled himself forward and, grabbing the edges of her chair for support, kissed her hard out of the blue. Then he slid down to one knee at her feet.

"Marry me," he said.

Ingrid laughed. "Don't be ridiculous!" Except his countenance looked dead-serious. "Jack, come on. You're already married."

"Nicole and I have been over for years," he argued, "won't take me long to get rid of her."

"Don't say that – "

"I mean it, I love you. I'm in love with you." He reached up to cup her cheek. "It kills me to think I could lose you, I – " He gulped. "Marry me, Ingrid. And you won't ever have to worry about anything ever again. I'll take care of you. 'Till death do us part. I'm begging you. Please."

He pushed her legs apart and inched closer between her knees. Her breath hitched as his hand travelled down from her face, over her breasts and her waist, and crawled up her thigh under her skirt.

Ingrid forced herself to process the proposal while struggling to ignore the heat building up at her core. She could go to Columbia and what then? Accrue debilitating student debt and spend the rest of her life paying it off? Her chances at a scholarship were slim.

If she were to indeed get married, she could always try again afterwards. They could both live in the city – in a nice, bright and airy flat, not the stinky studio shithole she had to contend with at the moment. She could go to classes while he was at work. They could get away weekends. Up or down the coast, or maybe Canada. Ah, Miami...