No need for sympathy

 From the very moment he saw Delia at the airport, Tristan knew she wasn't Dale anymore. Not his Dale. Something had changed her. She wasn't who he remembered. And somehow, he knew it was over before she even had a chance to say hello.

They went through the motions, but it felt numb. Something like a dream he wouldn't remember the specifics of. Oh, he laughed. She laughed. They went to a beer garden on the way back to her place.

They settled for mock cocktails. Best to stay clear-headed for what was next. Sure, she talked about what was around her, the people she worked with, a neighbor or two. Her smile was sweet, but she was different. Beautiful indeed, but not the person he was familiar with.

The one who would clip his toenails and talk about old TV shows and what they could do with leftover turkey.

Actually, there was a tightness in his chest, but he ignored it. Indigestion perhaps, or a wounded heart. 

Delia was pretty, but his Dale had spunk. She could go the distance. She could keep up with him when it came to the two-step.

"Should we go dancing?" Tristan winced with a smile as if it might be a dare.

"Do you want to?" She laughed as if he were joking.

"Well, yeah, I miss you." He nodded as if this was the ultimate test, but in the end, she wasn't up for it. She hadn't had two days of peace and quiet in months.

"Oh, OK."

He guessed they'd have to play it her way. And sure, they were both good a remembering the steps of the dance that got them into bed. But he might have hurt his back, so she had to get on top. It was just wrong. This was not the way it went.

Of course, by the time it was over (the intercourse), which had lasted a whole lot longer than it used to. It just wasn't the same. And he didn't know where it went wrong. Maybe she was just too pretty for him.

Honestly, it drove Tristan crazy. What was wrong with him? This was all his fault. And his back felt the intense pain.

"Maybe it's the bed," he'd said in the morning when somebody was ready to go again before they met the day. No way did he have it in him to give her his best in bed. Or maybe it was the thought, he knew he wasn't good enough for her. She deserved better. She deserved someone who could give her an amazing house, looking out on the beach, a yacht perhaps. Truly, she was a queen.

"What happened?" Delia looked crushed. She was blonde now. Tristan didn't mean to be superficial, but he liked that dark-haired girl who was his.

"Oh, it's me, it's just me," Tristan tried to make light of it with a weak smile. But he felt like he was in a flood of emotions. It was going to hit him hard. He knew she was just trying to make the last time the best he ever had, and it felt like she was pushing him off a cliff as if he'd have no idea what hit him.

But they went to all the local places. She showed him the wildlife preserve, the lake, and a golf course or two. It was tiring, and it was hard to keep smiling. But there were places to shop, which he hated. And then the pool in her apartment complex.

He was shy, all pale with his bird legs, while she was already tanned and the female everyone had their eye on. Yes, he might as well have come from Alaska instead of Nebraska. He heard it more than once. After a while, he just went with Alaska.

In the end, Delia said, "Maybe it's best if we-"

Tristan didn't know if he had heard the last part correctly. He knew he nodded. They hugged. Again, his lower back ached as if she'd stabbed him with a knife. Oh, he did his best to hold it together. But the whole plane trip home, he kept going over his should-haves and could-haves.

Why hadn't he brought her something she loved, like earrings? Or even a new ring. There was no fight in him, or so it seemed. Naturally, he didn't check for any messages. All Tristan wanted was to sleep in his own bed alone.