My heart drops into my stomach. Daniel? No, Daniel, the bug killer can’t possibly be a golf pro at Windy Hill. He just plays there and it’s a common name.
“What’s the matter, Sweetie?”
“Nothing. That sounds great.”
We continue to talk about the conference and all the things I can do there, like look at cacti and scorch my skin. There isn’t enough sunscreen in the world to protect this blond girl from the Arizona sun in June! I want to ask about volunteering, but I don’t think Nathan has time to help me with that. Plus I can just go to the hospital’s website and find the name of the contact person myself. No need to pressure him about it. It’s not like I need a doctor’s endorsement to be accepted as a volunteer.
Nathan looks drained as we get ready to leave. He pays the check and we start walking to the car. I catch Rick’s eye as I see him corralling his brood to leave as well. He smiles and gives me a half wave, which I return as Nathan is distracted by the mints at the front door. Rick was a nice guy. I hope he meets a good woman to help him with those kids.
As we leave the restaurant, I begin, “Nathan, I hope we can start to spend more time together. Is there anything I can do to help you free up more time? Maybe I could help with the renovation, like call people or supervise, or something that would—?”
We are walking to our cars and he wraps me up in a big hug. “Little Claire, I’m sorry. I know we need to make more time for each other. Hopefully the renovations on my house will be done soon and we can spend more time there. I enjoy relaxing at home too, especially with you.”
I open my mouth to say that my home is five minutes away, but I don’t. I have already made myself look pathetic enough, and Dixie is still a problem we haven’t dealt with. I can see he is in no mood to be jumped on by a frantic dog. Maybe an out of town trip is precisely what we need. Screw the burned skin, I wish the conference was next week.
He kisses me good night, and again I feel ready to go further, but I’m the woman, and I don’t want to be the aggressor. I know that sounds like antiquated thinking, but I believe the man should lead the relationship. I’ve never had to do it and I don’t know how. Nathan has a plan and I need to trust that. I have never been treated like a lady and it’s foreign to me. This is probably how my father courted my mother in the seventies. On second thought, more like my grandparents in the forties, but it’s sweet and charming. And exasperating.
Just before he gets to his car on the other side of the lot, he yells out. “Sweetie, I will call you tomorrow if I can get away from my work dinner. It should be an early night. Maybe we can get together then. Drive safely and sleep well.” He disappears into his car.
I wish I knew a doctor’s wife or girlfriend to compare notes. Perhaps this is just the life they lead. Obviously, if we lived together I would see him more. I need my own hobbies and interests. The volunteering would be good. I have always been one of those women who has no hobbies. When I was married to Ron, I just did his stuff with him, like tagging along on fishing trips and watching sports. We did go to quite a few games, which was fun. Maybe Nathan would like to go to a baseball game, and have a Nathan’s hot dog. Haha…That really doesn’t qualify as a hobby for me, though. A hobby. For me. I need to ponder that.
I wish I could short circuit the electric currents I feel in my body—damn it. You would think baseball and fishing would be enough of a turn off to extinguish the flames, or any thought of Ron. I didn’t think I would become sexually frustrated in a relationship, but it’s so new! Patience is a virtue I don’t have. I hate patience and virtue—they both suck! The sucking twins of celibacy. What the hell do nuns do?
As I pull into my cul-de-sac, I’m tired. Worn down from thinking and over analyzing. Brandon’s front porch is lit up and he is perched on one of his rockers. He is playing the guitar, and what is that around his shoulders? I can’t quite make it out. I squint and realize it’s the afghan he offered me after the party. My mother sent this for my birthday. It’s good for a cold little chick.
I smile and get out of the car. Walking slowly to the mailbox, I strain to make out the song Brandon is playing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I should just march right through my front door and pretend I don’t notice anything, but I’m drawn to the quiet strumming and the soft vocals. It can’t hurt to go over and say hi. It isn’t too late and I have nowhere to be tomorrow morning. Brandon knows I’m dating someone and we’re just friends—it isn’t like I’m flirting or doing anything wrong.
As I walk across the cul-de-sac I see him look up and smile at me. He stops singing and puts down the guitar.
“No, don’t stop. I was enjoying the free concert.” I walk up the steps and plop down on the other porch rocker. It feels good to relax—this was a weird night.
“Were you out on a date with the doctor?” he says playfully.
“Yes, I was out with Nathan. He had an early tee time so he had to get home, and the golf course is all the way on the other side of town.”
“Yeah, I tried golfing once. With my dad and my uncle. By the end of the day I was throwing the ball towards the green. I don’t have the patience and I guess that isn’t where my physical abilities lie.”
He stares at me and I can feel myself blushing.
“I mean the guitar playing, of course. I can also play the piano, fool around on the drums a bit. What did you think I meant, Claire?” He smirks and continues. “So what would you like to hear, since I know you came over for my musical abilities and not the comedy?” He picks up the guitar and peers at me.
“You pick. I don’t know what you know.”
He twists his mouth in a puzzled expression. After a moment he nods his head and says, “I know just the thing to get you ready for bed.” He laughs again. “I mean sleep.”
I only allow myself to display a mildly amused grin, and settle back in the chair. That stubble on his face isn’t the least bit distracting—I think he’s growing a beard now. Wordlessly, he hands me the afghan and I pull it over me as if I am a little girl getting ready for her lullaby.
“This is an old one. Before our time, but I think it’s fitting.”
As I close my eyes I hear the first few bars of “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton. It is before our time. Even mine. I would say this came out around the time I was born. When Jackie and I were little, my parents used to play music after we went to bed. A few times I caught them dancing in the living room when they thought the kids were safely tucked away. They liked this song. My mother has blond hair, too.
Brandon is telling the story of a woman getting ready for a night out, just as I did earlier this evening. Only I didn’t have anyone there to tell me I looked wonderful. Rick from the restaurant might have told me, if I had been alone. Did Nathan say I looked nice? I can’t recall that detail, but I could describe Abby’s skirt and panda perfectly.
When Brandon reaches the part about her long blond hair, he looks up at me and fixes me with a soft gaze. His voice makes me shudder. Do I have goose bumps? This lullaby is not having a sleepy affect at all. When he gets to the line where Eric Clapton says he loves her I shut my eyes tight. Maybe I should have followed my first instinct and gone home. It’s just a song. Just a song some guy wrote for a woman long ago when I was a fetus. Nothing to do with the people on this porch.
Brandon finishes and I open my eyes. I’m glad it’s dark. I turn and wipe my eyes quickly, and put on a forced smile. “That was beautiful. That’s the first time I’ve heard you do something that quiet.”
“Yeah, the head banging stuff gets us the gigs and the fans, and pumps my adrenaline, but I do like the classics. Plus, I had some inspiration tonight.” I ignore that comment as he puts down the guitar and gestures towards his beer. “Want one?”
“No, thanks. I had wine. I’ll get a headache, and I don’t drink beer. Actually, do you have any hard ciders left?” What the hell. My nerves are shot. Plus, I had some inspiration tonight.
“I m
ight. Let me check.” He carries a couple of empty beer bottles in the house and comes back a few seconds later with two hard ciders. He pops off the cap and hands one to me.
“It’s a little cold out to be drinking this, but you do have Mom’s afghan.” He smiles and leans back, gently rocking. “So how did you get into the heavier music? Did you always like it?”
“Not really. I was the typical pop music girl in my youth. My sister had a boyfriend a few years back who had played in a metal band, and he introduced us to all the newer stuff. I love it, but I can’t ever find anyone else who does. I missed seeing Shinedown the other day.” That sounded like whining and I hope he doesn’t think I was baiting him. “I was really impressed at your party that you can do some of their stuff. That guy is a phenomenal singer.”
“Thanks, but I can barely touch his vocals—they were great the other day, by the way. I wish I had known you wanted to go. I know what you’re saying, though. A lot of people our age are already giving up on the heavy stuff.” He swigs his cider.
“We aren’t the same age.” I am not telling him about Justin asking me to go because that will lead to another line of questioning about Nathan and why he didn’t want to go, and how many guys I’m dating.
He rolls his eyes. “That’s right. You’re so old. I should get a shawl for you to wear over your arthritic shoulders. Would you like to hear some Frank Sinatra? How about Elvis?” He studies my mock grimace and adds, “They are both actually cool, by the way.” He pauses and adds, “Right, Granny Claire?”
I shake my head and sigh. “I actually wanted to go to the theater tonight but it was sold out. There’s a new play at the Lonsdale downtown I wanted to see. Have you been there?”
“Yeah, Bianca’s friend Katie works in stage production there. It’s a cool place. I’ve been a few times. Is it sold out tomorrow? I could see if Katie could get you guys some tickets.”
“No, Nathan can’t go tomorrow. He has a dinner with some colleagues.”
“That sucks. He’s a busy guy, huh?” An awkward silence follows that question. Brandon clears his throat. “The band has a gig tomorrow at O’Malley’s. You could dance with the girls on stage and make me look popular.” He flashes me his best sparkling smile.
“I don’t know, Brandon. I won’t know anyone.”
“You do know people. From the party. You can hang out with the other wives and girlfriends.” He catches himself and says, “I mean you’re not a wife or girlfriend, but you seemed to get along with the other women at the party.” He fiddles with the cap from his cider and takes another drink.
“I did like Bianca and her friends, and I would like to meet Katie.” I exhale deeply. “I think I’ll go.” I stand up and put down my empty bottle. “That was good, thanks.” I jokingly lay the afghan across Brandon’s legs. “All tucked in—sorry I can’t sing any lullabies.”
“Good night, Claire.” I feel his eyes on my back as I descend the porch steps.
I swing around and point my finger at him. “But I am not dancing on any stages.”
As I turn around and start walking back to my house Brandon yells out, “Yeah, we’ll see. They have a lot of hard cider on hand there.”
I glance back one last time, shaking my head and grinning, before closing my door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Friday Night Claire has really gotten Saturday Night Claire into a pickle. Why do I do these things? I can say no. That’s allowed. Jeez. I thought about calling Rebecca or Jane to talk me off the ledge but I don’t need to hear any judgments or advice. I need to have some damn fun, and I’ll be hanging out with the girls. Brandon will be on stage, and we’re just friends. He just likes to tease and flirt.
Besides, Nathan texted this morning and I told him I might go see my friend’s band. He told me to have a great time, but he may get done with his dinner early, and maybe he can meet me at the show or he’ll come to my house. I’m still going to go, but I’m excited that he’s making more time for us.
After many stressful hours of changing outfits and agonizing over shoe choice, I arrive at O’Malley’s. It’s an upscale Irish pub with lots of wood and fun Irish posters and sayings all over the walls. The food is good, too, and they have a nice outdoor patio and courtyard area in the back. The bar area is set up for the band, with some of the high top tables removed to create a pseudo dance floor. I know there isn’t going to be any actual “dancing” with this type of music, but I still need to be prepared to stand all night, unless I can prop myself up against a bar stool during the band breaks.
Speaking of standing all night, I have yet again sacrificed comfort for fashion. This is going to be a young crowd, and I am not going to be seen in even semi-frumpy footwear. My sequined spike slides are not the least bit comfortable, but they are sparkly and they match my gold halter top perfectly. The light sweater material has metallic beading weaved through it and my jeans have just a touch of bling on the pockets. My huge gold hoop earrings round out the outfit. I just hope my toes can handle the workout of trying to keep these shoes attached to my feet all night.
Max and Bianca spot me right away and come over to say hello. Max buys me a drink (something fruity and blue), and I scan the room for anyone else I may know. We’re having a great conversation about the band, and I love watching Max and Bianca tease each other. They introduce me to Katie, who is busy waiting on tables, but we exchange numbers to chat more about the Lonsdale Theater. Max hangs around and buys me another drink until he needs to join the band, and before I know it I am standing there with Bianca on drink number three. I don’t know what’s in this stuff, but it’s potent.
“He really is a nice guy. What happened with you two?” I sip my drink and twirl my straw in the blue liquid. It’s close to the color of Brandon’s eyes. I don’t see him anywhere.
“We break up and get back together all the time. We’re back on right now. He can be a moody asshole, but that’s all musicians. Don’t you find Brandon to be that way?” Bianca is slurping down her hard cider.
“No, I think Brandon is pretty nice all the time, but we’re not dating. He’s cute, but he’s not in my league. I’m too old for him.” She’s had more to drink than me, but somehow she is steadier on her feet. I look down and see she is wearing flat biker boots. No wonder she seems so tiny tonight.
“No way! He’s obviously crazy about you. Is he not your type or something?” She looks past me but then regains her focus. Her eyes are rolling around a bit.
“Really, he isn’t. I prefer brown eyes, and really a much bigger man.” I break out in a fit of giggles.
Bianca almost snorts her drink through her nose when I do my imitation of a big man by pulling back my shoulders, sticking out my chest and pretending to flex the non-existent muscles in my spindly little arms.
“You kill me. So, as big as Max? He has a brother, you know.” She can’t stop laughing.
I am doubled over and squeezing my legs together so I don’t pee in my pants.
“No, Max would crush the life out of me. You must spend more time riding him than you do his motorcycle.” Now we’re screaming in hysteria. Everything is hilarious.
Bianca is wiping away some of her smeared black eyeliner. “Yeah, one time he was drunk and tried to get on top of me. That was touch and go. If he passes out, you need a crane to haul him off.” More cracking up, then she pauses and takes a deep breath. “You are too funny. So seriously, why not Brandon?”
I stop laughing and reply, “Actually, I met someone else. A tall, handsome doctor, and besides—who wants a man you can beat up?” I don’t really think I can beat Brandon up, but it sounds so funny right now.
We both start laughing again and Katie comes by to ask us if we want more drinks, and of course we accept in our idiotic state. Just as Katie walks away and I finally compose myself, I turn around and see Brandon sitting on the bar stool behind me. He’s talking to another girl. How long he has been there? Did he hear me? It’s loud in here—he couldn’
t have…Bianca would have said something if he was right behind me. Wouldn’t she?
“Can you hold my drink, Claire? I have to pee so badly!” I take Bianca’s bottle and she staggers off to the ladies’ room, which some genius put downstairs. In an Irish pub? Stairs to the bathroom? They must have at least one head injury per night with that set up.
I feel conspicuous standing here alone with two drinks in my hand. Brandon’s conversation partner walks away and he turns to me.
“So you made it? Having a couple of drinks?” He gestures to my hands.
“This one is Bianca’s.” I hiccup and sway a little.
Brandon looks down at my feet. “Yeah, I saw you talking to her. Where’s the big doctor?”
“Nathan couldn’t come. I’m excited to see you guys play, though.” I put a huge smile on my face, and toss my head slightly from side to side, to push the hair out of my face. I wish Bianca would come back for her drink and free up a hand.
“We’re on in a few minutes. Be careful with those drinks, Claire. You can’t hold your alcohol like Bianca.” He throws some cash down on the bar and smirks at me.
“I know I’m out of control when I drink too much, but so is she!” I laugh and hiccup again. “Hey Brandon, have fun, good luck…or...” I have no idea what I’m saying.
He shakes his head slightly, and opens his mouth to respond, when a guy appears to grab him for a sound check.
Did he hear us? Why do people buy me drinks? I need to duct tape my mouth shut. He probably just referred to Nathan as big because I told him that he was, and maybe he has a short man complex. Shit, where’s Bianca. I need to ask her if she saw him, and how long he was sitting there.
She returns from the bathroom and grabs her drink. I lean in to ask her and she shouts that she can’t hear me. Unfortunately, the band has now started playing and she grabs my hand, pulling me up to the front of the stage. I’ll have to remember to ask her later.
The band is awesome, the sound is phenomenal, and Brandon’s voice is pitch perfect on every song. The group is screaming and singing along, and I am caught up in the music and the emotion of the crowd. It’s only at the first band break that I remember what happened earlier.
There Are No Men Page 27