“But…” Jenna was gone and now I have to figure out how to focus on work instead of the floral display that was once my cubicle. Not so fun.
Fortunately for me, Laura has yet to find a job and consequently has free time during the day. That meant lunch and a lot of catching up to do.
“So, what do you think? Should I call Ian back about the flowers or wait for him to call? It’s just so awkward.” I say picking the excess lettuce out of my veggie sandwich.
“What do you mean should you call him? The man sent you a bunch of flowers. Of course you should call him. I think the question you’re really asking is should you like him.” She points out to me with a narrowing eye.
“I don’t want to give him the wrong idea Laura. I like Jake, you know. He’s hot and is everything that I wasn’t expecting and more. All I get from Ian is torment. Who wants that in a guy?” Am I right?
“Dear child, must I point out the obvious? Okay, apparently it’s necessary. You enjoy torment. You enjoy a man who annoys you and interests you at the same time; a man who is intelligent but can be humble once in a while. Figure A. this card. You will grow bored with a man like Jake. Sure, he’s hot but do you two actually have something in common?” It seems I need to pitch Jake a little better.
“Laura, he went to college. He has a degree and everything so he can’t be that dumb. He just needs to work on conversational skills with women.” There that’s better, I think.
“If you believe that then you also believe all the jocks you partied with in college can now discuss the importance of intellectualism in today’s relationships. I may not have gone to college, but I went to lots of college parties.”
“Whatever. Jake deserves the chance for me to get to know him.” I contend.
“And Ian doesn’t?” She argues.
“Ian got his chance. It’s not going to work. We are oil and vinegar.”
“That’s oil and water.”
“Whatever!”
“Okay, listen, I’m not going to give you anymore advice. Well, okay this is the last of it. If you 110% know that you don’t have feelings for Ian, then thank him politely for the flowers and leave it at that. But, if there is one tiny voice in your heart that says Ian may be someone you could see yourself shopping for furniture at Pottery Barn with then I urge you to rethink your decision. Do you promise Natalie Everett? Do you?” Good gracious I feel like I’m about to spit in my hand and shake hands.
“Like the Sumatra bed and the cranberry velvety soft bedding?” I ask realizing that I’ve always truly wanted to have a man to share the experience with. Well, and I shamefully must admit, the income to help pay for it.
“Yes, Laura, I promise.” We didn’t spit in our hands and shake, but did end our lunch with a big hug and an agreement. Unfortunately, I was just as confused if not more now. I think life was easier when guys didn’t talk to me. Even worse, I now have a huge desire to go to Pottery Barn.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I know that we all complain incessantly about being stuck in rush hour traffic, but sometimes I don’t really mind it. It’s a way for me to think without the distraction of television or other people to talk to. It’s my quiet time with some music and my thoughts.
Traffic was especially difficult today. It was beginning to rain and although Portland is a city that is infamous for long bouts of rainfall, we seem to never know how to deal when driving in it. It’s kind of like when you see warm climates all of a sudden get a freak invasion of snow. People start panicking and driving into one another or leaving their cars on the side of the road. Ok, we don’t abandon our cars on the freeway at the first sight of raindrops but nevertheless, the drives home are always far more challenging.
I needed time to think. Ponder on what was happening in my life. Yes, I know it isn’t life altering but it’s taxing all the same. And for once, it’s drama that involves me. Not that I’m welcoming it but sometimes I grow tired from stressing about other people’s problems.
Although I feel some stress, right now, sitting in my car with the raindrops on my windshield driving very slowly over the Marquam Bridge listening to my favorite radio station, I feel content. I’m happy I live in such a beautiful city, rain and all. I have a nice warm car with excellent windshield wipers and for once, my gas light isn’t even on. Life is ok.
It’s funny how that all changes by a simple ring of a telephone and caller ID. It was Jake, presumably calling about my flowers. Although I knew I wasn’t ready to talk to him, it would be even harder for me to call him back because I hate calling guys. Picking up the call would be the wiser thing to do, no contest.
“Hi Natalie. I was just calling to see if you got your flowers. Oh and see how your day was.” It was so sweet how he tried so hard to say the right thing.
“It was such a nice surprise. They were really pretty. Thank you so much!” I reply with a smile.
“So what are you doing right now?” He asks in a cute boyish tone.
“I’m driving home. Don’t you just love how the trees by the zoo turn such a beautiful shade of brown and orange? I think fall is my favorite season here.” It really is. There are so many trees in Portland and although the leaves don’t stay on too long it’s just so pretty.
“Uh, yeah definitely. So, I know that we have plans for Friday, but I thought if you weren’t busy you would want to have dinner tonight?”
“Tonight? Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I don’t have any plans but…” I hesitate.
“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We could just go somewhere casual.”
“You know, I have absolutely no idea what I was going to have for dinner anyway except that it was going to be alone. Sure. Do you want to meet somewhere around 7?” That gives me enough time to go home and prepare myself to look as though I hadn’t really taken the time at all.
“Is Chili’s too casual?”
“No, that’s fine with me. I’ll see you there at 7.” Wow, I have a date with Jake. It’s somewhat unexpected but perhaps necessary. It seems that I need to prove to my friends that Jake actually is the guy for me.
Since traffic was beastly, I didn’t get home until after 6. So, that gives me about 45 minutes to get ready. No big deal. I run my hair through the straightening iron since the humidity made it wavy again. Yes, I know wavy is popular again but my hair doesn’t look chic wavy. When not properly styled, I look like some guy from a seventies rock band; or bless them, one of the Bee Gees. After seeing to my coif, I put on a pair of jeans, a three quarter sleeve brown cowl neck sweater and my tan Uggs. Maybe not the sexy option but my feet need a break from heels once in a while. After a touch up of make- up and lip gloss, I am good to go.
I don’t really like meeting people in public places. I hate that awkward moment when you walk in, not knowing if they are there yet, doing the quick scan of the room. And then, what if they see you and you don’t see them? You look like a dork because you don’t see them. I know I worry too much. As it turned out, Jake arrived at the same time that I did.
“Have you been here long?” He asked, brushing the rain off his Columbia jacket.
“No I just got here too. Should we sit in the bar or the restaurant?”
“Let’s sit in the bar. The game is on in there.” He says as I follow him into the testosterone filled bar. He was correct; the game was on, at every television in sight, actually.
“So, what did you do this weekend?” I ask trying to start small talk.
“What? Oh, I went out with the guys on Saturday. I drank too much so I lounged around on Sunday. Sunday is kind of my time. I don’t talk to people. I just do whatever I want to. I call it ‘Jake’s Day.’ It’s important, don’t you think?” He asks while sipping his beer.
“You are so right! I love Sunday’s. I have a morning thing that I do. I always get up and…”
“Yes! Touchdown! Woo! Oh sorry, what did you say?” He asks again, taking another sip of beer.
“Oh, I was saying that I apprec
iate my own time on Sunday’s too. I like to get up and watch This Week with George Stephanopoulos.” I say proudly.
“Who’s that? Oh, is that the guy from Sesame Street?” He asks bewildered.
“No Jake, that’s Mr. Snuffleupagus. Who, depending on how you spell his name, could also be Greek. That was a great show though huh.” For a moment I reminisced to myself on the enjoyment I got from watching Sesame Street. Such as learning to count to ten in Spanish from Maria and how everyone should be accepted, even if they are green and grumpy and live in a trash can.
“What was a great show?” Jake asks me blankly.
“Well, Sesame Street.” I respond feeling like I am in an Abbot and Costello routine.
“I didn’t watch that show much. I always thought Bert and Ernie were homos.”
“At the age of 4, you were debating Bert and Ernie’s sexual orientation?”
“I liked Mr. Roger’s though.” He added.
“I wasn’t a big fan of that one. The ‘meow-meow’ kitty really got on my nerves but it was fun when he’d go out in the neighborhood and stuff.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. So, what sports did you play in school?” He asks, obviously changing the subject, which I suppose is a good idea. Arguing over which PBS kids show was better is probably not the finest of date conversations.
“I played volleyball and basketball, but I stopped once I got older. I’m not that great with athletics.” Of course, this is an understatement. I scored a basket for the wrong team if that gives you any idea.
“Oh, so were you a dork in school?” He laughs while taking a bite of fries.
“No I was not a dork in school! Just because I wasn’t the finest athlete doesn’t mean I was a dork. Did you play sports Mr. All American?” I reply indignantly.
“Okay, calm down.” He responds laughing. “I played football in high school then I got a scholarship to play in college. I hurt my knee in my sophomore year though and had to quit.”
“Oh, Jake, that sucks. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t like I was going to get drafted or anything. Anyway, it just gave me more time to party!”
After numerous ‘woos’ and hollers I began to feel like my date was a spectator sport, me being the spectator. I understood Mya’s constant frustration with Kyle on weekends, Monday nights, and any other night a game is on. How can we compete with this?
“You know, Jake, I’m getting kind of tired. I think I might call it a night. Is that alright?” It was true; I don’t normally go out during the week. By ten I’m usually in bed with the TV on its timer.
“Oh, I was going to call my buddy to see if he wanted to come down and meet up with us. This guy I work with. He really needs to lighten up sometimes. Maybe another night though eh?” To be truthful, I don’t know if I could handle another guy if he’s anything like Jake.
“Well, maybe another time. Do you want to check with me later on in the week about Friday?” I am truly hoping that the beer and football atmosphere was the demise of our conversation and not the company. Maybe things will be better if we are in a more formal dining area.
“Yeah, I’ll give you a call. I’m glad you came out Natalie. I like spending time with you.” He had to say that, didn’t he? When I was hearing Laura’s voice echo in my head, he had to say something so sweet and sincere. He had to look at me with those big brown eyes and give me the tenderest hug that I’ve ever had. Should I be concerned that he has yet to kiss me??
“I’m glad I came out too.” And so, I got in my car and smiled the whole way home.
Chapter Forty
Ian didn’t see Jake for a couple days because he had to go off site for a conference and some meetings. He was curious to know what Natalie’s reaction was to the flowers. In fact, it was driving him mad. Had he lost his chance? Was Jake the guy for her after all?
As much as Ian liked Jake, he could not see him with Natalie. They just didn’t seem compatible. If they got together, he couldn’t see them lasting. Maybe that’s when he could step in and take his chance. Oh, yes that’s great and then he could get Jake’s seconds. It was never a great idea for a guy to start dating his friend’s ex. Either way he looked at it, the situation was complicated and grim.
On his way home from work, Ian decided to stop and get a pizza for dinner. Maggie and her best friend Becky Johnson were doing homework at the house and he didn’t feel like displaying a culinary disaster to company. When Ian walked into Mama’s, he remembered the last time he was there. It was when Natalie was introduced to him. Mr. B was there and greeted him as though he had known him for years.
“Ah Ian! How’s the White House?” Mr. B asks with a laugh.
“My friends tell me it’s as crazy as ever! How’s it going for you and Mrs. B?”
“Never better, in fact it will be our 50th Anniversary in just a few weeks. You should come, Ian. We’re having a party here at 9:00 after we close.” It was odd for Ian to feel so close to a group of people that he barely knew. The Bonofiglio’s just had something about them that was warm and welcoming.
“Are you sure? Won’t it be family?” Ian asked apprehensively.
“Ian, haven’t you learned? Our customers are our family. We wouldn’t be where we are if it was not for you.” Mr. B replied warmly.
“Our Natalie will be coming Ian.” Mrs. B appears from the kitchen with her floured apron and mischievous smile.
“What, well, that doesn’t matter to me… I mean, that’s nice…” Ian blushed and stuttered. How did they know??
“That’s alright Ian. We are aware of things that others would not notice. You should come.” Mrs. B replies softly while patting his hand.
“We saw the way you looked at her Ian.” Mr. B adds.
“And the way she looked at you.” Mrs. B smiles.
“Well, I don’t know if anything is going to happen. She has met someone else. I think I need to thrown in the towel.” Ian says feeling defeated.
“Oh, Ian, it’s never time to throw in the towel. Some things take time. Don’t give up. You think I would be with Mrs. B if I’d given up?” He says while filling up the parmesan containers.
“She was with Antonio Angiotti but when I moved to the neighborhood, she was the first girl I laid eyes on and I’ve never seen another since.” Mr. B hands Ian his pizza with his words of wisdom.
“I will keep that in mind Mr. B. I better get this home. There are 2 teenage girls that are probably chewing on their knuckles right now.”
Ian thought about what the Bonofiglios said as he drove home. Maybe it wasn’t over after all. They had obviously seen Ian’s feelings and were correct, so were they right about Natalie as well? Things had changed since then though so it was hard to say. All he knew was if he didn’t get in the house with the pizza soon, Maggie was going to burn out his cell phone. She had called five times in the past hour, presumably to find out the status of dinner.
“Ian, where have you been? We’re starvin marvin!” Maggie runs up to Ian and grabs the pizza box, broken arm and all.
“Hi Becky nice to see you. Maggie I had some things to take care of. It’s not like you didn’t have food in the cupboards.” Ian follows Maggie into the kitchen to help set up.
“Why does Becky Johnson just giggle at me whenever she sees me now?” Ian asks as he pours the soda.
“Oh, she has a crush on you.” Maggie whispers.
“Wonderful, just another reason for Sacha Johnson to dislike me. She already thinks I’m an alcoholic and unfit caregiver.” Ian replies.
“Oh don’t stress Ian. Last week it was our science teacher. Becky is just going through an older man thing right now. I think it’s because her father is never home.” Maggie analyzes.
“Is that what Dr. Phil told you? Jesus Maggie, sometimes you worry me. However you might be right.” Ian knew that he would need to start aggressively putting more college savings away for Maggie. There was money from their parents’ death, but at this rate, she was going to be headed for Iv
y League.
“So anyway Ian, I’m dying to know. When are you and Natalie going out again?” Maggie asks out of the blue.
“I have no idea because I haven’t talked to her. Why do you keep asking me about her Maggie?” This was the second night in a row that Maggie had taken an extreme interest in his love life.
“She still hasn’t called you?!” Maggie exclaims in shock and utter horror.
“Alright Maggie what is going on? Why are you so worried about Natalie calling me lately?” Ian asks suspiciously.
“Well it’s not like we didn’t buy $50 worth of flowers for her! She should at least call and thank you! I don’t get it. Jenna said she got them.” Maggie begins to mumble to herself.
Disillusion Meets Delight Page 15