Everywhere.
It was even in the main-floor bathroom.
Between that, the faux wood paneling, and the purple bathtub and toilet, I felt like I was walking through a reject set of That ’70s Show. But the horrible interior worked to my advantage: nobody else wanted it.
Aside from the strange color choices and even stranger bathroom flooring, the house was well built and could be modernized quite easily. I put an offer in that day, and it was mine.
Opening the door to my house, I can’t help but admire what a transformation it has gone through. The past year has been a complete whirlwind. Between working all the time (sometimes double shifts to cover staff shortages) and renovating my house (often myself to save on costs), I haven’t had much time to do anything other than get through the day.
I stand alone in my house, lean against the front door, and survey the work that I should feel so proud of.
But I just feel empty.
And tired.
And lonely.
Like it’s all been a big waste of time.
—
It’s a gorgeous afternoon in June. Before I leave, I do a quick check of my outfit in the mirror by the front door. My long blond hair is up in a ballerina-type bun. I’m wearing a new, knee-length, mint green dress that is fitted at the waist and gently flares out.
I grab my purse and check that I’ve got everything.
Tickets? Check.
Wallet? Check.
Keys? Check.
Sanity? Hmm…
Oh God, what am I thinking? I hate meeting new people. I should just go to the concert by myself.
“Stop it,” I say aloud. “It’ll be fine.”
I find a spot to park by the zoo and follow the dusty river valley trail to Hawrelak Park. People are streaming toward the amphitheater, hoping to get good seats. Scents of the street vendors’ salty popcorn and sizzling hot dogs fill the air.
I walk toward the boathouse, where Brett and I arranged to meet. I’m ten minutes early. I crane my neck to see if he’s already there, but there are about thirty other people standing around the vicinity.
As I approach the boathouse, my cellphone buzzes.
It’s a text from Samira.
Have u met Brett yet?
I hit a quick reply:
Nope. Almost at our meeting place. How’s your night going? Anything sparkly on your finger yet?
Not yet. But there might be soon. We’re on our way to the Hotel MacDonald. We’re having supper, and he’s rented a room for the night.
Wow. The Fairmont Hotel MacDonald is one of the fanciest places in Edmonton. Famous people like Celine Dion and the Rolling Stones stay there.
You lucky duck. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t pop the question. At the very least, you’ll get a nice meal and a night of rambunctious sex. Keep in touch! And good luck!
You too, sweets : )
A few seconds later…
Rambunctious sex?
Giggling to myself, I return my phone to my bag and recall my previous (and only) conversation with Brett. Brett described himself as tall and blond and said he’d be wearing a white shirt and ball cap. Samira told me that he’s twenty-eight years old, and really cute.
Scanning the crowd around the boathouse, I notice that there are about ten other guys with light brown or dark blond hair wearing white shirts. And ball caps.
And most of the young women are wearing some shade of mint green.
Awesome.
I mentally kick myself for wearing something trendy. Maybe I should’ve come wearing a purple, faux fur coat? Or a gorilla costume? He’d have noticed that in a crowd.
I stand on the side of the boathouse with the best view of the amphitheater. I watch the band’s instruments and equipment being loaded onto the stage when I notice someone approach my right-hand side and lean against the wall.
He’s tall, young, blond, and wearing a white shirt and ball cap.
Here goes nothing.
“Hi there,” I say, smiling.
“Hello,” he replies.
“You must be Brett?”
“Umm, no…” he says, looking puzzled. He flashes a flirtatious grin.
“Blind date?”
“Yep.”
—
Twenty minutes pass, and my new “friend” is still trying to talk to me. I probably shouldn’t move away, because the crowd is starting to disperse and there are fewer people for Brett and me to narrow our choices down to.
On the other hand, I’m afraid that Brett will miss me, thinking that I’m some other girl out with her “boyfriend.” That, and I’m wondering how many good seats are left.
Damn.
Another ten minutes pass.
“Listen,” my new tagalong says, “looks like this guy isn’t coming. You should sit with me.”
I take a good look at him. Mystery man is pretty cute.
“I’m a nice guy,” he says. “And besides, it’d be better than sitting on your own.”
I bite my lip.
“Thanks for the offer, but I probably shouldn’t. He could be running late.”
“Can I have your phone number then? And give you mine? That way, you can call me if this clown doesn’t show.”
My stomach does a nervous flip. I haven’t given my phone number out in years. I’m not sure that I want to. But, I’d rather not be here alone.
“Okay.”
I wait for him to take out his cellphone.
“Umm, do you want to add me to your contacts list, then?”
He digs an ancient-looking phone out from his back pocket.
“Can’t. The contact list on this thing never works. Can you write it down for me?”
I scan the thinning crowd. No Brett.
“I guess so.”
I rummage around my bag, looking for a pen and paper, and find neither. All I have is a tube of lipstick and a receipt. It’ll have to do.
I do my best to make legible numbers, careful not to smear the lipstick. Just as I’m about to hand over my receipt, my phone buzzes.
Hey Sophie. This is Brett. Are you here?
Gah. I should’ve texted him. Why didn’t I think of that?
Yes, I’m standing by the boathouse on the side closest to the stage. Are you here?
I glance up seconds later and see another young man, clothed in a white shirt, walking over. His strides are long, confident, and graceful. The fabric surrounding his chest and biceps is slightly stretched, hinting at a muscular physique underneath.
He stops a couple paces away, and glances quizzically at my “friend.”
“Sophie?” he asks.
Damn, he really is quite good-looking. Handsome, even. He has the most striking blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
Relieved that I haven’t been stood up, I smile and offer my hand.
“Brett?”
We laugh, shake hands, and I nervously peek over at the guy by my side. He’s looking slightly miffed.
Brett clears his throat. “Is this a friend of yours?”
“Oh no,” I say, a bit too quickly. “I was just…”
I look at my hand. I’m still holding the receipt, with large pink numbers scrawled across one side.
“Nice to meet you,” I say to the other guy, and stuff the crumpled receipt into my bag. I turn my attention back to Brett. “Shall we find some seats?”
“Sounds good.”
“Sorry, it must look like I’m late,” Brett says.
“Aren’t you?”
“No, I was ten minutes early. There are a surprising amount of women today wearing green, though. Wasn’t sure where to start. Then I remembered I had your phone number.”
So he’s an early bird, like me.
“I know what you mean. I suppose we’re both wearing kind of generic outfits, eh?”
“Yeah, didn’t make it any easier to find each other.”
He pauses.
“I did notice you.”
“Oh?”
; “Yeah. But you were standing beside that guy for so long, I assumed you were a couple. So I kept on looking.”
I knew it! I knew this would happen.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I laugh, feeling mortified.
Brett laughs too. His eyes crinkle up when he smiles. My heart does a funny little flutter.
Thankfully, the place isn’t at full capacity, so it doesn’t take us long to find some decent seats. We settle into them, and I struggle to find a place to put my purse.
“I never know where to put my purse at places like this,” I say, mostly to myself. “The floor is dirty, someone could steal it…”
“Yeah, I have that problem all the time too.”
A teasing smile is twitching on the corner of his lips. He has the fullest, most beautiful lips.
Taking in his steel-toe work boots, rugged physique, and large calloused hands, I reply, “Of course you do. You look like the ‘man bag’ type.”
He laughs out loud.
Motioning over his shoulder, he says, “Gonna get a bite to eat. You want anything?”
“I’ll have a Coke and a hot dog, please,” I reply while reaching for my wallet.
“Oh, didn’t you hear?”
“What?” I ask, while digging through my wallet.
“I’ve been saving my allowance all week for this,” he says with a grin, and walks away.
Hmm…I’m not sure if I like this. If he pays, doesn’t that mean it’s a date? I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.
I look over my shoulder and watch him walk away. The muscles in his back subtly ripple through his T-shirt. Well-worn jeans hang casually off his hips, framing his cute bum.
God he’s hot.
He returns a few minutes later with food, just as the sound checks are finishing.
“Thanks, Brett. Though you really didn’t have to pay for mine.”
He casually waves my comment away. “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do, since I’m using your extra ticket.”
Well, when he puts it that way, it’s like he’s paying me back. Which I’m far more comfortable with. We’re still on “friends” territory.
“Well, thanks for joining me, especially on such short notice. I hope you like the band.”
“Sure looks like they’re popular. I had no idea there’d be this many people here.”
“They’re incredible. It’s like going to a real Stones concert.”
“You ever been? To see the Rolling Stones in person?”
“Once when I was a kid. My dad took me when they played at Commonwealth Stadium here in Edmonton.”
“That must’ve been amazing.”
“It was. I’ve loved their music ever since.”
At that moment, the lights around the open-air theater dim and the crowd goes nuts. People are whooping and hollering, the air swimming with excitement.
The band begins their set with “Start Me Up.” I sing along, and sneak a look at Brett. He’s singing along too, and knows every word.
So he really does like this music. Well, this is one of their more popular songs. I’ll see what he does when a more obscure one comes up.
When I say it feels like I’m seeing the Rolling Stones perform live, I’m not exaggerating. Their timing is perfect, and the lead singer sounds just like Mick Jagger. He struts like a peacock across the stage, riling up the crowd.
The playlist progresses through the more well-known songs at first. And then they get to one that I really like, but I’m not sure if Brett will know. I look over at him. He’s mouthing every single word, right along with me.
I smile brightly, and turn my attention back to the stage.
—
At long last, the concert comes to an end. We all shout out for an encore. The lead singer comes back on stage, and speaks into the microphone.
“You know guys, life can be disappointing. Sometimes you don’t get what you want…”
By now the crowd knows what he’s leading into, and it’s met with exuberant cheering. By all except me.
I glance over at Brett, singing along and having a great time. I’ll be happy once this song is over. It reminds me too much of what I’ve lost.
—
After the last song ends, the crowd starts dispersing. We start slowly walking away from the theater, stretching our legs.
“That was really good!” Brett says.
“Sam said you were a Stones fan, but I think she underestimated you,” I say.
“Yeah, they’re definitely one of my favorite bands. So, do you want to go for a quick coffee or something?”
“Oh. Well, I…”
“Where are you parked? I drove myself, so maybe I can meet up with you?”
“I’m parked by the valley zoo,” I reply.
He pauses.
“And you plan to walk all the way back there by yourself? In the dark?”
“I wouldn’t be alone. A lot of people parked there. It would take me about twenty, thirty minutes tops.”
“I’m walking you to your car.”
“That really isn’t necessary.”
“What kind of man would I be if I let a lady walk back to her car alone at night?”
I’m more tempted by the minute. Walking together to my car would be an opportunity to talk. Brett offers me his elbow. I hesitate, not knowing if I should take it.
He laughs. “Come on, before I throw you over my shoulder.”
Hmm…As fun as that sounds, being up close and personal with those arms and rippling back muscles, I decide that it might be a tad too personal at this point. So I take his elbow, and away we go.
We’ve almost reached the footbridge leading back to the river valley when my phone buzzes with an incoming text. It’s a picture of Samira’s left hand, and on her ring finger is, with absolute certainty, the largest diamond I have ever seen.
He whistles at the picture. “I take it things went well?”
“You knew Narayan was proposing tonight?”
“He’s been driving me crazy. It’s all he could talk about for the past month.”
“Hmm, and I thought it was only girls that got all squirrelly when it came to marriage and weddings.”
Brett smirks. “Apparently not.”
“I’d better text her back.”
That is one HUGE rock! You lucky duck. How did he propose?
Seconds later, she texts me back.
He had the chef write, “Will you marry me?” with chocolate sauce on my dessert plate. At first I thought the waiter was hitting on me. But then I looked up and saw that he was down on one knee beside my chair. How could I say no?
Brett and I laugh out loud, sharing a moment of happiness for our friends.
We continue walking on the paths leading back to my car. It’s still sort of light at night this time of year, but I can see the moon and a few stars starting to emerge.
“I was kind of nervous about tonight,” I confess.
“Oh yeah?”
“Well, I had no idea what you’d be like. It’s been a pleasant surprise.”
He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Me too.”
We smile shyly at each other.
“Narayan and Samira have been after me to meet you for a while, actually.”
“Really?”
Not knowing how to respond to that, I move on to safer territory.
“How long have you and Narayan been friends?” I ask.
“About six years. We met after I finished backpacking around Europe.”
I feel a slight twinge of regret. I thought I would have traveled more by now.
“That sounds great,” I say.
“It was. Went with a couple of my buddies after we were done with trade school. We didn’t have much money, but managed to see ten different countries. We stayed in hostels, worked here and there. How about you? Have you traveled much?” he asks.
“A little, but not as much as I’d have liked. My dad has a heart
condition, so we didn’t do long-distance travel when I was growing up. But we made up for it with camping trips. I had planned on traveling a bit after university, but well…things happened.”
He nods.
“After high school, Samira and I took a year off and traveled down the West Coast. We saw a lot of California. It was fun,” I say, smiling at the memories.
“So, you have a trade?” I say. “I thought you’d have a business degree or something, owning a company and all.”
“I’m a carpenter by trade. Narayan takes care of the business side, while I organize the crews. I used to do a lot of the hands-on work, but now I’m mostly a foreman.”
The night air is starting to cool off, and I regret not taking a light jacket with me. “Anyway, Narayan and I met through some mutual friends. We got to talking and found out we had some similar ideas for a construction company. The rest is history.” He briefly grins, as if remembering something funny.
“Sounds like you enjoy your job,” I offer.
“Very much. And you? Sammy tells me that she and you are both nurses?”
“Yes.”
“Did you meet at university or something?”
“No, we met in the first grade, when her family first emigrated here from India. She lived across the street from me, and we walked to school every day. Went to high school together, university together, got the same degrees. You’d think we’d be sick of each other by now”—Brett laughs at this—”but we’re not.”
I reflect for a moment. “Since I’m an only child, and she has five brothers, it feels like we’re sisters.”
“You got the same degrees? That’s unusual. How did that happen?”
I’m quiet for a minute longer than necessary. I glance over and see Brett looking at me expectantly. I decide to weigh my words carefully.
“Several reasons. Mostly, I just thought that it would be meaningful work.”
At least it’s not a complete departure from the real reason. He nods, but doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“Sam always wanted to be a nurse. When she was a little girl, she’d go around with her first-aid kit, putting bandages on top of people’s clothes and giving pretend needles.” I giggle at the memories.
“My car is just ahead,” I say, motioning up the hill. The walk back had flown by. Brett is so easy to talk to; I barely took in my surroundings.
I rub my arms, trying to warm them. “Hey, so it’s getting late. Maybe we can do coffee another time?”
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