She Became My Water

by Amy DeMeritt

  That’s another wonderfully appealing characteristic of a woman like Bailey, she’ll always surprise me. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and my mind is an open book, so I don’t feel like I ever really have that surprise factor. What I say or do may be jarring for some because it may be in such high contrast to what they would do or say, but people are never really surprised that I would actually say or do those things.

  I’m even more excited about dinner tonight because she will be in a fantastic mood. She had texted me in the late afternoon to let me know how her meeting with her editor went. He loved the piece she wrote and hated the piece the journalist wrote. Not only is he publishing the piece she wrote, but he wants her to write another article for next month’s edition. If he likes next month’s article, then he may promote her to journalist from copyeditor. So, tonight isn’t just about a date, it’s also about celebrating.

  My original thought for tonight was a small quant Italian bistro that makes an amazing braciole, but after finding out her good news, I decided on something with a bit more flare and extravagance. I’m taking her to a Brazilian steakhouse. The food is amazing, and the atmosphere is intimate enough that we can have a private conversation without interruptions from other noisy patrons, but still has a nice fun aspect.

  I don’t get nervous easily, but when I’m first starting something new with a woman, those pesky nerves decide to let me know they do exist and that I can’t hide from them all the time. And the rare occasion that I do get nervous, I become paranoid. I start to think about all the things about me that she isn’t going to like or did she only say yes because I made the situation awkward and she didn’t know what else to say – my mind is a storm of sudden insecurities and it’s extremely annoying.

  I never dress too flashy for a first date. My personality is flashy enough without the wardrobe to match. I’m wearing a pair of relaxed fit black pants, a sage green slinky material tee shirt cut blouse, and black sandals. Its casual enough that if she bails, I can still go to a pub to meet up with friends for drinks, but it’s also elegant enough to be appropriate for my restaurant pick.

  Bailey lives about six blocks from me. I’m a little surprised that we haven’t bumped into each other sooner with as close as we live to each other. We live in the Northern District of town, which is considered the “nice” part of the city. It’s kind of like our own little suburbs within the city. There are fewer businesses, more homes with yards, and no schools for a mile in all directions. You can easily walk around the Northern District without fearing for your person or possessions, unlike the majority of the rest of the city. I could have just walked to her place, but the restaurant is about three miles south of us, closer to the heart of the city, so we’ll need to drive.

  She lives in a nice Victorian style brick house that’s been converted into four apartments. The house has one of those castle like towers on the left side with a slightly rounded jutting curve to the right side where the front door is. The house makes me think of my mom reading me fairytales while I sit on her lap as a child.

  There’s an intercom box at the front door so I press the button for her unit and wait. My nerves kick into overdrive as I stand here waiting. No answer. It’s been a couple minutes now. I look around me nervously and then press the button again. I pull my phone out and check the time we agreed for me to pick her up. I’m only five minutes early. I wait a few more minutes and then decide to text her that I’m here. Maybe she’s in the bathroom getting ready and can’t hear me buzzing. Minute after minute passes with no reply and no magical click of the electronic lock to buzz me inside.

  I sit down on the step and wait. I don’t know what to do. I really thought she liked me and wanted to go out tonight. Maybe something happened to her. Oh god, I hope not. After a while, I check my phone again and still no reply. It’s been about twenty minutes since I got here. I try buzzing her unit one more time, wait a few minutes, and since I don’t get any reply, I start slowly walking back down the sidewalk to my car.

  My heart sinks and I feel like someone has poured vinegar in my belly as I take the walk of shame back to my car after being stood up. I’ve been here before, but this time hurts worse than the others. I really like Bailey. This is such a depressing outcome.

  Just as I open my car door and I’m about to slide in, I hear my name being screamed in an almost frantic breathless way. I look behind me and see Bailey running over from a car almost a full block away. I just stand here and wait. Seeing her run towards me is slightly relieving, but the embarrassment and disappointment are still heavy in my chest.

  When she reaches me, she grabs my arm, and between almost gasping breaths, she says, “Piper, please don’t leave. I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a meeting run late and my phone died so I couldn’t text you. I couldn’t remember your full number to try calling you from my desk phone. No matter what combination I tried, I kept getting a Chinese restaurant or a cranky old lady.”

  I don’t say anything right away because I’m frozen with her soft hand on my arm and her body so close to mine. She grabs my other arm and gently squeezes my arms. “Piper, I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to flake on you. I’m pretty sure I broke about twenty traffic laws trying to get here sooner.” I smile and nod my head once. “Ok, are you still up for dinner?”

  “Of course. Please come inside. I just want to change really quick and then we can go.”

  She lets go of my arms and takes a hesitant step in the direction of her place, as if waiting to see if I’ll follow and worried I’ll quickly get in my car and drive off the instant she turns her back on me. I quickly close my car door, lock it, and start following her. She smiles and fully turns with me in step just behind her.

  When we get inside, Bailey immediately plugs her cell phone in to charge and ushers me into her living room to wait while she gets ready. I’m surprised by her, yet again. Her décor is not at all what I expected. I think I expected something more “shabby chic” or “Martha Stewart”, but it’s actually more of “nature meets gastro pub”. I love it.

  The couch I’m sitting on is probably the most comfortable worn leather sofa I’ve ever sat on. It’s so soft to the touch that it feels almost like the soft skin of a woman’s back. I don’t know why, but a woman’s back always feels like the softest and smoothest part of her body.

  Her coffee table is a four-foot by one-foot piece of a tree trunk that was cut in half length wise, and the still rounded side of the trunk hangs towards the floor. It’s supported by metal pipes that have been painted black. The trunk is stained a deep walnut color and is gorgeous. Her end tables are the same style. Her entertainment center is similarly made of the metal pipes and natural wood elements. It has a couple draws and a cabinet, each of which has different small antique style knobs that are also black.

  On one wall is a large clock that’s made from a slightly misshapen rounded slab of a tree trunk with thousands of bands in its grain. Its hour and minute hands are sharply pointed arrows with circles on their back ends. Her other wall has propped against it what appears to be an old wooden dungeon door with cast iron hinges. There are black and white photographs scattered in various non-uniform arrangements and a couple vases with twig like branches in them.

  She has a black bookshelf with diamond cubes so her books, movies, and CD’s are all stacked in each cubby at forty-five-degree upward angels. I resist the urge to go look at the shelf and scan the titles.

  When Bailey comes out, I feel my stomach flip with joy. She’s wearing a pair of black pants similar to mine, but her top is a light blue satin like material tank top cut blouse that shows off her feminine arms and shoulders. I swallow hard as my mouth starts salivating in desire. She’s so beautiful.

  She smiles and slightly bites her bottom lip as a small tinge of blush creeps across her high cheekbones. I smile and stand up. “You look very nice.”

  “Thank you. So do you. I’m sorry I didn’t say so outside.” I shake my head and take a couple
steps closer to her. “No worries. Are you ready?”

  She nods her head and turns to walk down the hall to her front door. I notice her walk right past her charging cell phone sitting on the entranceway table. “Uh, Bailey. You forgot your phone. She looks over her shoulder as she opens the door and gives me a small smile. “I don’t need it.” I smile like a cheesy fool and exit through the door she’s holding open for me.

  One of the worst things about cell phones is that too many people don’t know how to set them aside and just be present with the person they are with at the moment. It’s so frustrating sometimes trying to have a conversation with someone while they’re scanning social media, or having a dozen conversations with other people through text. It’s hard to know if that person is actually paying attention to you or is wishing they were somewhere else.

  When we get in my car, I get a whiff of her perfume and I’m unable to stop the involuntary sound that escapes my lips from the pleasure of the scent. She looks at me with a small grin and I laugh a little.

  “Sorry, you smell really good.” She rewards me with a beautiful pearly white grin. “Thank you.”

  While we drive to the restaurant, she tells me about the meeting she had that almost caused her stand me up. The magazine had to write up a freelance contract with her in order to buy the articles she writes for them. Since she’s an actual employee and the journalists are considered contractors, they have to pay her differently for the articles than how they pay her for her copyeditor duties.

  “I hope they’re paying you a top rate for that piece you wrote.” She smiles and nods her head. “Oh, they are. My editor loved the piece so much that he’s making it the top cover feature article.”

  “Wow! Bailey, that’s fantastic. I’m so happy for you.”

  “It’s all so surreal. I’ve been wanting to write for years, but never really knew how to go about trying to get a writing assignment. Thanks for the push today.”

  “I really didn’t do anything. You’re the one with the brilliance and you’re the one that had the guts to actually challenge, not just your editor, but yourself as well.”

  “Remember earlier when you told me not to let someone else have credit for my voice?” I nod my head. “Well, let me give credit where credit is due, please. You did help me to have the drive to actually write that article today.” I smile and look over at her. She has her arms folded in a defiant way, but is grinning in a flirty way. I let out a small happy laugh and nod my head. “Ok, credit accepted.”

  When we get to the restaurant, Bailey smiles big and her excitement for my restaurant selection is clearly evident before she even says anything. “Awesome. I’ve been wanting to come here, but haven’t had the chance.”

  “Well, I’m glad I picked this place then.”

  We’re seated within view of the giant rotisseries that are loaded with slow roasting skewers of chicken, pork, beef, and lamb. Bailey smiles big as she looks around and takes in the whole restaurant. I just watch her with a small happy grin on my face. I really think I could fall in love with this woman.

  When she looks at me, she smiles even wider. “So, is this where you bring all of your dates to impress them?” I laugh and shake my head. “I’ve only been here twice and both times I came with a group of friends. Once for a friend’s birthday and the other time was for a friend’s promotion at work.”

  She just looks at me with a small smile a moment and then looks down at her menu. “So, how does this work?”

  “We pick up to five different sides that they bring out family style and then they’ll bring out various skewers of meat periodically to cut off pieces for us right at the table. Do you like wine?”

  “I do. Red preferably.”

  “Good.” She looks at me quizzically and I smile and laugh. “I just mean that it’s a great show when you order a bottle of wine here.” She grins and nods her head. “Ok. So, you’re not trying to get me drunk so my judgement is compromised later?” I laugh and shake my head. “Drunken night of lust is never as good as a heartfelt night of passion.” She smiles and her cheeks blush. Before she can respond, our waiter comes to take our order.

  We order a bottle of a rich red wine that the menu says has notes of coffee, chocolate, and berries. For our sides, we order roasted sweet potatoes and beets with crumbled goat cheese, a garden salad with spicy pepper vinaigrette, lemon asparagus, and marinated cucumber’s.

  When the waiter returns with the wine, I mostly watch Bailey as he decants the wine at the table side. He uncorks the wine, tosses the wine bottle into the air, reaches up as it’s about to twist in the air neck down above his head, holds the wine bottle aloft, and lets the wine pour out in an arch down into a decanter he’s holding at waist level. When the wine bottle is empty, he grabs a second decanter and passes the wine back and forth between the two decanters in a continuous fluid motion with both arms moving up and down. With each pass of the wine between the decanters, his arm distance lengthens till he’s holding one decanter above his head and one at his waist again. It’s an awesome little show and Bailey is riveted with a big smile on her face. When he finishes, he pours us both a glass of wine with the same long arched pour and then sets the decanter down on the table. Before he walks away, Bailey and I both clap our appreciation and he smiles and gives us a small bow before walking away.

  “Wow. That was amazing.” She looks at the floor and laughs a little. “I can’t believe he didn’t spill any. I almost jumped out of my chair when he tossed the open bottle in the air.” I laugh and pick up my wine glass, holding it aloft to toast. Bailey smiles wider and lifts her glass as well.

  “A toast to new beginnings and congratulations on the start of your writing career.”

  We gently clink our glasses together and take a sip. After she pulls her glass away from her mouth, she just barely licks her lips with a little grin on her mouth. I bite the inside of my cheek to contain the smile that wants to cleave my face in two.

  She reaches across the table and picks up my hand and turns it slightly, cradling my hand in both of her hands, so she can look at the tattoo on my wrist. Her thumb gently passes over it, sending electricity shooting up my arm and radiating down through the rest of my body.

  “What does your tattoo mean?”

  “Do you remember learning in science class how when light enters a prism, it exit’s as a rainbow?” She nods her head. “Well, the heart is like a prism. If you put light into it, all of the colors of the rainbow, all things beautiful, will come shining out of it.” She smiles and rubs her thumb over the small image again. “Why is only a small part of the heart filled in red?”

  “That small piece of red represents the bits of dark and pain we can’t avoid also having no matter how much light passes through us.”

  “I really like this. Did you see this somewhere or did you think of it yourself?” I smile and nod my head. “My design and concept.” She looks in my eyes a moment and then her eyes drift to my lips. When she looks back in my eyes, she asks, “Do you have any others?” I smile and laugh a little. “Maybe.” Her face lights up into a bright grin. “I’m guessing that means I’ll have to wait to see if I can find them?” She slightly blushes and bites the inside corner of her mouth. I just smile and shrug a shoulder. Bailey rubs my tattoo one more time with her thumb and then retracts her hands with a smile.

  We both take a sip of wine, while regarding each other over the rim of our glasses.

  “So, what do you like to do for fun?” She smiles and shrugs a shoulder. “Many things.”

  “I’m guessing I’ll need to partake in some of these things to learn what they are?” She grins really big as she lifts her glass to take another sip of wine. “Pretty much.”

  “Well, since that guarantee’s me at least one more date with you, I accept those terms. Well, unless I totally screw things up tonight, which I guess is always possible.”

  “It’s possible, but I don’t foresee that happening.” Bailey smiles at me in a happ
y flirty way as she lifts her glass to take another small sip of wine. Universe, help me to not screw this up!

  When the waiters bring our sides and a couple skewers of different meats, Bailey’s in awe with the show again. One waiter carries all of the bowl-like plates with our sides balanced on his arms, while a few other waiters carry two-foot-long skewers of different meats and dagger like blades to cut stripes of meat off for us. After they’ve laid out the meal and given us a healthy portion of a variety of meats, they bow and saunter away.

  Bailey’s cute in how she works around her plate, tasting a small bite of each item. After each bite, she nods her head and smiles her appreciation for the flavor. Once she’s tried every item, she looks up at me. “Everything is delicious. Thank you for bringing me here.”

  “You are very welcome. I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and atmosphere so much.”

  She tilts her head to the side slightly in a playful way and regards me with a cute grin. I wait a moment thinking she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. She straightens back up and takes a sip of wine, still regarding me over the rim of her wine glass.

  I love a woman that seems to always have a small smirk on her lips. Whether she is sipping coffee, reading, working diligently, or even intently listening to your hearts outpouring, there is always that faint delicate curve in the corner of her mouth – I love that. It intrigues me. The mystery of what dialog plays out in her mind, keeping her grinning no matter what is going on around her, it’s like honey for my mind. Resisting the urge to seek out a clue to that mystery only adds to the intrigue. It’s a beautiful mystery that makes me smile. Bailey is such a woman – with the alluring small grin on her lips that hangs with deliciously sweet mystery.

  “So, have you always wanted to be writer?” She shakes her head. “Not always. Before I turned sixteen I went through many phases of what I wanted to be. When I was five, I wanted to be a firetruck.”