Cafe Romance

by Curtis Bennett

  Kurt settled in at home and listened to the continuing weather updates on his scanner on the fast approaching hurricane, which was named Charlotte. The jobs service center, along with many other government agencies and local businesses had released their employees three hours early in anticipation of Charlotte, which was scheduled to hit the bay area in the wee hours of the morning.

  His preparation involved picking up extra food, extra batteries, and extra bottles of water, a large flashlight and tape for the house and car windows. He had also released his house staff early too. It was better for them to get home like everyone else in the city to prep for the storm, he reasoned. In a severe storm time and preparation was of essence.

  Kurt glanced over at the clock then leaned back into his reclining chair. It was not quite three o'clock in the afternoon but the sky was already dark and overcast. The winds grew gusty and audible to an extent, gaining strength with each passing hour. Suddenly Roxanne appeared on his mind. It had been days since he last checked in on her.

  He called her, and satisfied that she was prepared for the storm, he headed into the kitchen to clean up. There was no telling if he would have running water in the aftermath of the storm so he filled both bathtubs with water. He had plenty of bottled water on hand, too.

  Satisfied that he was as prepared for the approaching storm as he could be, he retired to his bedroom upstairs. With little else to do, he turned on the television and tuned in the weather channel.

  Kicking off his shoes, he propped himself across the wide bed, his eyes unfocused, his mind deep in thought. Vanessa suddenly leaped into his thoughts, the events of their last meeting still fresh on his mind. If she had a middle name it was probably Temptation, perhaps Passion, he reasoned. The woman was all that and more. Then, just as suddenly, he began to think about another, one more dear to his heart. He was just about to doze off when the phone rang abruptly. The voice belonged to Yvette.

  "How are you?" she asked, her voice tender, almost a velvet murmur.

  "I'm fine, Yvette," he replied, enthusiastically.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Just finished preparing for hurricane Charlotte. What about you?"

  "That's the reason why I'm calling you," she answered with a touch of urgency in her voice.

  "What's up?" he uttered, rising up to a sitting position on the bed.

  "I was sitting here wondering if you wouldn't mind having dinner with me this evening. I've wanted to cook something special for you for the longest time now. You know, show you some real southern gourmet cooking. I know I've been too tired or too busy in the past, and I apologize for that, but I’m free this evening and I’ve prepared something I just know you will like," she managed to say, and all in one breath.

  "You're doing all of this for me? Why? Or is it a surprise?" he chuckled lightly into the phone.

  "It's a surprise," she teased.

  "Very well, then," he said, then with a touch of concern, "So is everything alright? I mean, it's not every day I get an invitation from you to have dinner at your place."

  "Well, with this hurricane heading our way, I just didn't want to be alone tonight. Will you come over, please?"

  After a brief pause Kurt said lightly, "Sure, that's what friends are for?"

  "I imagine so," she returned, her relief obvious in her tone.

  "I'm on my way," he said briskly. "Is there anything you would like for me to pick up for you while I’m at the store?"

  "Well, now that you mention it, I could use a bottle of red wine," she remarked. "That is, if you plan on stopping. The recipe I'm cooking requires red wine. Good luck finding a store that’s stocked at this time."

  "I know what you mean," he added thoughtfully. "When I was at the marketplace earlier this afternoon, there must have been at least three hundred other people there buying up all of the food, water, and hardware supplies."

  "I can imagine," she murmured softly. "Let’s hope wine wasn’t a priority for them. Well, drive safely dear. I'll see you when you get here. You do remember how to get here, right?"

  "I remember," he was proud to have said. If he did not remember any other route, he remembered how to get to her place.

  Talk about being on top of the world. No sooner had he hung up the phone Kurt smiled, then let out a joyful outburst. Just the thought of being with her in such an intimate setting was enough to make his blood boil. And it was not lost on him that she referred to him as dear. The evening definitely had its possibilities.

  Yvette had just finished cooking the bulk of the main course and was in the process of gathering her ingredients for the eggplant sauté with goat cheese and basil, which would be served atop buttered spinach fettuccine, when she spied Kurt as he drove onto the carport, just below her kitchen window.

  She smiled to herself, then quickly washed and dried her hands off. Hopefully the red wine, the only ingredient she was missing for this dish, was in the bag he was carrying in his hand. She hurriedly descended the flight of stairs to let him in.

  “Hello Mr. Douglass!” she greeted him with a huge smile.

  "Hello, Yvette!" he smiled back, his face brightening at the sight of her. "Here’s the bottle of red wine you requested, along with some treats for us," he added.

  Kissing him on the cheek she led him up the stairs and into the kitchen area. Walking over to the ceramic-tiled countertop he took out the bottle of wine, a large bag of chips, and a plastic container of French onion dip. He also pulled out a container of guacamole dip, just in case she did not care for onion dip. "Here you are, Yvette," he smiled, handing her the items.

  "How was the ride over?" she asked, her smile warm and radiant.

  "Not bad. The winds off of the bay are beginning to pick up strength, though."

  "Sounds serious," she replied, opening the red wine.

  "By morning we should know just how serious," he added, as his eyes drank in the sensuality of her physique. She was wearing a near form-fitting sundress.

  Yvette offered him a cold drink.

  "Any lemon flavored ice-tea?" he asked.

  Yvette nodded her head gently.

  He was in luck. She had made some earlier in anticipation of his visit. "Sure, I'll get you some from the refrigerator," she smiled.

  "Man, something smells good in here," he trumpeted, looking about.

  "Why thank you. It's your specially cooked meal," she smiled, swelling with pride. It had been well over a decade since she last cooked for a man. Not even Antwan had been privy to her culinary skills. For some unknown reason, the experience was more pleasant and satisfying than she had remembered. And aside from grandma’s southern-styled cooking, it had been a while since he enjoyed a meal prepared exclusively for him, and gourmet on top of that. But, then again, none of his prior love-interests possessed the culinary skills she possessed. He felt special tonight, and he told her so.

  "You know, you have a beautiful home," Kurt remarked, glancing about. "You have great taste, I must say."

  "Why, thank you," she beamed, very pleased with his appraisal.

  As she put on a clean kitchen apron Kurt drew closer to the cool surface of the ceramic tiled island to watch her culinary skills at work. She was the master chef and he the student. And like a first time student, with a school boy crush, he quietly observed her as she heated 1/4 cup oil in a heavy skillet, adding carrots and stirring. The eggplant strips went in next. She then added 2 tablespoons of water and stirred another minute.

  Kurt continued to watch intently, and with great interest, as she transferred everything to a bowl. A pinch of salt, onions, garlic and red pepper flakes followed. A few seconds later she added freshly quartered tomatoes. Another pinch of salt and two tablespoons of red wine followed and was cooked until the sauce had thicken, about 1 1/2 minutes later. The sauce was then removed from the heat and vinegar, basil and pine nuts were stirred in. She seasoned it with black pepper. Goat cheese was eventually crumbled over each serving, providing the finishing touch.
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br />   Walking over to the wall-mounted rotisserie oven Yvette opened it and withdrew three skewers of sizzling hot shish kabobs, made up of cherry tomatoes, onions, teriyaki marinade lamb, chicken, and ocean shrimp, diced green peppers, carrots and potatoes. From the baking oven she withdrew a pan of steaming herb-flavored yellow rice.

  She placed all of the hot food in serving dishes and placed the serving dishes on the cloth-covered table, which was already set with imported chinaware for two. She retrieved the herbed crab salad from the refrigerator and sat it on the table. Excusing herself, she went to wash her hands, and freshen up.

  Back in her bedroom, she put on her earrings, her ankle bracelet, patted her hair into form, and sprayed some perfume on. She realized now that she never truly stopped loving Kurt. And having him over tonight seemed to rekindle all that she ever felt for him. She felt charged. Energized when around him. The very air around her felt electrified. Right now, she dreamed of being enveloped, like a warm blanket, by his strong protective arms. Perhaps tonight he would make her dreams come true. She just hoped that he was over Antwan. She was.

  Returning to the dining room, minus the apron, she lit two candles, which were centered on the table, then walked over to the wall switch to dim the lights. The two quietly sat down and consumed the delicious meal she had prepared for him, both sipping red wine throughout the main course. Often, she’d notice his soft gaze traveling over her face, searching her eyes. And with each passing moment her body ached for his manly touch, her lips longed to be crushed by his hungry kiss. Even the sound of his deep manly voice affected her. It was soothing, sexy, and confident in tone. Most women are attracted to confident men. Yvette was one of them.

  After the main course, the two enjoyed the dessert she had prepared: poached apricots with macadamia shortbread and whipped cream. Afterwards, she began the kitchen cleanup. Kurt insisted on helping her. The two talked, joked, laughed and listened, off and on, to the weather updates blaring from the small kitchen television. The fast approaching storm was now reported to be a category four hurricane, a category five being the most powerful. Winds were around one hundred twenty-six miles an hour.

  After the kitchen detail she silenced the television with the remote. The two quietly retreated to the living room and lowered themselves onto the carpeted sofa. Grabbing another remote she turned on the stereo system.

  A soothing piano jazz tune permeated the room with colorful rich sounds from supporting instruments such as the tenor sax, alto sax, trombone, string bass and trumpet. Nothing like a little Thelonious Monk on a night like this. Yeah, Monk kicking it at the piano, soulfully, masterfully; as a menacing hurricane lurks in the shadows. Add to this a man and a woman with strong pent-up emotions for one another, emotions held back far too long. Yes, the night looked promising, she thought.

  Around nine-thirty Kurt thanked her for the lovely meal, the chilled wine, the warm spirited conversation, and for being the perfect hostess, then said it was about time he made his way home. She sighed, with disappointment, "Well, if you must," then rose up. So much for her dream of being wrapped in his warm protective arms tonight.

  The two descended the wood stairs slowly, almost reluctantly. Because they had been so engrossed in their conversation and music neither one realized how bad the weather had deteriorated outside. But as they neared the door and peered out of it, it looked like all hell had broken loose. The winds were still gusty, but more forcefully. In addition it was raining heavily now. A torrential downpour.

  Kurt kissed her on the cheek, said goodnight, then opened the door to depart but before the first raindrop could touch him, she stopped him with her hand and asked him to close the door. Looking caringly into his eyes, her gaze conveying concern, she said, gravely, "Look, it's too dangerous for you to go out there right now Kurt. It looks like all hell just broke loose and it's only going to get worse. Please stay. Honey, you can ride the storm out here tonight."

  "I don't know," he shrugged. "I can probably make it home if I leave now."

  "Kurt, please don’t go. It's just too dangerous," she pleaded with anxiety evident in her voice.

  "You sure about this, Yvette?" He murmured thoughtfully.

  "I insist!" she said with unwavering resolve, her voice firm, final.

  Kurt looked away for a moment then gave his gaze back to her. "Really sure?" he asked, his eyes dark and dreamy. She smiled and nodded. "Yes, really sure." Then as if an afterthought, he said, "Look, there's something I want to tell you Yvette. It's been on my mind ever since I ran into you at the Café last week."

  She started to say something but hesitated, as her face began to look strained. Then after a thoughtful moment, she said, "Then tell me."

  His mouth curved with tenderness when he said, "Yvette, I just wanted to say that I really missed you. I have never been so miserable. Please, don’t let anyone else come in between us again.”

  "Darling, I won’t. Not ever again. Now, with that said, I can see in your eyes you still have some reservation about Antwan," she continued, her eyes probing his face for some kind of reaction, but finding none. "Listen, it’s over between Antwan and me. I just don't know any other way to put it, baby. But please, don't hold my failed involvement with him against me for the rest of my life," she pleaded, looking him steadily until his eyes fell.

  The silence was pronounced as he searched for the right words to say. In the meantime, he watched the tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him beseechingly. Drawing close to her he said, softly and tenderly, "As you wish, Yvette. Now do you think you could show me that pretty smile of yours again?"

  There was a warmth and charm about him that she found irresistible. Looking up into his level gaze, she found herself forming a smile. And she began to feel bubbly inside again. As they traded smiles, he drew his face closer to hers. "You know, you have the most succulent lips I've ever seen on a woman."

  "You really think so?" she breathed back, dreamy-eyed.

  "I most certainly do," he said with half closed eyes, his lips slightly parted, lips which were closing in on her, in slow motion. Her own eyes were now closed, her lips pursed, the air filled with great anticipation. Just as their eager lips were about to unite in a passionate union there was a sudden and very frightening thunderous clap, a loud popping sound, then the lights and power went dead, throwing the two into complete darkness.

  Both withdrew and looked about, both startled by the unexpected outage. And both peered out of the small window to their left. They could see that the outage affected the entire community.

  The debate over whether Kurt should leave or stay was of no consequence now. He was not about to leave her literally in the dark.

  Turning, he took her hand into his hand and escorted her up the stairs and into the living quarters, both being careful as they inched their way towards the kitchen where she said there was a flashlight in a counter drawer. When she located it she pointed the beam inside another drawer in search of a book of matches. She found the matches. The two collected several wax candles and began to light them, placing them strategically about the rooms. Afterwards, they secured the flashlight to conserve energy.

  Yvette managed to find some linen and a pillow for the sofa bed in her study where Kurt would be residing for the night. He followed, with a flickering candle in hand.

  After she prepared the sofa bed, she excused herself to go into the kitchen. She returned with a small tray of chips and dip in hand. Returning to the kitchen, she grabbed two drinks for them. It was time to get comfortable. He sat on the edge of the sofa bed while she sat down on the carpeted floor. There was a gap between them, at first, but she quickly closed it. All the while, the two exchanged private messages by way of their desire-filled gaze.

  “Man, just look at the flickering shadows on the walls. Your candle lit room resembles a monastery,” he jested. Yvette smiled in response.

  The two sat quietly for a while, neither saying much. He had remembered, as a young boy growing up
in Jersey, that whenever there was an electrical storm, the entire family would all sit quietly in the dark, not saying anything for the lightning and thunder supposedly represented God talking. And when God spoke, everyone listened.

  The heavy downpour was more audible now that the humming of the refrigerator and the dishwasher had been silenced by the sudden power outage. The romantic atmosphere Yvette and Kurt found themselves in was not lost upon them. Drawing closer to each other they held hands and talked softly. During their quiet chat, she mentioned that her shoulders and injured knee had become sore. The combined effects of rain and her mild case of arthritis had something to do with it, she explained.

  As if on cue, Kurt quickly volunteered to massage her. She accepted his offer and repositioned herself comfortably just below him. Like a gifted hand specialist, he brought comfort and relief to her sore shoulders, neck, back, and temples. He also worked the area near her knee, the one she had injured some years earlier.

  Minutes into this therapeutic session he scanned her radiant face and could see that she was completely relaxed. Withdrawing his hands reluctantly, he said he was calling it a night. It had been a long day and he knew that it might be a long night with the approaching hurricane.

  "Could you show me the bathroom, please?" he asked her, then added boyishly, "Hey, perhaps you could even tuck me into bed afterwards."

  "Why certainly," she replied, glancing up at him with a smile.

  Taking his hand into hers they stood up. With a lit candle flickering in her hand providing soft illumination, she escorted him to the guest bathroom. Handing him the candle she found her way over to her battery operated portable boom box across the room and put on a jazz CD. Fortunately, she had just replaced the batteries a few days earlier.

  When he returned, she said, "Now, let's get you tucked into bed." She took possession of the candle, then walked solemnly over to her computer desk, which was in the dark corner of the room, and perched the glowing stick on the desktop and returned to the sofa bed, her hand still gripping his hand as he followed her.