Two weeks went by and I was still persistently dodging his calls and trying to ignore his emails but he goaded me so much, that on occasion I did reply.
The fallout from the article hadn’t been as bad as I thought. Surprisingly, I did get recognised on the street by one or two guys who asked me for my number; I told them I was a model and actually married, but thanks all the same. I was secretly thrilled when they both seemed disappointed. My mother of course, the martyr that she is, was beside herself. Initially, she had seen the photo and was thrilled that such a glamorous picture of me was in the Sunday paper; that was of course until Mrs. Dunphy had ‘popped in’ to console her. Mum had never actually read the article until Mrs. Dunphy paraphrased some for her before dashing back to cook the Sunday roast. My mother whaled down the phone at me that night. ‘Do you not love me? Is that it? Do you want me to die of shame?’ Apparently I was ‘parading’ myself around on show like some woman of the night. She had of course summoned Fr. Monroe to the house to say prayers for the repose of my soul. I told her I wasn’t dead yet and she told me that I knew very well what she meant! Josh rang me that evening too, thanking me for the perfect opportunity to present his midterm results to them; they would slip nicely under the radar with all that ‘poor’ mum had on her plate now. Aren’t brothers just great?! Ross hadn’t been impressed at all. He phoned constantly until I had eventually answered.
‘What about us? I know we’ve never said we were exclusive but I thought it was implied?’
If only he knew! I told him the truth, to a point; that I had been dragged along by Lucy and didn’t want to go at all, that of course I was perfectly happy with him. I then told him how I had been tricked into the photo and been taken totally out of context. At least that part hadn’t been a lie. He offered to have Brandon ‘taken care of’. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant but I hoped it involved a dark ally. I declined; violence at this point would get me nowhere. Funnily enough I didn’t hear from Ken again; not that I minded.
Despite things having returned to a relative level of normality, my head was still wrecked with all that was going on; so I took myself on a much needed shopping trip. Hopping off the bus, I walked passed an old man holding a sign for a fortune teller. I’d probably walked past the guy countless times before but today I changed my direction and found myself outside a blue door. Ringing the doorbell, I was buzzed through and sat in a small waiting area on a hard wooden backed chair before I realised it. I was just about to get up and walk out when a round woman, dressed in navy tracksuit bottoms and a red satin shirt opened a door and asked me in. Her black hair was matted to her head and she had a large hairy mole on the side of her face. She indicated to me to sit down. She looked at me intently and shuffled a deck of cards.
‘I can see why you’re here’
I just looked at her not saying a thing. She asked me to select some cards from the deck at random and place them face down in front of me. She did the same. I watched as she weaved the cards into each other and tried to decipher what they might mean when she placed them all interwoven right side up in front of me. I was shocked to see that the central card was a large bleeding heart with a dragger straight through the middle. We looked up at each other at the same moment. She cleared her throat and began to talk.
She described Nate, what he looked like, our relationship; that we were to be married, what he meant to me, what we had been through, how I had stupidly almost lost it by having an affair and how it was wise I had never told him about it. She knew that I didn’t really know why he had ended things and said that there was a reason and he would tell me, but right now I wasn’t in a position to hear it. She then went on to say that I had 3 new men in my life. I figured she must be a couple of weeks off, Matt and Ken were no longer in my life, but I was impressed at her accuracy so far, so I listened on. She described Ross to a tee. And when she came to Ken, at least that is who I expected her to describe, it sounded more like Nate. I was surprised again when she got Matt wrong, well half wrong. She saw him as tall when he was average height, she saw him with chocolate coloured hair when in fact he was blond and she saw him as passionate and exciting, when we all know he was anything but. She then went on to tell me that what I was feeling right now for each of these men wasn’t exactly the way I really felt. She said I had a strong future with one of them, that it would have its ups and downs, that it wasn’t necessarily the one I thought and that I was to keep an open mind.
I reeled at the thoughts of any kind of a permanent future with any of them as I walked home. I could never imagine bringing Ross to meet my parents, let alone having a future with him. Ken perhaps, but still I think I would find him far too tiring long term and he had being developing some sort of a weird ass fetish as well. Matt, well if Matt was passionate and exciting that might be something I could see a long term future in. He was a nice guy and if he lost some of the boring and lack lustre qualities there might be something there. Walking into the apartment I met Sharon on her way out.
‘Some flowers just arrived for you Faye, they’re on the kitchen table.’
Flowers! Who would be sending my flowers? I rushed inside and dropped my bags in the hallway. I stopped short when I saw what they were, purple tulips. The only person who ever gave me purple tulips was Nate. I held my breath as I reached for the card. Too afraid to read the message I thought back to the first time when Nate had given me purple tulips. I was only seventeen at the time. It was the morning of Marmie’s funeral; I was making my way down the main stairs when I noticed someone leaning down on our porch. I opened the door and Nate was there, a bunch of purple tulips at his feet on our welcome mat. He had brought them to cheer me up. I had burst into tears; purple tulips, were mine and Marmie’s favourites. My mother told me two important things that morning after Nate left. She told me the real reason as to why Marmie loved purple tulips so much; they were a symbol that the person giving them to you cared very deeply about you and because they are reminder that the future can be better and that tomorrow brings another day. She also told me that Nate was the last person that Marmie had told that too.
If Nate was sending me purple tulips now what was he trying to say? I took a deep breath as I slipped the small card out of the envelope.
Faye
I think we got off to a wrong start, please meet me for coffee, no angle, just you and me.
Brandon
I blinked at the card. Brandon was sending me flowers, asking me to coffee! Something clicked into place then. I stared at them, not sure how I felt. Purple Tulips, they have been such a personal thing between Nate and I. Almost a secret, neither of us ever vocalising what they meant but both knowing, as I thought about this another thought struck me. Brandon was tall, with chocolate coloured hair, passionate and exciting. The fortune teller hadn’t been describing Matt at all, she was describing Brandon! I blushed, when did I start thinking that Brandon was passionate and exciting? ‘Meet me for coffee.’ – could I really, I asked myself staring at his hand written note.
Chapter 6 – Deranged stalker in shackles?
I sat looking at the flowers from the couch. I turned Brandon’s card over in my fingers. Could Brandon possibly know their meaning? I doubted it. It wasn’t something you just knew. Was it? This was just a coincidence. They were a natural choice when buying flowers for someone weren’t they? They were, I repeated to myself, it meant nothing significant, other than saying sorry and well to ask me out. I decided I couldn’t possibly meet Brandon for coffee, the very thought of him made my blood boil. It did! He was rude and arrogant and insistent, with big chocolate eyes, and bossy and obsessive, with a wide smile; that wouldn’t stop emailing and calling me… which I secretly loved. No! No! I hated! I hated the constant intrusion on my life! Crap, what was going on in my head… what had that fortune teller done to me?! I hated Brandon Donohue and now she had me thinking about him, thinking about possibilities, wondering how far his passion really went. With that, I blushed. Faye, what are yo
u thinking! I chastised myself. I turned on the telly. This was ridiculous; I told myself as I flicked mindlessly through stations, I couldn’t possibly like Brandon, not after what he had done! Especially, after what he had done!
Telly wasn’t much use; either was the book or the magazines I tried. The flowers were like a big Brandon beacon sitting on the kitchen table so I put them in the hot press, then I realised they would whither there and it wasn’t their fault they came from Brandon so I put them in the bathroom, in the shower. The purple looked good against the grey tiles. I closed the door and tried to make some food. I was back at the bathroom door again looking at the flowers. Purple tulips really were my favourite. I fished his card out of the bin where I had thrown it 3 times already. I turned it over again, reaching for the phone; my head screamed ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING’
‘Hi Brandon, its Faye.’ I didn’t give him the opportunity to speak first. ‘I got your flowers.’
‘Faye, wow, I didn’t actually think you would call. I thought I had blown it big time.’ He seemed genuinely surprised and delighted.
‘Well I wasn’t going to. Well I’m not going to; I’m calling to say I can’t call.’
‘Oh!... why?’
‘Well because, I can’t meet you for coffee.’
‘Well if you don’t like coffee we could go for dinner?’
I said nothing.
‘Look sorry, that was maybe a little pushy of me. Faye, we really got off on the wrong foot. I’m not the egotistical maniac you think I am. I’m a pretty nice guy, once you get to know me. At least that is what I am told. Coffee, c’mon it can’t hurt. We can even get a takeout; the date can be over before the chocolate sprinkles hit the froth if you like’
‘Date?’ I questioned.
‘Sorry…?’ he said.
‘You said date?’
‘Well yea… did you really think I was going to all this trouble for an article? I’m dedicated to my job Faye but even I don’t pursue a story that long. I want to take you out on a date… coffee to start and we’ll see where we go from there.’
‘Ok.’ I can’t believe I just said that! No, I was supposed to say no! ‘Tomorrow at noon, Bewley’s on Grafton St.’ I said.
Bewley’s was central and public; when it crashed and burned I could look around the shops for a bit and pick up mum’s birthday present. Lucy hated shopping on her lunch break; she found it far too limiting and restrictive so it would be the perfect excuse.
‘Perfect! I’ll see you then.’ He hung up before I could change my mind.
I put down the phone, strangely elated. I scolded myself for feeling that way and tried to muster some interest in TV but nothing was doing. I found myself wandering mentally through my wardrobes trying to decide what to wear tomorrow. This was ridiculous, I was going to have coffee with Brandon; I didn’t need to worry about what I would be wearing!
The next morning I got up early and paid particular attention to my hair and makeup. I wanted to look polished but not like I had made too much of an effort. It was November and while it was still bright and sunny, the air had a crisp chill to it. I settled on wearing black wool trousers, a fitted cream cashmere jumper and my new red wool Jacket that I bought at the weekend. My hair I dried into a soft curl at the bottom, not a style I usually wore to the office, but it wasn’t something that would draw undue attention. When I had finished, I looked in the mirror. I looked good, professional but with a flirty edge – perfect for a coffee date.
Since deciding to go, I was getting a little excited about it… something I must admit I hadn’t felt in a while. Because of my early start, I decided to head to the office a little early and get some work done, on the off chance that coffee actually went well and I decided to stay a little longer. When I got to the office Lucy was already there. Tucking into her Monday morning ritual sausage and bacon sarnie, she glanced up at me when I walked through the door.
‘My, my, don’t we look nice today! New Jacket?’
‘Yes’ I beamed, ‘do you like?!’
‘Love it!’ we chatted about the weekend and just as I was heading to my desk she said;
‘I almost forgot. This was delivered for you just before you arrived.’
I took the package; it looked like the door handle samples I was waiting on for the Andrews house. Absentmindedly, I opened the package as I powered up my pc, I was surprised when a travel mug fell out and not the two glass handles I had been expecting. I picked up the note, familiar with the hand writing now I smiled at the message.
I realised late last night that Bewley’s don’t serve take away, here’s a travel mug in case you want to get away quickly. Can’t wait, Brandon.
I had to smile; the guy had charm I had to admit. I placed the silver mug in my bag and opened my emails. The morning dragged and I nearly bore a hole into the small clock above my head willing it to move on. When it eventually came to 11.45am I was exhausted from the effort.
‘Hey Lucy, am heading out for lunch, need to pick up a birthday present for my mum. Do you want anything?’
‘No, no, am good, thanks.’
I reached Grafton St in record time and tried to slow myself down by casually looking in shop windows as I passed. Excitement had turned to nerves now and I was unsure as to whether I was to meet him outside or inside. Neither of us had said. I didn’t have to think about it, as I approached Bewleys he was stood outside, he looked up and waved. He really did have a nice smile.
‘Hi’ I said as I arrived
‘Shall we?’ he said, holding the door open for me.
We took a seat in a booth at the back and ordered. Neither of us spoke. We just looked at each other.
‘Well this is going swimmingly.’ I said. We both laughed.
‘Hey look, I want to apologise. The article, well… I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry, that’s the extent of the wording you, a regularly published journalist, can put on an apology? They really will let anything into the presses these days, won’t they?’
He smiled a deliciously warm smile. ‘Ever hear the saying from your mother, when a boy pulls your hair, he really likes you?’
‘Rather a public hair pulling wasn’t it?’ I replied
‘I must really like you then.’
We looked at each other for a few seconds and I looked away blushing. Was he just saying this, or did he mean it? I didn’t really know how to respond to that. As far as first dates went this was possibly the quietest I had ever been on and yet I didn’t want it to end. Clearing my throat,
‘Ok so you have caught my attention, no more public hair pulling?’
‘Ok, only cause you asked so nicely. Now that I do have your attention, can I ask you a question?’
‘Sure…’
‘Can I see you again? A proper date, dinner, a movie something that I can actually tell our grand kids about… although reminiscing about spending our first date staring into your grandmothers stunning blue eyes might just work…’
‘Grand kids?’
‘Well I figure out of the 3 boys and 2 girls we’re bound to get one or two at the very least.’
I smiled. Kids and grandkids with Brandon Donohue….
‘You know Faye you really are quite something when you smile. Your eyes twinkle like diamonds.’
‘I know my father specially ordered them from Cartier when I was born.’ I cringed slightly at my own cheese.
He smiled at me. ‘Beautiful and funny, a winning combination!’
‘Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me at every opportunity?’
‘Embarrass you? Some women would take that as a compliment.’
I felt uncomfortable, really uncomfortable – but in a really good way. This must be what they meant when they say, he was charming and disarming.
We both reached for a sugar sachet at the same time and our hands touched, a bolt of electricity shot through and I am sure I blushed vividly, but when I looked at him he was blushing too. Our hands waited in suspended animation fo
r our next move. A waiter came by to see if we wanted anything else and interrupted our gazing.
‘So how long have you been writing?’ I said trying to compose myself.
‘Since about the age of 4; working for CNN has always been the dream. My first piece was a short extract on the daily routine of a 4 year old in the West of Ireland.’
‘Trying to be a comedian too I see.’
‘You don’t like me very much do you Faye?’ He was testing me but yet he wasn’t 100% sure how I would answer.
‘Do you blame me?’
‘I suppose I can’t… is there anything I can do to change your mind?’
‘Become my eternal slave and hang on my every word for the rest of your life.’ In mock diligence, he was writing this all down into his small note pad.
‘Right, well first things first, I’ll need some shackles – unless you have some already?’ He asked with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle in his eye.
Laughing, I shook my head.
‘Ok, c’mon then, we’ll get them now.’ He was on his feet pulling me up and we were out the door before I knew it. He took my hand and started off in a slow jog.
‘Where on earth are we going I asked, surprised I was able to keep up in my heels.
‘To get my shackles!’
Totally perplexed I went with it. Stopping outside Miss Fantasia I nearly fainted… a sex shop; he had taken me to a sex shop. He walked in, bold as brass and held the door open for me. I hesitated a moment, every fibre in my body telling me to turn and run but I walked through the door with him. He strolled straight up to the counter and spoke to the provocatively dressed woman behind it.
‘Hi, am looking for some shackles – something in a heavy chain, with a medieval slave like feel.’ I was trying to suppress my giggling from behind a wall of vibrators. ‘How long do you want the chain honey?’ he called to me from the counter.
The Meaning of Purple Tulips Page 4