by Nella Tyler
I took a deep breath and wrote a reply. I have a son. He’s about three, and this afternoon, he came down with a bug. I don’t know what it is, but he’s pretty sick; I just can’t make myself leave him. I’m sorry—I really am. I tapped send and set my phone aside, getting some soup started for my dinner. Maybe if Brady started feeling better, he could have some, too. I threw in some veggies and some rice into the broth and set it to heat up. My phone buzzed and I snatched it up, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be an angry reply to my story.
You didn’t mention you have a little boy. I’m sorry he’s sick; of course if you need to take care of him, I can’t expect you to come out tonight. What’s his name? I smiled to myself as relief washed through me.
His name is Brady, I wrote, and added a picture to the message. I try not to mention him because it sometimes makes things a little weird with clients. I’m glad you understand. I set my phone aside and went back to work on the soup for dinner. That seemed to be settled, at least. We could reschedule the date, and I could make sure that my little boy got better.
But then my phone buzzed again. That’s odd, I thought. I picked it up and saw that Zeke had replied. What could he have to say after what I’d told him? I decided that it was probably just that we would reschedule for the following week, maybe have two dates instead of just one. I know this is probably not the way you usually do things…but do you think we could have a virtual date? I frowned at the question. What did he mean by a virtual date?
How would that go? I looked around my kitchen; it was clean—my parents had taught me from a young age to respect myself and my home enough to keep it clean as best as I could—but it was far from fancy.
Do you have a laptop? And Skype? I chuckled at the questions. I replied that I did. We could have a date on Skype then, couldn’t we?
I considered that. Technically, it wasn’t against the rules—but it also wasn’t exactly approved of. I didn’t think it would necessarily be a bad thing, but it was definitely a gray area. If I was going to do it, I wanted to make sure that I did so in as professional a manner as possible. I had to admit, the fact that Zeke had been so understanding and the fact that he’d been so nice about it intrigued me. And, I had actually been looking forward to the date—at least, a little bit. If you can give me about an hour and a half, I wrote back to him, I just need to make sure my boy is sleeping soundly and won’t be likely to interrupt us with a barf-fest and then I will be happy to have a virtual session with you. I waited to make sure that Zeke would accept that and then went to check on Brady. He was fast asleep in his bed, and when I carefully checked his temperature—the thermometer I had went in his ear—he was still feverish, but not as much as before. I thought he might sleep a few hours yet; plenty of time for me to have a date with Zeke and get my professional obligation out of the way.
I didn’t shower, but I pulled my hair back and put on some makeup, and I made sure that the kitchen table and the area around it looked all right. I dressed from the waist up the same way that I would if I’d had the chance to actually go on the date and finished up the soup that I had started before Zeke came to me with his idea. I would wake Brady up after I got done with the date and get him to eat a little of it—it would do him some good.
By the time I had my laptop open and Skype ready to go, and everything the way I wanted it, Zeke texted me to ask if we were going to go ahead. I replied that I was ready, and told him my Skype handle. I have to admit that when I heard the incoming call sound, I felt a little nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. Would Zeke have decided that since it wasn’t a real practice date, he should just be in pajamas or something?
I clicked to accept the video call and sat up straight in my chair as the screen resolved and my camera started up. “I’ll have to be a bit quiet, since my son is sleeping,” I said right off the bat, as soon as Zeke said his hello. He was seated at a table, as well, in an apartment kitchen somewhere, and either he had chosen the same method I had—being dressed in date-appropriate clothes from the waist up—or he had put in more effort and had simply gotten fully dressed as if he were going out.
“That’s fine with me,” Zeke told me. I plugged my headphones in and showed him my bowl of soup.
“I have a very, very exciting dinner here,” I told him wryly.
“I got takeout, so I think that’s just about perfect,” he said. He lifted something up in front of the camera: it was a Chinese takeout box.
“What are you having?” My stomach grumbled. Whatever it was, it was certain to be more exciting than the soup I’d made with my little boy’s troubled stomach in mind.
“Singapore noodles, with a couple of egg rolls on the side.”
“Definitely more exciting than this soup,” I pointed out. “I want Brady to eat some when he wakes up, so I made it as bland as possible. Lots of root vegetables, lots of chicken, some rice, and some broth.”
“It doesn’t sound that boring,” Zeke told me. “Tell me about him.” It was strange, talking about my son to one of my clients, but I figured that it would at least give him an opportunity to put the active listening skills I was trying to teach him into practice, so I let him ask questions about Brady—he wasn’t old enough, in my opinion anyway, for preschool, though I was looking for places for him for next year. He loved the park, the zoo, and even liked the library, though obviously most of it was lost on him.
I found myself opening up to Zeke about how difficult it was sometimes to be a single mother, and I was surprised he didn’t ask any questions about how I’d come to be a parent on my own. Normally, it was the first thing that anyone wanted to know—how it was possible that a smart, “together” woman like me could be a single mom. By the time we’d both finished our meals and signed off, with me giving Zeke praise for his newfound conversational skills, I felt relaxed and happier than I had in weeks. I was shocked at how well the awkward situation had gone. If I had ten clients like that, I would never have any job stress, I thought as I cleaned up my dishes and prepared to get Brady to eat a little bit before going back to bed.
Chapter Eight
Zeke
A little less than a week after our “virtual date,” I set up another practice date with Natalie, this time for the movies. I had planned something else for the date we’d canceled, but after eating takeout with her over Skype, I thought I would save it for another time.
Instead, I’d told her to meet me at the movie theater, and this time I decided I would come prepared. I stopped at the florist again on my way over to the Cineplex from the office, and I had been much more careful than I had been the first time. I got a bouquet of yellow, orange, and red tulips, the ends wrapped up to keep them from going dry while we watched a movie together. I hoped that Natalie would react to them much better than she had to the roses I’d gotten her for our first date together.
I checked the time when I got to the parking structure next to the movie theater; I had about eight minutes to get around to the entrance where we’d agreed to meet. I had left the choice of movie up in the air—I didn’t want to dictate to my coach what we would see, especially when I knew she might take it as me being businesslike yet again. Hopefully, after the Skype date, she sees that I’m paying attention to what she’s been saying, I thought, grabbing the flowers from the passenger seat of the car before I climbed out. I smoothed my hair against my scalp as I found my way out of the parking structure and toward the entrance of the movie theater.
I figured that Natalie either would be at the entrance when I got there or she would arrive just after me, and I was careful to keep the bouquet of tulips concealed behind my back either way. I wanted to see the look on her face when she saw them. I wanted to see her surprise and delight. I spotted her hanging out off to the side of the doors and closed the distance between us, my heart beating faster in my chest at the thought of the surprise I had for her. She was dressed professionally, as usual, but more casually than she had been the two previous times I’d met
with her; she wore a cardigan and jeans with a pair of heels, and her hair was down around her shoulders instead of pulled back into a bun.
“I’m here,” I told her, stepping up. I held the tulips behind my back for another moment. “I’m not late, am I?”
“You are actually a couple of minutes early, just like usual,” Natalie said, smiling at me.
“We haven’t gone on enough dates for you to know what’s usual for me,” I countered. I took a quick breath and brought the flowers out from behind my back, holding them where she could see them without shoving them in her face. “I believe you mentioned liking tulips.”
Natalie glanced down, and I watched her face intently. I couldn’t help smiling as I saw the look of surprise light up her eyes, the color rising in her cheeks. She went completely silent, just for an instant. “These are beautiful,” she said, and I heard her breath catch in her throat, the slight creak in her voice that told me her reaction was genuine. A moment later, she recovered from her surprise and glanced up at me. “You are paying attention,” she noted, grinning. “Or at least you checked your phone for the messages and found what I’d said.”
“I remembered it all on my own, actually,” I told her. “Here—take them.” Natalie hesitated for just a moment and I wondered what I’d done wrong this time, but she took the bouquet from my hands and brought the flowers up to her nose, breathing in the scent of them.
“What movie are we going to see?” She held the flowers in her hand and turned towards the marquee as she asked me the question.
“I’ve never actually been on a movie date before,” I admitted. “I’ve always either done dinner or something more casual. But I thought this would probably come up in dating eventually.”
“There are a couple of trains of thought when it comes to date movies,” she told me.
“I didn’t know there was a philosophy on it at all,” I said, almost laughing at the idea.
“If something exists, there’s a philosophy for it,” she said blandly. She cleared her throat. “One train of thought says that scary movies—as long as they’re not too gory—are the best type to watch on a date.”
“I can see that,” I told her, nodding. “Girl—sorry, woman—gets scared, cuddles close…”
“And all that adrenaline of course,” she said, nodding.
“So should we pick the horror movie they’re running?”
Natalie shook her head. “I said more than one train of thought, didn’t I?” she raised an eyebrow at me. I laughed.
“Okay, go on then,” I told her.
“The second train of thought is that it should be a romantic movie—a chick flick, basically. Get the woman in a loving mood, show off your sensitive side.”
“So do you want to watch that Shakespeare one? It looks like it’s probably pretty romantic.”
Natalie shook her head again. “First of all,” she pointed out, “this isn’t a real date. It’s a practice run.” I nodded, accepting that. “Second of all, I belong to the third school of thought on the issue: the best dates are comedies. Not the gross out stuff, not the eye rolling stuff, but a good, solid comedy.”
“Romantic comedy?” I suggested. “There’s a Seth Rogan one playing.”
“Ugh, no,” she said, shaking her head harder than ever. “No offense to him ,but the writing on those always makes me irritable. Let’s go for that one.” She pointed to one of the only titles left on the marquee, a comedy with Amy Schumer and Russell Brand in it, and I shrugged.
“All right, that sounds pretty good,” I agreed. I didn’t have very high hopes for it, but there were almost certainly worse ways to spend a couple of hours. I bought our tickets and we went inside together. I had to resist the urge to put my arm around her shoulders. “Do you want popcorn? Or a soda or something?”
“Big spender,” Natalie said with a grin. “That wasn’t sarcasm by the way—look at the prices here. Jeez.” I glanced at the display and saw that she wasn’t wrong.
“They’re getting fancier and fancier these days,” I muttered to myself. In addition to the usual popcorn and candy and drinks, the theater’s menu offered actual meals, though I wasn’t sure how good they’d be: chicken fingers and fries, hamburgers, things like that.
“If you’re up for it, I think a popcorn to share and a couple of drinks would be nice,” Natalie said.
“That’s what we’ll get, then,” I told her, and we got into line. She ordered a frozen Coke, I got a sprite, and we bought a large size popcorn to go with our drinks. We made our way to the theater where our movie was about to start and Natalie steered me towards a pair of seats near the middle rows, giving me a significant look.
When we sat down, she carefully set her flowers down, protected by the empty cup she’d asked for at the concession stand. She reached into her purse and I looked on in confusion as she took out a couple of what looked like movie theater candy boxes. She glanced at me and gave me a conspiratorial grin. “I never, ever buy candy at these places,” she murmured, settling back in her seat. “Considering you can buy the exact same stuff at a store for less than half the price, it is literally never worth it.”
“And here you had me buy the popcorn,” I said, clucking my tongue against my teeth.
“That’s different,” she told me in a whisper. “It would be way harder to smuggle popcorn into the building than a few boxes of candy.”
“Will you at least share with me?” She’d gotten sour patch kids and some kind of chocolate candy, and even though I’d never had much of a sweet tooth, I was tempted.
“Of course,” she said. She grinned at me again. “If I hadn’t intended on sharing, you never would have seen these.”
The lights went down and the previews started, so Natalie and I were left in the darkness, only occasionally able to murmur comments to each other. Somehow the enormous bucket of popcorn was almost completely finished by the end of the movie—which was better than I had expected—and we had basically finished off our drinks. We managed to have a few moments where we could quietly joke, and it actually felt a little bit like a real date—like a date that I would go on with anyone, not just a coach.
When the movie ended and we walked out of the theater, Natalie left my side for a few moments to go into the bathroom, and I decided to follow her example. I used the facilities and washed my hands, and thought that for a practice date, it was actually going really well. So well in fact that I would see how far I could take things.
“You know,” I told her as we walked towards the entrance and exit of the theater together, “there’s something that’s been sort of nagging me at the back of my mind for a while now.”
“What’s that?” Natalie stopped short of the doors, looking up at me. This time, unlike our first date, she’d remembered the flowers of her own accord. She had snatched them up as soon as the lights came up, and she had carried them happily with her. Apparently, it does make a difference if you bring the kind of flowers they like, I thought wryly.
“This is supposed to be dating practice, right?” She nodded, looking up at me quizzically. “Well, one of the big, important things on a date is the goodnight kiss.”
“I told you, it’s not a real date,” she said immediately. I raised a hand to forestall her adding anything to that argument.
“But practice makes perfect, right?” I raised an eyebrow. “And practicing the goodnight kiss could really stand me in good stead later on in the process.”
“You are the most clever, ambitious man I think I have ever met through the program,” she said, shaking her head.
“Does it do me any good?” Natalie shrugged. “Can I get that goodnight practice kiss?” She looked up at me for a long moment and I was convinced that I had pushed things too far. But she grinned.
“Go for it then,” she said. “But remember: this isn’t a real date and I’m not your real girlfriend.” I leaned in, and just barely brushed my lips against hers. A feeling like an electric current tingled along m
y nerves, from my lips all the way through my body. I didn’t want it to stop—not in a million years. I deepened the kiss for a moment, letting my hands come to rest at her waist, tasting the lingering flavor of Coke on Natalie’s lips. After a few moments, I finally made myself pull back, stepping away from her. For a moment, she was absolutely silent. “You actually don’t need very much practice there,” she said finally, her cheeks going a deep, dusky pink. I laughed.
“Good to know,” I told her. “Until next time?”
“Yeah,” Natalie said, still sounding faintly stunned. “Until next time.”
Chapter Nine
Natalie
Days after my second official practice date with Zeke, I still couldn’t quite believe that I had actually let him kiss me. He made a good point, I told myself weakly. At some point when he actually goes on real dates, he’s going to have to kiss a woman. And, he’s going to want to impress her. But I knew that it wasn’t actually a real reason—and it certainly wasn’t one that would hold water with my boss. It would have been easier to get it out of my head if Zeke hadn’t been such a good kisser; I could have laughed it off, at least once I was out of his company, and considered it one of those gaffes that just happens.
As I made my way to another practice date with another client—a man by the name of Asher—I tried to push Zeke out of my mind completely. Zeke was just another client; like about a dozen clients I’d worked with since starting with the agency, he’d tried to push for more than he should have. But in all those cases, you were able to disengage and explain why they couldn’t get what they wanted from you and keep things professional, I thought. What was it about Zeke that had made me give in, despite every last professional scruple I had against the idea of kissing a client? At least Asher is unlikely to try and pull the same thing, I thought optimistically. And even if he got up the nerve, it would be beyond easy to tell him no.