"What if your husband dies early?" I ask. "Like my mother did? How do you survive, if you let yourself need him like that?"
"I just do," she says. "I grieve, and I cry, and I turn to the people that I have left. I lean on them, but eventually I heal. I can't live in sadness forever, and I realize my husband wouldn't want me to waste my life in misery. At some point, I move on, in his honor."
"In his honor?"
"Yes. If I were the one to die early, I'd like to think that I'd loved my husband well. Well enough, say, that he would still believe fully in love, and how magical it can be. I'd like to think that when he feels ready to move on, I'm selfless enough not to be haunting him still. After all," she says, "grief is too heavy to carry for long, and I wouldn't want someone I loved to waste away in that."
"So what you're saying is that I should go out with Drew," I say.
"Yes. Go, and have fun. Don't be so afraid to need someone. No one can meet your expectations if you never let anyone try."
"But I don't have to need him yet, right?"
"No, silly. I'm just saying don't be so afraid of it. There's a whole other argument that says it's a good thing. You just need balance."
I guess that settles it. I'm going on a date.
Chapter Seventeen
I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm really going on a date. And I really did let Chelsea talk me into wearing that flirty red dress, with flirty red sandals. She said I needed to dress it up a little more for a dinner date, though, so I'm also wearing a wide silver bangle on one arm, a delicate little silver watch on the other, and tiny silver hoops in my ears.
I know Chelsea would say I need more sparkle, but I feel good with this, so I'm letting it be. I want Drew to be attracted to me, not my wardrobe. Still, I want him to know I made an effort.
We're going to a little fondue place he says he likes, and I'm nervous because I've never been there. Fondue tends to be a lot of melted cheese, melted chocolate, and other melted fattening foods. Still, I'm determined to make the best of it. Worst-case scenario, I can refuse a second date if he asks, or simply tell him that I'd rather be more careful about what we eat in the future.
Tonight, though, I'm going to splurge. I'm going to let myself relax and have a great time. It's like my sisters said, I'll never know if we could hit it off unless I'm willing to try.
"You sure you're ok?" he asks, looking over at me. We're in his SUV, and I've got my little silver handbag in my lap. I love that he picked me up in traditional style, instead of accepting when I offered to meet him at the restaurant.
"I'm great, why?" I ask him, thinking how cute he looks when he's nervous. When he was fixing my car and wrapping my hand, he was confident, almost cocky. This change is endearing; I can't help but be charmed.
"You're just quiet. Quiet unnerves me, you know? Because I don't know what people are thinking?"
"That's too funny," I laugh, rushing to finish when he stiffens slightly. "I do that too! When someone doesn't talk, especially like on a date thing, I end up having too much time to guess what they're thinking and freak myself out."
"Exactly!" He relaxes then, and looks over at me again as we slow to a stop for a red light. "I do that too. On every single 'date thing' of my life." Now he's teasing, tossing me a little wink before the light turns green and we're moving again.
"Well, how about we don't think of this as a 'date thing' then?" I suggest. "Or at least, not a 'first date thing'? Then we don't have to be nervous, right?"
"My kind of girl," he chuckles, and I am strangely pleased. "That's a good solution to our little problem."
"I thought it might be. Besides, this isn't like the first time we've ever encountered each other." I hold up my hand, freshly bandaged and looking well.
"Did you take that thing to the doctor?" he asks.
"Of course," I laugh. "You know, because I've heard that tetanus is no fun."
He laughs too, and turns easily into a parking spot in front of the restaurant. Turning to me, he captures my eyes with his. "I've had a rough couple of months," he says, and I don't know exactly how, but I'm perfectly sure that this is his way of acknowledging where we met.
"I have, too. Everyone has their struggles," I tell him. He smiles, and his relief is evident.
"I'm glad you agreed to come out with me tonight though." Grinning, he stuffs his keys down the pocket of his grey slacks, and opens his door. "Wait for me," he commands with a grin.
I wait, smiling to myself as he comes around the back of the vehicle, and his charm comes to the forefront again when he opens my door with a flourish.
"Madame," he says, winking and giving me a quick little bow. As I laugh, he offers me his hand.
"Good sir," I reply, taking his hand and slipping down to stand in front of him. I drop a quick curtsy, and then we're both embarrassed; an elderly couple walking to the car beside us has been watching.
"Oh, my Jimmy and I used to be that way, too. You are just the cutest little couple we've seen in ages," the little old woman says, her arm hooked gently into the crook of her husband's elbow as they walk together. Drew waits for me to grab my bag as the woman's girlish giggle bubbles up, amid her husband's low whisper as he slowly guides her to the passenger side of their car.
He is a bit more sprightly than she is, and it doesn't take him long to come back around, to where Drew has kept me waiting. "I admire couples like you and your wife," he says to the little man.
"You look very much in love," he continues, and he offers his hand to the elderly gentleman in front of us, offering respect for a man who can keep his woman sparkling with happiness, no matter how old they've grown together.
Renee's words play again in my memory, and I can't help wondering what will happen to this little couple, someday in the future. Do they have what Renee wanted? Do they need each other enough, so that when one is gone, the other will ache with grief and need of their lost love? In that moment, I want what Renee described, what I perceive this little old couple to possess.
Too soon, the moment has passed and Drew's hand is light on the base of my spine, guiding me to the doors of the restaurant. I love the parallel he presents to me, and I tell him so.
"They were pretty cute themselves, hmm?" he murmurs over my shoulder, his voice a soft whisper in my ear as we join the line of patrons waiting to be seated.
"I thought so," I whisper back to him, and then we're next.
A slender hostess with long black hair and striking blue eyes greets us, smiling up at Drew. She glances at me, and her eyes widen slightly, her smile faltering only long enough to be noticed. Maybe my perception is skewed, but I get the feeling she's shocked to see us here together, and for just a second, I feel judged, hoping with all my heart that Drew hasn't noticed.
He has. In a forward move that I wouldn't normally like on a first date, he displays a little public pride to be with me; while I normally don't like public displays, I don't mind this time because I feel defended. His arm slips around my waist, and he drops a too-familiar kiss on my cheek.
"We want a nice, quiet table where we can be alone," he tells the hostess, and I have to fight an attack of nervous giggles as surprise flickers over her face.
"No problem, sir, please follow me," she says, and Drew allows his arm to drop as we follow.
Our table is quiet as requested, and Drew is very clear as he instructs our waitress to give us plenty of time with the menu. When we're alone, he looks at me a little sheepishly.
"I'm sorry about that, back there," he says. "Cop or not, I'm no good at girl speak, but it was obvious to me that she was saying something to you, something that you weren't happy with. You women manage to say so much to each other with just your eyes, and I can never keep up. If I overstepped any bounds, just know that I only wanted to offer support."
"You were perfectly supportive," I smile. "I liked that you were in tune with me like that, even if you didn't understand the girl thing. Does that make it hard for you as a cop? N
ot being as clued in to the subtle nuances?"
"Not really. It's different somehow, when I'm working. I guess I'm more in tune than usual or something; it's like a different part of me comes out. You don't really ever relax on the job. You just can't." That haunted look is in his eyes again, that look of sadness and too many burdens. I want to reach out for him; I want to reassure him that the world isn't all as bad as what he sees at work.
Propping my chin on one hand, I tilt my head. "What made you choose the force?"
"I wanted to be a part of something important, I guess. I wanted to be one of the good guys. But every little boy can't grow up to be an astronaut, and super-heroes aren't real. Or so they say. You know? Like, Superman is made up, and Spiderman and the others." He breaks off to sip the water our waitress has just placed on the table, signaling to her that we need more time.
"But somewhere in the world," he continues. "Somewhere, in a dangerous place, there is a fireman, bravely fighting evil. There is a serviceman, courageously pressing on, fighting evil. And then, when I'm on the clock, there's me. And I like to think that I fight evil, too. Kind of stupid?"
"I don't think it's stupid at all. I kind of agree, actually." At this, he reaches over the table and takes my hand, the one resting near my water glass.
"I'm so glad you agreed to come," he says, and we're still smiling at each other when the waitress comes back.
"Have you decided what you'd like?" she asks, and I snatch my menu up quickly, looking to Drew. He's looking at me too, and I must look terribly clueless, because he grins his lazy grin and turns to the waitress as if he hasn't a care in the world.
"We'd like the veggie salad fondue with the spiced mustard dressing to begin with, followed by the dinner special because it happens to be my favorite. Then for dessert, we'll have the fruit with the dark chocolate, please. And we'll start with a bottle of white wine as well." He looks to me for approval, and I nod silently, loving how take-charge he can be.
I spent most of my life feeling alone, at least until I was placed with Janet and her family. But then, I've spent my adult life mostly alone too. I make my own decisions, I choose the food, the restaurant, the menu, the decor, the timing, everything. I didn't expect to like not making all the choices on my own, but I do. I really like being able to just relax and follow someone else's lead for a change.
"Now that we're alone again," he says. "What do you do for work?"
"Nothing impressive," I laugh, wishing I were some kind of impressive executive. "I actually just work in a call center right now. It's not fancy, but I'm hoping to get into the management-training program and work my way up. They take care of their employees, and it's a simple job that leaves me time for myself at the end of the day."
"That's not a bad plan. You know, we all have to work somewhere. I personally think my stakeouts would suck if everyone on the planet decided they were too good to flip burgers. Then I'd have to cook my own!" He shivers in mock horror, and I'm still laughing when our waitress returns.
She lifts the guard from the warmer at the left of our table, and places a small cast iron cauldron on top. It's full of the spiced mustard dressing, a pale yellowish dip with flecks of little spices all through it, and it looks delicious. At the right edge of our table, she gently sets a serving platter in place. It's covered with a mixture of diced vegetables, cherry tomatoes, and little half-inch blocks of cheese, and is a beautiful rainbow of color.
We spend the rest of dinner talking about little things. I tell him about my sisters and how silly they are, how much they mean to me, and a little about how I met them. He tells me more about his relationships with his brothers and sisters, and I am intrigued by the idea of such a large family. I can see as he talks that he loves them, and I'm really glad I decided to come.
Before long, the dinner is over, and we're both happily stuffed with vegetables, little bits of chicken, ravioli and steak, mixed fruits, and the delicious fondue dips. I can't believe I've never been here, and now I can't wait to bring my sisters back.
In the SUV, he's quiet. I'm quiet too; we're just content to be sitting there together, I think. Occasionally, he says something, or I do, about how great our dinner was, how attentive our waitress was, how quiet the night is.
As we pull up to my apartment building, we argue playfully about whether or not he needs to walk me up, and of course, I let him win. Usually, I take the stairs to my apartment, but tonight I head for the elevator, and when we're inside, he takes my hands.
"I'm really glad you agreed to come out with me," he says. Looking into his eyes is hypnotic, and I can't seem to keep my eyes from dropping to his full lips, spread in a lazy grin.
"I'm glad too, Drew. I'm glad you asked me, and I had a really great time." This is the nervous part. Will he kiss me? Will he not want to? Will he ask me to go out again?
"When can we do this again?" he asks, and the little girl inside of me starts jumping up and down.
Looking into his eyes again, I can't stop thinking how easy it would be, just to get lost in his eyes, in his lazy grin, his easy sense of humor. I can't stop thinking how nice it would be to sink into the way he looks out for me already, and to fall into the easy habit of looking out for him, too.
I think of Renee again, and now, what she wanted doesn't sound so bad, after all.
"Is as soon as possible soon enough?" I laugh, as the elevator opens.
"It's perfect for me," he says, and he keeps my hand in his while we walk together down the hall. At my door, he takes my other hand again, and suddenly we're facing each other.
"It's a 'date thing' again, isn't it?" I ask, watching a flurry of emotions mix in his face.
"Yeah," he answers quietly. "But not a 'first date thing.'" We smile; he steps forward, and he slides one hand up my arm, slipping his fingers easily around my neck, gently into my hair. He guides my face to his, and as my hand slides up his arm to rest on his shoulder, he presses his warm and tender lips to mine.
Chapter Eighteen
It's been a week since my date with Drew, and even though we haven't found the time to go out again yet, we have talked every day on the phone. I love talking to him, and I really look forward to our calls. Especially tonight's call, because today is going to suck.
Today is Janet's birthday, and she said that what she wanted most for her birthday was to have her children together in the same place for dinner again. So I'm in the car, driving back home for Janet's birthday dinner.
My power playlist is blaring, and I'm screaming the lyrics of Katy Perry's "Part of Me," at the top of my lungs, dancing around like a fool in my car. I know my confidence has made progress, because when I catch someone looking at me at a red light, I scoop a hairbrush out of the passenger seat and hold it up like a microphone. The guy in the car laughs, and then the light turns and he pulls away. I drive on, still singing.
The strong mood lasts until I pull up to the restaurant where we've all arranged to meet for dinner, only to realize that the place is packed. Cruising the parking lot, I see Renee's car next to Janet's little van, so I know all the girls are here already. Parking in the last available space at the back of the lot, I climb out of my car and realize that the truck in front of my car is Rick's.
"Damn," I mutter to myself. The last thing I want is to finish dinner and have him stuck to my hip all the way to the car, digging at me. "Well, there's no putting it off forever. Just get it over with."
I take my purse and lock my car, tucking the little bag under my arm so I can smooth the emerald green wrap tunic I've worn over fitted chocolate slacks. Then I take a deep breath, and head for the restaurant.
Approaching the door, I can't help but roll my eyes. Rick is sitting there on a bench by the door, wearing his typical smirk.
"They sent me out to watch for you, since we're such great pals," he says.
"Aww, that's sweet. Especially after you cleaned the whole kitchen for me at the reunion. I did get home safely that night, thanks to your genero
us offer to help."
"Oh please, you got home early because your piggy feet were tired of the ugly boots you stuffed them in, so you trapped me in the kitchen and ran squealing home."
I click my tongue and shake my head, twitching my finger at him. "You know, actually, I didn't squeal once. I did sing though. Loud. All the way home. It was a lot of fun. Much better than dishpan hands." I hold my hands out, waggling my freshly manicured fingertips at him.
"Well, as always, it's been a pleasure," I say, breezing beside him to open the door of the restaurant. "But I'm going inside. Gosh, I hope this place has a buffet. I'm so hungry I could eat the wait staff tonight."
I'm laughing as I walk through the door and announce myself to the restaurant host. I just can't forget the look of shock on Rick's face. I'm wildly proud of myself for throwing him off again. He walks in the door, fuming, just as a hostess comes up to walk us to our table.
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