by Lonz Cook
“I know you’re going to like this wine. It’s a favorite because it’s the right bouquet, from the perfect grapes in the region. I fell in love with it years ago.”
Camille looked at him, “You know, most men aren’t that crazy about wines.” She took a piece of bread and placed it on her saucer. “I mean, all the men I’ve dated never cared about wine. You’re overly excited about this bottle.”
“I am?”
“It seems that way. For your sake, I hope it’s good.” She frowned as she tore off a small piece of bread with her hands.
The waiter returned with the wine bottle in a bucket of ice. He poured a small amount in a glass and had Manny sample his selection. He explained the year and winery location when Manny took a sip.
“Perfect, just as I remember it.” Manny nodded while he sat his glass on the table.
“Camille, even if you prefer red wine, this white is fabulous.”
“We’ll see. I don’t usually like whites.”
“But this one is…well you’ll see.”
She took a sip after the waiter poured her glass. Manny waited for her response.
“Not bad,” Camille sipped from her glass a second time, “Not bad at all,” she added, “I’m surprised it’s not sweet.”
“You have to trust me.”
They continued their small talk, finishing where they left off in his truck. Camille had finally started sharing her life experiences when the waiter came with their meals. Once the waiter placed Manny’s dish on the table, Camille looked up, “Can I have a menu?”
“What’s wrong?” Manny was surprised, “You haven’t tasted anything.”
“I don’t have to. I can look at the sauce and see it has a lot of cheese.”
“Well it’s cheesy because it's a southern Italian dish - four cheeses.”
“Except one thing,” Camille frowned as she opened the menu the waiter handed her. “I’m severely lactose intolerant.
“I didn’t know.”
“You never asked.”
“Forgive me for not asking,” Manny gave her a blank stare, “You’re right I should have asked. It would have been more impressive had I known of your intolerance.”
“I would guess you would have,” Camille looked at the menu, “You would have impressed me by asking more about me before making assumptions; especially for a first date. Do you always leap to conclusions or is this how you normally treat women?”
Manny hesitated to respond and pondered how to answer, If I answer yes, then she’ll say I’m a lame jerk. If I answer no, she’ll say I missed the mark and should change. Either way I lose so why not change the subject. Manny sighed, “I guess you would know what’s best when it comes to treating a woman. How about I share my experience dealing with women during my global travel and you telling me what works? I’ll listen.”
“What does global travel have to do with me?”
“I’d guess you’re subjective to what men do to impress you. Let’s just say we missed the mark on this one. Don’t I get credit for trying? I figured the selection and planning was something nice,” Manny sipped his wine.
“Well, you’re wrong.” Camille looked angry raising the menu hiding her face from Manny. “You don’t get credit for being in control. How did you come to be the professional on women of the world?” Camille waited for an answer, and when Manny didn’t quickly respond, she continued, “I bet everything you’ve done has something to do with women you met near some seaport,” Camille’s tone had changed from the sweet voice than when they arrived.
“What is so different between those women and you?”
“I’m not interested in finding a man who can take control of my life.”
“You mean, your idea of people near a port — or should I say women near a port — is that they have an underlying objective to find a man who can give them a different life?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I bet most of the women you’ve met laughed and pretended to enjoy anything you do.” She frowned, staring at him with fire in her eyes, “And I bet your asshole friends married them and they didn’t care anything about those jerks. Those bitches left them after they got to the States. Am I wrong?”
Manny took in a breath and held it, fighting the anger, he looked at Camille and shook his head in disgust for her insult, “You’re dead wrong.”
“I know what I’m talking about,” Camille continued her look at Manny, “My brother married a foreign woman, and she left him a few years after she had a child with him. Next thing you know she’s married to another guy, and her family is here. What kind of life did she give my brother? He can hardly see his kid, let alone the family ever gets to see him.” Camille looked at her wine glass, “Yeah, she accepted anything he did just like the great idea you had for me tonight.”
“You’re saying all women from foreign countries near military towns, have an underlying objective?”
“I said it and I mean it.”
“I think you’ve just insulted 90% of military wives.”
Camille sat in silence, looking around the room as if her comment was loud enough to bring unwanted attention. She glanced at the table, then held her head up.
“I didn’t say all, but I bet a lot of them wanted a military man to take them away from their humdrum lives.”
“Again, you just insulted my daughter’s mother.”
“At least she was smart enough to get out.”
Manny held his tongue in response and signaled for the waiter. “Can you pack this to go and give me the check, please?”
The waiter nodded in response and picked up both plates from the table. Camille dropped the menu and scowled at Manny, “What about my dinner?”
Manny lifted his wine glass and gulped the level left. He sat the glass down and looked at Camille, “We can find a takeout place on the way home.”
“I don’t think so,” She shook her head, “Asshole, I’ll call a cab. You can go to hell on your way home.”
“Are you sure? I don’t leave women stranded. I bought you here and the least I can do is take you back.”
“Oh, there you go again, assuming I can’t take care of myself. Look asshole, I don’t think you know crap about women. I can see why you’re divorced. Your male chauvinist ego should go find a woman with low self-esteem! I’m not her.”
Camille stood and walked to a different table holding her purse and menu and took a seat. Manny took the check from the waiter, gave him his credit card, and filled his wine glass. He watched Camille look through the menu. He knew Suzie would be upset at the outcome. Oh well, she’ll just have to get over it.
On his drive home Manny remembered many successful couples who had it together and whose marriages had endured hard times and long deployments.
He recalled young couples who had no idea about Navy life or possible hardships ahead of them and how they pulled through. As he turned left on the main drive, he stopped at a 7/11 convenience store and parked in front of the entrance. He got out of his truck and entered the business walking directly to the beer and wine section. He picked up two beers and walked to the cashier. Manny nodded at the attendant, paid cash for his items and received the change and took the bag with his beer. He walked to the truck and got inside, buckled his seatbelt and put the key into the ignition. He flashed to Camille’s change of attitude during dinner. He shook his head in disbelief.
Manny arrived home, went inside and booted his desktop then sat at the desk. He removed his blazer and dropped it on the couch. His failed date consumed him. Was Camille right? No, not at all, he reassured himself as he watched the desktop boot up. He sat down, logged in, took a beer from the bag and popped the top, and went straight to his email account.
Tiffany,
You aren’t going to believe my night. It was horrible, and I ended up coming home early from my date. I mean Camille, the same woman you said take a gift to, showed her true colors. It was surprising to he
ar how she feels about military people, especially men. Maybe I didn’t notice her opinions during dinner with Suzie. But man, were her opinions up-front tonight. I never knew a woman could be so judgmental.
You aren't going to believe what happened. Well, she insulted me, the Navy, men in the military and foreign women. I tried to impress her with dinner and wine at a fancy restaurant. How was I to know she was lactose intolerant? She doesn’t do milk products including cheese, and I took her to an Italian restaurant. Who eats Italian without cheese? Now I know, obviously she does. Oh, and she blasted women too, saying how disappointing women are who aren’t independent. Like, wow, I suspect no one could get her into a state of dependency. No wonder she does everything for her business. She has serious control issues.
Okay, no more attempts to satisfy my daughter’s dream. She’ll have to accept who I like and stop trying to set me up with whomever she wants in her life. I’ll have to have a chat with the young lady real soon.
Thanks for listening or reading this email and letting me vent.
Manny
Chapter 15
Tiffany stood in line at the post office trying to read the delivery notice. She couldn’t make out the zip code of the box’s origin. She wondered if she had forgotten about an online order, or if today was a special occasion. She couldn’t think of anyone who would send her a gift out of the blue. Twenty minutes later it was finally her turn at the counter and she handed the slip to the postal clerk.
“I’ll be right back,” he took the slip and walked towards the back of the warehouse.
Tiffany’s eyes followed the postal worker where she saw a multitude of boxes, packages, and bins through the double door he left open. He returned with a 20 x 25 inch box.
“Nice-sized box for the lady,” the postal worker smiled. “Sign here,” he X’d the spot on the form on the counter.
Tiffany grabbed the chained pen and signed the document. She took the box, smiled and thanked him. Tiffany read the return address while in the building’s foyer. She sighed in relief that it wasn’t from her parents as the last time they sent a box of this size, it was a bundle of products Tiffany didn’t use. She still had some in her cabinet taking up space just in case they visited.
Tiffany became agitated when she read the name in the return address. The box was from her ex-husband Brad. She was angry that he’d contacted her because he broke the solemn promise of never communicating with her again. For Tiffany it was over and she feared this package was an effort to reopen the pain she had gotten over. Tiffany knew their divorce had been eminent but the emotion of failure always burned her ego. The appearance of the box puzzled her. They didn’t have kids or any shared assets so there was no reason to communicate.
Tiffany arrived home still puzzled over the box. Her excitement had drained into procrastination once she realized the box’s origin. There was nothing she wanted from Brad nor was there any reason to receive anything from him. Tiffany retrieved a knife from the kitchen, went to the box, cut the tape and the top lid was free. Tiffany pulled the crumpled newspaper out of the box, placed it on the coffee table, and viewed the box’s content. She frowned in disgust. The box was filled with ripped pictures of her and Brad in happier times. What stared back at her were at least a hundred images of herself, minus Brad. Tiffany moved the picture remnants and spotted a large brown envelope. She opened it and saw four documents inside; upon examination, an attorney’s letter, a will and a banknote with an attached check, and a letter in Brad’s distinctive handwriting. She put the other items aside and focused on the banknote. The check was made out to her in the amount of twenty-five dollars. She then read the will and found that a substantial amount of money had been willed to her and Brad from his great-uncle Robert. She saw the amount and decided to read the attorney’s letter. She then re-read a page of the will and when finished, she went on to Brad’s letter.
What you think should be yours really isn’t. I’ve deducted what I thought cost me my career, minus the time invested in you and the agony of forcing me to leave before my opportunity knocked while you supported us. Here is a check for $25.00. I suggest you spend it well. You can’t fight for the rest as you’re not entitled to the money because it came after our divorce. I suggest you buy yourself a couple of drinks and celebrate having nothing more to do with me.
Tiffany continued reading the will and contemplated her next move. She went to her computer and researched California’s probate laws.
He was a sweet man, and I had no idea he had so much money. No wonder he didn’t believe I’d marry Brad. Uncle Robert knew of his nephew ways. He told me not to do it. I should have listened. Damn, he knew his nephew.
She remembered Brad’s uncle and how kind he had been to her but was surprised that he’d left her anything at all. She thought hard about communicating with the lawyer. Tiffany knew she could use the money. She sat back in her chair and looked at the blank laptop, focusing on the screen as if it could forecast the cost of a lawyer. She leaned her head to one side, paused, and leaned her head to the other side. She stopped staring and the numbers in her head disappeared. Tiffany knew the legal cost of fighting Brad would be more than she made in a month. Is it worth it? Is fighting Brad the headache? Her first instinct was to let the money go and be done with him. She recalled how peaceful her life had become since the divorce. I don’t think I want to get involved with Brad just because his uncle left me a few dollars. She rose from her chair and walked into the kitchen, looked into the fridge and didn’t grab a thing. She closed the refrigerator's door and returned to the chair she had just left. I could use the money. She shook her head and placed her head onto her palms, resting from the elbow on her thighs. I’m not so sure what to do.
Tiffany booted her laptop, went to her email, and wrote Manny for his opinion. When she logged in to her email, she read Manny’s note and was surprised at all he revealed, she quickly replied:
Manny,
Oh my God, you crossed paths with the devil. She seems to have seriously overreacted. No woman should blast another female. What the hell? I can’t believe she did that to you. Manny, you showed a lot of class on your part. She was ungrateful and not your type after all. I am so sorry.
No worries about Suzie, she’ll be fine once you explain what happened. I’m sure she’s mature enough to see her father means well. Besides, Suzie probably doesn’t know how Camille behaves outside the coffee shop.
Today wasn’t good for me either. I received a box from my ex-husband that contained information about an inheritance. His great-uncle included me in his will as Brad’s spouse, so we both inherited the money. I don’t want to fight him, and it was after the divorce, but I could use the cash. Should I get a lawyer or just let Brad slither back under his rock?
Let me know what you think I should do. I value your opinion. The question is, do I open a can of pain or do I keep him out of my life for good?
Tiffany
She returned to her research after she sent the email. Tiffany read about a person’s rights and again pondered whether the fight was in her best interest or if she had the will to battle. She questioned if it was worth disrupting the harmony she had finally achieved. Tiffany wanted a better quality life and having half of the money would help her move along with her financial struggle, but peace was more her path and she enjoyed the calm.
Tiffany flipped flopped on the idea of fighting or not. She stood up from the desk, walked to the window and looked down the street. The house she had dearly loved came to mind. It was the very home she and Brad had shared. The same house she was later forced to sell because she couldn’t keep/afford it on her salary. Anger and frustration visited as Tiffany moved to the package, grabbed a handful of torn pictures, ripped them into smaller pieces and then tossed them back into the box. “I wish I’d known this came from Brad. I finally had him in my past and out of nowhere he returns. Why did you send this Brad?” She pondered, repeating the question in her mind. W
hy did you? Tiffany called Valerie’s cell. Without a greeting, Tiffany blurted out her anger.
“That bastard just won’t go away!”
“Brad?”
“Of course, Brad. Who else?”
“What now?” Valerie knew how Brad had tormented Tiffany throughout their divorce. She stood by Tiffany during her challenges with his infidelity and financial hardships. Valerie was there during her breakup, stood by her side when she had her angry moments that caused havoc, and was there the time she subsided to accept the death of her life as she knew it. Valerie was her rock.
“He sent me a twenty-five dollar check.”
“Why on earth would he do such a thing?”
“His uncle left us a lot of money in his will. He didn’t know Brad and I were divorced. So, I’m still listed as an heir.”
“So he’s saying twenty-five dollars is your part of the money.”
“I get that, but why not hide it from me?”
“He wants to bug you the best way he can. Why else would he do, unless the check is a substantial amount?”
“According to the lawyer’s letter, there’s enough for me to get out of debt.”
“Then you better do something to get that money!”
“Valerie, you know what I went through with that jerk. I don’t want to go through that again. Money isn’t everything.”
Valerie waited before responding. She knew Tiffany well enough and knew how relieved Tiffany was being away from Brad’s drama. Tiffany and Valerie analyzed Brad’s misbehavior - his infidelities and his wild/reckless spending – and realized his childish drama never ended. Valerie remembered how happy Tiffany reacted the day her final divorce papers arrived. “Well at least he’s not in your pockets anymore and whatever was between you two is over.”