Dropping Stones / Kingmaker SET

by Paul Cwalina

  “I know. I recognize that,” I humbly said.

  Greg got up from his chair and started toward the door, then stopped and turned toward me. “I like to think I don’t have to ask this, but you’d take me with you to D.C., right?”

  “Of course. That’s one thing you’ll never have to worry about. Nobody else would put up with me.”

  “That’s true....and comforting. Okay, well, you have to get ready for your lunch, so I’ll go.”

  “Not funny,” I said and then continued, “Hey, union contracts are a little more than a year away. I want to get a jump on those. I’m tired of this city issuing bonds to cover the pensions. See if you can float some trial balloons with the right people.”

  “I’m on it,” he said as he exited my office.

  The rest of the morning was just a blur of thinking about Sarah and a meeting with a commercial real estate developer. Around 12:00pm, I walked out of the office and said to Diane, “I’m heading out for something to eat. Be back by one.”

  “What? Chelsea is going to be here in a half-hour,” she said loudly.

  “Yikes. Forgot about that. I’m sorry. Okay.” I turned to go back into the office. Diane followed me in.

  “Hey, look, I know you still have a thing for Sarah, but can you please at least show Chelsea a little courtesy and respect? She’s a dear friend of mine.”

  “Fine. How about the two of you show me some, too, and not be forcing this on me.”

  “Whatever,” she said, disgusted.

  While I waited for Chelsea to show, I stewed about Sarah. I spent almost the entire half-hour staring out the window wondering where she was at that moment. She was probably with that that guy somewhere out there.

  Chelsea arrived right on time. She was carrying a large brown paper grocery bag in one hand and a book with a ribbon around it in the other. The tips of her hair were still blue.

  “Hi! I hope you’re in the mood for Chinese,” she said putting the bag and book on the round wooden meeting table in my office.

  “Chinese? Oh, Chelsea, there’s something in Chinese food that I’m allergic to...”

  Her eyes widened and her smile disappeared. “What? I’m sorry. Diane didn’t tell me...”

  “Relax. Just kidding.”

  She slapped my arm. “Don’t do that! My heart fell to the floor.”

  “Your heart fell to the floor over Chinese food?”

  “Yes...what can I say? I’m deep,” she said with a smile.

  ”Yeah, I guess,” I chuckled. “Anyway, thanks so much for lunch. You didn’t have to buy.”

  “Don’t be silly. My pleasure.” She started pulling everything out of the bag and putting it on the table. “I asked Diane what you would like and she said to just get the most boring thing on the menu...”

  “Very funny, Diane,” I said in an elevated voice toward the open office door.

  “Anyway, I came up with sweet and sour chicken, which always struck me as nothing more than chicken nuggets with sweet and sour sauce. I hope that’s okay.”

  I hung my head and shook it. “Actually, that’s what I usually get at a Chinese restaurant.”

  “Oh,” she said, not sure if she should be proud that she got it right or embarrassed about what she said about the dish and, by proxy, about me. She moved quickly to put it behind her. She finished emptying the bag then picked up the book. “Here, I also brought you this. I’ve had it since college. I never knew why I kept it all these years until last night.”

  I took it from her and smiled. “Understanding Picasso...very funny.”

  Chelsea laughed. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “Educating the poor, unwashed Philistine, are we?”

  “Oh, stop.”

  “Just kidding. Very good...well-played.,” I told her, before continuing, “Although, that seems like an awfully thick book just say that Picasso sucks.”

  Chelsea laughed. “Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what it says.”

  “Did your co-worker enjoy my assessment of Picasso as much as you did?”

  “Oh, yes,” she laughed. “She thought it was hysterical! She said she’s definitely going to vote for you next time.”

  “Excellent. I’ll have someone send her a voter’s registration form. How many more can we sign up over there?”

  She chuckled. “If I were you, I’d settle for Maureen right now. Let’s not push it.”

  I reached for her coat to hang it up, but she just said she’d drape it over one of the chairs. I pulled out her chair and pushed it in as she sat down.

  “Why thank you,” she said, a bit surprised. “You’re a dying breed, I’m afraid. I don’t think I have ever had my chair pulled out for me.”

  “Just the way I was raised. No big deal.”

  “You have no idea how big a deal it is,” she said.

  I sighed, “On behalf of my gender, I apologize. I don’t know why or when it changed.”

  “It’s okay,” she said kindly. “I’m just grateful I’ve found a gentleman.”

  “So, to what do I owe the honor of a free lunch?”

  “Oh, no such thing as a free lunch.”

  “There are strings attached?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No...just seemed like the thing to say after hearing ‘free lunch’”

  We both laughed. Stop being funny

  “I’m beginning to understand what it’s like for people who are trying to have a conversation with me,” I confessed.

  “I think there’s a compliment in there,” she said with a smile.

  “Don’t get cocky,” I said half-jokingly.

  We organized our food and drinks and began to eat.

  She asked, “Did you have a nice time last night?”

  Not really “Sure. How about you?”

  “I had a wonderful time,” she said with a wide, genuine smile.

  “Really?” I said just a bit too incredulously.

  “Yes, definitely. Why? Didn’t you?” she asked, a bit concerned.

  “Can I be honest?”

  “I doubt it. You’re a politician.”

  “Very funny. Seriously, though, I didn’t think you were enjoying yourself. I thought we struggled a little for conversation. And then you seemed anxious to end the evening early.”

  “Early? It was ten o’clock and we both had work this morning. I honestly just thought it was a good idea.”

  Really? “Oh...ok. I’m sorry. I took it the wrong way, I guess. Sorry.”

  “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” she said.

  “It’s a little early in the day for Freud.”

  “Oh, should I come back around four?”

  I laughed hard and then she joined in. I asked with just a hint of seriousness, “Do they have comedy nights over there at the museum? Perhaps you’re missing your calling.”

  “No, no, no...I’m fine just where I am. Glad you think I’m funny, though,” she said, before becoming a bit more serious. “It’s nice to know I can make you laugh,” she said as she shot a look into my eyes.

  I looked away quickly. “That’s for sure.”

  We talked a little more while finishing our lunch, exchanging details about our families and past. Just like last night, though, we avoided talk of the ex’s. She checked her phone for the time and said she had to get back to the museum. I told her I would clean up.

  As she put on her coat, she said, “I’m going to quiz you on that book when we get together on Saturday night, so you better get to studying, mister.”

  “Saturday night?”

  “Yep, you were just about to ask me out for Saturday night.”

  “Oh, I was, was I?”

  “Yes you were...thought I’d save you the trouble.”

  “Now who’s the cocky one?”

  She laughed remembering what she said the night before. “Touche’”

  “Oooh, and she speaks French.”

  She laughed again. “So, did you say seven o’clock on Saturday at the museum?”
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  “Um, no. I don’t remember saying anything about Saturday night,” I said, hoping she would drop it.

  “Oh, so you don’t want anything to do with me? I see.”

  “Knock it off.”

  “Okay, then is Saturday alright with you?”

  “I will check my calendar and let you know,” I said, expecting that to end the conversation. But she just stood there looking at me.

  “Are you going to check?” she asked, not moving an inch.

  “I will. I will.”

  She grabbed my cell phone from the table and handed it to me. “Do you keep appointments and reminders in here?”

  I took it from her, smiled and said, “Maybe.”

  “Then check it. I’ll wait.” Her smile was playfully wide.

  Exasperated, I just put the phone back on the table. “Fine. I’ll see you on Saturday. Seven o’clock at the museum.”

  She looked at her cell phone and said, “Whoa, hold on, mister. Let me check my schedule to make sure I’m free that night.” She paused and then continued, “Oh, look, you’re lucky. I am free that night. It’s a date.” She reached up and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Gotta run.”

  What just happened?

  I sighed, “Okay, see ya.”

  She walked out the door and I gathered up the containers and utensils and napkins, threw them in the bag and walked toward my desk. I dropped the bag in the garbage can and turned toward the door.

  “Diane! Get in here,” I barked.

  She responded quickly and came into the office.

  “Shut the door and sit down.”

  “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Diane asked concerned and a little scared it seemed.

  “You and Chelsea need to cool your jets, you hear me?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Stop pushing this.”

  “Chelsea’s just...”

  I put up my hand and I cut her off. “Look, Chelsea’s a nice person. I’ll be honest, she’s probably the funniest woman I’ve met in a long time...maybe ever. But this has gone too far. She’s nice, but she’s no Sarah. There’s no need to drag this out. You need to stop the matchmaking and she needs to stop the games. Do we understand each other?”

  “Just give her a chance,” she pleaded.

  “I have. Twice now. It’s not going anywhere.”

  “You don’t know that yet,” she protested.

  “Diane, don’t tell me what I think or feel. She’s no Sarah and there’s no need to keep this going.”

  “You’re making a big mistake.”

  “No, you are. Sarah and me are not over. We will eventually get back together after she gets this thing out of her system. Now, I’ll go with Chelsea on Saturday and that’s it. Do we understand each other?”

  “Fine,” she said, exasperated and got up from her chair. “There are a thousand guys in this city who would kill to go out with Chelsea.”

  “Good, then she won’t care if it’s me or not. She’ll have plenty of other opportunities.”

  Diane paused for a moment. “She really likes you....although why is a mystery to me.”

  Hearing that calmed me a bit. I relaxed and exhaled. “Yeah, well, what’s not to like?” I joked.

  “Plenty.”

  “Go.”

  “What are you planning for Saturday?”

  “Go.”

  Chapter Seven

  The rest of the week was just like all of the ones since Sarah left me. I was pre-occupied with thinking about her. I couldn’t imagine how I was coming across to those around me, because I couldn’t recall many details from meetings, conversations, or phone calls. I still caught myself trying to find her in a crowd, placing myself in coffee shops and bars where I thought she’d be, and occasionally calling her. Of course, she never answered the calls. Why was Sarah doing this to me? I’m supposed to be with her.

  When Saturday evening arrived, I struggled to get dressed and ready to see Chelsea. I regretted agreeing to see her. She was keeping me from being with Sarah. I promised Diane, though, that I would give Chelsea the courtesy and respect she deserves, so I pulled myself together, got ready and headed out the door.

  I parked the car in a lot across the plaza from the museum. I looked at the plaza and the distance from the parking lot to the museum and slipped into public servant mode. The museum needs to be closer to a street so people can get dropped off there or park near the entrance. Wonder if that’s possible. I typed a reminder into my phone to talk to Greg about it on Monday. It was a small victory in the struggle to get back to normal. Then I checked my phone for the time. It was exactly seven.

  As I approached the entrance, I saw Chelsea waiting for me just inside the door. She opened it for me as she saw me draw near.

  “Hey, there,” she said, putting her hand on my arm and lifting herself to kiss my cheek. What’s the deal with the pecks on the cheek? Can I at least get a lip once in a while? “Welcome to my home away from home.”

  “Hi. I love what you’ve done with the place,” I joked.

  “Always the comedian.”

  Boy, she has nerve saying that. “Oh, look who’s talking,” I said.

  She smiled. “Fair enough. Have you ever been in here before?” she asked.

  “Yes, twice - once for a fundraiser and another time for a meeting with the board.”

  “So, never just to look at some of the world’s finest works of art?” she asked.

  I immediately felt a wave of guilt and embarrassment. This is her life’s work, her passion and I’d never given it a thought.

  “Oh, boy. Sorry. I get the sense that I’m in trouble.”

  Rather than being hurt, she seemed a bit excited. “No, not at all. I love the fact that I get to show you something that’s new to you,” she said. She took my arm and said, “Shall we begin?”

  “Lead the way.”

  “Okay, we’re going to save what I think is the best for last, okay?”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Okay, well let’s start to our right with photography, shall we?”

  I love photography. This section should be last.

  We walked arm in arm and entered a wide area with dozens of wonderful photographs - everything from landscapes to portraits to simple objects. As we stopped to view each one, I could feel Chelsea watching me instead of looking at the photographs. It seemed like she was trying to gauge my reaction or make sure I was enjoying myself. I’m not sure which. She probably noticed that I lingered at the landscapes.