An overweight man plops down in the seat beside me emitting a whiff of cigarettes. I turn my face to the window and watch the baggage handlers tossing luggage haphazardly onto the upward moving ramp disappearing beneath us into the plane’s hollow girth. It’s blindingly sunny, and I switch to my sunglasses and lean my elbow on the narrow sill of the window resting my chin in my palm.
Why did Brad have to look so enticing and give me that mischievous smile that invites the type of musings that make me blush? The thought of him causes a little tingle of excitement. He always had that effect on me. From the moment we met.
The Past
Chapter 2
We met online. I resisted the idea, but Marcy pushed me to place an ad, even helping me write it when I couldn’t think of anything to say about myself. She clicked my picture for hours arranging me in different poses, brushing my hair this way and that, making me change my clothes, trying to get me to smile in a flirtatious way for my profile photo. It felt forced and stupid. I couldn’t smile naturally, but she finally got a good photo when she made me laugh. I didn’t expect to get any responses to my ad and was hoping I wouldn’t so Marcy would get off my back because then I could say, oh well, we’d tried.
I was reluctant to jump into dating again after a series of disappointing attempts following a painful divorce. My ex had long since moved back to Arizona where he was from. He’d never been interested in being a father when we’d become surprise parents and quickly married. I hoped he’d come around but he never did. He just announced one day that he wasn’t happy and was leaving. And that was the last of him. I hadn’t bothered pursuing him for child support. He would’ve dodged it somehow and it wasn’t worth the trouble. At least I’d managed to divorce him.
To my amazement, I got immediate responses to my ad. I set up meetings with a few guys in the same restaurant bar where I was required to ask them questions Marcy had deemed significant. She always wanted me to call her immediately afterward and give her a full report and was more disappointed than I was when I didn’t feel any attraction. Maybe I was too picky or maybe I just didn’t want to subject myself to yet another bad relationship. That was clearly my pattern and it was getting old.
Then Brad answered my ad saying he liked my picture and could we meet. He’d gotten right to the
point and that impressed me. No wasting time on the phone or emailing back and forth. He said he wasn’t interested in flirting if we didn’t have chemistry in person. He was pragmatic. That appealed to me. I didn’t want to waste time either. I was a single working mother with little time to spare and was already annoyed that I’d spent so much of it meeting the wrong men.
His photo showed him with longish hair and a trim mustache, which gave him an appealing masculinity. He was short, but I was shorter. Height was probably an issue for him, and he must’ve had trouble meeting women who weren’t taller. I was five years older but that hadn’t bothered him. Even the fact that I had two teenagers didn’t deter him. That was encouraging.
I’d been single longer than I’d been married and had gone on many first dates over the years, never much interested in second dates. I felt numb most of the time. No one sparked my interest, though sometimes I briefly dallied.
I was usually calm before a date, though a shred of hope always clung to me. One day can change your life. One person can change your path leading you down an entirely new one than the one you’d been blithely following. But, more often than not, it was just a date. Just a blip in my life until another blip came along.
But before I met Brad, I was a wreck with butterflies careening around my stomach. Something in me knew this was different. He was different. I fluffed up my long, dark hair. My eyelashes were naturally dark, and I had thick eyebrows that I trimmed into arched lines. Clear nail polish, dark heels, and a short-sleeved cream sweater with dark slacks completed my appearance. I remember because he complimented me on how my dark hair looked against my light sweater. I later learned he wasn’t generous with compliments. He was too logical to think in sentimental terms.
I usually met a new guy for drinks or coffee so as not to commit to too much time in case I wasn’t interested, but Brad suggested dinner in this lovely restaurant the inside of which I’d never seen. People who didn’t fret about prices went there. He was investing time and money in this date. He was serious and we hadn’t even met. I felt the pressure of his expectations and a bubble of optimism swelled within me. I feared it would pop and drench me with disappointment because, I decided, this was the last one. I was going to close down my profile after this, no matter how it turned out.
Brad’s seated in a chair right inside when I pull open the heavy door and stumble slightly as I enter the restaurant. Darn rug. I quickly look around and immediately feel out of place. I tell myself I do belong here. I’m aware that I’m pretty as evidenced by all the male attention I’ve been granted over the years. I just never knew how to deal with it and gravitated to men who showed less interest and were less attainable.
My parents had high aspirations for their pretty daughter, and my looks could’ve been a great asset if I’d learned how to use them, but I’d always aimed low and, despite assessment tests in school revealing that I was bright, I’d always lacked the capacity to use my assets to my advantage.
I muster my dignity after my brief display of clumsiness and adorn my face with a smile.
“Vera?” He stands and I notice our heights are compatible. He wears a white dress shirt and dark gray slacks, which I later learn is his usual attire.
“Brad.” We shake hands. His is warm and his grip is firm and business-like.
He gives me a quick grin and approaches the hostess to let her know we’re ready to be led to our reserved table. A waiter instantly appears, and Brad places his hand on my lower back giving me the signal to follow the waiter to our cozy table by the window. The waiter pulls out my padded chair and places the white cloth napkin across my lap.
White tablecloths are draped over orderly round tables each with a crystal bud vase containing a single rose. Simple and elegant. Well-dressed couples and families fill the tables around us as skilled waiters weave gracefully between them. It’s all so very opulent and civilized. I’ve been in high end restaurants before on dates, and it’s a different world from my usual fast food treks with my kids.
Brad orders wine and I sip it, though mixed drinks are more to my liking. Wine is more appropriate in this fine restaurant. We linger over salad and the main course and talk or, rather, he talks, and I become more and more enamored. The wine slowly soothes the dancing butterflies in my stomach and the darting self-doubts inhabiting my head.
Brad is witty and clever and ambitious sharing his plans to become successful in real estate and construction. He mentions going to the theater the night before with his parents. I like that. Family. Culture. Ambition. He’s the whole package. How have I fallen into this alternate world of manners and refinement? How can this man be interested in me? A mere commoner.
I’m hardly aware of the din around us, of the waiter checking on us, of my wine glass being refilled. I don’t realize until later that he had mostly talked about himself and hadn’t asked me much about myself but, at the time, I was content to listen to the sound of his voice, to be the recipient of his attention and wit. My life is boring and mundane. I work two part-time jobs and referee two teenagers.