Why is this guy single? I wondered then.
He tells me he’s considering running for City Council. That gets us onto the topic of politics, and I discover with chagrin that we’re on different ends of the political spectrum. I hadn’t thought of our political views as being a deal-breaker. I’m not very political, but I’d like to be able to agree on basic principles.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m more of a moderate. I bet we’re not so different in our views.” And he’s right about that and I relax. All is still good.
“You’re prettier than your picture,” he says studying me intently. He means it as an observation, not a compliment, which I don’t know at the time.
I can feel my face flush. “Thank you.” His gaze is disconcerting, and I avert my eyes.
The restaurant is filled to capacity on this Sunday evening. The low hum of conversations, the clinking of glasses, the tinkling of silverware, and muted laughter linger on the periphery of my awareness. Please don’t let that expanding bubble of optimism pop. Don’t let the clock strike midnight. Don’t let me awaken from this blissful dream. He’s concentrating on his plate and grins at me as he dabs his moustache with the white cloth napkin.
Can you fall in love with someone on the first date? A feeling wildly flits through me. Attraction. Longing. I want to skip through this preamble and get to the idyllic life that’s beyond, the one I’ve waited for, the one I’ve dreamed of, the one I deserve after all my disenchantments.
I reach for my water and my fork clatters to the floor. With embarrassment, I bend to retrieve it. It’s somewhere under the table.
“Don’t.” He stops me by putting his warm hand over mine. Immediately the waiter responds to his signal.
“The lady needs a clean fork,” Brad says.
Within moments a fork is placed beside my plate.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
This small gesture makes me feel cared for and it’s nice to have someone look after me for a change. He knows how to act, how to move through the world. He’s competent and composed. I’m in awe. I have no doubt that he can deal with any situation, that I can sit back in the passenger seat and let him drive me anywhere.
“Thank you,” Brad repeats to the waiter. “We’d like the dessert menu.”
“Oh, I’m too full.” I balk. The food is rich and filling.
“We’re going to share.” He smiles. “I like you and want more time with you.”
This flattering statement sends a weakness to my knees and causes a twinge of excitement to momentarily surge. I don’t know why I’ve always wasted my time on the wrong men. Maybe deep down I don’t think I deserve to be treated well or I don’t know what I want, but now I do. I want Brad. And he seems to want me.
Yet I’m out of my element. I don’t know how to handle this. Should I feign indifference and play hard to get? Should I be available, or he’ll lose interest? I probably would’ve married him on the spot if he’d asked. He was dynamic. He was self-assured. He was charming and charismatic. His quick smiles send tiny sparks of exhilaration through me.
I’m tired of struggling financially and otherwise. I work two part-time jobs and have insurance through the state. Money is tight with two teenagers who always want something I can’t afford. I’m weary of the uphill slog I’m perpetually battling. I need somebody on my side. Somebody who will look out for me. Someone who will take care of me when I’m too worn out to do it myself. Someone who will make my life easier. Someone who will distract me from my perpetual worries and bring me some joy. I need something to look forward to. Something just for me.
I’ve had many boyfriends over the years. Some sweet and caring with decent jobs. I kick myself for blowing it with them. Why do I always stick it out with the wrong ones? I had the insane idea that I didn’t want a serious relationship ever again after I’d gotten screwed over by my ex-husband. Never again, I vowed to myself and passed up some great guys. Or chose the wrong ones. I just can’t get it right.
But Brad isn’t the wrong one. He’s the right one in my eyes. He’s the type of man I’d be proud to introduce to people, the type who’d never ask me for money or put his fist through a wall. He isn’t the wrong choice.
That evening real promise blossoms. He’s the whole package. He doesn’t care that I have kids. He doesn’t care that I have nothing, that I live in a cheap apartment, that I have low paying jobs. We enjoy each other’s company. We get along. There’s an ease to it that I marvel at with a side of anticipation. The electricity between us crackles. I can’t wait for what is ahead of us.
Chapter 3
To my relief and dismay, Brad calls again and again making plans with me. He takes me to upscale restaurants, the movies, the theater. His manners are impeccable and old-fashioned. He opens doors for me and pays for everything. He considers me worthy of his time and attention. I’ve gained entry to a world that I’ve had little opportunity to encounter.
I hang on his every word as he shares his ambitions. He states that his parents pressured him to continue his education as his older brothers had, but he prefers building his own business. He enjoys the challenge, and I have no doubt that he can accomplish anything he chooses to attempt. I hope to be along for the ride and insert supportive comments to show him what a great partner I am.
My head fills with dreams for our future. Together, things will be easier. I could quit my part time jobs and help him with his business. He could give us a life we’d never have otherwise. Everyone will benefit in my happy fantasy.
Brad meets my kids and they don’t scare him away. He doesn’t seem very interested in them, but he doesn’t run the other way. I tell myself that he’ll warm up to them as he gets to know them. They’re smart kids and know how to be polite, but it’s nerve-racking every time they come in contact. Teenagers can be unpredictable and moody. Yet he takes it all in stride.
He even sends over his plumber when I cry on the phone about my broken toilet and that the apartment manager is unreachable. There are three of us and we have one toilet. I consider this an emergency. Our neighbor lets us use hers until the plumber arrives. Brad saves the day. What would we have done without him?
I’m plagued by pangs of guilt as my kids are left to fend for themselves or eat leftovers while we dine in fine restaurants. My unspoken wish is that they could join us and experience this upscale world, but Brad solves the problem by buying them pizza when we go out. He lets them order as many toppings as they choose. This is a treat for them and helps temper my feelings of guilt.
Brad is a problem solver. He takes care of things. He’s practical and easy going about it. He says every problem has a solution. He makes it sound so simple. He tells me to picture the worst-case scenario, which most likely won’t happen, and plan for it and then you’re covered. He wants me to be pragmatic, and I often am, but I tend to panic first and problem solve later. And now I find myself coming to depend on him to fix things.
I tell myself to listen and learn. He’s moved around more in the world than I have, and he’s absorbed poise and wisdom and knowledge. He’s drawn back the curtain for me to view this elite place where opportunities abound and fall across his path. His life seems charmed to me, unlike mine, which draws dark clouds.