This fiction romance novel is now up to 6,511 words but not much improvement in the title. However, after a great webinar presented by Brooke Warner of She Writes Press with highly published Kindle author Howard VanEs, I am confident that this book will be published on Amazon by the end of 2013, so enjoy this opportunity and feel free to provide feedback and ideas to make the book a top seller once it hits Amazon and Kindle. If you read the original write, you'll notice today's upload has much more detail with the characters, and some better scenes that may help you engage with the characters on a deeper level. Again, please let me know what you would like to see more of, what feels awkward, and what doesn't make sense. Let's make this the best romance novel - we can do it together!
Thank you most sincerely for your time.
Love,
~Crystal
All Bets Are On
Crystal J.
Casavant-Otto
I stretched as I stood up from my seat on the small aircraft
owned by The Manitowoc Company. I was accustomed to the short flights between
Michigan and Wisconsin. This particular flight was a bit longer and I was
cramped and uncomfortable. I was eager to sit down with my older brother and
tell him about my upcoming date with the pretty, young, girl from the greasy
spoon. We had arranged it before I left and I hadn’t had time to share the news.
I grabbed my things off the plane, thanked pilot Joe and headed for my car.
I opened the heavy door of my 1972 Chevelle SS. She was the
first automobile I had purchased new and the smell of leather hit my nose
immediately bringing a smile to my face. She was ascott blue with white wall
tires and a she didn’t blow smoke or rattle down the road like the cars I’d had
before her. I had worked for The Manitowoc Company for a decade and last year
they went public. I didn’t much care about all of that business stuff, but when
the first dividends were paid, I called my old high school buddy who owned a
Chevrolet dealership and I ordered myself a new car using the dividend as my
down payment. I didn’t own a home, but I felt like a millionaire after signing
on the dotted line. I could hardly believe that the SS was a 1972 and so was
the year. For the first time, I wasn’t driving someone else’s cast off.
I stopped to take in the beauty of this car, her sleek
lines, the rich color of her paint, and then turned slowly and sauntered to the
trunk to place my bags inside. No one was around and I was so enamored by the
beauty of the SS. As I opened the trunk, I felt confident, a man and his car. Even
the carpeting in the trunk was soft and had been skillfully installed. This
vehicle was nothing like those I had driven in the past – there were no coat
hangers or duct tape holding things together, no holes in the floor boards, and
no gaps allowing snow to collect on the interior. The engine roared to life and
we were soon on the road headed to my Brother Donald’s house in Two Rivers,
Wisconsin (along the pristine shores of Lake Michigan). Donald’s wife Carol was
fretting about my being single and was happy to cook me a meal and do my
laundry when I got in from these weekly business trips. It was enjoyable to
spend time with Carol and Donald and their family. The house was filled with
noise, laughter, and it had warmth to it. My apartment was above a bar; I
chuckled at the comparison.
“What is this?” Donald was asking Carol in a raised voice
when I came through the side door. I chuckled despite myself; I was very
familiar with these arguments and I recognized a Simplicity pattern in Donald’s
hand as he shook it in frustration at his sweet wife. This was apparently pattern
5318 and was called ‘Bikini Pants & Bell Bottoms’ and Donald wasn’t having
his 16 year old daughter wearing anything with the word ‘bikini’ in it.
Donald raised his voice: “Carol? A dollar? You wasted an
entire dollar on this garbage? No daughter of mine is wearing a bikini like
some, some, woman of the”
Carol cut him off: “It’s the name of the pattern Donald. It
has nothing to do with a swimsuit, much less a bikini. The reference just means
that the pants fall right on her hips or just”
It was Donald’s turn to cut her off this time: “Hips? Do you
think I want to talk about my daughter’s hips? What kind of mother are you,
wanting to talk about her hips? Does she even have hips – no…don’t tell me.
This conversation is over!”
They all looked quite relieved at the distraction that I
created as I dropped my bags on the floor of their kitchen.
“Charles – it’s so good to see you. Can I get you a drink?”
asked Carol as she firmly hugged me. She was such a cheery woman; my brother
was a fortunate man. Carol was a fine woman. She exercised daily to keep a
slender form, her hair was always in place, and she had even pushed baby
strollers wearing modest heels and a skirt (with a slip of course). She really
was the type of woman Mum had intended for each of us to marry. She had
described her as “sensible and sweet” and I would have to agree with that
assessment. Carol reminded me “Charles – what did you decide on that drink?” I
couldn’t turn her down and agreed to a martini on the rocks and my brother
joined me. I greeted the children who were busy discussing the new shows they
wanted to see at either the Mikadow or Lakeview Drive in Theater the following
weekend. Mary wanted to see ‘Pay it Again, Sam” and Terry wanted to see “The
Godfather” while their youngest sister, Holly, just wanted to be included in
whatever they were so animated about. “Do you kids know that Uncle Charles
worked at a theater here in town when he
was your age?” Donald asked the children
to get their attention. They quickly gathered around as I explained: “Your dad
is telling the truth, that was my first job. You kids know where Evans
Department store is, well that was the Rivoli. I worked the late shift and was
responsible for cleaning and making sure that everyone was out at night before
we locked up.” The children were getting restless and I could smell something
amazing wafting from the kitchen. I
quickly wrapped up “I’ve seen the second half of most movies shown in the late
1940’s and early 1950’s. Don’t laugh; I had the biggest crush on Ethel Merman
after hearing her sing and seeing those long eyelashes in Irving Berlin’s Call
Me Madam. I even went back on my day off to watch the entire show; she was
a knockout!”
“Supper is ready.” called Carol (just in time, I was struggling
not to mention my love of large breasts). Story time was over and the children scampered
gleefully in the direction of the food. I was still smiling at the good times
I’d had (the smell of buttery popcorn, and the silly antics of my friends –
ahhh the memories). “Where do you want me?” I asked Carol as I gave her a wink.
She always saved me the best seat at the head of the table opposite my oldest
brother. This made it easy for sibling banter. She gave me a smile as she
pointed to my usual seat. Carol was a great hostess and had a fresh martini and
a glass of water already waiting at my spot. She often called us bookends when
we sat like this. Donald and I looked very much alike and were often mistaken
for one another if we happened to be out and about in town. We had been blessed
with thick, wavy, dark hair and olive skin. Neither of us put on weight, and we
weren’t very tall. Fortunately for us, Carol was an amazing seamstress who
often hemmed our pants, and took in the seams to make up for our lack of
cushion on our backsides. If we were bookends, we were the oddest looking
bookends, but her reference was endearing and I was proud to look like my older
brother.
“Well Donald, what did I miss?” I usually began this way. Donald
was happy to fill me in on the local happenings and he wasn’t jealous that I
was paid to travel. Donald had traveled out of the country as a pilot in the
Air Force. He was content with his factory job, family life, and was relieved
to sleep beside the same woman each night. He went on about recent orders at
the factory, the new houses going up on the North side of town, and the family
news about our little sister who was expecting her third child. We chatted
casually while enjoying Carol’s meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and some
steamed carrots. I was already dreading the drive across town to my small
apartment most difficult. Nights like this were a reminder that I was alone. I
was a bit lonely. This home cooked meal was of some consolation; the meatloaf
wasn’t greasy at all and had such a robust flavor that I could have easily
asked for seconds and thirds. The mashed potatoes were lumpy, just the way I
liked them. I smiled at the differences between the potatoes and the gravy I
had placed carefully in the center of them – I probably was a bit strange, but
I love lumpy potatoes and smooth gravy. Carol had prepared things just right;
even the light glaze of butter and brown sugar on the carrots tasted exactly
the way I liked. She must have caught the expression on my face “It’s a bit of
honey that makes them magical Donald. Was that going to be your next question?”
she asked as she passed me the bowl for another helping.
We chattered comfortably while enjoying each bite. “Charles,
now that I’ve caught you up on everything around here, it’s your turn. Don’t
you dare tell me about Nixon becoming president or that silly blimp; I want to
know what’s new with YOU!” I guess I couldn’t argue with that. I had responded
sarcastically a few too many times and he was onto me. This time I did have
something worth talking about. I told
them about the adorable young waitress I had stumbled upon when having a cup of
coffee at the greasy spoon right here in our own home town “You’ve been to
Arvy’s Restaurant downtown Donald. Do you remember seeing that young blonde
with the ice blue eyes?” Donald had never found a blonde to be the least bit
attractive so I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t remember her. I went on to
explain that her name was Elizabeth (Bet for short) and that she had agree to
go to dinner with me this weekend. Donald didn’t seem interested. Carol was
excited at the possibility of my settling down locally and starting a family.
“How much do you know about her Charles?” Carol inquired. I
explained that she was originally from somewhere in the upper peninsula of
Michigan and she had recently moved here to find some long lost relatives. She
was a bit younger than me (actually, she was 15 years younger, but I claimed
not to know her exact age since it likely wouldn’t go over well) and she drove
a motorcycle. That sure got everyone’s attention. Riding motorcycles was cool
if you were a man, and I could tell from the ten eyes looking at me in dismay
that not one of them were impressed that I was going on a date with a
motorcycle driving woman. I had the feeling Donald was picturing the model on
the front of Simplicity pattern 5318 with her bikini pants and bell bottoms.
“Oh Charles.” Carol sighed. “I had so hoped that you would
find a pleasant girl with a good sense of humor, get married, and settle down … does this um …
what’s her name? Elizabeth? Seem like the marrying and settling down type?” I
reminded my lovely sister in law that this was a first date and thought
Elizabeth and I had known one another for over a year, we had never been more
than acquaintances. “Carol, I am one of the town’s most notorious confirmed
bachelors. I have no intention of settling down after less than a single date.”
What I didn’t tell her was that I was sure that this young blonde with the
curvy figure, bouncy hair, and motorcycle had no intention of anything of the
sort either. She hadn’t even told me where she lived, she insisted I give her
my address so she could meet me out front of my place and we could walk to
dinner at 6:30 Saturday evening. I had sensed she was overly cautious if
anything. I visited for a while longer, collected the clothes I had dropped off
the week before, and headed back the two miles to my apartment. I thanked my
brother and sister in law, but didn’t stay as long as usual. I was hoping that
if I left early I would avoid the inquisition about Elizabeth.
The SS was waiting outside; I skillfully slid behind the
wheel after placing my clean clothes over the back of the passenger seat and
putting my bag in the trunk. Carol was an amazing woman. She worked and managed
to iron every piece of cloth and clothing in her own home as well as my things.
Donald told me she ironed their bed sheets, bath towels, and of course I knew
she ironed underwear since mine were always pressed when I picked up my
laundry. No wonder all the girls in town wanted to date me, I really looked
dapper with my clothes so neatly cared for. Carol had also took over shopping
for me, so my clothes were fashionable and she found an imported cologne at the
drug store that made me smell foreign and mysterious. I was hoping Elizabeth
would at least find me intriguing, if not mysterious. I laughed to myself at
the thought. I was nervous about this date. I hadn’t been nervous with any of
the other girls. There was just something about her ice blue eyes that made my
toes tingle.
Back at my apartment, I settled in. I took my shoes off at
the door, hung up my laundry, made myself the final martini of the evening, and
relaxed on the floral print couch that had conveniently come with the
apartment. I looked around to make sure this
would meet with feminine approval, just in case Elizabeth came in before or
after our date. Northing was new, but everything was well taken care of, tidy,
and orderly. It would do – and who was I trying to impress anyway? She didn’t
seem like a prude, but it was highly unlikely we would end up here. I closed my
eyes and imagined what we would do if things got romantic.
… knock …
… knock …
“Who is it?” I woke with a start and glanced at the clock.
It was three in the morning; my drink was still in my hand (except the ice
cubes which had melted hours ago). The glass made a thud as I set it on the end
table. I headed to the door and thought I was dreaming. Elizabeth had tears in
her eyes and her shirt was clinging to her youthful breasts. She was shivering
and cold and quite possibly the most gorgeous woman I had laid eyes on. It took
a moment to confirm that I was awake and this wasn’t some sort of vodka induced
illusion. Something was obviously wrong but my heart said something was oh so
right … I invited her in and poured her a drink.
I suppose pouring a drink at three in the morning for a
complete stranger may seem a bit odd. At the moment, I hadn’t given it much
though. It wasn’t light out, so my instinct told me to go with an evening
beverage and nothing was triggering my coffee impulses (those internal sensors
seemed to work simultaneously with my alarm clock). Elizabeth didn’t argue or
turn down the dirty martini with olives, so at the time I hadn’t felt it was an
inappropriate gesture. I handed her an afghan and she cuddled up on the
davenport near the window. I was a bit disappointed that I could no longer have
direct visual access to her breasts and perky nipples. I reminded myself that
she hadn’t come over to seduce me and if I had any manners at all, I would ask
what was troubling her (instead of picturing her in my bed).
“To what do I owe this delightful surprise visit?” I asked
as delicately as I could as she seemed to be calming down and I didn’t want to
upset her. She went on to explain how she had invited her parents to visit and
they turned her down. I listened attentively as she spoke about her childhood.
It was a tough story to follow, but apparently Elizabeth and her brother Robert
had been placed for adoption. Their birth mother had died and their father was
a raging alcoholic who couldn’t control their six older brothers and had no
interest in caring for twin toddlers. The twins lived for several years at an
orphanage and Elizabeth had traumatizing memories of feeling unwanted and
disliked by adults and her peers. When Elizabeth and Robert were finally
adopted, Elizabeth said she still felt unwanted.
“They really only wanted to adopt Robert, but the nun
running the orphanage made them take me too. They didn’t want me from the
start. The day they took us home, we stopped for lunch and I asked for a
weiner. The woman who adopted us laughed and belittled me until I cried and
couldn’t eat anything anyway.” I had to ask what was so wrong with asking for a
weiner and she blushed and told the story of how her new parents felt that
weiner was to only be associated with a penis and if it was something for a
child to eat; it should be called a hot dog. She had such big tears in her
eyes. I couldn’t imagine being so cruel to a child. This had obviously happened
many years ago, and she was still struggling with the words and emotions. Part
of me didn’t understand why she was here and why she needed to tell me
everything. Part of me would have listened forever, just for the opportunity to
spend time with her.
We talked until dawn. I stopped thinking about her beauty
and began to see just how broken she was. As the stories of her childhood
unfolded, I began to understand why her eyes were sad. The couple that adopted
her treated her like a maid and allowed her brother to enjoy his childhood. The
twins grew further apart and then the couple who had claimed to be unable to
bear children had a child of their own. After the birth of her sister,
Elizabeth was expected to care for the house and the baby. Their mother spent her
time smoking cigarettes, drinking old fashioneds, and complaining about how
clumsy, slow, and incompetent Elizabeth was. The longer she talked, the more
confused I became. I really wanted to ask why she would have anything to do
with such awful people. I couldn’t understand why she would invite them to see
her apartment above the diner in town or why she would cry if they turned down
the invitation. I couldn’t find the right time to ask these questions; I
listened attentively and eventually placed an arm around her shoulder to offer
my support.
I was fighting sleep and as she was telling the story about
her brother’s broken arm, I must have dozed off. The next thing I knew, she was
moving my arm so she could get up. “Oh, I’m sorry Elizabeth. I must have dozed
off.” She explained that she had to get going since it was her weekend to work
the lunch shift at Arvy’s. The mention of lunch prompted me to look at the
clock. I was shocked; it was nearly ten in the morning. We spent seven hours
cuddled up on the davenport and I hadn’t even kissed her. All bets were off
that it would happen now … she was on her way to the door and I hardly had the
energy to undress myself, much less fiddle with a bra and buttons. I should
have gotten up to see her out, but I just couldn’t find the energy.
“What’s so funny?” she asked while reaching for the door
handle. I didn’t want to tell her that I was laughing at myself and my seasoned
skills when it comes to women. I would brag to the guys about being able to
unfasten a bra with one hand while driving down a dark country road, but it
didn’t seem an appropriate story to share with the femme’ fatal. I thought fast
and came up with a lame explanation about how much fun I’d had and how time
went by quickly when I was with her. Those weren’t necessarily lies, but they
weren’t necessarily the truth either. She was flattered and blushed at my
foolishness. Here I was lounging on the couch as a beautiful woman was letting
herself out with not so much as a lingering embrace. I reminded her about our
date, yawned, and pulled the afghan up to my chin to take a little cat nap of
my own.
I stretched but did not open my eyes. I knew it was morning,
but for a change that knowledge was not gained by an alarm blaring or the
ringing of a phone with a hotel wake up call. I knew it was morning, because
even through my closed eyelids, there was a hint of light. The birds were
chirping in the bushes outside my window. This must be what it feels like to be
royalty – now if only someone else had filled my fridge and could make me some
fried eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. I thought to myself ‘who thought it was
a good idea to sleep with this belt on?’ Opening my eyes, I saw a green scarf
on the chair across from me. It didn’t smell like the expensive perfume the
stewardesses wore. It smelled clean, with a hint of something familiar. I
couldn’t quite put my finger on what it smelled like, but I draped it over my
shoulder as I sauntered to the kitchen.
Green? Had she even been wearing green? I scratched my head
as I opened the fridge. I thought about the outfits she wore and they were a
bit outlandish and never seemed to match. I suppose, Elizabeth would wear a
green scarf regardless of the rest of her outfit. I kept trying to remember
what she had been wearing. It didn’t seem to matter really, but I was curious
about this gorgeous woman. I tipped my head slightly to inhale the green silk
scarf once more, but noticed a hideous smell where there had once been such a
lovely fragrance. Shit. I had left overs that were left over from who knows
when. They looked more like a science experiment than something one might enjoy
for breakfast. Glancing at the clock, I decided I would go out for brunch.
I checked the mirror and didn’t think I looked too terribly
haggard. My pants were made to withstand the flight, and the couch hadn’t
wrinkled too badly. My hair was another story. The dark curls and waves that
drove the ladies wild, did not withstand a nights rest. I would have to do
something about my hair and my shirt before I went out to the diner. I started
the water while I used the toilet and then ran my comb under the warm water. A
wet comb seemed to do the trick. I brushed my teeth, and picked out a blue
shirt that I had been told made my brown eyes sparkle. I thought about last
night as I grabbed the door handle and pictured Elizabeth’s hand gripping the
same knob as she exited. I was intrigued by the visit and by Elizabeth herself
– but yet I was bewildered about her overwhelming sadness and why she chose me
to share the stories with. Was she crazy? Was I crazy? “Oh hell – the whole
world’s gone crazy I guess.” I muttered to myself as I headed out with my
billfold in hand. I realized I had
forgotten the most important part of the ensemble – I ran back for a splash of
Faberge’ Aphrodisia. Carol had bought the cologne. It drove the women wild. I
referred to it as my lady killer cologne, although I specifically remember the
box and the manufacturers description: Fabergé
Aphrodisia is a “fresh-mossy-aldehydic” chypre that includes top notes of
bergamot, lemon, neroli and fruit; middle notes of rose, honey, ylang-ylang,
carnation and jasmine; and base notes of oakmoss, vetiver, civet, ambrein and
musk. I wasn’t sure if I cared about mossyness or middle notes, but I sure
appreciated the compliments and attention this magic potion brought me.
I couldn’t decide if I
should walk or drive. Truth be told, I didn’t even know where I was going. If I
went to Arvy’s, Elizabeth may think I was a bit pushy. I shook my head at the
thought – wasn’t she the one who had shown up at my door in the middle of the
night to share her life story? But then again, if I went to Phil Rohrer’s
Diner, and she heard about it, she might think I was avoiding her and that her
stories had scared me away. All of this thinking was ridiculous! This woman was
making me crazy and I hadn’t even touched her. My stomach growled and I decided
to choose the closest restaurant with the best food. The decision was clear – I
was going to Arvy’s for two eggs over easy, toast, and bacon with a generous
helping of coffee.
“Look who the cat dragged
in!” hollered my old buddy Pete as I pulled the heavy door closed behind me. I
smiled and gave him a wink and rebutted “I am the cat – there’s no dragging
going on here old man!” Pete was as round as he was tall and it had been years
since there was any trace of hair on his head. We sure didn’t look the same,
but we had been friends since grade school. The drinking age had been 18 when we
were growing up. Pete always looked older based on his size, but he was two
years younger than me. I turned 18 and we started going to the local taverns.
It was Pete and Dick who were the same age and then me. When the bartender
would ask about our age, I would offer up my license first and the other two
scoundrels would come up with an excuse for not having theirs along. Since Dick
and Pete looked older than me, once the bartender knew I was of age, we were
all allowed in for drinks and a few games of pool. We still went out, but less
frequently because Pete was the Chief of Police and was busy with a career, a
wife, and two young children. Dick was also busy; he had a child with some sort
of condition who needed constant care. Dick was working two jobs to care for
the little one and his wife, who was expecting another child sometime soon. It
was nice to run into them once in a while like this though. I was disappointed
that Dick wasn’t around, but I took a stool next to Pete and listened
attentively as he told me what was going on with his family.
“Do you remember Milly? I
think she was in your grade.” Pete asked as he jabbed me in the rib cage with
his elbow. I remembered an awkward girl name Mildred. I figured that was who he
was talking about. “Just a second Pete – I gotta order real quick. I’m
starved.”
“Excuse Me”
“Excuse Me”
I was trying to catch
Elizabeth’s attention. This is not at all what I expected; it was hard to
believe that she would ignore someone who she had spilled her life’s story to
just hours before.
“You may be out of luck
Charles. She’s really in a mood today. Sally and Dick from the shoe shop were
in earlier and they left because she wouldn’t get them a cup and saucer for
their coffee. They sat at that table over there for a half hour with a pot of
coffee between them – and nuthin’ to drink it out of.”
“You’re kidding, right?
Pete?” I asked in disbelief as he nodded his head. I couldn’t believe it. She
had always been the best waitress this place had. I was somewhat relieved that
it wasn’t just me she was ignoring though.
I hopped out of my seat and
scooted behind the counter. I grabbed a saucer and cup, filled the cup with
coffee, and returned to my seat. At least I had some coffee, but I wasn’t going
to last long without my breakfast. I whistled loudly to get the attention of
Gary the cook. We had been classmates and his mother owned the restaurant
(which doubled as a nightclub after dark). Gary smiled and came out in his
apron with spatula in hand. “Gary, sorry to be a bother, but Elizabeth is
um…well…”
“You’re telling me? – she’s
been like this all morning!” he interrupted knowing immediately what I was
trying to explain. “I’m sure she’ll snap out of it, in the meantime, what can I
get for you old friend?”
I ordered up my usual with specific
instructions that the yokes needed to be ‘dunkable’ and not fully cooked. By
this time, Elizabeth had settled in at the end of the counter and was folding
napkins. The look on her face was telling. She wasn’t happy and had something
on her mind. She seemed completely unaware of anything going on around her. I
got up twice and filled my own coffee; usually she would have chastised me for
being behind the counter, but there wasn’t even a look of disgust or
acknowledgement. Pete and I got back on the subject of Milly. She had married
some guy from the next town over and they were in the process of building a new
house. She had come home to find him behind the wheel of their 1966 Chrysler.
The garage door was closed and the car was running. She insisted it was an
accident, but the word around town was he had been changing some important
numbers and stealing money from Mirro Aluminum Company where he had been
working in the accounting department. Pete said it was the most exciting case
the force had seen and he was hopeful they would get to the bottom of it. I
shrugged my shoulders “poor Milly, such an unfortunate situation” and Pete went
on to explain that the builders had stopped working on her house, because there
was no money. She was understandably upset over the entire situation. Pete knew
the moment it was out of his mouth that he shouldn’t have said it, but
nonetheless, he had said “can’t blame a guy – when you’ve got a crazy wife,
you’ve got no reason to live.”
Gary had brought my
breakfast and my stomach was as thankful for the food as my mind was for the
interruption from the talk of suicide and insanity. I was thankful my stomach
would finally stop growling and as I had hoped, Pete stopped talking. The eggs
were hot and creamy as I dipped my toast into the perfectly cooked yolks. The
toast had just the right amount of butter; it tasted great but wasn’t dripping
or greasy, and the bacon was crisp and thick. The only thing that would have
improved upon this meal would have been another glimpse of Elizabeth’s curves
being restrained by that tight white uniform. She might turn out to be crazy,
but I could handle a little crazy with a body like that. Mum would be unhappy
with my thoughts, but I was definitely the kind of man who appreciated a
woman’s body – especially a body like hers. She was curvy in all the right
places. Mum had been quite small and might describe Elizabeth as being ‘built
for child bearing’ or ‘sturdy’ but I just appreciated every curve and how she
carried herself.
“Charles? Charles? Did you
hear a thing I was saying?” I had to admit to Pete that I hadn’t been paying
attention. “What is it with people today? First it’s Elizabeth and now it’s
you. What could be so important that you’d ignore and old friend?” I apologized
and then explained that it must be from lack of sleep or something – likely due
to the traveling and stress at work. He went on to explain that some local
teenagers had broken into a boarded up shack down by the river and had been
caught smoking their parents cigarettes. Pete was confident his children would
never do any such thing. I smiled and reminded him of all the laws we had
broken through the years. It was fun to tease him about all those years of
trying to avoid the police, and now he had joined them. I never would have
imagined Pete as an officer of the law, but he seemed to enjoy it. He would
have great stories to tell; it sounded like an interesting job.
“Elizabeth?” I tried to get
her attention again. I didn’t want to leave without saying good bye and it was
nearing time for me to go. I said goodbye to Pete, left a few dollars on the
counter and a little not that said s m i l e with a happy face. I figured she
would see the note and hopefully it would smooth things over. I didn’t want her
to cancel our date, but it would be awkward if she went with me and then
refused to speak to me. Again I asked myself why I wouldn’t just go out with
one of the other girls who had asked me. Why was I working so hard for this
particular girl? “I hope she’s worth it” I muttered under my breath – shaking
my heard as I walked home.
I quickly tidied up the
apartment, and truth be told I wore the scarf around my neck while I was
dusting. I tried telling myself that it made the most sense, instead of moving
it from place to place or putting it in a drawer, but the truth was it smelled
like her. I couldn’t get her out of my mind and I couldn’t wait for our date
later that evening. As soon as things were dusted and cleaned (and that
terrible experiment removed from the fridge), I settled in for a little nap on
the couch. “That smarted” I said out loud as I landed on the floor with my hip.
I had been having the most exquisite dream and had not wanted to wake up, and
certainly hadn’t planned on falling off the couch onto the hard floor. I stood
up rubbing the tender spot on my hip. This was going to leave a bruise a
thought to myself as I tried to recall the details of my oh so pleasant dream.
I remembered firm nipples and full breasts – they had been large, the size of
grapefuits with milky white skin that felt soft as silk. It was definitely
Elizabeth’s body I had been dreaming about. For some reason Milly’s face was
attached to Elizabeth’s body…maybe it was a good thing I woke up when I did. It
was Elizabeth I wanted to make love to; not just her body, but her hair, her
face, those ice blue eyes. It was a cruel joke that Milly the Widow’s head had
ruined such a lovely experience. I shuddered at the thought.
The afternoon went by slowly
as I tinkered around my apartment. It was finally time to hop in the tub and
begin getting ready for my big date. She hadn’t called to cancel, so I was
assuming she would arrive as planned at 6:30 to walk to dinner. The bath felt
great and I wasn’t in much of a hurry, so I leaned my head back and settled in.
I closed my eyes in hopes of more milky white skin with no Milly this time. It
worked, it was just Elizabeth in the dream this time and I was just about to
kiss her soft narrow lips when I awoke with a start. The water was cold, and
there was a tapping noise I couldn’t quite place. I blinked a few times trying
to figure out what woke me and why. It took a bit, but I figured out that Elizabeth
was at the door and I had fallen asleep for far too long in the cozy warmness
of the porcelain tub. “How do I explain this – oh what the hell…” I laughed as
I answered the door in my towel. Elizabeth looked bewildered.
“I’m very sorry Elizabeth. I
fell asleep in the tub and as you can see, I’m not quite decent enough to leave
straight away.” I explained as embarrassment crept across face, turning my
cheeks bright red.
She asked shyly “You’re not
canceling are you?”
“Of course not! I’ll just
need a few moments to wash up and dress. You’ll wait won’t you?” I asked a
little more enthusiastically than I had meant to.
She agreed to wait and with
one hand firmly holding onto my towel, I hung up her coat, returned her scarf,
and headed back to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure how to mix her a drink with one
hand, so I didn’t even offer her anything. I was hoping she wouldn’t think I
was rude, but I thought accidentally losing my towel and showing her my
privates might be more inappropriate than leaving her for a few minutes without
a beverage. My hair would look greasy if I didn’t wash it, but I could probably
get away without shaving. I was mentally calculating what I could accomplish in
ten minutes and what could be skipped. I let the water out of the tub, started
the shower, and kept myself on task by going through my list of things to do.
Thank goodness Carol had my clothes washed, dried, ironed, and hung. Once I was
clean, it wouldn’t take long to get dressed. It was that moment that it hit me.
The bathroom and the bedroom were on opposite ends of the apartment. I hadn’t
brought clothes into the bathroom because I hadn’t anticipated getting dressed
with company. I felt my temperature rise as I pictured myself walking through
the living room for a second time with a towel around my waist. Here I had been
wondering if Elizabeth was crazy, and I’m the real crazy one … some sort of
nudist she’d be thinking. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Carol wanted me
to meet some nice girl and settle down; no nice girl would be impressed with a
half-naked man BEFORE the first date.
