A Girl's Guide to Moving On (12 page)

Sean contacted me Tuesday afternoon, suggesting we get together. He implied it was a matter of some importance.

“If this is about the divorce settlement—”

“It isn't,” he said, cutting me off.

“Then what's it about?”

“You okay?” Sean asked, ignoring my question. “You don't sound like yourself.”

“I'm great,” I rushed to say, although I could feel the heat warming my cheeks. It was beyond understanding why I should feel any guilt over what had happened between Nikolai and me. My life was my own now and I could date or kiss anyone I wanted. As ridiculous as it sounded, I felt like I had a large red A painted across my forehead.

I didn't have much of a social life after Sean and I separated. It didn't feel right to date when I was still legally married, although that had never stopped Sean. Since the divorce, I hadn't felt the need. I wanted time for my heart to heal and for my head to wrap itself around these major life changes.

His call came out of the blue. It was almost as if he sensed that I was finally and truly moving on. Perhaps he'd gotten word that I'd contacted an online dating service.

Earlier in the week I'd found a website I liked and signed up. I answered countless questions and looked forward to taking the leap back into the dating world. A connection came so quickly, it took me by storm. Earl Pepper would be my first date, and we were set to meet that Friday night. Okay, it wasn't an actual date. I couldn't think of it that way. It was a meeting to see if we were interested in dating.

“So what's this about?” I pressed.

He hesitated. “It's Jake.”

“Again?” I asked. “Is this something you can't tell me over the phone?”

“I'd rather not. Will you see me or not?” His words had an edge to them, which was rare for him. “Let's have lunch.”

I paused. Not at his suggestion we meet for lunch, which was unusual in itself. His voice betrayed him, and while I couldn't detect what it was right then, I knew him well enough that it would come to me later, once I'd had a chance to think about it.

“Sean, is something wrong?”

“No,” he flared. “Why would you think that?” he asked, his composure back.

“I don't know that it's a good idea for us to go out.”

“Would you be more comfortable eating in? I could come to your apartment. I'll let you fix me something,” he said as if joking, although I knew he wasn't.

Still, I hesitated. Something was wrong, something Sean wasn't keen to share with me over the phone. I hadn't lived thirty-five years with this man to not pick up on the subtleties of the conversation, the unspoken message.

“Can I see you or not?” he demanded.

“Okay,” I agreed, and we set a time for Saturday.

On Wednesday I was nervous about seeing Nikolai again. I hadn't stopped thinking about the kisses we'd shared. They lingered in my mind, wrapping me in unfamiliar warmth I couldn't forget, no matter how hard I tried. I wanted to shove the memory of his embrace aside, but found my head and my heart returning to that night again and again, reliving each moment. I savored each word we'd exchanged; the taste and feel of him remained with me. While I tried to forget, I struggled with equal determination to remember.

When I arrived at the Community Center, despite my resolve not to, I automatically looked for Nikolai. Sure enough, he was waiting, and my gaze shot straight to him. The instant he saw my car pull into the lot a huge smile lit up his face. Even before I'd parked, he started walking toward me. As he had from the beginning, he brought me a loaf of his wonderful home-baked bread. I'd dreaded this evening and looked forward to it in equal measures.

As soon as I turned off the engine, Nikolai opened the car door for me. His expression was filled with such adoration that it made me want to throw open my arms and whirl around like Julie Andrews in the opening scene of
The Sound of Music.

He smiled and couldn't seem to stop staring at me.

I blushed at his attention and looked away, embarrassed and thrilled. He confused me until I stuttered, “Hello, Nikolai.”

“Hello.” He flattened his hand over his heart. “I think day. I think night. I think about kissing you again and again. I dream about kisses. Memory is like wasp in my basket.”

I had to think that one over. “Bee in your bonnet?”

“Yes, that. I think and think and you never leave my head.”

I admit it had been the same for me, but telling him that would only encourage him, so I said nothing.

“You like, too?” he pressed. “You think of kiss?”

“Nikolai”—I grabbed my purse and books, avoiding eye contact—“we should get ready for class.”

He handed me the loaf of bread. “For you.”

“Thank you.” I knew better than to refuse. To Nikolai, bread was everything. He'd admitted that he let the bread say what he couldn't with words. Him telling me that had been burned into my memory. Never had I heard anything more romantic or loving.

We walked toward the center when Nikolai reminded me, “You come have Ukrainian beer with me tonight?”

Even before I left the house I knew he'd remind me that I said I would. I intended to beg off, but at the warm look in his eyes I couldn't bear to disappoint him. I nodded. His smile was bigger than ever.

Class seemed to fly by, and before I knew it our time was up. My students left the room, chatting and talking to one another on the way out the door. As always, Nikolai was the last to go. “We meet same place?” he said.

I hesitated. “Nikolai, I don't know that—”

“We no need go to Milligan's. We go close. Walk from here, okay?”

Refusing him was almost impossible. I couldn't look into his deep, dark eyes so full of life and happiness and refuse him.

“Okay,” I said.

He took my hand, curling his fingers around mine as we walked three blocks to an upscale tavern. It wasn't as busy or loud as Milligan's.

We were directed to a booth and Nikolai helped me take off my coat. As soon as we were seated he handed me a drink menu. Nikolai frowned with disappointment as he scanned the sheet. “They no have Ukrainian beer, so we must drink American beer. Not as good but okay.”

I hid my smile. “I'd prefer a glass of wine, if you don't mind.”

“No, no, I no mind. You have whatever you want. You hungry?”

I shook my head. “I ate before class.”

The waiter came for our order and left, promptly returning with our drinks.

Nikolai waited until the other man had left before he spoke. “You worry?” he asked, his face full of concern. “I see it in you. You not smile as deep.” He stretched his arm across the table and gripped hold of my hand. “Tell me. You can say everything to me.”

I didn't realize I was so transparent. Although I'd had a couple days to mull over what to tell him, I found myself lost in him, lost in the love and warmth radiating from him.

“Is it about kisses?” he asked.

“I liked kissing you, Nikolai.” It was important that I not offend him. The truth was that I'd enjoyed his kisses more than I dared admit. “You have to remember I was married for thirty-five years…I was faithful to my husband.”

He studied me, not speaking, waiting with what looked like worried anticipation.

“I haven't…” I briefly closed my eyes, unsure how to explain what I felt. “I like you so much…”

His face exploded into a smile; the corners of his eyes crinkled with thin lines fanning out. I paused, thinking he might want to respond, but he didn't.

“You were the first man I've kissed since my divorce,” I whispered, lowering my head. I sipped the wine, hoping it would lend me courage to say what needed to be said.

“That is great honor.” His eyes sparkled with happiness. “And you like me. I like you, too. I not kiss lots of women since my wife die. My heart too sad until I meet you and then I say, Now is time. This is good woman. When I come to America I think it time. I think this is second chance for me. When I arrive, I have nothing but my two hands.”

To make his point, he held up his hands.

“All I know is bread. Bread is life and I feel it my honor, my privilege, to bake my bread. Friends help me, friends from Ukraine help me, find me place to live. It's nice apartment, you come visit sometime, okay?”

I made a noncommittal gesture, but he didn't seem to notice, as he was busy talking.

“Friends introduce me to Mr. Koreski and I bake bread for him and he ask me to come work at deli. I happy. I think Magdalena help me from heaven. She tell me it time for me to start new life in America and let go of old life in Ukraine.”

This was the first time he'd mentioned he was a widower. I'd suspected he'd been married, but he'd never said. “It's good that you have friends.”

“I make more friends. From class. Good friends.”

He continued to study me intently.

“Female friends, too,” I said, feeling shy and a little embarrassed.

He hesitated. “Some.”

I continued to press, hardly able to understand myself. “You've kissed other women since your wife died, right?”

He sobered and nodded. “I sorry. I not meet you yet.”

“Nikolai, please don't apologize. That wasn't why I asked.”

“No one else make me feel like you. When I with you I feel joy in my stomach, in my arms and legs. My head feel joy and I want to bake bread again, bread with my own hands, not bread from mixer like in deli.”

I knew what I was about to tell him would wound him. Just knowing that hurt me. It was important that I not mislead him. This was all new to me and rather unexpected. “I need to see other men, Nikolai. You're the only man I've kissed since my husband, and I don't know what I'm feeling with you. It could be the simple fact that it's been a long time since I've felt a man's touch. I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to lead you on, either.”

The happiness drained out of him as he stared at me as if he was sure he'd heard me wrong. “You want to meet other men to kiss? How you meet these men?”

I swallowed and nodded. “I signed up with an online dating service.”

He shook his head as if to say this was all wrong. He pulled his hand away from mine. His eyes grew intense, as if he were unable to understand what I'd told him. “What is this dating service?”

“It's a place where single men and women go to meet other people.”

“You need to meet other people?” Again he shook his head. “You go to meet and kiss other men?”

“Maybe. I don't know yet.”

“When you do this?”

I wasn't sure what to tell him. “I'm seeing someone Friday night. It's not a date. We're just meeting for coffee to see if we're compatible.”

A frown darkened his face. “What this word
compatible
?”

“It means that we're meeting to see if we want to date, to continue spending time together.”

Nikolai looked utterly dejected.

“Do you understand why I'm doing this?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, I not understand why you want other man. Why you want to kiss other man you not even know.”

“I won't be kissing him.” I needed to clarify that, because the time might come when I would kiss Earl. “Not on Friday.”

Relief showed in his eyes. “You no kiss this man?”

“We're only having coffee,” I explained again, and glanced at my watch. “I need to get home. Thank you for the wine.”

Nikolai left money for our drinks on the table and then helped me put on my coat. “I walk you to car.”

“I'd like that.”

He took my hand again and was quiet on the return trip. I knew he'd need time to absorb what I'd told him. When we reached the parking lot, I unlocked my car and he opened the door for me. He didn't kiss me and as I drove away I realized how disappointed I was that he hadn't.