Falling for Your Madness (13 page)

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Authors: Katharine Grubb

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Comedy, #Fiction & Literature

BOOK: Falling for Your Madness
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“That makes sense.”

 

“The offensive tackles are like the pawns. They only have the job of protecting the quarterback, the queen. Now the main objective is to move the football down the field toward the end zone. As the players line up for each down, Coach Bellichik and Brady make a decision about the best attack. They try to psych out the other team so that they can advance. It’s not just about brute force, it’s about critical thinking and outwitting your opponent. The other team, the defense, wants to stop them or slow them down.”

 

“Ah, I see. I knew that there was something to appreciate. Thank you for showing me this.”

 

“Brady and Bellichik are two of the best in the entire league. You’re not just watching a game, you’re watching champions play. Now that I think about it, you wear Patriots colors because of heraldry.”

 

“I love it when you speak my language. I’ve already chosen my blue jacket and my red tie for the occasion. Grey trousers or brown? I want to please you. I want you to be proud of me.”

 

“Grey,” I squeezed his hand. “I
am
proud of you, David. You don’t need a Welker jersey like mine for me to feel that way.”

 

I was going to introduce him to my friends on Sunday. They would meet the famous Dr. David Arthur Julius Bowles, the man I had not stopped talking about for weeks. Would I be teased, or would they respect the man with whom I was falling in love?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, October 7, 2012

332 Babcock Street

Brookline, Massachusetts

4:03 p.m.

 

“Am I too early? Did I get the time right?”

 

David stood outside our building. He held potted chrysanthemums. Ruby and I were running back from the T. We’d thought that we would have enough time to get back from our errands in Kenmore Square, but there was a problem in the subway tunnel. Our car got stuck underground for thirty minutes. The game started at 4:25. She and I were both out of breath.

 

“Ruby, this is David.”

 

David stuck out his hand, but Ruby ignored it. “Do you think I could put you to work in the kitchen while I take a quick shower? Can you roll out tortillas?”

 

“I will be happy to be of assistance.”

 

“David can do anything. He’s full of surprises.” Yeah. I was proud of him.

 

“Okay.” Ruby barreled into the apartment and went straight to the kitchen. She pulled a bowl of dough from the refrigerator. From the cupboard, she brought out a bag of flour. She then set up a kneading board and a rolling pin. “You are going to roll out golf ball size balls of dough and put them between sheets of wax paper. Make them round. I’ll cook them when I get out of the shower.”

 

David froze.

 

Ruby patted him on the shoulder. “You’re going to need to take off your jacket and put on an apron.”

 

“Of course.” He did exactly what she said. I had seen him only once without his jacket. The look on his face now was the just like the look on his face then. “I’m going to need your reassurance, Laura. I’m already out of my element.”

 

I reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “You can do this. I believe in you.” I stepped out of the kitchen.

 

He panicked. “Where are you going?”

 

“To straighten the living room and vacuum. Then I’m going to warm the chicken and beans. I’m glad we did everything before we left.”

 

“I have to face tortillas alone?”

 

I took out a wad of dough from the bowl and rolled it into a ball. “This isn’t hard. Ruby’s been doing this since she was a kid. Put this on the board and sprinkle it with flour so it doesn’t stick. Then roll it out until it’s thin. She says make it round, but just do the best you can. Then again, I think you should concentrate on making them perfect. That way you won’t realize that you and I are alone in the apartment.”

 

“Oh. Right.” His voice cracked. “Perfectly round tortillas.” He gasped. “Using King Arthur flour?” His face looked solemn. “For you
and
Arthur! I can do this. I must do this.”

 

I took a pile of paper plates from the cupboard and walked into the living room. Then I came back to get the chips and salsa.

 

David looked puzzled. “Where are you going? Aren’t we sitting at the table?”

 

“The game will be on. We’re going to put the food on the coffee table and sit in the living room. Some of us will have to sit on the floor.”

 

He frowned. “
How
is this superior to a restaurant?”

 

“Because it’s Ruby’s recipes. This is how we watch the game.” Oh no. Maybe this was a little much for him.

 

“I have one done! Victory is mine! Oh no! I just dropped it on the floor. I have zero done!”

 

“Keep at it. It’s going to be fine!”

 

I came back into the kitchen to get cheese and sour cream. David had a cloud of flour around him.

 

“Drat. I just sneezed all over that one. It’s very hard to be sanitary when one’s hands are covered in flour. That one goes in the trash too.”

 

“There’s plenty of dough. Ruby always makes extra. Don’t worry about that. See, you are getting the hang of this.”

 

“Look, Laura, it’s not round, but it is heart-shaped. I’ll save that one for you.” I saw flour in his hair and on his face. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, but the cuffs and his forearms were white with flour. He had flour all over the counter, and white dust covered the wall. On the plate next to him was exactly one heart-shaped tortilla.

 

“Keep at it David, you’re doing great.”

 

“Oh no!”

 

“What is it now—did you drop another one?”

 

“I spilled flour on my shoes! I do have one more. It’s rather oval-shaped. I could redo it or keep going. What do you think?”

 

“Keep going.”

 

“All of us would like to eat sometime in this century. I’m sure you didn’t know this about me, Laura, but I am completely useless as a domestic. But I will learn for you. Ah! That one! I don’t know how I could roll out a ball of dough into a perfect square, but I did. That one’s mine. We have a lot in common. I’m up to three!”

 

Someone buzzed. I just yelled “Come in” into the speaker. It didn’t matter who it was. Russ, Ruby’s boyfriend, opened the door. He was dressed in cut-up jeans and a ripped sweatshirt. He put a case of Budweiser on the kitchen table and nodded at me. “Where’s Ruby?”

 

David stuck out one flour-covered hand. “She’s powdering her nose. May I introduce myself? I’m David Bowles. Terribly sorry.”

 

Russ eyed the apron and the flour. “Russ Johnson. Dude, she’s got you in it, doesn’t she?”

 

I grabbed serving spoons. “We’re running a little late. David’s pitching in. Ruby’s in the shower.”

 

Russ shook his head. “So
you’re
David. You’re the one behind the mess.”

 

David nodded. “Please understand. I’ve never done this before. There! Now I have four!”

 

Ruby came out and affectionately elbowed Russ. Then she checked on David. “How are we doing? Four tortillas. Okay, well, that’s a start. How in the world did you make a square one? My abuelita would have made you do these over.”

 

“I will if you want me to, Ruby, but I imagine we’ll all die of starvation before I finish.”

 

“No. I’ll finish up here. Can you fill some cups with ice?”

 

“Sounds manageable.”

 

I realized that it was 4:21. The game had started. Russ had already flopped on the couch and turned on the TV. His feet were propped on the coffee table, far too close to the clean plates. I didn’t want to correct him. Ruby would do a much better job at it than me.

 

David was talking to her. “Laura told me about Russ. He’s your sweetheart?”

 

Ruby quickly rolled a tortilla into a perfectly round shape. “Not exactly.”

 

“Then, he’s your friend?”

 

“More than that. Call him my
significant other
.”

 

“Oh. I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but that term,
significant other,
is not very clear. I could not refer to Laura as that. I never find ambiguity to be helpful. But if it works for you, then I shouldn’t criticize.”

 

“Yeah. Well, I’m not sure it works, but it’s all I’ve got.”

 

There were more people to buzz in. Everyone filtered through the open door, past the kitchen and into the living room. David warmly greeted all of my friends. He congratulated Katie and Ryan on their engagement. He did it without realizing that he still had the apron on and that his face and hair were covered in flour. It wasn’t until everyone was in, seated around the coffee table and filling their plates, that I had a chance to tell him.

 

“Oh, dear, Laura.” He dusted the flour off his arms and rolled down his shirtsleeves. Flour dust floated away from him. I hoped his embarrassment left him just as easily. “I’m terribly sorry I’m such a disgrace.”

 

“You’re fine.” I gave him his jacket. When he put it on, I could tell he instantly felt at ease. “Let’s eat.”

 

There was no place to sit. All of my friends had taken over the couch and the chairs. Jessie hopped up and said, “Here, Laura, take my spot.” Then she went over to her boyfriend and sat in his lap. “I’m happier here anyway.”

 

I sat on the couch, and David sat next to me, cross-legged, on the floor. He looked uncomfortable. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m next to you. I’m perfectly fine.”

 

I filled his plate for him, since he couldn’t quite reach the coffee table. On the freshly cooked tortilla, I put shredded chicken, refried beans, cheese, and salsa. “Here. Wrap this up like a burrito. You’ll love it. The salsa’s homemade.”

 

“Could you show me? It would be frightfully decent of you.”

 

I did. Then I got distracted by the game. Welker had caught Brady’s pass and had gained over thirty yards.

 

David had wrapped up his tortilla and held it up to his mouth. “Oh no!”

 

“What happened?”

 

“The tortilla has torn apart. There’s food on my trousers. I’m getting napkins.” David handed his plate to me, stood, and left the room.

 

Now the Broncos had the ball. “There he is! There he is! There’s our boyfriend!” Katie, Jessie, Erin, and Ruby squealed. All the guys groaned.

 

David came back to the living room. “Who’s whose boyfriend?”

 

I explained. “The quarterback for the Broncos is Peyton Manning. We all kind of have a crush on him.”

 

“A crush? For the other side?” He laughed. He teased me, “How could you betray the Patriots this way? What does this Manning gentleman have that Mr. Brady doesn’t?”

 

Ruby piped up. “I’ll tell you. He’s tall. He’s funny. And he’s got that cute accent. Oh, honey!”

 

David laughed. “So, tall, funny men with cute accents get noticed by women? Very interesting. I’m so glad Laura doesn’t know anyone like that. If she did, I’d be worried.”

 

Russ snapped. “You girls never do shut up about this, do you? I’d rather watch Manning than that Tebow guy.”

 

“Tebow?” David looked interested. “I’ve heard of him. I heard he was a gentleman.”

 

Russ interjected. “I think he’s a show off. He’s weird. He makes such a big deal over what he believes. There isn’t a need for that. Hey, Rube! Get me a beer, will you?”

 

David continued. “I’d have to disagree with you. I think there’s always a need for men to step up and be chivalrous. Mr. Tebow is doing a decent job of it in the world of football, from what I hear. Oh dear, now I have salsa on my tie.” He handed me his plate again and stood up.

 

“That’s your M.O. then? Chivalry? Sounds kind of corny, but then if gets you … ”

 

Ruby leaned over the couch and gave a drink to Russ. “Here’s your beer.”

 

“What is this? It’s warm!”

 

Ruby snapped back. “You didn’t put it in the fridge.”

 

“Do I have to do everything around here?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You couldn’t have put it in the fridge, even for a minute?”

 

“I suppose I could have, but I didn’t because I was busy making
your
food and getting this apartment ready so
your
fat butt would have a place to sit and watch
my
TV. So yeah, I dropped the ball here. Here’s the beer. Take it warm or don’t take it at all.”

 

All of us were startled by this. The only sound came from the television. The Patriots had the ball. Everyone stared at the game in silence.

 

David returned to the room carrying one of our kitchen chairs. He placed it right next to the coffee table and sat down, taking his plate from me.

 

“Hey Dave! We can’t see!”

 

“Terribly sorry.” He gave his plate back to me, stood up, and picked the chair up, carrying it back to the kitchen. Then he returned, just as the television camera showed the pained expression of Tom Brady on the sidelines.

 

“I know him. That gentleman lives on my block.”

 

Everyone stared at David. Jessie asked, “You
know
Tom Brady?”

 

“I see him occasionally. Once, he and my driver Merle got into a heated and amusing discussion over a parking space. They both said, ‘
Do you know who I am
?’ Merle wanted me to fight him in a duel, but he was with his lady and I …”

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