Falling for Your Madness (4 page)

“Yes.”

“Merle claims that you are not as pretty as I say you are. I want to take photo of us together, email it to him, and prove to the little munchkin that he is wrong, as always.”

“That sounds like a line, Professor.”

He bit his lip. “It is. It’s a terrible one. Will you do it anyway?”

“Yes.” He stood and brought his chair next to mine. He leaned in closer to me. He put his arm along the back of my chair, but he did not touch me, just like he said he wouldn’t. He smelled decidedly masculine. Was that
lavender?
I didn’t know what it was. He held out the phone in front of us. I held my Gerbera daisy. I smiled, and he took the photo, emailed Merle, and gave me my phone and moved back across the table.

“The restaurant I want to take you to on Friday is right off Beacon Street on Harvard. Bombay’s Finest Indian restaurant. Are you familiar with it?”

“I love that place! They have a great vegetarian curry.”

He looked at me like he’d lost his balance. “I will be there Friday evening at 7:00.” He swallowed. “Will you?”

“I will.”

He looked happy. “When we are finished, I will walk you to the doorstep of your building by 10:00 p.m., and if you allow me, kiss your hand. Just to remind you, this is not a date. We are friends. The progress of this relationship from being friends to sweethearts is up to you. It can take six dates, six months, or six years. I am unbelievably patient. Now, though, I am going to excuse myself. It isn’t very chivalrous to leave a lady alone, but I’ve found that young women often need time to think. Be assured, Laura, my time with you today was absolutely delightful.”

He picked up my hand and held it to his lips. Then Dr. David Julius Arthur Bowles walked out of the cafe, hailed his driver, entered his car, and drove away.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

332 Babcock Street

Brookline, Massachusetts

6:15 p.m.

“Wait, a minute. He said you were in complete control?” Ruby was beside herself.

“Friends first, then sweethearts if I want to be.” I had tried to explain to her, as best I could, all the rules that David had suggested. I couldn’t remember them all. I should have taken notes or asked for a handout. Every time I told her something that I remembered, she reeled a little more.

“We’re calling Jessie.” She waved her hands in the air.

“And did I tell you about the no phone calls?”

“What? How could there possibly be more rules than what you already told me? We’re calling Julie too, if Brandon can watch the baby. We need all the girls over here. They have got to hear this.”

“You’re going to get everybody over here now?”

“I don’t know if this is the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard or if you just met a knight in shining armor. Are you going Friday?”

“I don’t know. I think so. What do you think?”

“I think we get the girls over here and decide. I’ll call them. You get the ice cream.”

Within an hour, we had eight of my closest friends sitting in my living room. These were not just girls, they were a part of the fabric of my Boston life. Erin and Julie and I were inseparable at Mass College of Art. Ariel and Miranda lived across the hall from us when we lived on Huntington Avenue. Ruby and Jessie had known those two from their undergrad days. I met Emily when I went out with her brother. Katie lived with Emily and easily fit into the circle. We had been through so much together—broken hearts, engagements, new romances, homesickness, deadlines, bad grades, good parties, and countless conversations about men. This group was the reason I had wanted to stay here and not go back to Chicago after graduation. They were a second family. They were going to love this story.

I stood in front of all of them. “All right, ladies, what would you say if a tall, handsome-ish college professor, who you just met, suggested to you that he wanted you to be his bride?”

“How handsome?”

“Handsome enough. Well-defined face. Curly black hair in his eyes. Boyish at times.”

“Is he rich?”

“He’s a college professor. Probably not. Listen, we’re getting distracted. I had the most unusual conversation I have ever had with this David guy—no, I mean, man—no, I mean, gentleman, and I need you guys to tell me what I should do.”

I explained each one of the rules. I had made a list while waiting for them to come over. “We start out as friends, and we meet three times a week. Tea on Monday, lunch on Wednesday, and dinner on Friday. He never touches me. He pays for everything. Then he walks me home and kisses my hand. He never comes in. He won’t call. If I want to be more than friends, I decide. All I have to do is say the word, and then we’re sweethearts.”

All the girls started laughing.

“No, really. That’s what he calls it. Now, I’m thinking about meeting him Friday for our first dinner, as friends. What do you think? Should I go or not?”

“Wait a minute,” Jessie put her hand up. “Did I miss something? What happened to Trey?”

“Well, Trey and I are … ”

Ruby stood up and waved her spoon at all of us. “Listen. Trey is old news. Buh-bye.”

I tried to stop her. “No, wait, there is not an official ruling on Trey. That’s part of the problem. Trey was really busy all summer and now that …”

“Are you blind?” Ruby got up in my face. “Let me tell you what your summer was like. It was, ‘
Oh Trey! You’re so handsome! You make so much money! It’s so cool that you work for the Red Sox and ooh! This is such an expensive restaurant and tee-hee, you’re so sweet, no I don’t mind waiting by the phone for three solid weeks while you travel all over the country pretending you’re important. I don’t mind shutting down my summer completely waiting on you to grace me with your presence! I don’t mind moping and feeling sorry for myself and making my roommate miserable!
’”

“So, Ruby,” I was a little upset by this. “Tell us how you really feel.”

“I’ll tell you. You go to dinner with David. And if you don’t, I will.”

All the girls cheered.

“Okay, well then. We’ve heard from the anti-Trey delegation. Anyone for the anti-David side?”

“He knows Brandon and Julie, right?”

“Right. This is a friend-of-a-friend situation. Brandon had nothing but nice things to say about him. But Brandon is not a girl, so, you know, he hasn’t paid attention to the important stuff.”

“And he says you won’t be alone with him, right?”

“Yeah. He really made it clear. That’s it, really. I don’t see a problem here, unless he really is crazy or something. But I can get out. That’s another rule; once I break up, it’s permanently over.”

Jessie raised her hand. “I say we take a vote. Raise your hand if you think Laura should meet David on Friday?”

I couldn’t believe all the hands that went up. “Wait a minute. This isn’t up for a vote. I have the final say here. I just want opinions. Opinions that are not Ruby’s.”

Emily raised her hand. “Is there any hope for you getting back together with my brother?”

“Em, I hate to disappoint you, but you know what he did to me.”

Ruby was still hot. “What did he do?” She looked like she was out for blood.

I shook my head. “He committed the unforgivable. He became a Jets fan.”

Friday, September 21, 2012

Bombay’s Finest Indian Cuisine

176 Harvard Street

Brookline, Massachusetts

6:59 p.m.

I was almost late meeting David because I had to answer the bajillion texts from my girlfriends about tonight. It hadn’t even happened yet, and I was, in their eyes, a rock star. All I could think about was what I was going to wear. What was I going to say? What would this friendship lead to?

He was there, outside the restaurant, holding lavender. He sighed.
“You came.”

“I couldn’t miss this.”

David took my hand, kissed it, opened the door of the restaurant, and followed me inside.
He pulled out my chair, and I sat down.

The table was big enough. He could sit comfortably, and I was glad about it.

“I thought, dear Laura, that we would spend tonight’s conversation talking about our passions. Is that acceptable? After you’ve have had time to think, would you tell me five things that you love and five things that you loathe?”

He was wearing another tweed jacket, button-down shirt, and tie. He was restrained, and yet his eyes were laughing and confident. His dark curls fell in his pale face. He had a longish nose and strong cheekbones. He was rather elegant-looking for a man, I thought. He reminded me of the sketches I used to make of the Greek and Roman leaders. A statue. Yes! He had the same hair as Michaelangelo’s
David
. He
was
David.

“Laura, have you had time to think? Would you tell me the five things you love first? And as much as you are tempted, please don’t say ‘family’
or ‘God’; while it is virtuous to say it, it doesn’t tell me anything about you.”

I laughed. “The things I love first? Ending on a negative note?”

“Nice observation, Miss Adamsky. I find people are often more passionate about the things they hate.” He winked. “It will work up our appetite for dinner.”

“Five things.” I fiddled with my napkin. “I love the Museum of Fine Arts, the parties my roommate and I throw, the combination of limes and raspberries,” I spoke slowly. I was trying to avoid his eyes because I really wanted to say,
The way you look at me.

“That’s three. What else?”

“I love finally having cool enough weather to wear cute boots.”

“You’re wearing cute boots?”

“Yes, I got them in the spring when they were on sale.”

“Patience always pays off. May I see?”

“My boots?”

“You’ll have to stand up to show me. I’m afraid I can’t see through the table.”

I stood up, and when I did, he did too. I twirled my skirt, and I felt pretty. I liked the feeling of having a man’s attention, in a good way, in a pure way, like I used to playing dress-up with my sisters in front of Daddy. Molly and Amy and I had wanted approval and admiration and to feel like we were princesses. David made me feel this way now.

“Quite nice. Cute indeed.”

When will I ever stop blushing? I am too old to blush, I thought. But then I remembered what my mother had told me and my sister. We had mocked a girl at our school because she had been embarrassed that a boy had paid attention to her. My mother said we should be careful. We had stopped blushing. She said girls who blush—and it sounded terribly old-fashioned at the time she said it—have something, a purity, a hope, or maybe even a respect for way things ought to be. If we didn’t blush, it meant that we were hardened and cynical and that we were the ones who should be mocked. I didn’t understand that until now.

David had looked at my legs and was pleased. I had blushed. I was okay with that.

“Have I embarrassed you?”

“No,” I lied. I was embarrassed that I’d had dates who would have seen the same things he saw,

but they would have said something coarse, something that would make me feel cheap. I was embarrassed that there was a time when I’d thought vulgar comments were funny. David wasn’t leering. There was a subtle difference in his look, and I could see it in his eyes.

“What about you?” I wanted the attention off of me now.

“Not yet. That was only four for you. One more thing you love.”

“I was going to say Jane Austen novels, but then I realized that all the girls say that.”

“As well they should. Miss Austen was a great romantic who fully understood the nature of men and women. There is a rumor in my family, and I’m convinced all the rumors are true, that the inspiration for Darcy came from one of my distant uncles.”

“I believe it.
You
could be the inspiration for Darcy. Why is it that all my girlfriends say that they identify the most with Lizzie, when the truth is they’re all either a Mary or a Lydia?”

“What an interesting observation!” David laughed. “
You
are a Lizzie Bennett, or a Jane, and I refuse to believe anything to the contrary. Now, my turn. Things I love, the non-Anglophilic version. You will think I’m a complete dandy when I say milled soap, silver flatware as opposed to steel or plastic, fountain pens, raspberry jam, which now I think I should try with a bit of lime, and walking in Boston.”