Once Upon Another Time (21 page)

I shifted the
weight of the blender to one arm and pushed the door closed.  “Gavin doesn’t
drive an Escalade.  He drives a Ford pickup and he hasn’t arrived yet.”

Laura’s eyes
widened, her lips fell open.  “Oooh, Ford pickup--he must be the adventurous,
rugged type.”   

“I think it has
more to do with practicality and the line of work he’s in rather than a
connection to his psyche.”

“Hmm,” she said,
as she cocked her head and pointed a pink pearlized fingernail considering my
blouse.  “Did you get that ‘lift’ bra I suggested?”

I looked down at
my cleavage.  “No, these are mine.”

“Well, it’s definitely
a very sexy look on you.”

I immediately
panicked, as the word
slut
came to mind.  One handedly, I fumbled trying
to button the blouse.

“Stop that,” Laura
said, as she smacked my fingers.  “The last thing you want to do is look like a
Victorian maiden.”

The doorbell
chimed and startled both of us.

“Here,” I said,
shoving the blender back at her.  “Get in the great room with the rest of the
nosy Nellie’s.” 

I tucked an
annoying lock of hair behind my ear and checked my lipstick in the mirror.  I
opened the door and my heart thumped as I took in Gavin’s clean, fresh shower
sexiness, smoothly shaven golden skin, and dark, damp hair.  Dressed in creased
black pants and a crisp white shirt, his light aloe scent filled the foyer as I
welcomed him in.

“Hi,” he said. 
“You look great.”

“Thank you,” I
said, while feeling the perspiration form on my upper lip.

“I’d like you to
meet my parents and my son,” I said while bringing him into the great room,
when it dawned on me that I should have given him a heads-up on my parents.

Everyone sat on
the sofa lined up like parishioners in a church pew, while watching Extreme
Makeover Home Edition, an all-day marathon.  Flared jeans grazed the tops of my
father’s long toes poking out from his Jesus sandals.  His long silvery hair
fell loose around his shoulders.  With teary eyes gazing at the TV and his face
contorting into an array of charged emotion, he looked like a psychotic Willie
Nelson.

Mother smoothed
the front of her long tie-dyed wrap skirt, straightened the off-shoulder look
of her white peasant blouse, and raised her eyes to look at Gavin.  Her smile
resembled the saints they depict in religious books, while Laura sat looking
sober as a nun, cradling the Waring blender like a babe in her arms.  Nicholas
smiled broadly at Gavin.

Screams came from
the TV as the Home Edition family saw their new house and I introduced Gavin.

* * * *

Gavin took me to a
restaurant on Federal Hill, commonly known as Providence’s Little Italy.  The Italian
restaurant was a favorite of mine with its shaded Mediterranean wall sconces that
gave off a soft romantic amber glow and the textured walls and beautiful
interior gave it that old world charm.  My body tingled, as he put his hand on
the small of my back in a courteous way to guide me through the restaurant.

The wall lined
with dark wooden booths and brown leather cushioning, is where I sat.  Gavin settled
in the dining chair across from me.  It was still hard for me to believe that the
handsome man with the strong straight nose and generous lips who sat across
from me was a living, breathing version of the man in my dream.  Words like
amazing, terrified, and hypnotic sprung into my head as our eyes met and danced
a long dance, broken only when a waiter came to take our drink orders. 

As the waiter
walked away, Gavin clasped his hands together and leaned forward over the table. 
“Well, you’re so beautiful I barely know what to say.” 

 “So are you,” I unintentionally
blurted out while feeling my face turn very warm.  Never had I classified a man
as beautiful.  I shook my head and felt a little embarrassed, as we both
laughed it off. 

As soon as we started talking,
I immediately felt a high level of comfortableness with him.  We talked about
our careers and touched on family.  He didn’t go into much detail about his
parents, but I sensed he was curious about mine.  So I began by saying I was
thankful for many things about them, especially for them not naming me Fawn,
Dusk, or Moonbeam. 

We touched on a
variety of topics and somehow got on the subject of embarrassing dating
moments.  He wanted me to tell him about my worst experience.  With so many
tiebreakers, it was tough to choose just one. 

“Okay, I’d say my
worse date ever was a snowmobile date.”

“Somehow, I can’t
picture you on a snowmobile,” he said.

“I couldn’t
either.  Funny the things we do out of desperation,” I said, with a self-deprecating
laugh.  “Anyway, we drove for what seemed like hours on backcountry roads and
ended up lost in the middle of nowhere with my bladder ready to explode.  We
had spotted an old, abandoned gas station, but the restroom door was locked. 
So, I ran behind a metal partition behind the gas station, which was probably
where a dumpster once sat.”

“Hmm,” said Gavin,
as he raised an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately,
that was the only cover available.  I’d worn a bulky one-piece snowmobile suit,
something I’d borrowed from a friend.  I unzipped it all the way down and squatted
in the snow, the down-filled nylon around the ankles of the boots I’d worn.” 

“Your suit pulled
down to your ankles,” Gavin parroted, as he rested his forearms on the table
and began to chuckle.

“Worse, was when I
realized I couldn’t pull the suit back up.”

“Why not?”

“The cold twenty
degree weather had stuck my warm, moist hand to the metal partition that I used
to brace myself.”

Gavin instantly
busted into hysterical laughter.   

“There’s more.”

“More?” he asked,
barely able to speak, while tears filled his eyes.

“Yes.  Not knowing
my situation, my date called out from the other side of the partition wanting
to know if I was having a good time.  Of course, I had no choice but to tell
him I needed help.  Bad enough it was humiliating, but then he left me there
squatting in the snow while he raced off to the nearest store to get a couple bottles
of water to loosen my fingers.  I got frostbite in places I never thought was
possible.”

Gavin laughed so
hard I was worried he’d have a coronary.  I never thought things like that were
funny.  I always thought of them as just another failed, humiliating dating
experience.  However, that evening Gavin made me feel like the funniest and
most interesting person alive.  It was as if I’d finally saw the humor in my
life and laughed along with him until I was breathless. 

“I don’t think I
can top that,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes, as the waiter arrived
with our dinners.

 “A toast,” said
Gavin, as he raised his glass.  “Here’s to the only woman who has ever made me
cry--from laughing so hard.”

“Cheers,” I said,
as our glasses clinked together.   

“So, what do you
think about the restaurant?”  Gavin asked, while he used his fork to separate
the grilled mixed vegetables on his plate.

“Actually, it’s one
of my favorite restaurants,” I told him.  “And they have a great wine
selection.” 

“Speaking of
which,” Gavin said, “would you believe my grandfather actually learned to stomp
grapes while stationed in Italy in World War II?”

 “Really, I often
wondered if there were sanitary issues involved with that.”

“Winemaking is a
very sterile process,” he said, as he herded pieces of summer squash to the
edge of his plate.  Matt would do the same thing if squash happened to be a
vegetable that came with his meal. 

Gavin went on to
explain winemaking and that the alcohol kills the germs.  It was fun listening
to him tell the story about his grandfather.  He flailed his arms around and at
one point, I thought he was going to jump up and demonstrate the stomping
process.  He was like an excited little boy, same way Matt would get when
telling a story about something that interested him.   

“So, how’s the
Chicken Portobello?”

“It’s great. 
How’s your dinner?”  I asked.

“Perfect, he
said,” drawing out the word.  His eyes searched mine and his lip curled up into
a sexy smile. 

I felt myself
blush, as I reached for my glass of wine.  There was something in his smile,
his eyes, I didn’t know what it was, but his mannerisms were all so familiar. 

“So,” he said,
“let’s talk about you.  Have you any hobbies?” 

 I wished I could
have said, sure, parachuting out of a plane at twenty thousand feet and diving
off Carlisle Bay in Barbados looking for shipwrecks. 

“Yoga,” I
muttered, sounding somewhat apologetic.

“I practice yoga,
too!  Have you mastered the ‘bow’ pose yet?” 

“Ha!  Maybe if I
was Gumby.” 

“That would be
interesting,”
I heard him say in my head.  I felt a little uncomfortable,
even deceptive at being able to hear some of his thoughts.  However, nowhere in
my “Dating for Dummies” book had I read anything remotely close to mind reading
being an appropriate topic of conversation on a first date.

“Hmm,” Gavin said,
waving a fork at me.  Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young
Elizabeth Taylor?”

“Um, once or twice
maybe,” I said, as I tried not to react to the sudden invasion of voices in my
head when one voice broke through the clutter.

“What the
hell!”
 The voice screamed.

Over Gavin’s
shoulder, halfway across the restaurant, I spotted a woman with a striking mane
of long auburn hair and bare long tanned legs.  Her size two body, packaged in
a tight, low-cut yellow organza print, showed off a crease of golden cleavage. 
She was the woman I’d seen him with at the mall--Miss Universe.  As all five
feet seven graceful inches of pure sensuality strutted toward us, I only had
one thought. 
How the hell do I compete with that?

She focused in on
the back of Gavin’s head, and then shifted her gaze at me.  She gave me the
same look “Mean Mary,” a.k.a. “Double M,” had given Laura in the seventh grade
right before she ripped the head off Laura’s Barbie doll. 

Miss Universe
stepped up her pace and headed toward us like a bloodhound on a hot scent.

He does have a
girlfriend or perhaps--fiancée!
 

The legendary
Paris Hilton and Shannen Doherty catfight from many years before flashed in my
head, as she swooped up to our table. 

“Gavin Donnelly,”
she said teasingly, as she leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek.  Her
heart-shaped tush faced me like a bulletin board. 

Gavin looked
surprised, as he peeked around the side of her to introduce me.

“Ah, Vanessa, this
is Aubrey.”

She turned and
tossed back her long silky hair.  Her full red lips, glossy like strawberry
fruit glaze, pouted slightly before giving me a weak smile.  “It’s nice to meet
you.”  Her feline green eyes looked down at the mound of food on my plate,
before giving my upper body a quick scan. 

“Pathetic,”
her voice sneered in my head. 

I had the sudden
urge to shove her arrogant little freckled sprayed nose into the volcano of
gravy laden mashed potatoes on my plate.

“Sweetie,” she
said, in a breathy Marilyn Monroe sort of way, as she turned to face Gavin. 
“I’m meeting a couple of girlfriends here.  Later we’ll be at Renaissance
dancing till who knows when.  You should meet up with us.”

“Vanessa,” Gavin
squawked.  “I’m on a date, and I plan on going home afterward.” 

Awkward!

“Will you excuse
please.  I’m going to freshen up,” I said.  Telling a fib was easier than
listening to some bimbo flirt with my date.  I felt the tension at the table as
I left. 

I pushed open the
door at the back of the restaurant that led to the restrooms and ran into the
forty-something-year-old stock boy who worked at the grocery store where I
shopped. 

“Excuse me,” I
said, as I lowered my head hoping he wouldn’t recognize me.

“Sorry,” he said,
using his index finger to push up his coke bottle glasses to the bridge of his
nose.  “Hey, weren’t you the one looking for fresh asparagus a few days ago at
the grocery store?”

I had tried to
avoid him that day, but the bum wheel on my grocery cart rattled so loud it
drew his attention.  I saw him slither past the tomatoes and stop to eye me
while pretending to line up the peaches alongside the pears. 

“Um, no,” I said,
as I slid past him. 

The washrooms were
so far away from the main dining area, they might as well have been one
building over.  Halfway through the L-shaped hallway, the overhead light
flickered a couple times and went out.  It was darker than the bottom of a
mineshaft and finding my way back out would have required I be Helen Keller. 

I stretched out my
arms and found the wall.  Feeling my way down the hallway I crashed into a
narrow table that sat against the wall.  With as many times as I’d been to that
restaurant, I should have had the hallway memorized. 

I groped my way
past the table, and lifted a palm to the wall, but knocked into the four-foot
long Tuscan countryside painting, which I managed to stop from swinging off the
hook.  Before moving on, I tried to recall what other obstacles could be in the
way, when something lightly brushed my back.
 The weirdo from the grocery
store!

I swung around and
swatted at the darkness.

“Who’s there?”  I
said, thinking if he laid one finger on me, I’d twist it off at the joint. 

In my head, I
heard someone say,
“Chaton.”
  Matt’s pet name for me.  I was confused.  Is
Matt back?  I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Aubrey, is that
you?”