“You’re from New York, too? What a coincidence. I was born and raised in Brooklyn and started practicing medicine in Manhattan. I came down here to escape the high cost of operating a business in the city, just like most of the transplants here, I would imagine.”
I already knew this from his profile, but I am still elated to meet a man from New York. He has only been here five years and his accent comforts me like a warm blanket as the alcohol warms my insides. However, a glance at my empty glass brings me back to the present moment, and I shiver at the sudden drop in temperature.
“It’s getting chilly out here. Claire, please take my jacket.” I notice that he’s been carrying a sport coat around. Normally, I would want to appear to be an independent woman and tough it out, but I don’t hesitate to accept Nathan’s offer. He places the coat delicately around my shoulders, and gently gathers my hair from under the collar and lets it fall across my back. The touch is soft—barely a whisper, but it warms me more than the finely lined tweed fabric.
“Now, isn’t that better? So, you’re an Irish girl. The Irish and Jews go way back in New York in the old neighborhoods. Did you read Angela’s Ashes?” He leans forward in anticipation.
“Yes, I did. My mother insisted. The Jewish family helped the Irish family when one of the children was sick? Something like that, right? I guess the Jews were a lot more prosperous.”
“They were, but still discriminated against, so they had to live in the lesser neighborhoods. We should both be proud of how far our people have come.”
I have never been around a man who speaks like this, and it’s appealing and refreshing. We continue to discuss our backgrounds, and a few times he grazes my leg with his under the table. He also keeps my wine glass full, returning to the bar several times. The crowd is starting to thin out, and it’s easier to attract the bartenders. Plus, Nathan doesn’t have a problem commanding attention.
I am feeling a bit woozy, but determined not to replay any of my recent negative behavior patterns. The alcohol has fueled my courage to veer down the path I dread most—I ask if he has ever been married or has any children.
“I haven’t had time. Medical school, internship and residency took up all of my youth, I’m afraid. I just turned forty last year and now I’m finally at a place in my life where I’m ready to settle down. I know some people manage to do it all, but I don’t see how.”
I try to conceal my disappointment. “So you are still hoping to have a family?” I’m cutting right to the heart of the matter this time.
Nathan looks uncomfortable. “No, actually I would prefer not to have children at this point. My sister has two girls and I see them occasionally, and that’s enough for me. Besides, child rearing is for younger people, and think of the fun we could have with all that freedom!” He catches himself when I raise my eyebrows. “I mean ‘we’ as in anyone our age, not as in you and me. Since we just met. But I must say Claire, you are the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have met in a long time.” He pauses and takes my hand, which is freezing cold. “Your hands are like ice—do you want to move inside?”
I had been holding my breath waiting for him to say he doesn’t want kids, but he may assume I do, and that my biological clock is ticking. Of course, he would be thinking that about a single childless woman my age.
I agree to move inside, and we head into the warm and bright indoor bar area. We grab a couple of stools, and the closer proximity of the seats only increases the intimacy of this conversation. As my eyes start to adjust to the light, after sitting on the dark patio, I ask, “So I guess you aren’t a pediatrician?”
We share a laugh at his lack of desire to be around kids, but I’m already feeling vulnerable and afraid of rejection. I am being hasty hoping he could be the one, and I am tipsy again, only this time on more expensive wine.
“No, I couldn’t listen to babies crying all day. I’m a cardiologist.” He asks if I’m hungry and I tell him I’m famished. “You need to eat to soak up some of that wine; you’re just a little thing.”
I order the apple pie with vanilla ice cream, and proceed to eat it all by myself. I offer to share, but Nathan politely refuses. “I like a woman with a healthy appetite.” He smiles and touches my leg again. Leaning in he returns to the previous discussion. “Claire, I know you don’t have any children. Melanie did tell me that much about you. Is that a wish of yours? To be a mother?”
This question always brings forth tears and this time is no exception. As I try to hold back the water works, I decide to go ahead and tell him the truth. This emotional response is going to be misinterpreted if I don’t. I will scare him away with thoughts of baby carriages and expensive college tuitions screwing up his retirement years.
“I can’t have children.” I pause and take a deep breath. “I had several miscarriages in my early thirties, and was forced to have a hysterectomy.” I put down my spoon and wipe my mouth, even though I know it’s clean.
Nathan’s face softens into a genuine frown. “I am so sorry, Claire. I know that must be awful for a young woman with hopes of being a mother, and your beautiful figure and freedom are small consolation for that loss. But I do hope you are able to see the positive side of what life has dealt you.” He takes my hand and holds my gaze. I break eye contact first.
Normally this type of comment would make me angry, and for a second I feel resentful—assuming that he is secretly relieved. But then isn’t this what I have always wanted? An age appropriate, mature, successful man who doesn’t want children and accepts me as I am?
“Thank you, Nathan. I was devastated at the time, and it was the final nail in the coffin of my marriage, but I have found ways to be happy. I have an adorable little dog—she’s the daughter I’ll never have.” I manage a sad smile to soften the mood.
“What a nice way to redirect your maternal instincts. What kind of dog?”
It’s probably my tendency to jump to the worst possible conclusions in a single bound, but I am getting a vibe that Nathan isn’t too keen on dogs. “She’s a mini dachshund.” He looks puzzled so I add, “You know, a wiener dog.”
He finally shows signs of recognition and replies, “Yes, they look like little hot dogs.” He reflects further and says, “They can be snippy, right? I knew someone who had one once and she was an ankle biter.”
“Not at all—she’s a sweetie. She loves everyone.”
Nathan sits back and pauses, sipping his drink before replying. “Of course, how silly of me. You couldn’t raise a snippy dog.”
I smile and stare into my empty glass.
“And besides, if I can have you Claire, I’ll take the dog.” He winks and notices my glass. “Would you like another glass of wine? How about an after-dinner cordial?”
I don’t need any more alcohol, and I’m already panicking about how I’m going to get home. I don’t live around the corner, and I am not repeating the incident with Daniel, even though Nathan is clearly not in his category.
“No thanks, I would prefer some water. I need to sober up to drive home.”
“I will get you some right away, and have no worries about getting home.” He squeezes my hand and saunters off to the bar.
Crap. I hope he isn’t expecting me to go to his house to sober up, or planning on driving me home. Why do I keep putting myself in these uncomfortable positions?
Nathan returns to our table with a glass of water and a couple of pills. “Just what the doctor ordered.” I must have looked nervously at the pills so he adds, “I promise they’re just aspirin.” He smiles and glances at his watch. “It is getting late, and I do apologize, but I have an early tee time tomorrow. Have you ever played golf, Claire? I’m afraid I indulge in the stereotypical doctor hobby.” Again he displays his dazzling white smile, and I make a mental note to buy some teeth whitener tomorrow.
“No, but I’m a mini-golf pro. I know that sounds silly.”
I’m hoping he’s going to suggest that we play some time, but instead he says,
“No, that’s cute. I play regularly at Windy Hill. It’s a good stress reliever. My job can be pretty intense, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
That sounds familiar. I think Daniel said he plays golf there? I hope they don’t know each other.
“We should get going then. I’m alright to drive now.” Rising from my seat I am about to announce a trip to the ladies’ room when Nathan interjects. “You will not be driving anywhere.” I open my mouth to protest and he continues, “I have called a cab service and they should be outside for you any moment.”
“Thanks, but I live almost thirty minutes away from here. That’s going to cost a fortune.”
“Claire, don’t even think of it. I have already paid the driver with my credit card over the phone, tip included.”
He walks away before I can say anything else. I decide to accept his generous offer and be quiet. After all I am not going to be valued if I devalue myself, and it’s rare to meet a real gentleman these days. I go to the ladies’ room and meet him back at the table.
“Are you ready?” He offers his arm and I accept the gesture. His arm feels strong and warm, and I relax into him.
“Thanks for everything, Nathan. It is so nice to finally meet you.” I stop myself before I add “and I hope to see you again.” Over eager, neurotic Claire is not going to blow this for me.
“You’re welcome. I hope you have a great weekend. Do you have any plans?”
For a second I want to say no, but I do have that damn party at Brandon’s tomorrow night. If he wasn’t my neighbor, and if I wasn’t involved professionally with him, I would blow it off. That whole situation is such a mess.
I am probably frowning and I have hesitated too long. “Yes, I’m going to a party tomorrow night. A birthday party. For a neighbor. He’s a friend.” Why would I tell him my friend is a “he?” I hope the cab comes soon so I can’t say any more stupid things. I glance outside in order to avoid eye contact.
He looks outside as well and says, “Here’s your coach, Cinderella.”
I smile and we walk outside, still arm in arm. “Sleep well, Claire.”
I stand there a moment too long and feel like an idiot. After spending hours together in intimate conversation I can’t believe he isn’t going to kiss me goodnight. I wait as long as I can and walk towards the cab. He jumps forward and I once again anticipate a kiss, but he opens the door and makes a sweeping gesture for me to get inside. I smile weakly and climb in.
The door begins to close and abruptly opens again. “Oh, and Claire?”
I start to reply as he leans into the car and takes my face in his hands and gives me the slowest, sweetest kiss imaginable. I do not care at all about the cab driver, and I’m assuming Nathan has tipped him sufficiently to give us enough time to do whatever we want before getting on the road.
As my mind wanders to what that could be, Nathan abruptly stands and says, “Good night, Claire.” He closes the door and steps to the sidewalk.
“Good night.” The driver interrupts my trance with verification of my address. As we begin to pull away I see Nathan on the sidewalk waving frantically. “Can you stop, please?” I ask the driver. “I must have forgotten something.”
Nathan opens the door again and pokes his head in. “I almost forgot the most important thing—when will I see you again?” He cracks up laughing. Why is this funny? “Did you honestly think I was going to let you leave without making plans to see you again? You silly girl.”
Actually I did, and so did the driver apparently, if his eye rolling and sighs are any indication. “You did walk away, but yes, we can make plans,” I say playfully so he doesn’t know I was worried.
“Wonderful. How about Sunday afternoon? We could do brunch somewhere downtown?” He winks and flashes the white teeth again.
“That sounds nice.”
“I’ll call you.” He stands up and closes the door, waving as the car finally pulls away.
“That one’s a charmer,” the cab driver says as he smiles and shakes his head.
“He surely is.” I look out the window and lean back in my seat. “He surely is,” I whisper to no one but myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sleeping in feels good and Dixie cooperates this morning. When she was a puppy she woke me up every day around five, and I was scared that would continue, but she has adapted to her mommy’s lazy schedule. I enjoy the only perk of being alone and childless.
Today, I’m meeting Rebecca for lunch. I shower and dress in comfortable black cargo capris and my short sleeved eggplant sweater. Mid-April is coming in warm, but tonight it may get chilly. I will probably change for Brandon’s party. Brandon. Shit, it’s also his birthday. I didn’t get a present or a card. Men are impossible to buy gifts for, especially ones you barely know, who are also mad at you.
I arrive at Rebecca’s condo in the west end at noon. She lives in a newer area near the big, upscale mall. All of the apartments are built above fancy shops and restaurants, but the condos are separate buildings.
I am leaving my car at her house and she’s going to drive to lunch, and then the mall. She pops out the door before I get a chance to ring the bell.
“Hey, do you need to use the bathroom before we go?” She is holding several shopping bags, which means she needs to return purchases at the mall. Rebecca is an impulse shopper.
“No, I’m okay. Where did you want to do lunch?” We walk to her car and deposit her bags in the trunk, discussing our food options.
“Italian? So, how was your night? I saw you deeply engrossed in conversation with the doctor, so I left without saying goodbye. I couldn’t bear to interrupt.” Rebecca fiddles with the rearview mirror and roots around for her sunglasses.
“I’m almost afraid to tell you about him for fear of jinxing it.” I go on to regale her with the tale of our dreamy evening—Nathan’s consideration of my needs, his complete attention when I spoke, the heart melting eye contact, the not-so-accidental brushes of our legs, and the dreamy kiss. I leave out the cute way he came back to the car to ask me out again. I thought that would just be gloating.
Rebecca wrinkles her nose, now cradling her rhinestone encrusted sunglasses.
“What, you don’t think he sounds amazing?”
“He sounds nice, but I don’t know. You seem captivated too quickly. This guy is smart and quite a few notches in experience above Ron, Justin and all the other eligible men you’ve been meeting lately. That’s a good thing in many ways, but a guy like that could be a smooth operator.” When I don’t respond right way she adds, “I just don’t want you to set yourself up for disappointment.”
The car jerks forward as Rebecca notices that we have come to a stop sign. Normally, I would tease her about her bad driving, and her opinions that stop signs are “a suggestion,” but I’m too annoyed.
“I know where you’re going with this, but he is not an arrogant jerk. He’s an important man—a cardiologist, and he grew up in Brooklyn, so he’s an assertive type, but he was a perfect gentleman. Justin didn’t put me in a cab after our date. And last night wasn’t even a date.”
“Justin also didn’t get you drunk. The point is that he sounds sure of himself and you are like an innocent little kitten. Just take it slow, that’s all I’m saying. When are you seeing him again?” She maneuvers the car into a parking spot close to our favorite Italian restaurant.
“Sunday. For brunch.” I should have kept that to myself. What if he doesn’t call to make plans?
“Why not tonight? Oh, I remember. Have you talked to Brandon since your argument?” The hostess tells us we can sit anywhere and we choose a booth away from the other diners, as always.
I sigh deeply and reply, “No. There’s been too much going on and I’m a big chicken. I’m going to arrive with Jane and Mike, if I can, to soften the blow. I probably won’t stay long.”
We order our lunches and I steer the conversation away from my dating life, and ask Rebecca questions about work and her personal life
. That plan isn’t too successful as she turns the discussion full circle back to me.
“So Nathan has no kids? How old is he? Forty, you said? Did he pass your test on that front?” Rebecca butters a roll and wipes the crumbs off the table.
“Yes, he’s forty.” I glance around the room before continuing. “I did something I never do. I told him about my hysterectomy.”
“That’s great, Claire. You must have felt comfortable with him. Maybe I’m wrong.” She pauses, and knowing Rebecca, she’s likely pondering how she could possibly be wrong. Continuing, she says, “You should continue to date other people, even if you like him. If you put all your eggs in one basket you might accidently sit on it and crush them all at once.”
“I love your clichés, but they’re never quite the way I remember them.”
Rebecca smiles and stabs the salad the waitress just dropped off with gusto. “Just trying to inject some sensible wisdom around here.”
I roll my eyes and say, “I can’t date multiple men. I am a one man woman. The juggling is impossible. To your point, too many individual eggs in the air will result in egg yolk on my shoes when they all hit the ground at once.” I move my hands in a juggling motion to illustrate my point.
“You’re not very coordinated, that’s true.” I almost throw my napkin at her, but stop myself since I have decided to change that behavior pattern when people annoy me. She continues, “So you’re not going to see Justin again? And what about Brandon?”
“I don’t think so. Justin is hanging around like a puppy, but he’s obviously confused. If I don’t see him again he’ll be released to more sensible dating choices. I’m just some silly challenge for him, and I still think he has a cougar fetish. And Brandon and I are not dating, nor will we be dating. He gets angry way too easily. I don’t need any brooding, overly sensitive artist types. No, Nathan is what I need.” I pause to take a sip of water. “But I will offer another cliché—when it rains it pours. I always complain that there are no men, but lately there have been too many.”
There Are No Men Page 19
