by J. M. Mason
Chapter Seventeen
When I arrived home, I put on my silk pajamas, curled up on the couch with my pint of chocolate ice cream, and began clicking the remote as I surfed the channels to find a movie to show me how my date should have gone.
I was delighted to find my favorite movie that I’ve watched over fifty-times, Dirty Dancing, starring sexy Patrick Swasey. Now that’s love.
Then I remembered Baby said she carried a watermelon, so maybe this wasn’t such a good learning film after all. I’m no better than she when she attempted to impress the hunky, sexy dreamboat.
Sometime during the movie, I fell asleep without eating the ice cream I knew I really needed to get through the night. When I awakened, the film was over, and I was left holding a carton of warm, frothy, chocolatey mess that threatened to spill out on to my silk pajamas.
So much for true love, I won’t be able to count this a completed viewing, even if I were still counting. I’d lost track after I viewed the scenes of the wonderfully sexy dance moves over fifty times.
My neck and legs were stiff from sitting in the curled position for most of the night, my arms rigid from being in the bent position holding the uneaten, carton of ice cream. After I uncurled myself, stretched the tense muscles, and stood to take the package of ruined chocolate goodness to the kitchen, I threw the mess in the sink to drain and turned on the tap to wash it down to the darkness of the sewage system.
Self-pity isn’t a pretty thing to behold. Heck, I didn’t even like my company at my pity party, so I decided to take a walk in the park and feed the ducks in Colin pond. Hopefully, they wouldn’t attack the hand that fed them.
The weekend went by without anything happening that would hurt someone or embarrass them, the ducks remained in the pond and swam lazily to the bread I had to throw for them, to my knowledge not a single duck was injured by feeding them. Sadly, feeding the ducks was the highlight of the whole weekend.
Chapter Eighteen
Monday came too soon for me, and I wasn’t looking forward to facing Jenny and the others at work. I knew deep down in my heart that Jenny would tell anyone who would listen to her about the events of the night at the Steak House.
Going to work on Monday was bad enough during the best of weeks, without having the stigma of a horrible blind date hanging over my head. Deciding the answer to my problem was to sneak into the office without anyone seeing me so I could delay the embarrassing moments to come as my peers questioned me.
I discovered that it’s not easy to slip into the office from the parking area when the employee entrance was the same as the entry for the doctor’s patients. It didn’t help that the door had a tinkling bell that cheerfully rang when the door opened and again when it closed.
The bell had a wad of fake flowers attached to it to make it livelier for the patients. It wasn’t amusing for me to hear the jingling, announcing I was there for all to poke fun at me and having a bunch of artificial flowers looking down and judging me. As I closed the door behind me, no one looked up from their work on their desks, so I mistakenly thought I was safe from ridicule.
Taking a deep breath, I boldly with purpose walked into the foyer to the counter and edged my way around the end of the admission window to my desk, like I didn’t have a single care in the world. I was home free, so I thought.
My desk was within sight when I let out the breath, I’d been holding, with relief in the knowledge that no one saw me, because no one looked up from their work until I bumped the metal trash bin near my desk as I bent down to open the bottom drawer where I placed my purse. To my dismay, the metal drawer was stuck and made a horrible noise when I yanked on it.
I desperately pulled on the handle while violently shaking the drawer as it made excessive noise, drawing the attention of all who worked in the office. Standing up, my eyes wide and my breaths coming rapidly, trying to outdo my heart that was hammering out a fast rhythm in my chest.
All eyes turned my way, and the laughter began. I stiffened, stood in front of my desk, and clutched my purse to my chest with both hands in front of me as a shield. My face began to warm as my skin flushed, my eyes widened with grim astonishment.
Of course, Jenny had told everyone in detail about our double date at one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. My brain struggled to find a defensive stance, and it grasped the idea that it would be prudent to play dumb, deflect the blame to someone or something else and make them believe it was beyond my control. Despite my best attempt to make the crew believe nothing significant had happened, the laughter increased.
“What? So, I turned a man on, during our first date in front of everyone in the world. Is that a crime?”
I immediately knew that was the wrong thing to say, as a chorus of choking sounds burst forth around the room. Instead of a serious work environment, the office sounded like a wild Saturday night party.
Jodie just about fell out of her chair as she bent over and held her abdomen. She laughed so hard she found it difficult to catch her breath.
“But most of us… wait until we’re… alone in the dark before we… rub… the man’s private parts,” Jodie said between fits of high-pitched giggles. Her laughter would make a Jackal and a Jackass jealous; it’s a high-pitched cackle and ends with multiple snorting sounds.
Suddenly the laughter ended, and silence weighed heavily in the room. I slowly turned my head toward the voice behind me.
“Stella, may I see you in my office?” Dr. Johnson asked.
Oh no. The boss wants to see me in her office. Now I’m going to be fired. The Employee Manual clearly states that we’re to conduct ourselves properly when in public, not to humiliate the doctor. Was what happened proper? Did she feel humiliated?
It was an accident. Is an accident proper or improper? What am I to do now?
All these questions, for which I found no proper answers, flowed through my mind as I turned toward my boss. My heart sped up along with my respirations. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on my upper lip as my mouth became so dry, I could spit wads of cotton.
I slowly walked toward my boss. She always intimidated me; she rarely smiled, making her look like she was mad all the time. I often wondered if she scared the babies she delivered when they saw her frowning face.
Her face showed me nothing to find hope that as I gradually made my way across the office and through the doorway into her office. I know the answer about the babies, they were scared spitless like me, that’s why they stopped crying when she entered the room, they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves.
No one made a sound as I walked toward the door to the doctor’s office, thankful that at least the giggles had stopped. My shoes didn’t even make noise because the carpeting swallowed the sounds in terror. I felt like I needed a drummer beating out the cadence of the death march.
Thoughts of my squeaky shoes reminded me of a little girl who came into the office with her very pregnant mother. I asked about her shoes, she said, “I wore my talking shoes today. They squeak and have flashing lights.”
I stifled a giggle thinking about the little girl. Good thing I looked at Dr. Johnson in the face as I walked into her office to her desk. A deep frown replaced the smile that threatened to cross my face before I gazed upon her face.
Dr. Carolyn Johnson is my boss; she’s a Gynecologist. We call her Carolyn during work, unless a patient is in the office, but was that appropriate today when I’d been called into her lair.
Maybe, I’ll call her Dr. Johnson. I thought.
She motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs that sat in front of her desk as she walked around, sat down in her chair, and looked me in the eyes.
“Stella, I heard what happened this weekend. Did you really rub a man’s crotch until he had an erection while having a meal at a local restaurant on Friday night? Also, did you have proper protection? Be careful how you answer that question. I didn’t hear the whole story, I’m sure. I know how Jenny explicates on any story she tells, so I’d
like to hear your version of what happened.”
“It was an accident,” I blurted. “I swear on my grandmother’s grave. I don’t understand why I need to have protection. Protection from what, or were you making a joke?”
The corners of Carolyn’s mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Go on.”
“I spilled two glasses of Merlot that rolled off the table into his lap. I did my best to clean it off his pants before it stained.”
“OK. So how did the man become aroused? This isn’t helping much. Tell me more.”
Again, the corners of her mouth turned up as she encouraged me to finish my explanation of the accident. I looked at her with dismay. My eyes widened and then narrowed.
Was this a trick? Was she trying to trip me up, so she’d have a good reason to fire me? Great, now I’m becoming paranoid. I must tell the whole story.
I began my story with Jenny asking me if I’d be willing to go on a blind date with her and her boyfriend, who had an out of town guest that needed a companion for dinner. I left out the parts about the pasties and G-string, thinking it may make her believe the worst as if she wasn’t doing just that now.
When I finished telling her my version of the events that led up to the erection, I leaned back in my chair and took in several cleansing breaths, knowing if I held my breath, I’d pass out. My thoughts wandered to strangling Jenny for her big mouth, so I was surprised when a choking sound came from Dr. Johnson.
Dr. Johnson began to laugh. I was stunned into total silence, I hadn’t heard her laugh before, it made me stare at her, my eyes wide and my mouth gaped open.
“Well, I see you had quite a first blind date. Tell me what you learned from this date?”
I looked at her as my eyes widened more. Really? She wants to know what I learned.
“I… I… ah, don’t…really know what I learned. I know I learned that a first impression was important when I began dating when I was fourteen, but I’m not sure what I’m to take away from this date,” I said, confused. “Because I’m not sure how great an impression I made on him.” If I told her that I learned that I should never date again, would she not want to hear anything else?
We sat quietly for what seemed like an hour. I began to fidget in my chair and noticed that I still clutched my purse in front of me. I nearly burst into tears from fear of losing my job.
“Well, Jenny, if you think of something and would like to share it with me later, come see me. I’m sorry your blind date wasn’t fun for you. I’m sure it was fun for him.”
Jenny had asked if he needed a cigarette because it was good for him. I’m sure she shared this part of the story, too. She needs to be talked to about telling tales in the office.
This still isn’t funny, damn it!
Dr. Johnson walked me to the door, and when I entered our work area, everyone pretended to work hard. I went to my desk, to my surprise, the desk drawer opened as if it hadn’t been stuck earlier. I put my purse into the drawer as the first phone call came for the day.
I decided that no one needed to know what transpired in Dr. Johnson’s office, yet I knew Jenny would weasel it out of me at our lunch break. I needed to remember to swear her to secrecy.
I made it through the workweek without any mishaps. The laughter finally eased a bit by the end of the day on Wednesday. I hoped nothing else happened that the people would find out about and find humorous. Maybe, I should charge an entertainment fee.
Chapter Nineteen
My youngest son, Walter, invited me to join him and his roommate for dinner on Friday night. I didn’t turn down any time I get to spend with my sons. After kids grow up and move out of the house, there is little quality time to spend with them.
There are many pluses to wanting to spend time with Walter, of which having a gourmet meal is high on my list of positives. So, I guess this fact makes me have an ulterior motive for the acceptance of his invitation.
It isn’t all bad, Jack, my son’s roommate is a chef, and his meals are to die for. Even a salad that Jack makes is an adventure. Thus, I get a great meal and get to spend time with the kid.
My idea of cooking a gourmet meal is when I add spices, peppers, and mushrooms to jar spaghetti sauce, I really get fancy when I add onions. I learned to cook large quantities of simple meals to feed the harvest workers when I was in my teens. The food was nothing fancy, yet it was good, healthy food that stuck to the ribs as Grandpa always said when I helped with feeding the workers.
I was so excited, I accepted without argument, promised to provide the dessert, and agreed to honor them with my presence Friday night. This is a running joke between Walter and me. He began to say he was proud to honor us with his presence, when he was fifteen, I just beat him to it this time.
Friday night, Walter greeted me at the door with a glass of white wine in his left hand and traded me for the Cherry Cheesecake I held out to him as I stepped into his living room. I took a step toward the center of the hallway, and when I turned to look at him, my heart skipped a beat.
Everything was going well until I looked up at him and saw him grinning from ear to ear. What was up his sleeves now?
He is six feet tall, so he must look down on me. However, when we made eye contact, he began to laugh as he turned to set down the dessert on a stand near the door. He continued to laugh as he closed the door and turned back to me. My intuition told me he’d heard about my date the last week. I didn’t know how it was possible, but I knew he knew as he continued to look at me.
He struggled to stop laughing. The laugh turned into a grin and a loud clearing of his throat.
“Hey, Mom, a friend of mine has a dad that would love to meet a nice lady. You’re the only nice lady I know. Would you like to meet him?”
“Why the sudden interest to set me up with a date? After last weekend, I don’t really want to go on anymore blind dates, thank you for the thought,” I said.
“But Mom, I know him, he’s a good guy,” he argued. “He’s good looking too, and he’ll take you to a nice restaurant for a great meal. How about it?”
“Let me think about it during supper. I’m a little head shy. My last blind date was a disaster.”
I gazed into his eyes as he continued to grin. What was he hiding from me?
“You heard about my date last weekend, didn’t you? How did you find out so fast?”
“Yep, I heard every detail of the most entertaining night. The guy, Michael, who waited on you is a friend of mine. Before you ask, the man I want you to meet isn’t Michael’s dad,” he tried to assure me. “Michael couldn’t wait to tell me all about your date last week, he saw firsthand, no pun intended, what you were doing to the man. Did you really cause him to have a hardon?”
I looked around the room for a place to hide, knowing that I couldn’t hide from my sons ever. It was time to own up to the embarrassing thing I did.
“Unfortunately, it’s true. I’m so embarrassed to admit it.”
“Ew! Mom! In public and all? In front of my friend, who saw everything.”
“What can I say? You would think cold wine and ice water would put a damper on such a thing. The book I gave you boys when you were in puberty said so.”
Walter’s face was screwed up like he had tasted a lemon trying his hardest not to laugh. I was glad when Jack interrupted by calling out from the kitchen.
“How are you, Stella? I thought I heard someone talking to Walter. I’ll be right out,” Jack yelled from the kitchen.
I was relieved for a change of subject. I turned toward the sound of Jack’s voice as he stepped into the living room from the kitchen, I opened my arms for a hug.
“I’m fine. What’s for supper, Jack?” I asked.
“Come on in and find out. I came out to let you know that dinner is ready and getting cold. It’s on the table.”
Walter led the way to the kitchen, after he picked up the Cherry Cheesecake, handed it to Jack, took me to the table, and stood by the chair where he wanted me to sit. I laid m
y wine glass on the table. Walter immediately leaned over and moved it away from my plate.
“Smarty pants,” I said and swatted at him.
We ate a great meal, and during dessert. Before we moved to the living room Walter brought up the subject of his friends’ father and my dating him. I hoped he would forget, but not my youngest son.
“Mom, how about meeting my friend’s dad?” Walter asked.
“I have my doubts.”
“Mom, you always said when you’re bucked off the horse, you’re to get back up and ride.”
“I hope you don’t mean that literally. Or are you making an off-colored joke.”
He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. These were movements that he had years of experience. At least he didn’t roll his eyes my way.
“So, what if your date last week was an embarrassment. This week will be different. Come on, go with Pete. He does want to meet you. I talk about you all the time.”
“Did you tell him about my date last week?”
“Of course not. Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe for chuckles and giggles,” I said as I looked at his face. “You’re serious. He doesn’t know?”
“He doesn’t know. I haven’t seen him for a while. Don’t worry, Mom, it’ll be fun.”
If you can’t trust your son, who can you trust? There are times when one shouldn’t ask questions and trust.
“OK, but I want him to pick me up here at your house. I don’t want him to know where I live on a first date, just in case I do something stupid, or I discover he’s secretly a serial killer. Oh, wait, I already did something stupid last week, so I’m free to discover a serial killer this weekend. However, I’m not saying there’ll be more than one date. You know my history with dates. You know what I mean, I hope.”
“OK, I’ll call Bob now so he can arrange it with his dad. Just a minute.”
Walter picked up his phone from the desk and rapidly tapped out the telephone number of his friend and turned his back to me as he talked. When he had completed his call, he hung up and stood to wait for his phone to ring.
