by AnonYMous
“Sit down, Violet—please.”
His voice was so commanding that I sat right down. I could feel tears burning my eyes. I felt like such a fool.
“So, I gather Janice is up to her old tricks again. Well, she means well, and I was hoping to see you again,” he said.
“Oh, right—I believe you. A brain surgeon would just love to meet a lonely woman who talks to golf balls,” I replied, finding myself laughing at how ridiculous it sounded.
“Try a lonely man who met a very unaffected lady talking to a golf ball,” he amended.
“You—lonely? I could make a mint selling raffle tickets to the women who’re here for a date with you,” I said, blushing.
“I take it you wouldn’t buy one?” he asked, and this time, his eyes were not teasing. “Anyway, I’d better go,” he said, getting up and giving me my plate back.
I wanted to stop him, but I just muttered, “Great. I’ve got nothing to eat, my dress is ruined, and now you’re going to leave me here to explain to Janice why you left so early.”
He turned and sat down again beside me. “Violet, do you or do you not want me to go?” he asked.
I shrugged and looked around as I answered, “Oh, I don’t really care. I mean, they’ve run out of food by now.”
He stood up suddenly and took my hand, pulling me to my feet beside him. “Then I’ll take you where they have excellent food,” he said.
“But—I can’t go anywhere in this dress. I mean, just look at it!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, you really are a messy eater,” he commented as he guided me toward the door. “We’ll just tell Janice that you’re upset about your dress and I’m taking you home.”
I stood outside in the fresh snow and thought of how beautiful everything looked.
Edward came up behind me a moment later and slipped his arm around me, saying, “Watch your step.”
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be helped into a car. “I should drive my own car home,” I said, hoping he’d say no, which he did. Then: “Why don’t I just make us an omelet and coffee,” I suggested.
Edward smiled, saying, “That sounds wonderful.”
“Though, on second thought, maybe that wouldn’t look right,” I said hesitantly.
“Violet, it’s late. I’m tired. Make up your mind.”
“Well, maybe, on second thought, no one would buy a raffle ticket for a date with you,” I said.
He laughed and ruffled my hair. I felt like a teenager again.
I made the omelets and he made coffee. It was so strong, you could stand a spoon in it; he said he made it that way to keep him awake. We talked all night and into the next morning.
Edward drove me over to Janice’s to pick up my car. He told me that he’d call, and two days later, he did. I took all day trying on clothes, but nothing looked right. I finally dug out a girdle that I hadn’t worn in ten years; it took me almost an hour to get into it. I put on my dress, but I could hardly sit down in it.
When Edward arrived, I offered him a drink and avoided sitting down. Finally, he asked me if I was feeling all right. I said I was fine. He told me I looked a little warm. I felt like telling him that if he was stuffed into a ten-year-old girdle, he’d feel warm, too, but I just smiled and said it was all the excitement. He sat back and shook his head as he looked at me.
He commented: “That dress looks beautiful on you, but at some point this evening, you are going to have to sit down in it.”
I wanted to scream. I felt like an absolute idiot around this man.
He came over then and tilted my face up so he could look at me. He said: “You’re the one who’s beautiful, Violet—not the dress—so why don’t you change into something more comfortable?”
I hardly spoke to him when I came back into the living room after changing. “Let’s go,” I said, but he made no move to get up. I stood there with my coat on, looking at him. Then I asked, “Now what?”
“Come over here, Violet,” he said.
“I don’t need this, Edward—I’m on the verge of tears as it is. I feel like an absolute fool. This whole evening is a disaster!” I cried. And then I couldn’t stop the tears from coming.
Edward got up slowly and took my coat off for me. “Come sit,” he said. “The disaster would’ve been for me to let you think that I expected you to dress for looks and not for comfort. I just want you to be yourself, Violet. After all, aren’t you supposed to dress for the man?” he asked.
“I dress for nobody but myself,” I said, fuming. To think he’d had the nerve to suggest that I’d been dressing to impress him—even though I most certainly had.
He laughed, looking at me, and said, “Violet, let’s start all over again, shall we? And don’t go all coy on me, or I’m going to have to pretend and say only what I think you want to hear, and we’ll waste a lot of precious time not getting to know each other.”
“Have you finished lecturing?” I asked.
He looked smug as he asked, “Do we have to go out to eat? We could order in.”
“Just my luck—I find a man who’s too cheap to even take me out to dinner!” I laughed.
He stood and helped me on with my coat. He kissed me on the forehead and said, “There’s going to come a time, young lady, when you’ll be very happy to sit at home with me.”
My heart skipped a beat.
What’s that song—
“Love’s More Comfortable The Second Time Around.” THE END
