Manicotti Kisses

by Sheila Holmes

  Chapter 10

  Jeremy still was not seated with me, so I pulled my iPhone from my purse. I left the top zipper open, and placed the handbag on the floor to my right. That way it would be hidden from Jeremy when he chose to return, if at all. I could quickly throw my phone into its depths, and he’d never know I had been talking to David.

  “But I thought you’d have it changed by now. In fact, I figured you would have already dropped it off and taken your own car by now.”

  “Why does your voice sound so weird?” David asked. “It sounds like your tongue is all swollen, or something.”

  “No, I cracked a tooth earlier today on a hard candy, and the pain just keeps getting worse. I think everything on that side is swollen now. And it really hurts. I’ve never had a toothache before. They’re no picnic!

  “The car thing, though, David. What about the cars?” I asked, while still cradling my swollen jaw.

  “Well, I’ve finished changing the tire,” he responded. “I had a problem that slowed things down a bit, but it’s ok now. I got it changed.”

  “What problem? I thought changing a tire was a pretty straight forward thing,” I asked, still keeping up the swaying back-and-forth.

  “My own fault. I had collected the lug nuts as I took them off the flat tire, and put them all in my shirt pocket. It was a tight fit, but I figured it was smarter to do that than just put them all on the ground.”

  “And…” I prodded. He wasn’t telling me fast enough. My mouth was killing me and I wanted this call to end… quickly.

  “And… my hands had gotten kind of greasy from the lug nuts already out, so I bent over to grab the rag I was using so that I could wipe them off, and two of the lug nuts fell out of my pocket and rolled into the weeds at the edge of the freeway, around the barricade.”

  Before he drug the story out any longer, I jumped in with, “So you finally found them, finished up with the spare tire, and now you’re on your way here?”

  “Yeah. I’m probably about ten minutes away. I’ll get there just as soon…”

  I quickly dropped my phone into my purse, without even saying “thank you” or “goodbye” to David. Jeremy was up the staircase part way. I could see his face and shoulders, which meant he was probably about five or so steps below the dining suite level. I couldn’t change him seeing me talking on the phone, because he’d ask who I was talking to, and I couldn’t bear whatever the consequences would be when I told him it was David.

  And… before you even ask, Grampy… Jeremy doesn’t control me. I do what I want, even when it’s talking on the phone… to David. So anyway, instead of allowing him to question me about why I ran off to the restroom, I quickly turned the tables on him. I would be the interrogator.

  “Where have you been all this time? When our food came, I didn’t know what to do. Whether I should wait for you, start eating by myself, or have the waiter take our dinners down to keep them warm under the heat lamps.”

  I thought maybe he’d get mad, and respond defensively. After all, he was at fault here, not me!

  Nope. That’s not at all what he said.

  Instead, he pulled out his chair, sat in it, but didn’t pull it back in to the table. And this little gem of a monologue came out of his mouth.

  “I just wanted to apologize for this evening. It’s all been my fault that everything has gone kinda…” He paused. I was quietly waiting to see what word he would use. But, he skipped over that and moved on. “So, anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry that I’ve had such a bad attitude. ‘K?”

  What do you mean, “‘K?!” You’ve been impossible so far this entire evening! You were hateful to David, you’ve been unkind to me, even though my tooth is killing me, and I can’t eat my dinner. And… you’ve deserted me these last however many minutes! What’s wrong with you?! No, I didn’t actually say these things to him, but I was thinking them.

  What I did say, Grampy, was, “It’s ok, Sweetie.” But, I had heard the Pinocchio fable so many times as a kid, and knew that when Pinocchio told a lie, his nose grew, that without any rational thought, I reached up to my own. The good news was that its length seemed to be the same as ever. The bad news was that I had just told Jeremy a lie. His behavior this evening hadn’t been acceptable at all, and it was a good thing for him that I loved him so much, or I wouldn’t put up with his nonsense.

  “Oh, good. Thanks. Now, maybe we can put that behind us and really enjoy the rest of this evening. I hope it will be memorable for us both.”

  Oh, it’s memorable all right. I promise you that!

  Trying to gather my charitability up and aiming it Jeremy’s way, I asked (sweetly, I must say), “Where were you all that time? I missed you.”

  • • • •

  “You mean sit with them down there?” I asked, pointing downstairs, incredulous that he had even suggested it.

  “Well, yeah. They want to meet you. I was telling them all about you. His wife and daughter want to meet you. Well, he does too, but especially the women,” Jeremy matter-of-factly stated.

  “But, Jeremy, I don’t know them.”

  “I know. That’s why I told them we’d bring our dinners down there and we’d all eat together. That way we can all talk while we’re eating.”

  “You mean you did that before even asking me if it’d be ok?” Still dumbfounded that he’d done something like this on the night he was going to propose.

  Maybe I was wrong… Maybe tonight has nothing at all to do with becoming engaged. Actually that would explain several things. Like why Mom and Daddy were gone for the weekend, when I knew Mom wanted to be around, so that I could show her my ring. And, it would also explain why he didn’t particularly care if this evening’s dinner was designed for an intimate conversation together. Because now that I thought about it, Jeremy hadn’t reserved that dining suite for two way above all the others. I didn’t know what table or suite he’d reserved, but the only reason we ended up in “Virgins of Tuscany” was because the other customers had finished their dinner and left, freeing up that location. And finally, it would explain why Jeremy had been so short-tempered and accusatory when it came to his behavior to David’s participation in the evening at all. He’d had no reason to be all lovey-dovey toward me, I guess, if he had no intention of making a marriage proposal to me.

  Wow! Have I been living in some kind of delusion or fantasy? When he asked me to dress up and then brought us to this fancy, expensive restaurant, I couldn’t imagine that it would be for any other purpose than to create an ambience conducive to proposing marriage to me. I mean, it’s not my birthday, it’s not Christmas, it’s not Valentine’s Day, it’s not our anniversary (since we’re not married). It’s not even Eat-a-Donut Day.

  Well, I don’t know if I’m disappointed, or if I should just be thankful, since this evening has been- and continues to be nothing that I would ever want to be the precious memory of getting engaged.

  All that was going through my head, Grampy. Although I never expressed any of those thoughts to Jeremy. At least I haven’t yet. I can’t promise I won’t stash all this away in my memory, and share every last bit of it with him when I know for sure what’s going on, and why last night was such a bust.

  As we began our hike downstairs and over to Jeremy’s friends table, even though I knew my engagement fantasy wasn’t happening tonight, I still looked back one final time to our intimate little dining suite, and mourned for the exciting and romantic occasion I had thought it was going to represent.

  Chapter 11

  Ya know, Grampy… it’s strange how our changes in perception of a situation change even the way we feel. Physically, I mean.

  As soon as I realized that last night was not going to be my time to get engaged to Jeremy, I guess I must have immediately gone into some kind of “reality” mode. And, the reason I say that is because from the moment I saw the dining suite receding from my view as we walked down the stairs toward a whole table full of people I didn’t know, to sit
and share our dinner time and conversation, my whole person fell apart. Very dramatic, right? But, nonetheless, it was true.

  The first thing to go was my “dental wellness.” I only call it that because I have no other way to label it. All I knew for a fact was that my molar decided at that very moment to kick into high gear pain. It felt, I think for the first time that evening, as though I wasn’t going to be able to handle it much longer, before I’d need some help, as in, pain killers… serious ones. And, where was I supposed to get those? The dentist’s office was closed until Monday morning. (I didn’t even consider that dental emergencies would bring a dentist to his or her office to assist a patient, even during a weekend.) Mom had shared the three-instead-of-two formula for OTC pain meds to get the prescription dosage, but I’d tried that already earlier at home. It may have helped to some degree, but it was no cure-all. And, I didn’t want to be popping pills constantly the rest of our sorry-excuse-for-a-date.

  Continuing the lineup. Next to go was my “podiatric wellness.” While I didn’t have any foot health issues, I had managed to bump my poor toe (remember?… the one I cut when trimming my toenails earlier). I bumped it on the banister on the right side of the staircase descending the stairs of our dining suite. I was walking behind Jeremy, following him down. Don’t even ask how I did it. I’m not sure myself. All I know is that about half way down, Jeremy came to a sudden stop, and looked back up at me. I guess he was checking to see if I’d followed him like I was supposed to. All I know for sure was that I felt an horrendous bolt of pain shoot up through my toe when I bumped the side banister post.

  So, now I have two locations of severe pain that are vying for my attention.

  No, no… don’t worry, Grampy. There is a third one that chimed in at that point. O, joy and gladness!

  “Head and Neck Wellness.” Gone! A new category that hadn’t surfaced earlier in the evening. Since I’m not given to headaches, this was a rare occasion. What made it most extraordinary in its presentation is that not only had my head been attacked. It had joined forces with the right side of my neck. It was weird. My headache somehow reached its “tentacles” down to the right side “knob” at the base of my skull, then traveled from there down to my shoulder. Kind of stopped right in the middle, between my neck and the shoulder bone. It was agonizing, right from the get-go. I was already holding my jaw, a reaction to the throbbing of my molar, and without reaching across with my opposite arm, there was no way to also grab my head, and/or shoulder.

  It was like my whole person was trying to shut down right then and there.

  And, all the above sent my face into a query. The natural reaction from the head/shoulder/tooth/toe was to cause my face to squint in some very real pain. But, we were by then on the bottom floor, walking directly to the table of Jeremy’s friends, and heaven forbid that my face wasn’t a total picture of joyousness to these people that I didn’t even know.

  Which facial expression did I assume? Squinting from my severe bodily pains, or taking on a joyful and happy countenance at the prospect ahead of me of meeting and making some new friends that Jeremy seemed to be totally delighted by?

  Well, Grampy, rather than make you die of curiosity (like the proverbial cat), I’ll just tell you.

  Before I start, let me tell you this. I know you well enough that if you were here and I was telling you this in person, even though you’d be sympathetic to my whole plight, you’d be struggling (and finally lose) to keep a straight face by now. You’d be giggling like a little girl, probably to the point of having to wipe tears.

  Well, know what? I’m crying tears right now too, Grampy, but they don’t come from finding something funny. They come from how devastated I’m feeling right now. And, wondering if the feeling and the tears will ever go away.

  And… I see that I’ve managed to spill a number of them on this typed sheet of paper. It’s smudged in a few places, but I’m not typing this page over again. I refuse. Those tear marks come from a very deep and hurting place inside me.

  In fact, I’m going to take a break, Grampy. I haven’t heard from Mom in a while, so I’m going to go down and check on her progress in the kitchen.

  • • • •

  Well, it’s probably good I stopped there for a while. I got about two-thirds way down the stairs, when Mom let out a scream that was blood-curdling. I didn’t know what to think had happened. It had to be serious, because she screamed a second and third time, then came flying out into the living room.

  My first reaction was that she was terribly, terribly hurt. As in an accidental knife cut when she was emptying out yours and Grandma’s cutlery holder. But, upon perusing her from head to toe, I saw nothing. The only thing I saw was her shivering. Shivering from what? When I stopped in front of her and asked (in total panic) what was wrong, she just pointed to the kitchen in a frantic poking motion repeatedly thrust in the air.

  Ok, Grampy, this next part you have to promise not to tell Grandma when you see her up there. Promise? Ok.

  In the upper cabinets right next to the stove, there were three carcasses on the middle shelf. It looked to be a momma mouse and two babies. Their deaths must have been recent, because their remains looked too fresh to have happened weeks ago. Nasty varmints! But, knowing how spotless everything was when Grandma lived here, and you’ve only been gone a couple of months… Well, I don’t want to even think about it anymore.

  I grabbed a long-handled broom and dust pan in your kitchen closet. I proceeded to sweep the mouse remains into the dust pan, then carry them to the waste basket. I knew Mom would demand I take them outside, so I just went ahead and did it before she came back into the kitchen.

  As I was carrying the “corpses” outside, one of the little ones somehow fell out onto the cement walkway out back. And, of course, I had trouble getting back into the dust pan, and the more I tried, the more my stomach started roiling. It caused me a full blown “wretch attack.” By the time I’d walked the distance to the trash can, I had to lean over the receptacle and throw up into it. I just felt so feminine and womanly!

  Mom was sympathetic, though, and told me that she still felt that me writing about last night’s horror was more important for me than cleaning out an old house. So, with little persuasion needed, I high-tailed it back up here and since I think I can continue writing at this point without the tear-shedding, I’ll move on.

  Thanks for being patient with me while I sort through the whole thing, Grampy.

  • • • •

  Ok, so… getting back to where I left off… *deep breath*, *sigh*

  I tried so hard to put on a pleasant and affable face, but I was in so much pain from multiple regions of my body, that my expression was no doubt confusing to the table of strangers at the restaurant. It was probably a cross between “hurting” and “happy.” Um… “hurpy!” *attempted smile… failed*

  Fortunately, our waiter brought our dinners from the “heavens” (otherwise known as the dining suite) down to the table we approached. And, I say, “fortunately,” because missing the final step of the staircase, he tripped, and ultimately threw up his hands to save himself from the final descent landing, and sent the food from both plates flying into the air. So, when I say “fortunate,” what I guess I really mean is… better him than me!

  Yep, I side-stepped the whole mess, and followed Jeremy to the table, where we sat down, joining the six people already there. Jeremy seemed oblivious to the whole mess that was by that time being cleaned up off the floor behind us. I took one look back to the poor waiter, who was not so much embarrassed as just frustrated.

  Jeremy began introductions.

  But, never once was my name mentioned.

  Jeremy turned to me and began. “Honey, I’d like you to meet Jonathan and Meta Leggett… their daughter, Mina, and her husband, Greg.” He pointed each out as he introduced them by name. Then he pointed to the older of the two children, one about five years old, and the other an infant. “And, this is Marcy, and her youn
g brother,” as he pointed to the infant, “Greg, Jr.” He never once said my name, by way of introducing me to them. So, they didn’t know my name, as far as I knew, at all. And I had no idea who they were to Jeremy…. Neighbors, church friends, childhood friends, Jeremy’s boss or co-worker and family… the milk man and his brood? I knew nothing. And, to make matters worse, Jeremy sat down in the chair at the farthest end, meaning that I had no where to sit, other than where I was standing, sandwiched between Jeremy and Mina, who was holding her baby son. That in and of itself was no big deal, but I didn’t know them. I was hoping that I’d be at an outside end of the table, where I could just kind of “hide behind mouthfuls of food and watch.” Well… maybe not “behind mouthfuls of food…,” since there was no way possible I could eat with my tooth situation.

  Jeremy let no time escape before he began a conversation with the guys, which meant I didn’t really have anyone to talk to other than Mina. So, I tried.

  “Mina, how old is Greg, or do you call him Junior?”

  Doesn’t that just require a one-word answer? No, I guess… two. One for the child’s age, and one for his name. I thought it did. However, because I referred to the baby at all, apparently Mina thought I was just dying to hold him. A serious leap, right?! So, she held him out to me, reminded me to support his neck, and simply replied, “Here, you’re welcome to hold him.” She didn’t even answer the question!

  Now, Grampy, I want to get one thing straight. I don’t hate babies! I’m just not partial to them. I much prefer kids that are the age of their daughter, Marcy. Five years old is the age where they’re independent and can communicate. Ya know… hold a conversation.

  I wasn’t into the whole baby talk thing. It wasn’t that it offended me. I just didn’t enjoy participating in it myself. So, I had no idea how to interact with baby Greg, or Junior (or whatever they called him). Consequently, I just sat there looking down at this infant in my arms. I attempted a few comments, but not in a baby voice. “Hi, Sweetie, what should I call you?” and “Is this your first time at a restaurant?” and “How old are you?” With each question, I supposed Mina would jump in and answer. Nope! She just sat there watching the baby as he successfully reached for my stain-hiding brooch, pulled it off my dress and shoved it in his mouth. And, yes… the pin was wide open, pricked him on the lips, drawing blood. Just the tiniest little smidge.