“Alexandria, this has been great,” he said. And you know what? After the initial awkwardness, it actually was. “I’d like to see you again. Are you into music at all?”
Hmm, that was a loaded question. I enjoyed many different types of music and of course had gone to a lot of different concerts with Damian when he was pursuing his musical studies.
“Yes?”
“I have two tickets to the symphony on Sunday afternoon. Would you like to go and have an early dinner afterward? They are doing the Beethoven Fifth.”
Whew. At least he wasn’t asking if I wanted to go to some freaky avant-garde performance of a bleating sheep accompanied by a guy on a chainsaw. I mean, I’m pretty open to new music, but I have to draw the line somewhere. A nice Beethoven symphony … I could deal with that. Hey, I could even have him over for din—
Nope. Patience. I’d save my cooking skills until at least a second or third date. We could go OUT for dinner.
“I’d be delighted! How about if I meet you in the lobby of Boettcher Hall?” I figured I’d still give this multiple personality guy one more date before I actually let him know where I lived. I mean, after all, not a football fan? I still wasn’t sold.
He got up to leave. “Sounds great! Thanks so much for not bailing on me after that phone call. I’m looking forward to Sunday.”
Oh right. He still didn’t fully explain that odd phone call.
“Right. Before you go Kirk. That phone call?”
“All right then. See you Sunday!” He rushed out of Pinkberry.
I rehashed the entire meeting with Keira over the phone later that evening.
“So you don’t think it was odd of him to not explain the phone call?”
“Not really, Ali. There could be a million reasons why he was so flustered on that call.”
“Seriously, Keira? Name just one.” She paused. A long pause.
“Aha! See, you can’t come up with one reason why this guy would sound so … so …”
“Nonplussed?”
“Really Keira? Nonplussed? What are you, sitting in front of a thesaurus?”
“Actually, I was just reading a fascinating book on the etymology of words and …”
I patiently waited for her to finish her review of her latest reading material. Keira was an avid reader of any book, fiction or nonfiction, that came her way. We both were. Usually I was happy to discuss the latest book that she had read, but at that moment, I preferred to stick to the topic at hand, as selfish as that seemed.
“In any case, that’s why—oh, Ali, sorry I was lost in my latest book.”
I immediately felt bad that in our most recent calls, we concentrated on my issues and didn’t talk about anything that was of any importance to Keira.
“Keir, I apologize for monopolizing the conversation with my stuff. What’s going on with you?”
“Honey, you know that if I had something to talk about, I’d talk about it.” She waved it off. “Things are just super boring here. You know, work work work. Back to my hotel room, room service, read or watch TV, then sleep.” Hmm. Her tone seemed a bit too bright.
But surely if something else was going on she’d let me know, right?
“Look, Alexandria, let’s go back to talking about this Split Personality Pete, okay? Do you think he’s actually twins and they send the cooler one out in public, and the shy withdrawn one stays home and lives vicariously?”
I laughed. “His name is Kirk, not Pete, and thanks for planting THAT seed in my head! You should write creepy TV movies.”
“Well, I always did get excellent marks in creative writing. Seriously, though, I think the only way to get the answer to the question is to—get this—ASK HIM.
You just need to be straightforward and ask.”
“You’re right,” I considered. “But really, not a football fan?”
“THAT’S what you’re going to base this on? I mean this guy could be a great humanitarian, could be magnificently wealthy, and you might dismiss him because he doesn’t know what the West Coast Offense is?”
Keira had obviously spent many hours around my family.
“No, but it would make life easier for him around my family during the fall and winter months.”
“For pity’s sake, Ali, you’re not baking the wedding cookies yet. This is one date to the symphony. Relax.”
“I know, I know.”
“Oh, and do I even have to remind you?” she began in a sisterly tone.
“No, I remember.” Sheesh. You make a mistake— well, two ... okay, three—and people never let you forget it. “Hold back on the cooking. You’ll be pleased to know that I agreed to go OUT to dinner after the concert.”
“That’s my girl. Hey, I hate to cut this short but I, um, have a thing.”
What? What happened to work, room service, bed, blah, blah, blah? And on a Friday?
“Yeah … right … oh-kay-y? Talk to you later?”
“You bet. And Alexandria?”
“Yes.”
“Just relax and be a little less—”
“Me?”
“No.” Her tone softened. “Never ever not be you. The ‘you’ is what we all love. Just be a little less impatient. The universe will provide, as your nonna says.”
“Yeah. But Nonna found Papa Joe when she was seventeen. The universe is kinda late based on that timetable, and you know I don’t deal too well with things that are late.”
“Sorry I’m late.”
Kirk came up beside me in the hallway of Boettcher Hall Sunday afternoon, mere moments before the doors were closing.
“Oh no problem,” I lied.
All right, I guess I could give him a break with Sunday traffic and parking near the auditorium being impossible since there was a play going on in the adjacent Buell Theater at the same time. We crept down the aisle, slid past others in our row, and quickly sat just as the concertmaster began tuning the orchestra.
Since we were so late, we didn’t have a chance to speak until intermission, and some of my annoyance had dissipated thanks to the beautiful sounds of the orchestra. After the lights came on, Kirk turned to me and began to apologize.
“I am so sorry. I just couldn’t get away when I planned. The sitter didn’t make it when she said she would.”
Whoa. Sitter? That implied a child, which implied a former or—OH NO—CURRENT SPOUSE.
“I’m sorry. Did you say sitter?”
He looked at me, startled. “Oh, gosh, no. Not for me. I mean, not for a child that I have!”
Not a child.
“So a pet?” Pretty high-maintenance pet if he had to engage the services of a sitter AND wait for that sitter to arrive.
“No, not a pet.”
There was Phone Kirk again, all confused. But he recovered.
“My neighbor came over earlier and asked me if I could stay with his eight-year-old son, just until the real sitter showed up. He’s a really nice guy, and I didn’t want him to be left in the lurch, so I said yes. His son, Brendan, is a sweet little guy and likes to hang out with me. We were playing in the yard, the sitter was running late, I had to rush to get ready, and, well, you know the rest.”
It all made sense and was very touching as well.
“Actually, when Sacha gave me your number, Brendan found it in my coat pocket when he was over at my place one day. He grilled me and determined that it was time for me to ‘get on the market’ before I got ‘over the hill.’ He’s very precocious. He dialed it for me and threw the phone in my hand. And … well, you heard how smooth I sounded.”
Kirk smiled, and I could immediately picture him and an earnest eight-year-old in conference deciding to call me.
“You know what, Kirk, I think you were perfect on the phone. And the afternoon at Pinkberry was perfect. And so far, this has been perfect. Brendan made a good decision.”
The lights began to dim. I patted him on the knee.
“Now, let’s enjoy the rest of the concert and continue this discu
ssion over dinner.”
He patted my hand and mouthed “thank you” as the conductor began the downbeat to Beethoven’s most famous work.
“Duhn duhn duhn Daaaaah.”
“Keira, could you please stop doing that?” She was particularly loud over the phone.
“Can’t help it. Anyone mentions Beethoven’s Fifth, and a person automatically starts humming the first four notes. Duhn, duhn duhn …”
I rolled my eyes. “Again, stop it, please. It was funny the first, um, million times, but now it’s just annoying. It’s almost as annoying as when you start singing the choral part of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony at the drop of a hat.”
“I am insulted. Who got you through Music Appreciation 101, after all?”
“Got me through Music Apprish? Who twisted my arm into taking it in the first place? I already had that humanities credit with Art Apprish, but somehow you convinced me that it would be a ‘companion class.’ Ha! The only companion you were looking for was the defensive end on the football team who was signed up and had ‘the dreamiest smile.’”
“But aren’t you glad you took it?” Keira asked. “Wasn’t it eye-opening?”
“Eye-closing, darling. I had learned all that information in my music classes in high school. And where, oh where, is Dreamy-Smile?”
“Dropped out,” she mumbled.
“Hmm? What’s that?”
“I said, DROPPED OUT … of the class … of the university.”
“Just as I predicted,” I said, vindicated.
“Excuse me,” she began, “if we are going to go down the path of poor judgment in men ALL THE WAY
BACK TO COLLEGE—”
Oops.
“Hmph,” she said, and I could picture her giving her head a quick nod as if to say “Told ya so!”
“ANYway, back to the topic at hand, Keira. The concert date. That was kind of strange wasn’t it?” referring back to my explanation of Kirk and his reason for lateness, which had given rise to the impromptu musical offering by Keira.
There was uncharacteristic silence on the other end of the phone.
“Keir?”
“I was just processing it.” She paused again, then began. “Here’s how I see it. I think it’s a good thing. It means that he is a caring guy. I mean, he obviously takes care of his friendships and obviously likes children. On the other hand, he doesn’t seem very assertive, which means your family would eat him alive. On the other
hand—”
“You’re running out of hands.”
“I know.” She pondered.
“He did offer to take me to a nice dinner,” I pointed out.
“Where did you go?”
“Well, we were going to go to Il Posto. But the concert got out late, so we grabbed a quick slice of pizza instead. He said he had had a big lunch.”
Silence.
“What? It’s possible.” I was defensive.
“Sure. It’s possible. But I’m surprised that you of all people are not being a little judgmental about someone not ‘taking time to respect the food.’ Since when is the $5.99 slice-and-a-soda considered appropriate dinner date food?”
“True.” I considered this. “But I’ve decided to turn a new leaf and not be so hung up on what a guy eats.”
“Ali! If I would have been drinking a glass of water just then, I would have spit it out!”
“Anything, um, constructive you’d like to add?” I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Her manner was immediately conciliatory. “It’s hard to read tone across the phone
lines.”
Yes. It IS hard to read tone across the phone lines.
This was the longest we had been separated since we started university together, and I missed the easy company of our adopted sisterhood.
“In any case, I’m going to give him at least another chance.”
“You’re right. One crappy slice of pizza a relationship judgment does not make.”
“Thank you.” I could always count on Keira’s support. “So how’s it going with you?”
She avoided that question and switched topics with ease. “Hey, Mom called and said once again how great your Brit is working out for her.”
“He’s not my Brit, but I’m really glad. He has called me to ask me out, though.”
“Didn’t you tell Mom that you wouldn’t go out with him again?”
I considered that for a moment.
“He’s a nice enough guy, but I think it would be kind of awkward dating the employee of a friend.”
“I guess I understand that, but wouldn’t you even want to give him at least another chance?”
“Why risk the complications?”
Keira thought about that for a moment, then said, “True.”
“Besides, there just aren’t any sparks, you know? Call me a romantic, but I still think I want the lightning bolt to hit.”
“And you think you might have found that with Surrogate Daddy of the Year?”
Honestly. Why does Keira have this habit of being so logical and getting right to the heart of what I’m thinking? I sighed.
“I dunno. But I’m willing to give him another chance now that I know a little more about him.”
“Well, in any case, I’m behind you 100 percent, you know that. Just let me know if he has any other secrets, like his own kid or a private island somewhere. Wow, I could get behind a secret like that!”
We laughed.
“Come home soon, Princess. I miss you!”
Kirk called me the Tuesday morning to invite me to another musical event, this one featuring him.
“So, my buddy and I jam over at Joe’s Place every Wednesday, and I thought maybe you would like to come and listen to us,” he said. He named a club in LoDo (Lower Downtown Denver), the city’s historic birthplace and home to many hip clubs.
“That sounds like fun,” I said. I figured I could bring at least Natalie and possibly Elliott along to get their opinions of him as well. “I’ll be there, and I’ll see if a few of my friends can come, too.”
“Great!”
I hung up and walked over to Natalie’s desk. She was staring intently at her computer screen.
“I’m glad you came over. Do you want to come with Sam and me tomorrow at lunchtime to taste cakes for the wedding?”
I leaned over to look at what she was studying. It was the website of one of the most popular wedding cake bakeries in town.
“I thought you and Sam were going to have a tower of LaMar’s Donuts instead of a traditional cake. What happened?”
She leaned back. “My mom happened. She decided that doughnuts are too ‘odd’ and wants to have a ‘real’ cake. I just don’t want to fight about it.”
Ever since Natalie and Sam had agreed to get married in her parents’ tiny church, rather than have her dream outdoor wedding, Mrs. Polaire had started giving advice on everything from normal motherly areas such as dress selection and flowers to honeymoon destination and even lingerie choices! Apparently the newest battleground was the cake. I decided it would be more supportive to be diplomatic.
“Well, I guess you just have to pick your battles.”
“Right, right, and I’m pretty sure there will be others,” she said, then switched the discussion. “What did you come over here for, anyway?”
“Remember Kirk? The guy that I went to the concert with?”
“Split Personality Guy? Yeah, what about him? Decided to give him the heave-ho?”
I sighed. The problem with having friends who were assertive was that they were, well, assertive.
“He and a friend are jamming at somewhere called Joe’s Place tomorrow night, and he just called to ask if I wanted to come listen to them. Do you and Sam want to come with me?”
“Wow. Can I wear a black beret and smoke clove cigarettes?”
“What do you mean?”
“Joe’s Place. It’s all very ‘aren’t we cool’ and ‘we’re so hip
we don’t even applaud’ there.”
I crossed my arms. “It is not. Elliott! Get over here!”
I shouted to our third crew member.
He walked over, chewing on a pen. “You rang?”
“Have you ever gone to Joe’s Place?”
“Oh, the beatnik place?” he asked with innocent eyes.
Natalie laughed and gave me the “See?” shrug.
“Oh, you don’t know that. You just heard Natalie and me talking. It is not a ‘beatnik’ place—and who uses the word beatnik these days, other than someone in a Doris Day movie?”
“I’ll confess,” he grinned, “I did overhear you. But seriously, it is pretty much a throwback to the fifties. And please don’t dis the lovely Miss Day. I would love to have kissed her pert little turned-up nose.”
“You would have had to stand on a box. She’s two inches taller than you. Without heels. In any case, you guys, are you serious? This place is that kitschy?”
“Oh, no,” said Natalie, shaking her head. “Don’t ever let them hear you call it kitschy. They are not tongue-in-cheek at all and take themselves very seriously. I don’t think the place has actually changed in over fifty years.”
“Why do you want to know anyway, Ali?” asked Elliott.
“Her newest love interest is ‘jammin’ there tomorrow night.”
“You don’t have to say ‘jammin’ as if it’s in air quotes, Natalie.” I turned to Elliott. “But, yes, the guy I went out with on Sunday is playing there in a group tomorrow night and invited me to come listen, and I wanted you guys to come with. Natalie, I know you are behind me snapping your fingers like what you think a ‘beatnik’ does!”
Natalie stopped snapping and said, unconvincingly, “Sorry.”
“Sure. Count me in,” said Elliott. “Maybe there will be a cute little hippie there.”
“Wrong era, playboy,” said Natalie. “Yes, count me in as well. Sam works late hours tomorrow night, so he’s out.”
“Awesome. And as for the cake tasting?”
“What? No one said cake was included!” Elliott brightened.
Love on the Back Burner Page 9
