Gorilla Dating

by Kristen Ethridge

  * * *

  K—

  What happened? What is Cindy talking about?

  J

  Since my computer is designated as a “company resource,” I can’t exactly respond in the manner I feel is most appropriate for the situation.

  To: jcooper2@lonestarconsulting.com

  From: Kate_Cormick@browncomm.com

  Subject:RE: Wrap-Up From This Weekend

  * * *

  Cindy didn’t like how you gave me credit for “Zoo Who” in your note. Laura Lynn told her I took over the presentation last week. She decided to reassign me to something of more appropriate scope.

  My reply is short and a bit on the terse side, but I don’t quite know how else to put it. How apropos, all things considered, today—I’m in PR and I can’t even spin this situation to make it look better. Just after I hit the send button, the computer dings and alerts me to new mail in my inbox.

  To: Cindy_Roberts@browncomm.com

  Kate_Cormick@browncomm.com

  Laura_Lynn_Connors@browncomm.com

  Logan_Wilson@browncomm.com

  rmullen@lonestarconsulting.com

  jcooper2@lonestarconsulting.com

  From:Al_Brown@browncomm.com

  Subject:RE: Wrap-Up From This Weekend

  * * *

  After talking with Cindy, we’re going to keep the team roles and responsibilities the same. You may disregard Cindy’s earlier e-mail. Keep up the good work.

  * * *

  Al Brown

  Wow. Al works fast.

  To: Kate_Cormick@browncomm.com

  From:jcooper2@lonestarconsulting.com

  Subject:RE: Wrap-Up From This Weekend

  * * *

  Looks like it’s taken care of. Sorry you had a bad morning. Looking forward to seeing you Wednesday and meeting your friends at your small group.

  The storm clouds of life can roll in quickly. Luckily, though, a kind word or two—and a whole lot of grace—can sweep them all away, just as rapidly.

  12

  “Silverbacks are the strong, dominant troop leaders. Each typically leads a troop of five to thirty gorillas and is the center of the troop's attention, making all the decisions, mediating conflicts, determining the movements of the group, leading the others to feeding sites and taking responsibility for the safety and well-being of the troop.”

  --‘Gorillas’ on Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org

  * * *

  It’s Wednesday afternoon, and Cindy has not said a word to me since Al sent out his e-mail reinstating me to my original spot on the team. Following the example of her mentor, Laura Lynn also hasn’t spoken to me.

  Rest assured, she has given me plenty of non-verbal communication, however. Copious amounts of Chimp glares and icy stares have been aimed my way as we’ve each made our way around the office the last day or so. Logan hasn’t taken part in the Great Kate Shut-Out, but in his absence, the Queen has enlisted several other members of her court.

  It could almost be an old-fashioned Amish-style shunning, except for the Prada handbags and dark wash jeans with strategic shredding details.

  I know I have to keep on keeping on and not get dragged into this charade—and I have so much to keep me busy. Aside from all that needs to be accomplished for the zoo opening in two-and-a-half weeks, I have several other clients with open projects. All this means I won’t be shooting covert glances around the soft drink machines any time soon.

  And then…there’s Jack. He sends me e-mails every day to check on me, and he’s started a pattern of calling me on the phone at night. We talk for hours. He even e-mailed me a picture of a giant bouquet of flowers today, simply to brighten my morning.

  Then, tonight, he’s joining me at my community group for the first time. Every minute of today feels like it is simultaneously flying by…yet dragging on.

  To: Kate_Cormick@browncomm.com

  From:jcooper2@lonestarconsulting.com

  Subject:Tonight

  * * *

  In a meeting that’s running very long. Should still be @ your place on time but will be cutting it close. Just FYI. Can’t wait to see you. –J

  * * *

  Sent from my iPhone.

  As the smile lingers on my face, I take a look at the clock in the bottom right-hand corner of the computer screen. If I’m going to be ready when Jack comes, I need to leave here in about thirty minutes, which will give me just enough time to get this press release draft about TechLink’s new software upgrade finalized.

  I definitely feel like Jack is an upgrade in my own life. We’ve had some great conversations the last few days, running across all spectrums of life. Some have been as deep as the center of Lake Travis, while others have consisted of more superficial topics. More than a decade and a half of not even speaking about certain matters has now burst forth through Jack’s life like a breached dam in a flash flood. I have come to love being the sounding board for his curiosity, his thoughts, and his ideas. Our conversations challenge me mentally. When you stack that fact alongside his sapphire eyes, arctic-white smile and strong arms, well, that’s an intoxicating combination.

  Once I’m finished with my work tasks for the day, I scoot out of the office without a moment to spare and slide into my apartment with just enough time to hook Dijon up to his leash so we can go back downstairs to give him a chance to stretch his legs and sniff the grass a bit.

  After about fifteen minutes outside at the dog park in my apartment complex, Dijon and I head back to our quarters and I fix my makeup and hair. When I’m finished, I sit on the couch, petting curly apricot fur aimlessly, too filled with anticipation about how tonight’s going to go to do anything else.

  The phone rings. “Hello?”

  “Kate?” Not Jack. I really should be better about using my caller ID. “It’s Paul. How are you?”

  “Good, Paul. What’s up?”

  “Well, I wanted to tell you I had a good time Sunday. See, I waited several days so you wouldn’t think I was a stalker.”

  I try not to laugh. “Stalker” isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I think of my night at the John Mayer concert, but it certainly is in the same family.

  How should I respond? This sounds like a follow-up-date call, and I certainly don’t want to lead him on. That wouldn’t be right at all. In a flash of inspiration, I remember the K.I.S.S. acronym—“keep it simple, stupid.” And so, I shall. Two words of simplicity should do the trick in a most diplomatic manner.

  “Thanks, Paul.”

  There’s a pause on the other end of the line. Perhaps simplicity is not what he was expecting.

  “I’d like to take you out again sometime very soon. Will you be at the community group tonight?”

  How does Paul know I have a group meeting on Wednesday nights? “I’m not sure I’m following the question, Paul.” I can’t help but reflect upon his earlier statement about not being a stalker.

  “I called Susan the other day and asked her about some things you like to do, and she told me you’re really involved with community service. I think that sounds cool, so it just makes sense that I’d start going with you.”

  Oh, no.

  “Paul, I do meet with my community action group tonight.” Simplicity again. “But I’ll be bringing a friend with me.”

  “Oh, she won’t mind if you take a raincheck and come with me.”

  Message not received, apparently. More direct simplicity appears to be needed. “It’s not a ‘she,’ it’s a ‘he’.”

  Once again, there’s some silence on the line. I hope I wasn’t rude. I certainly didn’t want to be. But Paul’s clinginess and assumptions freaked me out on Sunday night. And now, knowing that he called Susan to do research on me—instead of just asking me—isn’t helping shake the impression I formed between John Mayer’s catchy hooks and guitar licks.

  “Oh, I see,” he says with some simplicity of his own. “Perhaps I need to try a different type of group. Goodbye, Kate.”

  “Goo
d—” He hangs up before I can even finish the word.

  That was weird. First, he was too close for comfort, and then he just dropped me like a hot potato.

  Really, that’s just not normal.

  I do feel bad about how this conversation just progressed. But I know most of the reason he found himself upset there at the end isn’t really my fault. He set his expectations far too high for just four hours at a concert. No one—probably not even his ex-fiancée—could have met the conclusions he’d drawn in his mind of instant companionship and a lightning-quick dive into another relationship.

  I gave Mark too many second chances, hoping that my intuition was wrong. It wasn’t. When it comes to Paul, my intuition is screaming at me, and I’m not going to tell that voice in the back of my head to wait and see.

  Especially when Jack Cooper is on his way to my house.

  My intuition is speaking to me loud and clear about him too.

  When the doorbell rings, I jump off the couch. With all the drama at work, this week is dragging. I don’t want to be like Paul, getting so far ahead of myself I can’t see clearly…but that zing that pushes through me at the sound of the doorbell is undeniable.

  I can’t wait to not just talk to him on the phone or to exchange e-mails, but to actually see Jack again.

  I open the door, and there he is in yet another collared knit shirt and khaki slacks. He scoops me into his arms and tucks me tightly into a hug.

  “Hey there, Bear.”

  “Bear?” He smells spicy, as though he’s just put on cologne. Apparently, I’m not the only one who went home to freshen up.

  “Yeah.” He releases me with a goofy grin. “It rhymed with ‘there’ and well, you are a Baylor Bear, so I guess it works.”

  Awww. His first nickname for me. “Yeah, I guess it does. Are you ready to go?”

  “Absolutely. Do you want to drive, since you know where we’re going?”

  “That sounds good,” I say, and not just because I know the way to Jana’s house. The idea of riding in an open-top Jeep Wrangler doesn’t sound too appealing to me tonight.

  It doesn’t take long to get to Jana’s house in South Austin. The door is standing open and the sound of chatter from within can easily be heard as we walk up the driveway to the house. When we get inside, Jana sees us first.

  “Kate! Hi! We’ve missed you the last few weeks.”

  “I know. With the new job and this zoo project we’re working on, things have just been crazy. But it’s good to be back.” I turn and gesture towards Jack. “This is my friend—”

  “Jack Cooper.” Jana, like half of Austin, clearly already knows him.

  “Hi, Jana. How have you been? It’s been a while.”

  “Wow, it has. I’m teaching school now, and obviously, this is my place. I have a crazy Labrador retriever, Henrietta, outside. That’s most of it in a nutshell. We need to catch up, though—what’s going on with you and what brought you here tonight?”

  “Well, I work for my dad’s firm now, and as for getting here tonight, that’s all Kate.” He winked at me. Oh, those eyes.

  Jana replies with a somewhat brittle tone in her laugh, something I’ve never heard from her before. “I see that. I’ve got to go check on Robert in the kitchen—the quesadillas are almost ready—but we should catch up later.” She taps him on the arm as she heads off to the other side of the open concept living area.

  “How do you know Jana?” I ask.

  “Believe it or not, we dated for a while. She was my date for senior prom. We broke up after I returned from that trip to Mexico with my mom. I haven’t seen Jana in years.” One corner of his mouth twists like a small corkscrew.

  “I broke it off with Jana because my mom thought of her as a daughter. Like I told you, I didn’t want anything to do with anything that reminded me of my mom, so I didn’t want anything to do with Jana.”

  “You must have really hurt her,” I say, looking back in the kitchen toward my friend.

  “I did, but I was so caught up in myself that I didn’t care.” Jack turns toward the kitchen, too.

  I wonder if he’s seeing an eighteen-year-old girl with a broken heart.

  I introduce Jack to the other people in the room, and not shockingly, he’s met one or two of them through business.

  Chad, our group leader, moves to the large cushion near the fireplace at the front of the room and introduces us to the man sitting next to him. He’s wearing sweatpants in the summer and a roughened University of Texas baseball cap. It’s pulled low, but I can see enough of his face to know that I’ve seen him before.

  “Team, this is Bobby. He stopped me last week when I was downtown scouting out some details for our upcoming grill-out event, and he asked if he could come and share with all of you just what the work we’re doing means to the homeless and disadvantaged folks here in Austin.”

  Bobby clears his throat and stumbles over his first few sentences, but once he gets rolling, I find myself pulled into his story as firmly as though he’s reached out and grabbed my heart itself.

  This is why I consider this community action group a second family. Because of the lives we’re able to touch. Bobby begins talking about his life, and he frames it up around the often-told story of the Prodigal Son.

  “By the time I realized I wanted to go home, I didn’t have a home to go to,” he said in measured tones. “And so, I found myself out on the street. I’ve been up and down through the years, but I’ve never been able to get back home.”

  I feel the couch cushion next to me shift a bit. Jack’s hand rested lightly beside his leg.

  Did I dare?

  We’d hugged, we’d kissed—but while I was a willing participant in each of those moments, I hadn’t initiated any of them. He had made the first move every time. I liked that.

  But it didn’t have to always be that way…

  I see his hand next to mine, and I study each of his fingers as I listen to our guest speaker lament that he couldn’t be the Prodigal Son he so desperately wanted to be. He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t make peace with his past.

  If Bobby’s words make me think of the doors in Jack’s life that had recently swung back open, no doubt Jack’s thoughts follow in a similar direction. How could they not?

  Marianne Cooper’s son was lost after her death.

  But on the banks of the Blanco River, he was found.

  I place my hand on top of his, feeling the softness of his skin and the density of the bones beneath. He doesn’t shake off my hand, but instead adjusts his so that my fingers fit between his own, and then he curls his fist around mine.

  So this is what home feels like.

  After Bobby finishes speaking, we break up into groups to work out the details for the upcoming event. Jack winds up on the team finalizing logistics, while I’m tapped to join the group in charge of supplies. The whole time that I’m in Jana’s game room with my team, I can’t stop thinking about Jack, who is downstairs. He seemed eager to contribute to the group, but I know he’s here as my guest, and I hope he’s comfortable with a room of mere acquaintances.

  But maybe it’s not Jack I should worry about.

  Jana is standing a few feet away from me, uncharacteristically silent. Another friend of ours, Lisa, walks over to her and puts a hand on her shoulder with a light squeeze. Jana’s gaze flicks over toward me and then back to Lisa, and a lump freezes in my throat. I can’t hear everything she is saying without turning into a Chimp, but I can hear enough.

  “Kate’s friend… he hurt me many years ago.” She looks up at me again, then casts her gaze downward. “I know she didn’t know. But it’s just bringing up a lot of feelings tonight I thought were way behind me.”

  Lisa squeezes Jana’s hand. I feel awful. I’ve helped one friend by bringing him here tonight, but in the process, I’ve hurt another. I desperately want to catch a moment alone with Jana on the way down the stairs. I call her, but she doesn’t respond. I then try to catch up to her, but Lisa is
in the way.

  When each of the groups have finished their respective discussions, we all gather and a leader from each team gives an update. With everything finalized and action plans in place, we’re ready to bring some love and food to our community during the first week of next month.

  As everything wraps up, Jack slips his arm lightly around my shoulders and says in a low voice, “Do you mind if we head out pretty soon?”

  “No, not at all,” I reply. I don’t mind, but I am very concerned that he isn’t comfortable. Maybe Bobby’s theme hit too close to home. Or maybe seeing Jana again was the more powerful hit. Maybe I rushed things.

  I could second-guess all night, and sadly, I probably will.

  We each do a quick round of goodbyes. Jack gives his card to another member of the group and says he’s looking forward to seeing him at the Zoo Donors’ Ball on Saturday night. As we’re just about out the door, Jana taps Jack on the shoulder.

  “Jack, here’s my number and my e-mail. Call me.”

  “Okay, Jana. I will. It was good to see you again.”

  “Sure, Jack. Don’t lose my number.” She touches his arm again, just like she did earlier, and I can’t figure out why it bothers me. “Bye, Kate,” she says, almost offhandedly, after I’m already out the door.

  Jack and I walk a couple of houses down the street to where my car is parked. “Kate, do you mind if we don’t go straight home? There’s something I want to talk to you about.” He sounds serious. My heart sinks straight to my toes.

  “No, not at all, Jack. Where do you have in mind?” I hope I sound braver than I feel.

  “Maybe Mozart’s?” Mozart’s Café is a coffee-and-dessert bistro perched on the edge of the lake that runs through town. It’s one of my favorite places in town to kill a few hours. I guess if he’s going to break things off with me, I can at least drown my sorrows in chocolate mousse and a fancy coffee drink with extra foam on top.