Perfect on Paper

by Destiny Moon

  “You will,” he said with his typical authority. “You will.”

  “I’m not letting you come in, by the way.”

  “Not tonight.” He winked. “That’s what the second date is for.”

  Nadine knew she was playing a dangerous game, leading him on like this. It wasn’t her style to play games. She avoided them in all other areas of her life. Being up front was more like her. But for some reason, Allan could bring qualities out in her that she hardly recognized. It was as though she was a different person around him.

  When the server came to clear the plates and ask whether they wanted dessert, Allan looked at the menu, and ordered passion fruit mousse for the two of them to share. Nadine surprised herself by not interjecting. She wasn’t a fan of fruity desserts, especially something as flavorful as passion fruit and particularly after a meal like this. But she let him order anyway and told herself that it was okay to let him take the lead. After all, this was an out of the ordinary experience.

  “You really have to come to New York,” Allan said. “There are so many places I’d like to show you.”

  “I’ve been, you know.”

  “When?”

  “Well, as a kid I went a few times. You knew that.”

  “Oh, right,” Allan said, as though he had suddenly remembered.

  “And last year, Marnie and Alfonso and I went for a weekend getaway.”

  “And you didn’t call me?”

  “Actually I prayed I wouldn’t run into you. I didn’t even want to go there. I voted on Montreal. But they insisted. We saw a bunch of sights.”

  “I could take you places you didn’t even know existed. I’ve seen so much. I feel like the city has really helped me open my mind. Like, for example, there’s this little Italian place I like to go to. Luigi, the owner, knows everybody by name. He knows what you like down to whether you take coarse pepper or an extra leaf of basil. The guy is incredible. A real artist.”

  Nadine couldn’t help but think that there were a lot of business owners in Ann Arbor who knew people by name, but somehow Allan had never been impressed.

  “Sounds lovely,” she said, though she thought it odd to be hearing about a supreme restaurant experience while supposedly having a supreme restaurant experience.

  “And of course the music scene…” He told her about places where jazz musicians played to intimate audiences. “Oh, and the arts…” He told her about galleries he went to and a few signed pieces he’d bought for his place, how he wanted a collection of original artwork, how it made him feel good to contribute to the arts as an investor.

  When the dessert came, he swiveled his spoon in the light textured mousse and, to Nadine’s surprise, he guided the spoon to her lips. This was how they’d shared dessert when they were teenagers. It had been very romantic back then. She opened her mouth, and welcomed the tarty sweet bite. There was an explosion of flavor on her tongue and her mouth began to water. Maybe she wouldn’t have chosen this dessert, but it sure was tasty and she was glad to be eating it. She was also aware that in all the years since Allan had spoon-fed her, nobody else had. And it was a particular joy.

  * * * *

  Nadine got into Allan’s BMW after dinner and he waited for her to get her seatbelt on before he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

  They drove through town and Nadine couldn’t help but notice that they weren’t far from the furniture shop.

  “You know what?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “My grandpa’s old store is up for lease.”

  “That old place? I’m surprised it’s still standing.”

  “It’s a heritage building.”

  “I’ll say. It’s seen better days.”

  “I think it’s charming.”

  “Of course you do. It’s called nostalgia.”

  “I guess so. I still miss Grandpa Winston a lot.”

  “He was a good guy,” Allan said. “Actually, that brings me to the surprise.”

  They pulled onto Nadine’s street and Allan parked in front of the house. He took the keys out of the ignition. It wasn’t yet so cold that they needed the heat on.

  “Your grandfather called me into his shop after we got engaged.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, I guess it was his man-to-man talk, only half of what he said didn’t really make sense to me. He used some pretty weird metaphors and stuff. Like he said that love is a journey and there was something about meandering pathways. I mean, what does that mean?”

  “I had no idea he talked to you.”

  “He also gave me something to give to you as a wedding present. He said he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to make it to the wedding.”

  “Yeah, he was already pretty frail by then.”

  “If you ask me, he shouldn’t have been allowed to keep working.”

  “He didn’t consider it work. It was his passion. Besides, it was his home.”

  “I guess. Anyway, he wanted you to have this.” Allan reached to the back seat and pulled a green gift bag to the front. “He said this was a present for you—not for both of us—and that I should give it to you on our wedding day.”

  “And you had it all this time?”

  “I feel terrible I never told you about it, but I kept it safe.”

  “Oh, Allan.” Nadine didn’t have a chance to be mad. She was overcome with joy. She was simply filled with emotions—everything from curiosity to sadness to excitement.

  She clutched the bag to her. “I don’t want to open it here. I’ll do it upstairs.”

  “There were so many times I thought about sending it in the mail or giving it to my parents to give to you, but it never seemed right. I wanted to deliver it myself, and I wanted it to be special. Nadine, I’ve dated a lot of women since we broke up…”

  “Yeah, you made that clear already.”

  “The point is that none of them were as special as you. You’re the marrying kind.”

  “Hmmm,” Nadine said. “I might have changed my views on marriage.”

  “You? I don’t believe it. You had your wedding gown picked out when you were seven years old. Don’t you remember how you told me when we were on our first date?”

  “Yeah, that was me then. Lately, I haven’t felt the same way about it. I like living alone. I like doing my own thing, coming home in the evenings and working on a piece in the garage.”

  “You’re really into this furniture thing, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s cool. I mean, I make a lot of money now. We could afford for you to just do that. And it wouldn’t even matter if you sold a lot. You could do it during the day and we could spend the evenings together.”

  “You’ve really given this some thought, haven’t you?”

  “Nadine, what’s it going to take? I want you back.”

  “I need more time to think about it.”

  “Then kiss me, take a few days and go out with me on Friday.”

  “Why are you so convincing and confusing at the same time?”

  He leaned over the gift bag and came so close that he almost kissed her. They both knew she had to be the one. He closed his eyes. She had to make a choice. Give him another chance—or close a door on him forever.

  She kissed him.

  * * * *

  Once she was alone, she opened the gift bag. Inside, also wrapped in green, there was another package. She cursed Allan for having held onto this for so long. There had been times when she would have given anything for a letter or memento from her grandfather, her kindred spirit.

  Gingerly, as though she was touching something that had survived a fire, she slowly peeled back the clear tape from the paper. In her hands, she held a wooden box, about half the size of an average shoebox. She attempted to open it but it was locked. She knew where to find the key, for he had given it to her himself several years before.

  All these years, she’d kept the mystery key, a key she had assu
med to be ornamental, on the same gold chain that it had come with. In all those years, she’d never imagined that she would one day need it. This was overwhelming and she could not fight back the tears. She felt her grandpa’s presence with her now, how he’d always loved surprising her, and it was almost as though he was watching over her as she ran to her bedroom to search through her jewelry box.

  The key fit perfectly. She turned it. There was a click. When she opened it, she couldn’t believe what she saw.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nestled in the box were stacks of hundred dollar bills, more than she’d ever seen before in her life. It was like something out of a drug smuggling or bank heist thriller, and it frightened her so much that she had to close the box for a moment to calm herself down. She looked around as though to make sure that she was alone in her living room. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Her hands trembled and she felt her throat go dry.

  Opening the lid again, she noticed that, taped to the top of the inside, there was a letter. She took it out and carefully opened the envelope. Crisp browned paper that felt like parchment paper came out. Gently, she unfolded it and started to read.

  My dear Nadine,

  If you are reading this, you are likely married, so I must begin by offering my congratulations. He’s a good man, Allan. Forget what I said about not settling too soon and waiting for the one. I was probably on morphine when I gave you the advice.

  As for what you see in this box, I have one single request. You must use this money to follow your heart, even if you want to do something everyone tells you is crazy. It doesn’t matter. Life is about the risks we take. Nadine, I have always wanted a life of passion for you. Promise me that you will let yourself follow your dreams with this money.

  Your loving granddaddy and kindred spirit,

  Winston

  Nadine wept. She closed the box with the letter folded back up and placed neatly inside, as though she needed to constrain everything. She held the box in her arms like it was her favorite doll from when she was little. Cradled in her arms, she caressed the smooth wood as the tears flowed. When she held the box to her nose, she could smell that familiar beeswax scent, a combination of orange peel and a hint of spice. It was the scent she associated with his shop and she felt his presence with her in the dark room. She knew she was not alone, that she shared this very moment with her kindred spirit, and she was confident that if he was there with her in person, he would tell her that everything was okay, and so she told herself that it was and tried to believe it. How complicated grieving was. Still now, nearly two years later, she felt a terrible void whenever she craved the guidance that only Grandpa Winston could give.

  To comfort herself, Nadine turned to the one soothing experience that never failed to delight. The treat that most reminded her of Grandpa Winston was hot chocolate, so she went to the kitchen, hoping that she had canned milk in the cupboard. She did.

  Out came the milk and she opened a different cupboard and found the instant hot chocolate mix, but as soon as she held the circular jar in her hand, she knew it wasn’t exactly what she wanted. She’d been forever corrupted by David when it came to hot chocolate. She happened to have a bag of dark chocolate chips from that time her mother came over to bake cookies last Christmas. This was not going to be quite as good as the hot chocolate on the mountain with David, but it’d be a close second and a massive leap from the instant stuff she grew up with.

  If only Grandpa Winston could taste this, she thought as she stirred the chocolate chips in a glass bowl on top of a pot of boiling water. She added the melted chocolate to a small saucepan of heated milk and whisked the two together. She was overwhelmed that her grandfather wanted to share his money with her, and how wise he was to tell her to follow her dreams. There were so many clues in the letter to analyze, so much to think about. She wondered about Mrs. Barlow now. It puzzled her that he had wanted her to maintain close contact with her, but it made sense. She had been naïve before. But she began to piece together the hints that begged to coincide with each other in the form of her grandfather’s life story. He had married young. Her dad’s older sister, Aunt Freda, had been born just six months after the wedding. There had been references to this at family reunions, late at night, after wine.

  And she remembered how Grandpa Winston had always admonished against marrying young. To Nadine, her grandfather had seemed to like Allan, but he didn’t like the idea of her marrying the first guy she was in love with. He told her so on numerous occasions. When it’s young, he used to say, the heart doesn’t know what it wants. You have to wait until the heart knows what it wants.

  He was a wise one. That was for sure. The hot chocolate was soothing. She sat at her kitchen table and took sip after careful sip, blowing the steam away gently. The box sat, closed, in front of her. She couldn’t count the money. Not yet.

  But, as though his spirit had taken her and given her a good shake, she knew exactly what to do with the money.

  * * * *

  David hadn’t heard from Nadine in days and his mind obsessed over the craving he felt to call her. This was not common for him. Girls had a way of coming and going in his life, but this was no girl. Nadine was not only the beautiful goddess of the bookstore, she might very well be his soulmate. His mind raced with thoughts like this and more.

  Worse still were the memories that flooded his senses. Sometimes it felt as though he could still taste her on his tongue, like there had been some kind of permanent imprinting that called him back to her, the way he’d once read in a Nigerian poem that those who drank from this particular river in Nigeria would always remember and would always want to return. It had mystified him, when he’d read that poem in some dusty library many years ago. The meaning had eluded him. Now he understood.

  He had to rationalize several times a day that she wasn’t calling because she was busy, not because she’d forgotten about him. He’d wanted—badly, he realized as he obsessed over each moment—to come across as cool when she visited. Most especially, he had not wanted to come off as jealous. What he had said was true at the time. He was not prone to jealousy. But he had, of course, been speaking about other girls and purely hypothetical situations.

  He wasn’t possessive. It wasn’t in him to want to control her actions and he knew, fundamentally, that he had to give her absolute freedom. Only then would he know that if she returned to him, she really wanted to be with him. He didn’t want to put conditions on her. Not now. Not ever. It wasn’t the vision he had for the kind of relationship he wanted. He had felt in his heart that they had a connection that transcended the physical. Perhaps he had overshot, driven there by his profound attraction for her, but nevertheless, he refused to call. She must have space, he figured. She had stuff to figure out. Here was this guy who’d come back to town, who wanted to see her, who had a history with her, and she had to come to terms with that. It was not for him to put extra pressure on her.

  David stopped himself from dwelling. Instead, he threw himself into his studies. He read Thoreau and tried to imagine himself in a cabin in the woods, but every time he conjured the image, he found himself wondering if Nadine would visit.

  He listened to music, but all the lyrics reminded him of Nadine. His roommates even began to suspect.

  “Dude,” Chris said one night, banging on his door. “What’s up with you, man?”

  “Nothing, why?”

  “You’re just in your room all the time is all. You okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.” David didn’t want to get into it. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t have the words and he didn’t want advice, especially from Chris, who had never even been in love.

  “Well, we’re watching Lord of the Rings. Come out and watch with us. We have pizza.”

  It was what David needed. Distraction.

  But even the movie failed to keep his mind off Nadine, especially Liv Tyler, who bore a striking resemblance to her, now that he looked. There was something equally ether
eal and spritely about Nadine, like she wasn’t of this world, he thought as they watched the movie in darkness.

  He had to let her come back on her own. If there was one thing he didn’t want, it was to coerce Nadine into anything. If she wanted him, she’d come back for him. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t. It was that simple.

  And the sooner David got her out of his mind and focused on his other goals, the better. He called up Nick.

  “Hey, man, about the hair,” he said. “I’m ready.”

  * * * *

  Nadine needed to clear her head. Too much had happened in too short a time. From work, she called up the nursing home where Mrs. Bronstein lived and asked if she could bring Duchess by for a visit. The superintendent said that she’d be most welcome and they scheduled a time for later that afternoon.

  Nadine showed up just after four. The sign out front said ‘Shady Grove Manor’ and the sliding glass doors that opened for her and Duchess seemed welcoming. Everything in the lobby was neat and clean, though there was the unmistakable smell of the elderly. It was a combination of Lily of the Valley, dust and medication. There were residents sitting around in the lobby, half asleep. She asked for Mrs. Bronstein at the front counter.

  “Down the hall, to the left,” the doorperson said. “Room one-oh-nine.”

  Nadine could see the excitement in Duchess’ wagging tail. She knew. Nadine knocked on the door and waited. After a few minutes she knocked again and heard a faint “Just a minute” from the other side.

  The door opened and a little lady yelled out, “Duchess!”

  Duchess entered immediately and the woman bent down to rub the dog on the top of her head. Duchess panted and whimpered.

  Mrs. Bronstein was a frail-looking stylish woman with a colorful turban and a kimono. “Come in,” she said.

  Her room was reminiscent of the seventies with orange dome lamps and psychedelic paintings on the wall. She even had a beaded curtain that she hobbled through. Nadine followed her.