S.D. Youngren - Rowena 2 - Rowena Gets A Boyfriend.txt

by Rowena Gets A Boyfriend

  "Oh," Rowena said. "Oh . . ."

  She played with the puppy as best she could. From somewhere off to the side she heard Sammy's voice. "So. Should I go get someone?"

  The puppy pounced at her, his back end up and his eyes not at all fierce. "Please," Rowena said. She looked at Sammy for just a moment, as he stood watching and smiling with fond amusement. She smiled back, briefly, before returning her attention to the puppy. She was only dimly aware of Sammy's departure.

  "Hi there," said Rowena to the puppy. "Hello."

  Rowena Goes To Lunch

  Fiction by S. D. Youngren

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Rowena and Terese sat on the floor in Rowena's apartment, playing with Rowena's new puppy. "I feel pretty stupid, just calling him `Puppy,'" said Terese.

  "I know," Rowena said, "but I can't think of anything that fits."

  "You'd better," Terese replied, "before he starts answering to `Puppy.'"

  "I vary it a little," said Rowena. "Sometimes I call him `Hey, You.'"

  The puppy pounced at Terese, wagging his tail furiously. Terese laughed. "Pup! Gotcha, Pup!" She tussled with him a bit, looked over at Rowena. "You say you got him from Sammy?"

  "Sort of."

  "Sort of. Well." Terese rolled the puppy's ball over to Rowena; he followed with his bounding run. "I had my doubts about him--"

  "To put it mildly," said Rowena.

  "Yeah, well, but this is okay. Sympathy, and a nice little dog. He can be all right."

  "Told you so."

  "So when do I get to meet him?"

  Rowena had been scratching the puppy's tummy; she looked up at Terese but wasn't aware she had stopped moving until the puppy began to wriggle impatiently. "Welllll . . ." she said.

  "Come on. You're not afraid I'm going to steal him, are you?"

  "No, but . . . I mean, after all the . . . all the things you've been saying about him all this time . . ."

  "Don't be silly," said Terese. "What could possibly happen?"

  Rowena winced.

  "No sweat," said Sammy.

  "But she's been absolutely--she's never quite forgiven you for taking me kite-flying for our first date, or--or for that little scene in the coffeeshop, either."

  "Delicate sensibilities," Sammy offered. "Don't worry. I'll behave."

  "But--"

  "Hey." He leaned over and kissed her temple. "Trust me."

  They decided to meet for lunch on a weekday. Rowena arranged her lunch hour to coincide with Sammy's--much to the disgust of the ever-vigilant Eloise--and Terese, who didn't work that day, agreed to pick her up and take her to a restaurant midway between her office and Sammy's.

  Rowena started the day worrying that Terese would be late. When Terese showed up a couple minutes early, fidgeting slightly under Eloise's icy frown, Rowena went back to worrying about the meeting itself. She got her things together and they left the building.

  "Whew!" said Terese the moment the door closed behind them. "How can you work with that creature?"

  "Eloise? She has her own office. She just kind of comes and goes."

  "But really . . ."

  They got into Terese's car. Terese kept up a steady stream of conversation, and Rowena did her best to respond. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous; it wasn't as if Terese could make her stop seeing Sammy, or anything like that.

  Sammy was already waiting for them. He gave Rowena a kiss and shook Terese's hand. They filed into the restaurant and got a table. Rowena found herself telling Sammy about Terese's reaction to Eloise, which was basically everybody's reaction to Eloise.

  "What I wouldn't give," Terese said, "for some itching powder."

  "An office guerrilla?" Sammy inquired.

  "I wonder if that hair of hers is a wig. Any idea, Rowena?"

  "None whatever. I've never gotten that close."

  "Pity. Understandable, but a pity. Now, if you could put the itching powder under her wig . . ."

  Rowena ordered a seafood salad, Sammy a club sandwich, and Terese a tossed green salad with bleu cheese dressing--and coffee.

  "I knew it," Rowena said when the waitress had gone. "You and your coffee."

  "The nectar of the gods," Terese insisted.

  "With a salad? With bleu cheese dressing?"

  "Coffee goes with everything. Basic black."

  "Only you put sugar in yours."

  "But I don't use cream."

  Rowena wondered suddenly whether she was just bantering with Terese as usual or whether she was trying to keep her friend distracted. She fiddled with her fork.

  "So," Terese said. "Tell me about yourself."

  Rowena's fork clattered against her spoon. Next to her, Sammy smiled.

  "Why? Hasn't Rowena been doing that for me?"

  "She's been trying," said Terese, "but you know what she's like."

  Rowena was saved by the arrival of the food. For a little while even Terese allowed herself to be distracted. Rowena looked at her watch. Plenty of time.

  "So, Sammy," Terese began, "what do you think of Rowena's parents?"

  "Terese!"

  "A simple question, on which everyone who meets them has an opinion."

  "It's okay," said Sammy. "Actually," he continued, turning to Terese, "as long as they like me well enough, I really have no problem with them."

  "Rowena said her dad didn't like you."

  "I didn't say that. I said they had nothing to talk about."

  "Same difference. And then Rowena's mom--"

  "My mom would tell me to go out with Jack the Ripper's kid brother, if he was the only guy who asked."

  "Nonsense," said Sammy. "She checked me out pretty thoroughly, in a superficial kind of way. Her problem is she's too easy to manage."

  "I could never manage her," Rowena said.

  "You take her too seriously. Believe me, if she were somebody else's mother you'd have no trouble with her."

  "If she were somebody else's mother I would have no trouble with her because she wouldn't give me any trouble."

  Terese looked at them over her coffee cup. "So you're going to solve all Rowena's problems for her?"

  "That would be nice," replied Sammy. "And maybe she can help me deal with my dad's suicide."

  His face was calm, but set and deliberate. Rowena looked from him to Terese, who, after staring at Sammy a moment, looked quickly down at her food.

  "I--I'm sorry to hear about that," she said.

  "Thanks."

  Terese peered a moment into her coffee. "I have an aunt who used to threaten to do that when she was young. I always used to wonder about her."

  "You mean, whether she meant it?"

  "Whether she meant it, and why. I was too little at the time to hear much, and nobody talks about it now, so . . . so don't ask me for any details."

  "I was going to let Rowena do that anyway," Sammy said. "I know my place."

  Rowena shrugged. "I wasn't going to say anything," she said. "I have nothing to contribute."

  "Nonsense," said Terese warmly. She pushed back her chair. "But you'll have to save it a few minutes." And she headed for the Ladies' Room.

  "Whew," said Rowena, watching her. She turned back to Sammy. "How did you do that?"

  This time Sammy shrugged. "She's just flippant. I figured something serious would bring her down to earth for a while, and maybe convince her I'm not such a nut after all."

  "I don't see how you had the nerve."

  He shrugged again. "She's a friend of yours. How bad could she be?" He slipped his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. "Should be less work managing her than your mother, if that makes you feel any better."

  Rowena looked down. "Do I need managing?"

  He brushed her hair back, settled his hand briefly on the back of her neck and took it off again. "If you did," he said, "I wouldn't go to all this trouble for you." He brushed her cheek, gently. "Don't you see that? I'm putting up with all t
his so I can escape it. With you."

  Terese returned, commenting on the time. They finished their meal, Terese asking Sammy about this and that--polite questions, agreeable questions; amusing questions, some of them, but respectful. And when they were ready to leave she paid her portion of the bill by slapping more than enough money on the table and walking to the door.

  "I think this is a compliment," Rowena said.

  "Would you like to pay yours?" Sammy asked her. Sometimes she paid and sometimes she didn't.

  "Why not?" She reached into her purse.

  Sammy gathered the money up, tossed some of it back onto the table for a tip. He paid the bill at the register and held the door for her. Terese stood with her back patiently turned. Sammy grinned.

  "Can't disappoint her," he whispered, and kissed Rowena in a way Rowena had never been kissed on her lunch hour before. He shook hands with Terese and headed back to his car.

  In her own car Terese kept punctuating her conversation with repetitions of "He seems like such a nice guy." Rowena wondered what she'd been so nervous about, because after all he was.

  The rest of her day passed painlessly. Rowena had not known just how nervous she'd been. She walked up to her apartment thinking, "That's all taken care of. There's nothing to worry about."

  She opened the door. A small fuzzy bundle of pure joy danced up to her, wagging its tail madly, looking up at her with love. Rowena closed the door, knelt down. "Hi there!" she said. "Hello." The puppy wriggled, put his front paws up in her lap.

  "But what will I call you?" she asked. "What's your name? What's your name?"

  Rowena knelt a little precariously in her high heels and scooped puppy food into her puppy's bowl. It occurred to her, suddenly, that she might have put the bowl on the countertop instead.

  Linus himself pranced around her, as usual beside himself. He didn't know yet what his mistress' heels and dress meant. Rowena felt a little guilty.

  "Okay, Linus! There you go! Yum yum!" He didn't need much encouragement. Rowena used the counter to pull herself up.

  "Linus!" she said. She hoped it wasn't too late to get him used to his name. Terese had giggled and made blanket jokes when she'd heard it, but Rowena hadn't named him after anybody.

  Sammy knocked at the door, and Rowena hurried to open it.

  "Where do you find these places?" Rowena asked, though suddenly she wasn't sure she wanted to know. The restaurant was small, tucked away on a little side street and hidden behind several trees and a tall hedge. Inside it was beautifully paneled and softly lit, and the music was subtle.

  Sammy shrugged. "When I moved out of my mom's house I couldn't boil an egg, so I ate out about every night. Finally I had to either learn to cook or go broke."

  "Presumably you learned to cook."

  He laughed. "You won't believe it," he said, "but I--I went into this bookstore looking for a cookbook, and I found this thing called Cooking for Morons, and--"

  Rowena put her hands over her mouth. "Oh, no," she said. "Oh, no."

  He shrugged again. "It helped," he said. "Actually, the way the book is laid out--"

  "I know," Rowena said. "You won't believe this, but my mom gave me that book."

  "The same book?"

  "And about seven others like it. Despite the fact I haven't needed them for eight or nine years."

  Sammy shook his head, grinning. "So," he said. "When do you fix me the Raisin Casserole with Custard?"

  "Raisin Casserole with Custard?" Rowena asked. "Never, if I can help it. Unless I lose a bet or something." She turned her glass, watched it turn, watched the light move. "How about lemon meringue pie?"

  Sammy nodded. "I think I could settle for lemon meringue," he said. His tone was respectful. Rowena felt like offering to let him watch, but was half afraid of losing that respect if she took the mystery out of it all.

  From the restaurant they went dancing. They hadn't planned to, but it seemed a reasonable alternative to going home. Rowena hadn't been dancing for a long time. Now she stepped with Sammy onto a dance floor ringed with light, one whole wall a window overlooking the city; more lights; their reflections faint and insubstantial in the air. Sammy was a good dancer; the kind of good dancer who made Rowena feel like a good dancer too.

  When they weren't dancing he made her laugh, watched the lights with her, did not pressure her to drink more than she wanted, reached out sometimes to touch her hair.

  When he held her during a slow song . . .

  But eventually the noise got to be too much for her. They left and went to Sammy's apartment. Sammy got her some aspirin, put on some tea for her, and massaged her shoulders. His cat came to investigate.

  "Hello, Caesar," Rowena said, putting out her hand. She had been there before, briefly, once or twice. Caesar sniffed at her, then allowed himself to be stroked.

  "I think you're right," Rowena said. "He's getting used to me already."

  "Next time you come visit," Sammy said, "you won't be able to get rid of him." He moved his hands up to Rowena's neck and she sighed.

  "Better?"

  "Much. Thank you."

  He rubbed a while longer, then removed his hands. Caesar pushed himself against her leg, then strolled airily away.

  "Strange cat you have there," Rowena said. "You really think he thinks he's the reincarnation of you-know-who?"

  "Reincarnation?" Sammy asked. "Who said anything about reincarnation?"

  Rowena laughed and raised her teacup. "How's the headache?" Sammy asked. She considered a moment.

  "Gone, I think."

  "Good."

  At some point he turned on the stereo, then turned it off. At some point she finished her tea. At some point there was a pause, and at about this point they started kissing. She felt his hand again at the back of her neck, but the touch was different this time. She put her own hand on his shoulder, and somehow, bit by bit, she ended up half in his lap, his tongue in her mouth, his hands moving up and down her back, then over her bottom and her breasts.

  He leaned back, and she opened her eyes. His expression made something in her chest tighten, warmed her more than the tea had. She waited for him to speak; he murmured her name but broke off and seemed unable or unwilling to continue. He kissed her again, gently, barely touching her; she thought he was trembling; it seemed one of them was trembling.

  Then with his eyes on her face, his hands too on her face--but one moved briefly down to her breast, and rose to meet the other at the top button of her dress.

  He undid them with care, slipped the dress over her shoulders and down. Her bra gave him only a little trouble. She closed her eyes again, felt his hands, his kisses. He helped her stand. She stepped out of her dress, left it on the floor. She stood, feeling awkward.

  "You are so lovely," he said. "So lovely." Rowena wondered about his other girlfriends; what they had been like, looked like, how they had responded, what they had done. Sammy drew her to him. She could feel his erection. Though she knew what was going to happen, she didn't know. She had done it before but she hadn't.

  She took off her shoes and nylons as he removed his shirt. She felt a little less silly now. Sammy smiled at her; he was hairier than she had expected. He put his shoes near hers; for a moment she thought he was going to arrange them in a suggestive manner; when he didn't she was tempted to but didn't have the nerve; not on their first time.

  His legs looked strange, but men's legs were strange. His erection too was not what she'd expected; it was thicker, oddly thick, she thought, on such a thin frame.

  He stroked her thighs and pulled down her underwear in a way that made her glad she'd left it for him. And more stroking, holding her against him again, and then rubbing a little . . .

  He stepped back. "Come," he said, holding out his hand. Rowena took it, then pulled loose.

  "Just a minute," she said. She dashed to her purse, rummaged, found what she was looking for and gave it to him, her eyes on the floor.

  Sammy stood a moment, s
taring at the condom in his hand. "Do you always carry these around?" he asked.

  "No," Rowena said, even more embarrassed. "Not really. Only for the last week or so."

  She dared peek. He looked at her and began to smile. He held out his other hand, and she put hers into it. He took her to his bedroom, shut the door behind them, and