Hunger (Some Say Love #1)

by Jane Smith

  He nodded his head. “Yeah, that transitional time is really hard, you're divorced but you don't have the certificate yet. You're in a rough spot. I'm sorry.”

  She was floored; he sympathized. She thanked him and they proceed with their coffee date. At the end of their hour, her watch beeped.

  “Is my time up?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I had a great time with you. We should see each other again.” Immediately she regretted it. How could she agree to see him again when he was the first person she’d met? She knew her goal was to meet them all and then make decisions. Maybe nothing would come of it.

  He smiled and agreed, “I’d like to see you again, too. You should come by for dinner at six o’clock. Call me for my address.”

  She nodded her head and smiled. Shit, I’m nodding. Does that mean I just officially accepted a dinner invitation? Mainly, she was just surprised that he was still interested after her foul-ups. Maybe he’d be the kind of guy who accepted her unconditionally. That would be nice. Brian was always trying to change her. He wouldn’t let her wear her favorite clothes because he felt they looked too good on her. He wouldn’t let her have certain friends (basically anyone with a penis or a happy divorce story). And he was always looking for proof that she was lying, unfaithful, or otherwise an awful person. This guy seemed to look past everything she felt bad about and still liked her. She couldn’t imagine being in a relationship with anyone who actually encouraged her to be her best self. Not that she wanted a relationship, but let’s be honest, even friends-with-benefits is a relationship.

  She thanked him for his time and they both headed toward the door. She turned the opposite direction from him and hid in an alcove with her empty coffee cup, waiting for him to drive away in his 80's Honda. Why is he driving an old Honda? She ducked back into the coffee shop, poured water from the water dispenser into her cup, and hit the bathroom, waiting for her next date. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 8

  Charles pulled into the driveway of his Portland house with a smile on his face. On the radio, NPR played a BBC broadcast interview about some international financial crisis which would normally consume his attention, but all he could think about was her.

  She is the one. She's smart, she's funny, she works hard, she's humble, and she's so brave about her loneliness. My friends and family are going to love her. My son is going to love her. I have to see her again.

  He had to make this house look lived-in as soon as possible. He felt bad about not telling her he didn't really live here, but he wanted to spoil her first and then maybe she wouldn’t be upset when she realized that this house was empty 99% of the time. He used it when he had business in the area, but lately that'd only been 2 or 3 days a year, and he’d been arranging his travel time so that he didn't have to spend the night. Maybe she wouldn’t mind. She'll mind a lot less when she falls in love with me, he told himself. That was his goal right then, to make Kelsey love him.

  He poured himself a glass of wine and set to work dusting and cooking. He washed the bed sheets and a load of towels, for good measure. He put a few clean dishes into the dishwasher and a cup on the coffee table. That will make the place look more lived-in. He removed the pile of mail from the front door and took it outside to the recycling box. He swept the patio and tried to remember how to use the built-in sound system. Music made a house feel alive. He took towels from the linen closet and hung them in the bathrooms, because lived-in houses had hand towels and bath towels in ready-to-use places.

  As he busied himself with household chores, he realized that the last time he’d spent the night in this house was just after his most recent divorce.

  When Katya left him, she moved back to the Ukraine and he hadn’t heard from her since. He was sure that their relationship would last, right up until the end. Maybe he was wrong to think that arguing was the Ukrainian way of relating.

  He’d visited her family and it seemed that they were all yelling at one another. He didn’t speak the language as well as he spoke other languages, but he could make out some of the words, and it all seemed pretty inconsequential.

  Her mother asked her to stir the soup, shouting it from one room to another. It sounded angry, but it wasn’t. Later, it sounded like her father was shouting at her mother to bring another bottle of wine to the table. Granted, it was the worst wine he’d ever tasted, but he was spoiled. And he took note that perhaps shouting was just how they communicated.

  But in the end, she said it was the fighting that drove her to leave.

  He suspected it was the prenuptial agreement that guaranteed her a 3-million-dollar settlement in the event of a divorce. But he never told anyone that. Admitting that he’d been defeated by a gold-digger was too much for him. He had to call it something else. ‘Different communication styles’ was pretty neutral.

  But mostly he just called her crazy. She was really defensive, always interpreting his actions as threatening. Like that time he stabbed a knife into the countertop to prove the point that he wasn’t threatening her. He’d even clarified, “This is what threatening looks like.” to drive the point home. He’d hoped the demonstration would help her see that his previous actions weren’t threatening at all, but instead of feeling comforted, she’d fled from the house in terror.

  Or the time he took her off all his credit cards while she was traveling because she didn’t answer her phone. Of course he knew she was in a workshop, but he’d been trying to reach her for hours. He had no way of knowing it would result in her transaction being denied when she tried to pay for her dinner with the client. She just didn’t “get” him. All she had to do was answer her phone and he wouldn’t have done it, why didn’t she understand that?

  One thing he could never relate to with women was their constant shopping and allegiance to specific designers based on nothing specific. He had designers that he liked, like Desigual from Barcelona. He’d recently visited there and was enchanted by the vibrance of the city and loved how the designer captured that in his cuts and patterns. But he’d never buy something specifically because it was a Desigual. He chose based on color, comfort, and necessity.

  Women were different, though. When he’d visited London with Katya, she simply HAD to visit the Louis Vitton store to buy handbags. Purses. And she bought several of them. He just didn’t understand what the attraction was and he desperately wanted to understand it.

  That’s how he knew Kelsey could love him. She didn’t understand it either. Some of those purses were tens of thousands of dollars. Kelsey was down-to-earth and reasonable.

  He asked her why she was interested in traveling and her answer made sense to him. She wanted to be surrounded with other languages, unfamiliar foods, and opposing cultural paradigms. Other women he’d met wanted to shop.

  She wanted to take pictures of architecture and children. Other women wanted to take selfies in front of recognizable monuments.

  She wanted to avoid tourist traps. But the other women he’d spent time with wanted to print a list of places to go sightseeing and visit every one (after shopping, of course).

  Katya insisted on purchasing a new and matching set of designer luggage for their honeymoon and Kelsey said that she loved the idea of traveling the world with a backpack. Kelsey was perfect for him.

  And after tonight she’d realize that he was perfect for her, too.

  Chapter 9

  Adam sat down when he heard that Charles had a new love interest. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his friend to find the wife he was craving, it was just that Charles was a special bird and not the type that many women could handle.

  Adam always thought Charles would be better off finding a woman older than the ones he was after. Women in their 20’s would throw themselves at a fit and generous older man and Charles was a sucker for a pretty young girl. But they didn’t interest him for very long.

  Adam doubted the quality of a Russian University education because these women never seemed to understand much ab
out politics, economics, the environment, history, technology, or humanity in general. Also, they never seemed to be able to deal with Charles’ dominant personality. He needed a grown-up woman who could hold her own in an intellectual conversation, who could manage his temper without dissolving into her own psychosis, and she needed to be beautiful.

  “What do you mean you're in love? Again? And how come I've never heard of Kelsey before?”

  Charles sat on the porch swing with a glass of wine, talking to his Seattle neighbor on the phone. “I met her on a dating site and we really hit it off. I invited her over for dinner, she should be here at 6.”

  He paused and listened to Adam’s questions. Charles was honored that his friend was concerned but felt that it was really unjustified. So what if all of my marriages have failed, at least I keep trying. He poured another glass of wine and tried not to get annoyed with his friend for being concerned.

  “She teaches preschool and she's a writer. She's very sweet, nothing like Katya or Natasha. She isn't interested in shopping and she said that if she traveled to Europe she'd be more interested in photographing the countryside and local children than anything else. She’s a quality woman with character and passion. She doesn't read People Magazine, she doesn't watch network TV. She's got a great understanding of herself and other people. She's insightful and resourceful and proud and beautiful. She even knits, how much sweeter can she get? You'd like her, trust me.”

  Adam was skeptical. His friend's taste in women had been a bit frightening over the years. Charles had given away more money to women in the past 10 years in gifts and divorce settlements than Adam had made in that time and he was protective of his friend. He'd seen each one of them coming and knew it would end badly. He couldn’t stand the idea of watching it happen again.

  This girl sounded too good to be true. Charles was a sucker and fell in love with everyone. He couldn't be trusted to manage his own love life, that was a fact. If this girl was so awesome, why on earth would she want to get involved with an emotionally volatile alcoholic? The only reason he could think of was Charles' money, and he was sick of seeing his friend getting screwed by gold diggers.

  “We're flying down. Cami and I will be there for dinner, too. See you at six. And try not to fill up with wine before we get there, save some room for dinner.”

  Chapter 10

  Kelsey's butt was getting numb. She shifted in her seat while Mr. Maybe #4 sat across from her, explaining all about how Motocross scoring works. Kelsey didn't know anything about Motocross and she smiled and nodded, not wanting to make any decisions today about these men just yet, other than never seeing this one again.

  So far, #1 was the best option and even though he was a little older than she was, he seemed sweet and funny. He’d asked deeper questions than the other men and that was a little scary.

  She didn't want to keep saying the wrong thing to him, but she couldn't feel engaged with questions like “What's your favorite TV show?”

  She couldn't remember the last time she sat down and watched TV. “When I'm awake, I'm working, not watching TV.” she’d answered. But he was taken aback and might have been insulted, but the idea of binge watching some lame made-for-TV sitcom was suddenly less appealing than any financial help he could offer. She was losing patience. Especially when she heard that his favorite show was Three Men and a Baby. What is that, even?

  Her watch beeped again, letting her know that in 15 minutes she would get to interview another Mr. Maybe. So far, no one was throwing cash at her and would they even, after a coffee date?

  Something had to happen soon, she needed to put some gas in her car to make it home tonight.

  She wasn't too concerned, though. Panhandling always worked when you're a pretty girl that's dressed nicely. All you had to do was pull up to the gas pump right behind a well-dressed man and look increasingly panicked as you searched your car for your purse. That would get his attention. If he didn’t offer help, lean against the car, defeated, and make a fake phone call while he pumped his gas.

  “Hi Grandma, I'm so sorry to wake you, are you feeling any better?” pause politely and then say “Jamie will take good care of you, she'll be there in the morning and I'll be back in a couple days, I promise. Just hold on ’til I get there, ok. I love you so much. Just one thing... did I leave my purse on the table by your front door? It's black... Yes, I'll wait, I'm sorry you have to get up, please take it slowly. It’s no rush.”

  This pause would be much longer. Count to 200.

  And it would give you the opportunity to look around and make eye contact with your target. Look slightly impatient and use the time to check your trunk, just in case it's there. Cross your fingers and look every bit like you're praying or something, then say “Oh I did, OK.” Slump your shoulders, defeated.

  Look down and wipe your eyes, because this realization would make a person cry. You're halfway between your home and your wallet.

  But “Grandma” is worried about you now. Console her. “Oh no, please don't worry about it. I'll be OK. I'm just glad that I know where I left it. Just hold onto it and I'll see you in a few days. I love you, Grandma. Did you take your pills?... OK, goodnight.”

  Toss your phone onto the seat and look around the gas station desperately. After the scene you’d just caused by shouting into the phone at your sick Grandma, all eyes would be on you anyway, even if they're trying to look away.

  Now it's time to go in for the kill.

  Ask the man for $10.

  Tell him it's all you’d need to get home and as soon as you can get to the bank you'll be able to get more. Cars need gas. He knows this just as well as you do and if he has cash, at this point, he'd be likely to give you $40. You could fill your tank and get a Slurpee.

  If he didn't have cash, he would slide his credit card in the pump and fill your tank. It worked every time.

  Her watch beeped to let her know she only had a few minutes left, but she couldn’t bear the idea of listening to this man’s voice any longer. “Thanks so much for coming out, it was great to meet you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” She stood and extended a hand to shake with his, abruptly sending him on his way so she could enjoy a few minutes of silence, since bleaching her ears wasn’t an option.

  She was so lost in thought, staring into the pages of her familiar book, that she'd forgotten to watch the door for #5. His photo reminded her of Paul McCartney. She was glad #4 had left so she didn't have to do the hiding-in-the-alcove trick again. She looked up suddenly and there he was. She knew it was him instantly. He was making the barista laugh and scanning the room while he waited for his drink.

  He found her right away and approached the table confidently. “Are you a young lady that's waiting for a near-total-stranger to sit and have coffee with you?”

  She liked him right away. He was funny and bold. She returned the sass, looking at the time on her phone and saying “Stranger is nearly and totally 4 minutes late, I might not be a girl who puts up with that sort of thing.”

  He laughed and extended his hand for a hearty shake. His hand was warm and dry; this one was confident and had an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. “How about if we talk double fast for the first 8 minutes and catch up on what we missed?”

  She chuckled and nodded, but he gave her no time to respond. Looking at his watch, he faced her to say (with a straight face)… “Hi,I'mMichael.It'sgreatToMeetYou.I'mSoSorryI'mLate.ThereWasAnAccidentOnTheBridge.LuckilyParkingWasEasy.IGrabbedASpotRightOutsideTheDoorAndDidn’tEvenHaveToBackIn.”

  She stared at him for a very long second with her jaw gaping before she burst into laughter. “OK, you are totally and completely forgiven, I am severely amused, thoroughly impressed and bow to your charm.” Nodding her head in acceptance, she bowed dramatically, thrilled to discover that he could handle being thrown a loop. She wondered what else he could handle, so she threw something new and real at him.

  “So, this is not a normal date. I have to be honest, I don't
have a lot of time and I'm determined to meet someone TODAY. We have one hour for coffee and as soon as you leave, I'm meeting someone else. I needed to be efficient about this and I got a lot of responses, so this is me getting to know you each for an hour so I can decide if I ever want to see you again, ok?” She exhaled, hoping he was willing to keep rolling with it.

  His smile grew huge. “So, wait, you scheduled a bunch of back-to-back coffee dates, all in one day?”

  “Yeah, you game?” she asked, boldly.

  “That is the craziest, most awesome idea I've ever heard of,” he laughed “and yes, I am game.” He smiled at her with a combination of wonder and amusement. “You are incredible, this is amazing. Let's do it.”

  She grew giddy and excited about what the hour might bring.

  They sat together laughing and getting to know one another and, when her watch beeped, she actually extended her bottom lip in a pout.

  He asked, “Is my time up? When can I expect a call-back?”